rin walked away from her door, Eva long gone, as she started working her way to the back and her garden. Despite everything, she didn't understand where the man had gone. His absence broke the regularity of life in Grim Aegis. There was something wrong with the city, with the island, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

It was like a scratching sensation at the back of her head. A string that she couldn't find pulled her this way and that. If only she could reach back there and pull it off, she might be able to see things clearly.

But when she ran her fingers through her hair, nothing was there.

"Don't pay attention to it," she whispered. "You don't need to worry about what in the sha-om it is."

She paused as the word flitted from her mouth. What was sha-om? She never used the word before.

"Don't think about it," she whispered, exiting her back door and into her garden.

Her garden was a rainbow of colors from the various flowers that filled it, but the foundation was all green. She had vines that crawled up her windows on her small porch and long, massive beds of various plants lined together like library shelves. They stretched out to the fence line, where those, too, took on more plants nailed directly in wooden troughs along the fence line.

Erin reached down, finding her tools in their bucket near the door. She pulled out a short black-bladed stone dagger, holding it tight in her hand as she started toward the center of the garden. She would go about her everyday day-to-day life.

"The dream doesn't matter," she whispered. "He'll be back tomorrow. Don't worry about it."

As she stepped off her patio, she saw a piece of paper resting on her small round wooden table in the corner. She hadn't even noticed it before, but it was held down by a large rock at its center. That hadn't been there the day before. She narrowed her eyes as she approached it, holding the dagger close to her chest.

"You're acting like it will jump out and bite you," she whispered.

It was a silly thought. In the end, it was a rock, even if it hadn't been there in the last few days. She set her dagger on the table and pulled the paper from under it.

Thunk.

It gave a solid tap to the table as she pulled the paper from under it. She unfurled it and began to read. The handwriting was scrawling yet somewhat familiar. She just couldn't place where she had seen it before. It took her a few tries to read it, but her jaw dropped open when she did. Out of all the times and all the places, what the letter was asking her to do was believe the impossible. She held it in her hands as her eyes drifted to her garden.

It had been everything she wanted.

"You idiot."

"Didn't you hear?" Lena asked.

"No, what's going on?" Karine held her serving tray over her chest as she leaned in.

Wen wiped off her current table, wringing out the rag into a bucket on the floor before picking up the bucket to head to the next one. They were closing for the day just after the afternoon ended. The cafe was made to cater breakfast, brunch, and lunch, but not much else.

Clack.

"You two, stop dawdling." An old woman stepped out from inside the cafe and out among the tables, waving around her cane. "I don't pay you to stand around gossiping when there's cleaning to be done!"

"Yes, Miss Kageken," the girls said in unison, picking up their buckets and returning to work.

Wen shook her head. Kageken Tomeka, the cafe owner, had hired Wen when she heard Wen's name. Wen had to appreciate that. It brought a certain amount of loyalty and hard work.

"Oy, girl." Kageken approached Wen, pulling an envelope from behind her back. "Someone brought a package for you."

"Oh." Wen reached for the envelope, but Kageken snatched it away.

"I checked it for anything bad." Kageken smiled toothlessly. "I thought it would be from that boy who keeps coming around every day, but some mustached man dropped it off. I heard he was just my type."

Wen raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what the old woman was talking about now. None of the usual customers at the cafe had a mustache. Some had full beards, sure, but no one had specifically only a mustache. Wen held out a hand, and Kageken placed the envelope on it.

"Well, at least it is safe."

Wen checked the envelope; the seal on it was already broken, and there was a piece of paper folded unevenly inside. She took out the paper and unfolded it. The edges were frayed, but she recognized what kind of paper it was.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It was the tough parchment used to print wanted posters for outlaws across the Empyrean. It was made to handle extreme weather without fading, ripping, or tearing. Wen gulped down the lump in her throat. While she couldn't remember holding one of these in her life, a certain nostalgia emanated from the paper.

She had done this before.

The paper was laid out exactly like she knew it would be. A massive 'wanted' ran across the top of the page. Below it was the tag 'dead or alive.' Next down was an almost photographic picture of a man she recognized. How had she not seen it before? She had lunch with him every day at the cafe.

Crackle.

The parchment crumpled in her fingers as she tensed. Haze fought to wrap around her mind, to suppress the memories that flooded in. She pushed it back. She couldn't let go of what she had just found; she could give into the haze. Wen looked back at the picture.

"I've got to go," she said, looking at Kageken's eyes. "Thanks."

She turned and walked away, leaving the cafe behind without a second thought. She needed to get to the park.

That guiding thought would carry her through the haze.

Snap.

Sayed pused his fingers against one another as he reached high in a long stretch. The knuckles along his fingers and down his back cracked with a sudden release of pressure. Sayed sighed and walked around the counter, flipping the sign from 'open' to 'closed.'

"I think the saying is, 'Another day, another doler,'" Sayed smiled, but he didn't feel the force in his heart.

The tedium of his current life bore down on him like a boulder crushing an ant. What he was doing was no grand story, no tall tale. It was surviving, day-to-day, in a memoryless haze.

"Are you that, warrior?" he whispered, his mind returning to a memory of his dream.

Sayed had not remembered a single dream since his time started in Grim Aegis. He had no memories from before Grim Aegis either. However, that did not mean that he didn't yearn for more. He wanted a good fight. He wanted more than just the life of a butcher.

He folded his smock as he walked out the door, locking the door behind him as he carried it in his free arm. A few people walked the streets; however, most of the people in his neighborhood were already at home. Curfew would start in a few hours as the sun set and the shadows grew.

Sayed would need to get home quickly if he wanted time to practice before nightfall. He tucked his smock close to his chest underneath his arm as he rushed down the street toward his home. He had few people to dodge around on the path and quickly made it back to his apartment.

He stepped into his room, looking up for his khopesh on its mount against the wall. He would take it out and give it a few practice swings. That would calm his mind and remind him that he still had the edge needed if a fight ever came.

However, no sword lay in the holder when he looked at that spot.

Sayed furrowed his brows. That was not right. His sword had a place of honor in his home, and he only took it down from the holder when he practiced. He would not simply forget to put it back up after practicing.

"Calm down, Sayed." Sayed took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Maybe it fell from its place. Do not allow anger to fuel you."

He stepped around his bed, looking at the floor, hoping to find his sword. However, it was not there. Sayed's breath quickened, and his heart raced. A fire burned inside of him as his eyes roved the room.

He did not see his sword, but a piece of paper caught his attention.

Sayed knelt down to pick up the paper in his trembling hands. When he read its contents, fury raged. He crumbled the paper, throwing caution to the side as he ran for the door.

"Let your fire burn the one who took my blade," Sayed whispered. "For I will do worse if it is not returned."

Jean looked out over the crowd as he prepared to give his latest speech in the park. His hat sat down in front of him, and a few coins rested inside to encourage the people to give more. Jean always found that an empty hat did worse than one with coins already inside.

He didn't make much money with his lessons, but the point of them wasn't to make money. The point was to educate and give the masses of Grim Aegis information they wouldn't have access to otherwise. It was the purpose of anyone who had graduated from the Academy and gone out into the world.

Keita was stuck in a similar fashion, though he had the respectable look to actually gain a classroom at the small school on level six. Jean shook his head. He didn't understand the nature of his body, but it was the cause of never-ending strife.

"It cuts me to the bone." Jean shook his head, pulling out his notes and reviewing them. "Though I am not much more than that."

As he prepared to talk, he saw a familiar face, though the man was much earlier than usual. He entered from the far side of the amphitheater, dressed in a dark jacket. He had another man following him with a long, greased mustache, carrying a long package wrapped in dark brown parchment. Jean tilted his head as he stuffed his notes back into his pocket. If the man was already here, perhaps he was wrong and just late. Either way, it was time for him to get started.

Cough.

Jean raised his arms, drawing the attention of a few people scattered around the amphitheater as he prepared his speech. However, before he could start, the men approached the stage, waving him over. Jean frowned. It was highly unusual for anyone to cause a scene in the amphitheater. In fact, he had never had anyone interrupt them. They might not listen but were too polite to stop Jean from speaking.

"Hey, Jean," the familiar man said. "I know you want to give your big speech, but can we skip it for today?"

Jean tilted his head.

"I'm not sure how you know my name, friend." Jean smiled, walking to the edge of the stage. "But I am here to teach these people today. I don't want to be interrupted."

The man pursed his lips, putting his hands on his hips.

"I get that," he said, nodding. "But here's the thing: I've called all my friends here for a meeting in a little bit, and there's just one more I need to invite. I couldn't think of how to get that one to come to a place, so I just brought everyone here."

"This is so wild-haired." The mustached man shook his head and sighed.

"You can't say that after it works." The other smiled at him before turning back to Jean. "Look, I can promise that what I'm going to tell you is interesting enough to skip the lecture. You can even say we're fated to meet up here today."

Jean tilted his head, but a smile crept across his face. Memories of his dream the night before frayed at the edge of his thoughts. The man looked exactly like the figure in the dream, though he had a face. He had even thought to say the right words to pique Jean's interest.

"Alright," Jean said, jumping down from the stage and holding out his hand. "You have my curiosity."

"Good." The man nodded, taking his hand with a firm grip. "I'm Alex, and they should all get here soon."

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