On the border of Five Sisters and Dry Lands was a little-known forest with a centuries-old tree. It had sucked the land around it of all its resources so that nothing but grass grew in over a hundred metres. The tree’s canopy alone spanned over sixty metres, but the roots undoubtedly spread much farther. It was here that Akira, Fia, Noah, and Andrik were meeting Dara and Pekka to train and plan the journey ahead. Two tents stood next to a cold campfire pit in the forest clearing when the former four arrived. Dara and Pekka sat on the ground under the tree, a chessboard between them with hand-carved wood pieces.

“Who’s winning?” Akira asked as she and Noah settled around them. 

“Me,” Dara and Pekka said in unison. 

Fia smiled. Dara’s robe was on his left, so she went around him to sit on his other side. He quietly pulled the robe to his right. She paused, knowing well it was deliberate, then stifled a smile and sat next to Pekka, putting her satchel and sword beside her. Dara’s eyes lingered on the satchel before returning to the game, long enough for Pekka to notice. 

“You found your satchel,” Pekka said to her. 

“Yes,” she said. “I recovered it from the Trench Forests.” It was what she’d told Noah and Akira too. 

Pekka nodded. “I wondered where it went since none of the bounty hunters had it with them.”

Fia froze. 

“Oh yes, Fia,” Noah said. “The bounty hunters were all killed. Did you know?” 

“No,” she said. Technically, that was true since she only knew that some of them were killed. “How do you know?” 

“Pekka told me,” Noah said. 

Fia looked at Pekka, and he looked at Dara. Dara quietly stared at the chessboard with his cheek resting on his hand. 

“How do you know?” Fia asked Dara when neither of them said anything. 

“Some friends were keeping tabs on them from when we were still searching for you in the Trench Forests,” said Dara. “I was notified when they were found dead.”

“Did you see their bodies?” Akira asked. “Was it really them?”

Fia squeezed the strap of the satchel in her hand. 

“Yes,” he said. 

Fia’s heart sank. He’d seen their bodies. Sarah’s broken leg, the non-fatal arrows in her arms while she was chased. The lacerations on her back dealt with a carefully wielded saber: four cuts where dragonfly-type wings would be. Her lips, eyes, and the veins on her face a shade of deep purple from the poison mixed in her food—one that made her responses too slow to fight back her single assailant and also what killed her in the end. Fia’s eyes trembled. He must know it was her. Anyone who’d seen Mikael’s injuries and Sarah’s would know. Was this why he was so cold to her? 

“I hope they suffered,” Akira said. 

So at least Dara hadn’t told Akira, but had he told the others? He didn’t seem bothered himself, just concentrating on his game.

Fia swallowed. “Do you know who killed them?” 

Dara continued to stare at the board pensively. Fia held her breath for an answer, but then realised she might faint. It took him a while to move his knight and look up at her. “It was just muggings gone wrong and an unfortunate animal attack.”

Fia’s brow furrowed. Muggers don’t poison their victims. He was either lying about having seen the bodies or lying about the cause. Either way, he did it convincingly. She turned to Pekka. “Do you think so too?”

Pekka moved his queen one square diagonally. “I never saw them. I told Noah what Dara told me.”

“You actually saw the bodies?” she asked Dara. “Like what killed them?” She knew that if he was lying, he was doing it for her benefit, and she shouldn’t be cross-questioning him, but her curiosity and guilt trumped reason. 

He turned to her. “They are all dead, Fia.” Just the right mix of compassion and concern laced his voice, inviting but not overpowering. “You don’t have to worry about them.” 

Fia stared at him. He seemed sincere, but it didn’t add up. 

Akira patted her back and pushed herself up, eyeing the campfire. “Forget about them. Come, let’s make tea.” 

Andrik jumped at the suggestion and started towards the camp. “Wouldn’t it be easier if he just answered the question that’s asked?” he grumbled loud enough to be heard by everyone.

“Hey, Andrik,” Dara called out. “Don’t talk in third person about people around you.”

Andrik spun around. “You’re going to teach me manners now?!”

“The world will thank me for it,” Dara murmured.

Noah pushed Andrik back towards the campfire with him. 

---

The following days were reminiscent of their training in many ways, and heartbreakingly different in others. Missing best friend aside, there was also the matter of the once prince-charming who now went hot and cold so frequently that it left Fia’s head spinning. She managed by limiting their interactions to when they were in a group, which was quite easy since he never sought a moment alone with her. Still, there was the occasional lingering look, a stiff smile, or a cold stare that reminded her he was only keeping up appearances. 

In the first week, the group gathered under the old tree to evaluate combat fitness. They started with sword duels, and spectators settled on a low-growing branch. To Fia’s horror, Noah and Akira were rustier than a sunken ship. Having given up on them, Dara looked at her and gestured with his sword. “Shall we?” 

It was fun to spar with him. She parried and countered easily now, and she could see he was using more of his skill than he had back in the training. 

He abruptly pulled back, circled and took stance. “Give it your all.” 

She nodded. 

They went at it again, and he stopped again. “You’re holding back.”

“No, I’m not,” she lied. She was ashamed of her skills, an outcome of a past that was at least reckless, if not something more damning. Dara peered at her, and she tore her gaze away, suddenly sure he knew she’d killed Sarah.

They resumed, and he didn’t complain again.

Later in the afternoon, Andrik finally had a chance to go head-to-head with Dara. Fia, Noah, and Akira settled on the branch to watch; Pekka was still by the tents, taking a break.

Andrik was as good as Fia’d claimed. There was a wrinkle in Dara’s brow as the two sparred. They had a similar style, only Andrik used a heavy sabre, and consequently his technique played more to his weapon’s strengths.

Andrik swept his sabre. Dara jumped over it, then looked at Andrik, puzzled. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

“What’s it to you?” Andrik spat and attacked. 

Dara blocked attack after attack, and then… he staggered. 

Andrik sniggered. “Not better at everything, are you? Want me to hold back?”

Dara gave him a tight smile. “Of course, not. I was just surprised by how good you are. Let’s give it our all.”

Andrik pounded him. Dara blocked, his face more strained than before, then staggered again. 

“You found this impressive?” Andrik said, raising an eyebrow at Fia. “He’s pathetic,” he murmured.  

Dara’s eyes narrowed. He drew in a breath, shrugged off his robe, and then a roguish smile spread across his face. Fia had seen that expression too many times now not to guess what he was about to do. Akira and Noah’s eyes did a here-we-go-again half-roll, and Fia frowned. They’d all long since stopped trying to control either of the two men.

“You told him I’m impressive?” Dara asked Fia.

She cocked her head at him, lips stretched in a thin line. 

He bit the corner of his lower lip. “Well, I’ll have to save us some face, won’t I?”

She chuckled despite herself. Andrik’s face twisted as he attacked and Dara looked delighted. This time, Dara didn’t stick to the basics. He was lighter on his feet than Andrik, and he used the tree to his advantage. He swirled swiftly around Andrik, going over and under branches as fleeting as a gymnast’s ribbon while Andrik tried to keep up. Andrik finally found an opening and swung. Dara parried, rolled back under the branch their audience sat on, and rose on the other side. He leaned on the branch and gave Fia a sidelong glance.

“Get back here,” Andrik said.  

Dara’s lips curled in a sinister smile as he climbed over the branch and attacked. Andrik blocked and glared at him, their swords locked. “You’re such a jerk.”

Dara’s pincers pulled back and lunged. Andrik’s eyes widened, and he stumbled several steps back. He knew the circlet was actually pincers, but that didn’t make it any less startling.

“I’m a Gifted jerk, Andrik. She didn’t tell you that?”

Andrik charged at Dara, and Fia saw the spark in Dara’s eyes. He ducked and used Andrik’s own momentum to send him flying to the ground just a few feet away from Pekka, who was just walking over. 

Pekka scanned Andrik and Dara. “What did I miss?”

Noah grinned. “Dara’s using his Gifts to bully Andrik.”  

Dara let out an incredulous laugh. “At least skip a beat before you betray me.”

“Was he too good for you?” Pekka asked Dara. 

“He is really good, but that’s not why.”

Pekka took this as an admission of guilt and twisted Dara’s arm behind him. 

Dara half-screamed and half-laughed. “Use your words, you maniac!”

Pekka twisted harder. 

“Okay, okay, I get the point! Let go, please.”

Pekka let go. Dara straightened up. “Andrik,” he said with a straight face. “Do I look more impressive from the ground?”

Pekka reached for Dara, but this time, he ducked, grinning as he ran away. “He called me pathetic, Pekka!” he cried as Pekka ran after him. 

“You are pathetic!” Pekka said, throwing a sheathed dagger at him. 

Fia laughed to herself watching Pekka corner Dara with help from Noah, forcing him to fight. Dara was laughing too hard to hold his sword straight or care about being thrown to the ground more than once. 

It was still rare for Dara to laugh like that, and it was just as rewarding when he did. Fia had initially thought it was unfortunate that he and Andrik constantly bickered, but she’d secretly started to love it when they did, because sooner or later their bickering led to something like this, where Dara was too distracted and the walls around him melted. Moments like this—watching his eyes light up with devilry or listening to his contagious laughter—cleared a fog in her head. The world around him blurred, and everything from the curls falling across his face to the stretch of his lips creating soft lines around his eyes became so vivid that she’d still be able to see it when she closed her eyes at night. He looked happy, and he made her believe she could be too. In these moments, nothing else mattered—not to him, and as she looked at him, not to her. Life was simple and sweet.

Dara shouted an apology to Andrik, which only made him stomp off. 

“Use your words next time,” Pekka said. “We all know you have far too many of those.”

Dara laughed softly as he got up and dusted off his robe. He caught Fia’s gaze, gave her a curt smile, and dropped his eyes. A smile she knew she owed to the others around them. But she didn’t care. He’d given her enough fuel to live through curt smiles and cold stares for at least the rest of the week.

---

In their third week at the campsite, there was a particularly warm day, an early sign of the coming summer. The night was starry with only one new crescent, and Akira and Fia settled to sleep outside. They sprawled on the ground in their robes, the noise from the camp behind them dying slowly. 

“How have you been?” Akira asked. “Really?”

“Good and bad.” Fia sighed. “Mostly bad.”  

“Why didn’t you come back?” 

“I was scared, then I was angry.” She laughed ruefully. “Then I was just ashamed and broken. To think I once thought I’d never pity myself…” She looked up at the stars. “I did things I’m not proud of. It took time to find myself again.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No. I made my peace. I’m in a good place now.” 

“Andrik told me why you sleep alone.” 

“It’s got better, and I’ve learnt to live with it. My night tea helps, and I get the sleep I need with my day nap. I’ll let you know if I can’t cope.”

Akira nodded. “Noah says I have no vision. I’ve been experimenting, finding a purpose.” In a different time, on a different world, Fia thought she would’ve drawn air-quotes around that last word.

She didn’t know why Akira was the way she was—she rarely talked about her past. Sometimes Fia thought it was because she’d never had any hardships in her life; at others she felt Akira was a woman freed from a burden so heavy that she couldn’t bear to take on another one. At least, Noah had managed to stir her.

“Any luck?” Fia asked.

“Not really,” said Akira. “I’ve tried medicine, as you know, agriculture, food, AAGH host—”

“AAGH host?”

“Oh, that was traumatic.”

Fia laughed. “I can imagine you dealing with panicked arrivals, burying your head between your knees.”

“It’s funny because that actually happened.”

“Holy shit, Akira. It’s not funny!” 

“The new arrival didn’t think so either.”

They both laughed until their stomachs hurt. 

“Akira… I’m sorry—for disappearing on you.”

“Don’t be. You were just healing. You trusted we’d still be here when you were done, and you weren’t wrong. That’s what friends are for.”

It felt like Akira had opened a wound that had been festering for years and let out all the pus. The relief overpowered any pain Fia felt. She smiled. Maybe Akira was a healer after all. Maybe she’d been one all along. 

Fia never intended to sleep in the open, but she was so exhausted that she dozed off. 

Fia looked at her plate of fried egg, sunny-side up, and paratha. It was untouched. “Why aren’t you eating?” she heard her mother say. 

“It’s gone cold,” Fia complained to the woman before her. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Sarah smiled back. “Let me make you a new one,” she said in her mother’s voice. “I can eat this one.”

“No, Ammi, I’ll eat it; it’s fine.” 

“You only eat eggs and paratha on the weekend. Don’t eat it cold. I’ll make another one.” Sarah pulled the plate away and walked out of their dining-room door into a blooming forest. 

Fia sighed and waited for her new breakfast. 

“Fia, we’re out of eggs,” Sarah said. She was standing in the doorway, the whites of her eyes and lips a shade of purple, her voice still Ammi’s. Purple-coloured veins stood out on her neck and cheeks. “I must kill you now,” she said.

“Ammi?” 

“I had no choice; you don’t understand.” Sarah thrust her sword. 

Fia closed her eyes and screamed, but the blade didn’t hit her. She opened her eyes. Mikael stood in front of her, a sword through his chest. His features twisted as he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. 

Fia sat up, covered in sweat. Akira was sleeping beside her. She gasped for air, but the breath didn’t reach her. She covered her mouth with her arm to keep herself from screaming, crawled away from the camp, then ran towards the forest, stumbling. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as Mikael and Sarah’s faces haunted her. 

She ran without looking back until she was sure she was far enough not to be heard. She collapsed on the ground and began to cry. Though her sleep was never sound, and she hadn’t slept more than two hours a night for six years, nightmares that felt this real were rare now. The last time she’d had one like this was when she’d first met Noah after she got back. 

Fia pulled a thick paper from her robe. Her sobs got louder as she unfolded it. The darkness swallowed the faint lines. She pressed it against her chest and struggled to catch her breath, oblivious to the almost inaudible landing behind her. It wasn’t until she heard Dara call out her name that she realized she was no longer alone. Startled, she dropped the paper. 

Dara put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” 

She wanted to reply, but all she could do was sob. 

“What is it?” He tilted her head up. “What happened?” He looked down at the paper, and Fia scrambled to pick it up, but it was too late. The paper had landed face-up—a sketch of Mikael with broken wings, hopeless and agonised as he plummeted to his death. Dara moved quickly and snatched it before Fia could. He looked at the sketch, then at Fia. The concern in his voice swiftly replaced by anger. “What the hell, Fia!”

“Give it back.” She tried to grab it, but Dara pulled it away. 

“Why do you even have this?! Are you insane?” 

“Give it back, Dara!” she cried, trying to take it again. Dara moved away from her, and she stumbled to the ground.  

“I should just rip this up right now!” 

“No!!” Fia cried and grabbed his leg. “It’s the only picture I have of him!” 

“God damn it, Fia!”

“It’s all slipping away—please don’t, please don’t!”

Dara went quiet, not looking at her as she continued to sob. He pulled her up and handed the sketch back. She pressed it against her chest and took a few deep breaths, wiping her tears. She could feel he was still annoyed, but at least he was holding it in. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Go back to camp,” he said, and flew off. Fia did as she was told and fell asleep crying in her tent.

---

The next morning was like any other in the forest clearing, except Dara was nowhere to be seen. Fia waited for him to show up. When he didn’t, she went to Pekka. 

“He said he needed to go away for a bit,“ Pekka said. “He should be back soon.”

“Where did he go?” Fia asked. 

“I don’t know; I didn’t ask.” 

Fia didn’t understand them. Why didn’t they ask such things?  “When did he leave?” 

“Around dawn.” So definitely after their encounter. 

“Did he already have plans to go?” 

“No. He was on patrol. Must’ve thought of something during the night. He’ll be back.” Pekka perhaps realized she was worried their strained relationship had driven him away, and so used thrice the words he would normally use. He spoke with no expression, but Fia felt the sentiment just the same, and smiled.

She scanning the sky all day for Dara. It was a bit ridiculous. He never flew in front of them, so it was unlikely he’d come flying in, but she kept looking just the same. By late afternoon, Akira picked up on her unease.

“Missing someone?” she asked, teasing. 

“What? No!”

“Are you sure? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Yes, I am distracted. He hates me. I’m worried he won’t come back.” Akira didn’t need to know the details.   

“He’ll come back. He won’t just leave Pekka here. Relax!”

But Dara didn’t come back, not for another four days. On the fifth day, Fia dozed off for her usual day nap after lunch. When she woke up, everyone was having cake with tea. Dara had returned… with cakes. Akira said he’d placed hers in her satchel.

“He threw your satchel in your tent,” Noah said, looking longingly at his now empty cake wrap. “Why won’t he trust us?” They hadn’t had anything sweet for days. 

“These are so good,” Akira said with a full mouth. “I don’t think I’d trust myself with one.”

“At least he’s good for something,” Andrik said. Pekka just glared at him. 

When Fia opened her satchel, next to her wrapped piece of cake lay a thick paper she recognised immediately. Only it had no folds, and it looked brand-new. She pulled it out. Mikael’s smug face looked back at her with a grin, his wings spread out. On his right stood Noah, glancing back at his wings, looking amazed with a hint of a smile. On his left was Fia, a smile on her face but eyes looking up, frozen in the moment they’d rolled in spite. Farther left was Akira, looking around at the wings in awe.

Fia’s eyes welled up as she laughed. She sat there by herself, eating her cake and looking at the picture for a long time. When she’d finished her cake, she carefully placed the sketch between other papers so it wouldn’t get bent and put it back in her satchel. Then she took out the other folded paper from inside her robe and ripped it to pieces without looking at it. She went outside and threw the cake wrapping and the ripped-up pieces into the fire, making sure it was all burnt.

“Where’s Dara?” she asked. 

“He’s sleeping,” Noah said.

Akira raised a thumb towards the tree trunk. “I think he travelled through the night.”

Dara was lying on a branch with his robe spread over him, covering his face. One leg was bent on the branch, and the other leg and arms hung out on the sides. Fia could hear soft breathing. He was clearly sleeping. 

She sat on the branch beside his head. She knew the right thing to do was wait, but she had been waiting for four days, and she couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Dara,” she said softly. When he didn’t wake, she knocked on his head over his robe and repeated his name. This time it worked. He pulled down the robe so only his eyes showed, squinting in the light.

She smiled and sat up straight, looking down at him. 

“Thank you,” she said, and he just stared back. “I burnt the other one,” she added, and his eyes softened. “Did Art draw it?” 

“Hmm.” He pulled down the robe and tried to roll to his side but the branch was too small. 

“Where did you find him?” 

“He still works for LOG.” He moved to the grass under the tree and spread his robe over him. 

She went to sit next to him. “Did you tell him what to draw?”. 

“Hmm,” he said, without opening his eyes. 

“It’s so good,” she said.

He didn’t respond.

“Dara?” she called out, and he opened his eyes. “How did you decide on what to ask him to draw?”

“It’s how I remember him.” 

Fia beamed. “It’s how he would want to be remembered.” 

Dara closed his eyes again. 

“Dara?”

He opened his eyes, this time with a slight frown.

“Are you tired?”

She asked so earnestly that it made him laugh. “What do you think?” he asked. 

“I think you’re tired.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again. Fia watched him with a smile. 

“Fia,” he said. 

“Yes?” She perked up. 

“Go away now.” 

Fia nodded. “Okay, I’ll let you sleep,” she said, getting up. She walked a few steps, then came back and crouched beside him. “Thank you,” she said. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

This time she actually went away and let him sleep.