Jasper temporarily lost his vision as the ball of light pooled on the goddess' hand, illuminating the cavern. The light seemed endless, a sea of bright so endless that nothing could quench it. As the light infused his body he could feel his aches and pains disappear. He could also feel the light's subtle push on his mind.

Peace. Calm. Serenity.

Somewhat to his surprise, there was nothing insidious in Bēlet-Imtu's magic. Perhaps, despite her deceptive nature, she genuinely did care for her people. But the magic was useless against him - ironically due to the other gift she'd bestowed on him.

As he stood before the altar, bathed in her transcendent light, he felt the cold kiss of metal around his neck as the promised relic manifested. Her calming influence shattered against its bulwark, and a touch of apprehension filled his heart as he realized the space beside him - the space where Ihra should be standing - was empty.

It was probably fine. She was just getting the reward promised her. That's what he told himself. But he hadn't been physically taken when he received his reward, had he? With doubt worming its way through his heart, the rest of the light show seemed an exercise in torture.

Minutes. Days. Hours. There was no telling how much time had passed, but eventually the light began to dim. As it did, he felt a body pop into place beside him, her soft shoulder brushing against his.

"Ihra?" As the light blinked out of existence, Jasper found he couldn't see for another reason - it was too damn dark. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Her tone belied the words, and as Jasper's vision cleared up enough to see her, his heart sank. She wore a pair of new bracers, made from a dark, almost black metal he didn't recognize, and covered in swirling yellow glyphs. A new bow also dangled from her back, awkwardly overlapping with her old one.

She'd received the relics.

She hadn't been given any magic.

The automatic 'I'm sorry' almost rolled off his tongue before he could think, but Jasper bit it off in time. He knew her better than that. She wouldn't want pity.

Instead, he offered a half-smile, nodding at her new accoutrements. "Get something good?" he asked neutrally.

"Good enough," she shrugged, but as she did her eyes darted toward Tahanat, and Jasper understood. They'd talk later.

With the light show finally gone, the Fey were ready to celebrate - and with good reason. The priestess had mentioned her hopes that the goddess' return would improve their city, but Jasper hadn't expected the improvements to be quite so literal. Or so sudden.

The cavern was noticeably brighter, with thick veins of glowing rocks lining the roof and a sudden blossom of bioluminescent plants. Hundreds of freshly sprouted trees covered the formerly empty cavern floor, many laden with fruits already at harvest, and a new, shallow pond had been carved beside the deep, rushing river, where a large school of fish swam in circles. Even the Feys' home, carved into the cliffs of the cavern, had been subtly improved, with the formerly whitewashed walls transformed into pure alabaster. Ēdes̆-Iltabrīt may have been no match for its namesake, but now it possessed a beauty all its own.

"You're more than welcome to stay," Tahanat approached them. The weight of many years seemed to have dropped off her shoulders, and even the wrinkles on her face were almost smoothed away as she beamed with joy. "Though I should warn you," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "our mead is not meant for mortal lips."

Mead? Hiding his amusement, Jasper shook his head. He doubted Ihra was in the mood for celebration - plus, the others were still waiting for them. "This celebration belongs to you and your people, Lady Tahanat. We wouldn't wish to impose."

She didn't press the invitation a second time, and after a few more pleasantries, they took their leave.

They walked up the tunnel in silence, not talking until the noise of the celebration had faded into the distance behind him. "You didn't really answer my question back there," Jasper broke the silence. Ihra didn't reply immediately, and he continued talking. "But I noticed the new bow and bracers."

"Ayāllu refused Bēlet-Imtu's request," Ihra finally answered. There was an odd note in her tone, and Jasper got the feeling it was more complicated than that. "Is that all that happened?"

She chewed her lip distracted before replying. "He refused his daughter's request, but he didn't entirely refuse mine."

If Ihra had been given magic, he was pretty sure she'd still be leaping off the walls with joy, right along with the rest of the Fey. "So what's the catch?"

"Gave me a quest."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he commented. "Is it too hard? Or something you don't want to do."

"The latter, I think." She hissed as she chomped down too hard on her lip, drawing a trickle of blood and Jasper reflexively cast Circle of Forgiveness.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

She eyed him with amusement. "That might be the first time a healing spell's been cast for a split lip."

"Nonsense," he responded lightly. "I refuse to believe sibling quarrels aren't a thing in this world. Your little brother can't go crying to momma if you heal his scraped knee before she sees it."

"Is that what I am? Your sibling?" Though she laughed, there was something serious in her voice that filled Jasper with the sudden and inexplicable urge to bolt like a rabbit. He definitely didn't think of her as a sister; Jenny's death - or supposed death - had torn a hole in his heart he'd never quite recovered from, and as dear as Ihra was to him, he simply couldn't see her that way. How he felt about her exactly, though, was a question he didn't have an answer to.

"Uh," he stuttered eloquently, before regaining his senses as his question about the quest surfaced in his mind like a lifeline. "What was it about the quest that bothered you?"

He didn't miss her subtle frown at his redirect, but she answered his question anyway. "He wants me to punish some 'evildoers.'"

"And that's a problem because?"

"I'm not sure they even know what they've done wrong." As she filled him in on Ayāllu's request, Jasper saw her point.

"He didn't say how long ago this was?"

"No, but it happened during one of the Fey Wars, so at least a few hundred years."

Back home, that would have been a substantial amount of time, but Jasper knew things worked differently here. It was possible the original perpetrator was still alive - depending on their ancestral heritage, Corsyths could live even longer periods - but it was equally likely that he and everyone who'd known about the crime had passed away. "So are you going to do it?" he asked neutrally.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," she said bitterly. "Lord Ayallu said he'd just send someone else if I refused, someone who would happily kill them all."

"Maybe," Jasper replied, "but I'm not so sure. He's had a few hundred years to send somebody else," he pointed out.

Ihra frowned. "True, but…"

"And even if he did, that doesn't make you responsible," he continued. In a way, it reminded him of the trolley issue, but Jasper had never bought into the idea that a failure to act was truly equivalent to doing the deed.

"I won't kill anyone I think isn't guilty," Ihra said, "but if they knew, and did nothing to make it right, I…think I can live with that." She looked up at him, "Will you help me?"

"You didn't need to ask."

When they returned to the village, they discovered that the light show had gone on longer than they'd realized. Though they'd left right after breakfast, the sun was already beginning to set as they returned to the tavern, and they decided to stay another night.

The village was all but deserted as they left the following morning, the citizens lost in their revelry deep within the mountains. Only a handful remained to see them, barely concealing their impatience as they waited for their guests to leave, and then they were on the road again.

The days blurred into each other as they ventured deeper into the mountains. Jasper had seen the Abulmahhu mountains many times on the map. The range ran from the southernmost tip of the Empire to the center of the empire, thousands of miles in length and nearly two hundred in width, a spine of stone and ice that separated the western and eastern provinces. He'd known they were big, but somehow the map had failed to impress their true mass on him. No wonder the Zalancthians haven't made it this far.

But finally, after two and a half torturous weeks, the narrow spires and icy peaks began to lower, and it was only a few days later when they caught their first glimpse of the new province.

Amur-Corsyth had once been part of the central crownlands, but it had always possessed an identity of its own. While the eastern lands centered around the capital featured vast, fertile plains and a population numbering in the millions, the province of Amur-Corsyth had remained sparsely populated.

The soil of its rolling hills was poor and unsuited for cultivation, stripped bare by the many tempests that buffeted the region as the warm winds off the ocean were rebuffed by the Abulmaḫḫu range.

And unlike other provinces, which made up for their lack of fertility with a wealth of minerals and other resources, Amur-Corsyth lacked any notable mines or quarries. The province would have been entirely destitute if not for two saving graces.

The first was the massive herds of peṣâlpū which roamed the hills. Jasper had yet to see one in person, but he remembered them from the game - elephant-sized cattle with pure white skin and four massive horns that made them one of the most dangerous animals to hunt. That was no deterrent for the Corsyths, though, as the peṣâlpū's skin could be cured into leather tougher than steel and their meat was so full of essence that many believed that simply eating it could extend their life. Unfortunately for the people, every peṣâlpū belonged to the province lord and was jealously guarded by his men.

Aside from their monopoly on the white bulls, the province's only other export was another animal. The closest thing Jasper could compare a suttinnu to was a flying fox. Its distinctive silvery-blue fur disappeared seamlessly into the many storms that ravaged the province, and its friendly, curious nature caused it to frequently self-domesticate But if a flying fox was the size of a medium dog, the suṭṭinnu made Marmaduke look like a runt, easily reaching wingspans of twenty to thirty feet, and more than capable of serving as mounts.

Thus, despite the province's lack of other resources, Amur-Corsyth was far from poor, and the war against the Zalancthians had only increased its status. With the capital and most of its hinterland lost, the emperor had relocated his capital into the south of the province, in the emperor's former hunting lodge of Dur-Ṣadê, much to the chagrin of the province lord.

But they weren't quite there yet - for as they finally broke free of the mountains, Jasper caught his glimpse of the province's capital, the northern city of Abāya.

Squeezed between the foothills of the Abulmaḫḫu mountains and the Azūpir River, Abāya was smaller than he'd expected but simultaneously more impressive. The Sapīyan towns may have been encircled by walls but, save for Birnah, they hadn't been built with the expectation of war. Abaya, on the other hand, had.

Abāya's white walls were taller than even Birnah's, three or four hundred feet at a minimum if Jasper was forced to guess, and yet they looked small compared to the tower that rose on the western flank of the city - a white stone tower so tall that it rivaled a skyscraper. But while Jasper could have spent a long time studying the city as they approached, his eye was caught by something else - a large army camped outside its walls, flying a familiar flag.

They'd caught back up with the Djinn.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.