Moonless Nights

The night was deathly still. Not a whisper remained from the normal hustle and bustle of Modrica, and the glimmering lights were extinguished with an oppressive melancholy veil. Nobody dared leave their home. All over, people crouched around their Message Crystals, waiting for anything, any correspondence at all from the government. The only sound that pierced the silence was the occasional wail of an emergency siren.

Not even the most belligerent drunk swaggered across the streets—and for good reason. Everyone knew the Unforgivables lurked in the shadows, the barrels of their rifles trained on their foreheads. It was a deceptive peacefulness, and the only person with any ability to do anything about it was currently holed up in a crappy studio apartment, beaten, bloody, and completely bereft of magic.

Hana watched Zagiha sleep for a while. It was eery how his c.h.e.s.t never rose or fell, or how he never once twitched in his slumber. By all means, it was like babysitting a dead man, although she was wise enough to know he was aware of everything going on around him. Gods' bodies were really creepy. She doubted the blood on his clothes was even actual blood.

After a while, she was finally too unnerved, and went to help Astrid in the kitchen. She found the woman foraging through the pantry and icebox. Hana planned to do the weekly shopping late in the day, but her plans didn't work out. She only had a few rashers of bacon, some chicken broth, an onion, and a few other sad vegetables.

Ah, the life of an impoverished intern.

Astrid had a pitiful soup simmering on the stove. Hana fried up the bacon. They didn't talk to each other, and only the sizzle from the pan permeated the oppressive atmosphere. She understood why Astrid didn't want to talk. After the adrenaline wore off, only trauma and emotional exhaustion remained. Hana coped by keeping herself busy, because if she idled, she knew she'd break down. Maybe Astrid was the same, but she had it worse than her. For all the problems she and Zagiha had, they definitely still loved each other, and seeing him shot in front of her… well, that must be hard.

Hana chopped up the bacon and added it to the soup, haphazardly seasoning it with whatever seemed good. She had almost no food, but her spice rack was well stocked. A yummy smell wafted through the kitchen, and the tension started to relieve a bit.

Maybe it was a good thing Crowe left. Despite herself, a part of her missed the man, although she was still livid. She guessed she wanted closure, which was the only way she could put it. Why he did what he did, and if he was really serious about repairing their relationship. But there wasn't enough soup to feed all these people, and she just knew Zagiha would end up behind her at any moment, cruising for a mooching.

Then a knot turned in her stomach.

If he told Isaana where she and Zagiha lived, they were done for.

Buttercup the dog, still in her stupid dress, entered the apartment and jumped up on Hana's calf, whining. Winston came after her, running in circles around her. Oh, that's right. The poor things must be hungry. They probably had to be let out, too. Returning to Zagiha's kitchen, she opened the door to the balcony where a couple of puppy pads were set out, and rummaged through his kitchen for dog food. His place still wasn't furnished with everything he needed, but the pantry was stuffed with wet food. She took out a can and read it.

Duck Pâté With Sherry Gravy And Baked Carrots Julienne

Wow. Even his damn dogs were richer than her.

She didn't know how much to feed them, so she spooned out about half and put the rest of it in the icebox, next to a very… threatening-looking aspic.

A flurry of yelps sounded from the balcony. The dogs jumped around and barked, scratching at the door. What happened? Was something wrong? She let them in, and the animals made a beeline past her and the food, barking at the door.

Hana froze.

She never owned a dog before, but she knew when they started acting up to trust their intuition. Creeping over to the door and hushing the pups, she put her ear to it and listened. The stairs in the apartment building were old as dirt and creaked so loudly with every step they could be heard from the street. And she heard someone coming up the steps, approaching the door.

What was someone doing out this late, especially with the day's events? Her heart dropped to her stomach.

And then came a knock. Two knocks, three.

Then…

"Your Holiness?" A tired and fed-up voice spoke from across the barrier. "Your Holiness, I brought your sad snacks."

… What?

Astrid rushed in and waved Hana aside, opening the door.

A slender man with salt and pepper hair, around forty years of age, stood in the doorway. He clutched two full paper bags. The man wore a butler uniform, and while he looked prim and proper, his eyes showed someone dead inside.

"Rory!" cried Astrid. She gave the man a hug.

"Ah, Astrid!" He gave a wan smile. "So nice to see you."

Rory… Rory… where had Hana heard that name before? Oh, right. This was the famed Rory, Zagiha's overworked and beleaguered High Priest.

"You must be Fröken Hana," said Rory. He bowed his head slightly and entered the room. "Charmed."

"Ch-Charmed."

So Zagiha talked about her behind her back. What did he say about her? On second thought, she didn't want to know.

The man set the bags down on the kitchen table and hung up his hat. "How is he?" he asked.

Astrid rolled her eyes and pointed at the bed. "See for yourself."

And from the bundle where Zagiha lay, came a pitiful cry.

"What's he all shitted up about this time?" Rory mumbled under his breath. "Your Holiness," he said, louder, "what's wrong?"

Zagiha rolled over, staring daggers at him from beneath the cover. "Oh, nothing, Rory," he hissed, "just thinking about what a pathetic, useless, joke of a God I am!" He sniffled.

"Your Holiness!" Rory approached him and pulled a large box of chocolates out of the bags. "You're not a pathetic, useless, joke of a God. Don't listen to what everyone is saying."

"What?" Zagiha dropped the theatrics and puckered his lips. "They're saying things about me? Tell me!"

Rory stammered and opened up the box, searching for a distraction. "Say 'ahhh,' milord." He popped a chocolate in his mouth, but this didn't quell Zagiha's burning curiousity.

"What are they saying, Rory?" he hissed.

"That you're a pathetic, useless, joke of a God, sir."

Zagiha wailed and grabbed the box from him, stuffing chocolates down his pie hole by the dozen. "It's true!" he wailed. "I am, aren't I?"

"No… no… come on. Just because your humiliating defeat was broadcast to the entire city and you weren't able to save anyone doesn't mean that they're right!"

"They are, though." The God took the rest of the bag off Rory's person and rifled through it. He untwisted a jar of cheese puffs and shoveled them in with the sweets, a trail of snot running down his face.

There wasn't a more pathetic sight in the world.

"I couldn't protect anybody," his lament continued, "Hana? You know how I promised to protect you? I also failed at that. Instead you, a baby, saved me."

"I'm fifteen…" said Hana.

"That's a baby!" The snack jar disappeared beneath the covers. "Rory, I'm sad," said Zagiha. "Here I am, out of magic, not being able to work. The city is going to hell in a handbasket, and what am I doing? Not being a patron deity. That's what I'm doing. I don't deserve Modrica. Just give it to Isaana already. I'm going to freeze myself in an iceberg for the next millennia, and I hope my corpse will end up in peoples' ice cube trays, because then I can at least put myself to use by cooling their drinks! It's all I'm destined for in life!"

Hana felt very awkward in this situation.

"Just let him have his pity party," Astrid mumbled to her, "he'll snap out of it in a bit."

"The soup must be ready by now! Who wants soup? I'll get the soup!" Hana made a beeline back to her apartment, spooning a few ladles into four bowls as slowly as she possible could.

"I work so hard for them everyday," Zagiha ranted and raved, "I even lost my marriage because of it. But it's pointless. Because I. Am. Trash. Offal. The literal sc.u.m of the earth. Five hundred years ago, I started the Continental War, and now I lost against a handful of hobos. That's me. I screw everything up. Rory!"

"… Yes, Your Holiness?"

Zagiha buried his face in the pillow. "I want you to hire me the Gesmauran Philharmonic Quartet to play sad songs so I can feel even worse. I need a soundtrack to emphasize what a washout I am. And bring me a paper bag so I can wear it over my head for the rest of eternity in shame."

"Yes, sir."

Hana came back with the soup. She hoped by now his tantrum was over, but she severely underestimated Zagiha's flair for the dramatic.

"Would soup make you feel better?" asked Astrid.

He wiped his tears away. "Did you make it?" he asked.

"Most of it."

He nodded a very pathetic nod. "I like your soup. It tastes like love. For old times' sake, can we do the thing?"

The thing? What thing? Hana was worried.

Astrid sighed. "All right. Just this once. Come here." She sat down on the bed and patted her l.a.p. Zagiha laid his head on it and sniveled. Blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it, she fed it to him and patted his head.

Hana slowly slurped her soup, watching the spectacle unfold. This was hilarious, in a sad, depressing sort of way.

"You were always so supportive of me," he said. "I miss you so much."

"There, there." She patted him again.

"Do you really want a baby that much?" Zagiha clung to her t.h.i.g.hs like saran wrap. "They're gross and they don't do anything. Why did you choose a nonexistent person over me? You're my entire world, ma Cherie. If you really need something to care for, I could compromise on another corgi. But this time, instead of a Pembroke, let's live a little and get a Cardigan!"

She shoved another spoon in his mouth to shut him up. "The baby issue was the straw that broke the camel's back, but that wasn't the only thing. You took me for granted. As soon as we got married, you stopped putting effort into our relationship. I felt like you didn't love me anymore."

Zagiha didn't say anything to that. Maybe he finally got it through his obstinate head she was right, or maybe he just needed another minute to snivel and w.h.i.n.e. He s.u.c.k.l.e.d on the spoon like a newborn. Zagiha did have a point, though. Astrid didn't need a baby. She already had one.

But then again, if he was honest and Astrid wanted to sleep with other men to get pregnant, that was also horrible, and she understood why that would hurt him. Even Zagiha had his moments of reason, and seldom ever was only one person at fault. He was a dweeb, sure, but he still had a heart.

A human heart.

Suddenly, there came another knock at the door. Someone else? Was it the landlord? Did somebody make a noise complaint? Hana didn't know what time it was anymore. She didn't know if it was still daytime or not, since the windows were boarded.

The knocks came louder and faster, and at last, she relented, opening the door to her uncle.

"I thought you left?" she asked.

"Didn't you go crawling back to your mistress?" Zagiha lifted the soup bowl to his lips and slurped, agonizingly slow. At least he stopped crying.

"She left already," said Crowe. "I can't believe she abandoned me…" He muttered and paced about, his Message Crystal clutched in one hand. It was activated, and displayed a note.

I'm getting out of this crazy place. I won't be waiting for you, so buy a train ticket or something. Figure it out yourself. Bye! –Isaana

"I can't believe she abandoned me…" And he kept pacing and grumbling, pacing and grumbling.

"Why don't you just teleport back to Komouruska, then?"

Crowe folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "You think that wasn't the first thing I tried? I can't teleport out of the city!"

"What?" Astrid held up her staff and recited the incantation. "… Lanua lanue." As it should, her magical aura enveloped her and squeezed around her, and she blinked out of existence in a split second, only to be spat back into the apartment as quickly as she left. "What the…? You're right! I can't use the spell!"

"And the trains are down, and the Unforgivables…"

"What about them?" asked Zagiha.

"They're patrolling the streets! One pointed a gun at me."

Zagiha paused, as if in deep thought. "If you can't get out, that means Sorcerer officials must have… no, no, that's absurd!"

"What?" asked Hana.

"It's just…" He scratched his temple. "It sounds like they used the Sealing System to lock us in. But to use it against humans? And fellow citizens, no less?" He popped his Message Crystal back open and gave the Prime Minister a ring, but this time, he didn't answer. The God cursed under his breath and leapt to his feet. "This is serious! I need to check it ouWWWT!" As soon as he stood up, he doubled over and crumpled back into the bed, trembling in pain.

"Darling!" Astrid rushed to his side and cradled him.

"You're too weak to move," said Crowe. "You don't have enough spiritual power to heal yourself any further."

"Spiritual power or not, I have to go to the Prime Minister! Wait. Why don't you give some magic to me?"

"Eh?" Crowe stared at him like he was speaking in tongues. "You can do that?"

"Well, yes. Apparently. Earlier today I battled Isaana. I was about to dissolve my physical form when one of her servants went behind her back and loaned me enough power to stay alive."

"Which servant?" Crowe blinked.

"Oh, you know. The blonde fattEEEEEEEEE!"

Hana jabbed him in the side. She didn't put it past Crowe to narc on Ffion, and Ffion was one of the only good memories she had of her time as an acolyte. There was no telling what Isaana would do, especially since she thought Zagiha was the False One.

"Ffion?"

Agh! Too late.

"Ffion knows a spell I don't? Do either of you know what he's talking about?"

Astrid and Hana shook their heads. Rory wasn't any help, either.

"Do you remember the activator? You know, the words in the old language that come after the mantra?"

Zagiha clasped his head. "I can't. Look, I was too busy trying not to drown in my own blood, okay?"

"Let me ask her." Crowe wiped Isaana's message off the interface and called Ffion. The Crystal shook, one time, two times, three, but eventually it trailed off into vain emptiness, like Zagiha's attempts to reach the PM. "Maybe she's busy?" he said. "I'll try again in an hour."

"We don't have an hour!" Zagiha shouted. "You understand that the population is being held hostage, right? If nobody can get out, nobody can get it. What happens if this draws out and we run out of food? I'm the PM's top advisor. I need to be by his side to resolve this issue. I have to… I have to… redeem myself…"

"I have an idea," said Hana. "Ereth is so small, no one would notice her. We could use her to sneak into the negotiations and give directions."

"Huh." Zagiha lay back, considering it. "Operating remotely. It might just work. Well, Hana, you know what they say about broken clocks and being right twice a day. But, oh…"

"What is it this time?"

He sighed. "I don't have the strength to teleport her so far from here. Someone would have to go and sneak her in manually."

The four Sorcerers looked at each other.

"I'll do it," said Crowe.

"No," said Zagiha. "When you interrupted that girl and saved me, she probably got a look at your face. I bet they'd shoot you."

"Then let me go, sir," said Rory.

"No!" Zagiha shook his head at that proposal. "And you can't do it either, Astrid. The High Priest and Priestess of Modrica's patron deity—one being the former Goddess Consort, nonetheless—would also be recognized. You two practically have signs on you that say 'shoot me!'"

The group went silent. As much as they didn't want to admit it, they knew he was right. Zagiha, for all his lack of common sense, was certainly deserving of his title as the God of Truth and Justice. He possessed the perfect nitpickiness to develop a full legal system and see the flaws in everything.

"Then… that leaves me," said Hana.

"Well, you ARE the best choice," said Zagiha. "You're small and inconspicuous. I still have some of that makeup that fits your skin tone exactly. Your wardrobe is shitty enough. Yes! You can pass as a Worker! They wouldn't harm a Worker."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Crowe pulled Hana back. "I'm vetoing this idea! Hana is a minor. We can't put someone so young in such danger."

"Please, Uncle Crowe?" asked Hana. "I want to help in any way I can."

"Absolutely not! What would your parents say?"

"If they send my dad over here, he'll be killed."

"Can't you trust the Prime Minister to figure this out himself?" asked Crowe to Zagiha.

"NO!" Zagiha blanched at his own outburst and stammered. "I mean… I…" He had no way to swing it in a positive light. He needed to advise the Prime Minister to feel better about himself. He held himself to impossible standards. But since he had been around for thousands of years, with thousands of treaties signed under his belt, Hana thought maybe indulging his ego wasn't such a bad idea at all.

"It's your job to protect the citizens of Modrica!" Crowe shouted. "Doesn't Hana count as a citizen?"

"I…" Zagiha faltered, then he clenched the bed sheets with an unsteady resolve. "I believe in Hana."

Huh? She wasn't expecting that. He was actually handing over the reins? He was capable of that?

"It's not l-like I want to!" he huffed. "But she's strong. She held her ground against Isaana."

"Eh?" Crowe gave Hana a look. "You did? You got in a fight with her… and lived?"

"I'm weak." Zagiha ignored him, continuing his speech. "I'm bad at fighting. All I can do is fight with my pen. They say it's mightier that the sword, but sometimes the sword is the only thing we can use, you know? All she has to do is sneak Ereth to the slums and get out. She doesn't have to retrieve her. I'll just dissipate her once negotiations are over. Does that work?"

"Well…" Crowe faltered. "But I insist on following her from a distance. If anything goes wrong, I want to get her out of there, ASAP!"

Zagiha sighed. "Very well. If it'll make you feel better." He checked the time on his Message Crystal. "… It's time you humans ought to get to bed. Negotiations are at noon. You need to be on your A-game!"

"…" Hana looked at all the people in the room. Crowe and Astrid had nowhere to go, and it seemed Rory didn't, either. "My couch unfolds into a futon. Does yours?"

Zagiha shook his head and pointed at the couch. Right on cue, it creaked and the leg snapped from under it, causing half of it to crash to the ground. Never mind. It should be condemned.

"Okay then." She sighed. "Mine could probably sleep two, so Uncle Crowe and Rory, you need to share. My bed is only twin-sized, though, so…"

She squinted in distaste. Either she or Astrid had to sleep with Zagiha, and that was like cuddling with a porcupine. He wouldn't leave his bed, because he couldn't. Astrid definitely wouldn't want to share with her ex…

… But it was a sacrifice Hana was willing to make.

"Ugh." Astrid stared at Zagiha and scrunched up her nose.

"Ugh," said Zagiha back.

"Fine," she spat. "It's the only arrangement that works. It's not like I'm worried about him actually touching me for once!"

Hana and the two men zipped back to her apartment before the argument exploded.

--

The sun barely filtered through the cracks of the window boards to announce its arrival. Hana was up already. She endured a restless, nervous night of tossing and turning. Also, why did men snore so much? Rory and Crowe sounded like pigs in the pen.

She tiptoed to the closet, looking through her wardrobe. Zagiha instructed her to "wear something shabby chic, which is your whole wardrobe, so go nuts." She didn't know what he meant by that, although she was certain it was supposed to be insulting. So she dressed as normal and lit a lamp with her magic, looking through her cupboard. There was a big bag of rice, and that was it. Yikes. The soup last night emptied her shelves.

Rory was up after her, and then Crowe. She let the men use the bathroom first, listening to the sound of the shower as she brushed her hair. At least the water was still on. That was a good sign. Maybe.

With the bathroom occupied, she left her apartment and marched over to Zagiha's, rapping on the front door. She had to get both Ereth and instructions from him.

A very disheveled Astrid opened the door. She blushed at the sight of Hana, and moved past her.

"You're leaving already?" she asked.

"Work," she babbled, her hair still uncombed and her skirt wrinkled, "I've got to get to work and see to repairs. Repairs. Yes. Thank you for having me, goodbye." And with that, she ran awkwardly to the steps, disappearing down them at the speed of light.

Uh…

Hana peaked in.

"Come in, Hana!" said Zagiha. He sounded… cheery? Was this a setup? Him being in a good mood was a bad thing, right? He sat up in bed with a cup of his beloved coffee, beaming at her. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Despite his injuries, his expression was alert and his demeanor bouncy, and…

… Oh, Gods, he got laid, didn't he?

"I'm feeling very optimistic about this!" he chirped. It was a complete 180 from the moping, sobbing Zagiha of yesterday evening. Doing… stuff with his ex-wife. He was just filled to the brim with bad decisions, wasn't he? Hana felt much less positive than he did in his ability to navigate the Prime Minister through the traps and pitfalls of hostage negotiation. He sipped his coffee and hummed a jaunty yet off-key song. "Are you feeling well?" he asked. "I'm doing great, thanks! Look!" He summoned Ereth into his hand, but instead of an a.d.u.l.t pygmy marmoset, this time, she appeared as a baby monkey, not even as big as his finger. "I had to take the magic I encoded in her back for myself, so that's why she looks like this. But I left her with all the functionalities we need! Communication mode is set up. I'm so excited!"

Ereth skittered up onto Hana's shoulder. She still couldn't believe something this adorable had the capability to turn into a city-destroying monster. But the smaller size was practical. Ereth could hide behind the Prime Minister's ear.

Zagiha looked over Hana's outfit, nodding in approval. "Good, good," he said, "you look like a vagrant. Excellent. I honestly think we can pull this off. After this, how about I treat everyone to pancakes? I feel like pancakes. Doesn't that sound fantastic?"

Somehow, his good mood was worse than his crabby one.

Crowe exited the bathroom, drying his hands with a rag. He was already dressed, but notably, he didn't wear the Sorcerer's robe he usually did. Zagiha pulled out his makeup and powdered Hana's hand, covering the symbol on it.

"All right, listen up," said Zagiha, getting down to business. "We cannot afford any mistakes with this mission. Hana: hide Ereth under your sleeve and get to the slums at least ten minutes before the negotiations begin. Ignatius Crowe: you can't let them know you two are together. Stay hidden and at least ten meters away at all times. Now head out."

--

There were some people out and about, to Hana's surprise. They were mostly Workers—maids, delivery people, and low-level civil servants skittered about—but there were a few Sorcerers, too. Hana supposed even a national tragedy couldn't stop the raging bull of unfettered capitalism from rampaging on. Ereth clung to the inside of her sleeve. Hana didn't know how she didn't slide out; her hands were saturated in nervous sweat.

"What are we going to do?" asked one passing Sorceress to her friend.

"I don't want the Prime Minister to give into those filthy Unforgivables!" said the other. "Can you imagine sharing a space with them? I don't want my daughter going to school with them and picking up delinquent behavior."

"It's such an indignity! But you saw the broadcast. If they can defeat the God, they can kill us."

"Any other God, and I'm sure they would've wiped the floor with them. Zagiha-sa is too weak. He should be exchanged with someone else."

A muffled w.h.i.n.e came from Hana's sleeve. "Shut up!" she hissed into it.

"Oh my me!" Zagiha sniveled from the communication interface. "Rory wasn't exaggerating!"

She passed a group of Workers, loitering outside with their coffee and cigarettes.

"This is a load of crap!" said one man. "We knew the Unforgivables would fight back eventually, but what about us? We have nothing to do with this, but we're every bit in danger as the Sorcerers!"

"Will they give Workers equal rights, too?" Another Worker took a drag of his cigarette. "Or are we gonna end up the new third class?"

"I don't know, I'm glad the Sorcerers are getting a taste of their own medicine for once," said the third. "It's not like I want them to die, but they need to get knocked down a peg. My boss—he's such an idiot. But since he's a Sorcerer, he gets to be foreman even though I've been working construction all my life!"

"But we never had any trouble! There was hardly any violence. And yesterday, over a dozen people were killed because some sc.u.mbags decided to rock the boat!"

Oh. So even though things looked normal, everyone was on edge. No matter who she passed, people talked about the previous days' events, their opinions as varied as their fingerprints. At last, she reached the ghetto, her heart beating out of her c.h.e.s.t. Dozens of Unforgivables hung by the entrance, rifles slung over their shoulders. One raised his rifle and pointed it at Hana, but another person pushed it down and whispered in his ear, leaping off the banister.

"You're the girl from yesterday!" she said, surprised.

And then Hana recognized her. She was the teenage girl making the protest signs.

"Where did you go off to?" she asked. "Before we headed out on the mission, we heard a big bang and found several of our old buildings destroyed. There was blood everywhere! I was worried somethin' happened to you!"

"I… I don't know anything about that," said Hana. She didn't dare tell her the truth.

"Well, stay sharp," said the girl. "The Prime Minister's coming, and you don't know what dirty tricks Sorcerers will pull."

Ereth squirmed in her sleeve, catching the girl's attention.

"Did that…?"

"What?" asked Hana, sweat rolling down her face.

"No, never mind," she said. "Must be my imagination."

The Prime Minister showed up at noon exactly. He was a small, older man in his sixties, hunched over a cane. As promised, he came alone, with not even a single guard behind him. Hana's stomach tied itself in knots. If the Unforgivables decided to kill him, he was a sitting duck.

"Turn out your pockets," instructed one Unforgivable. The PM did as he was told, letting the other take a good look. After a bit, he nodded in satisfaction. "No staff or weapons. He's all clear. Let's begin." He motioned the Prime Minister to an upturned box, which he sat down on. There was another box across from him. A few Unforgivables turned their guns at him. Hana squeezed as close to the Prime Minister as she could and let Ereth loose. The finger monkey darted between several pairs of feet and scrambled up the Prime Minister's shirt, situating herself behind his ear. The Prime Minister flinched in shock, but he quickly regained his composure. Hana looked back and forth. It seemed nobody saw. All good so far.

"Can you hear me?" Zagiha's voice crackled through, barely a whisper.

"Yes," the PM whispered back. "Your Holiness…"

"You're brave but a damned fool to have gone alone. I'll get you out alive."

The Prime Minister nodded in understanding. A minute later, an Unforgivable man, around his mid-twenties, with long, grey hair approached and sat on the other box, folding his hands together.

"I assume you're the one they call Leader?" asked the Prime Minister.

The man shook his head. "I am not he." He was soft-spoken and had a spark of quiet intelligence in his eyes. "My name is Eigil. I am his right-hand man, and the one tasked with negotiations. Therefore, my word is as good as his."

"I hoped I would get to meet with the man himself." The Prime Minister chuckled uncertainly.

"Leader has no reason to believe you won't attack him should he show up. Now let's begin." Eigil outstretched his hand.

This wasn't an ordinary Unforgivable. He had to be a former Sorcerer, and with the polished way he spoke, a well-bred one, too. Hana had a hard time buying he wasn't the eponymous "Leader."

The Prime Minister faltered, as though he couldn't bear to shake hands with an Unforgivable.

"Shake his hand, you moron!" hissed Zagiha through the Angel. "You don't want to be on his bad side already!"

After a few moments, the Prime Minister agreed, and hesitantly shook his hand. Hana understood now. The Prime Minister had no experience with wartime negotiations, but Zagiha did. Maybe he wasn't just trying to boost his confidence after all.

"To review," said Eigil, "our demands are equal rights. Give us citizenship status with all the legal protections afforded to Sorcerers."

His gaze was like ice. He didn't look at the Prime Minister, but through him.

"He has the advantage," said Zagiha. "Don't let him jerk you around. Level the playing field by demanding something yourself."

"And what do we get?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Phrase it in a way that seems everyone wins something," Zagiha whispered, more urgent. "And smile. Seem friendly."

"Your lives," Eigil answered bluntly.

The PM chuckled, but there was an undercurrent of tension to it. "Sorry, but that's not a fair trade."

"Nothing you Sorcerers have done throughout history has been fair."

"I…"

"Acknowledge that!" hissed Zagiha.

"I can't imagine the suffering you've endured," he said. "But these are human lives we're bargaining with. I have to put the needs of the people first. I have no guarantee you'll put your guns down if the government complies."

"Leader is genuine to a fault," said Eigil.

"Is he lying?" asked the PM to Zagiha.

"I can't get a read on him," he answered. "I don't have enough magic to use that power right now. Best to proceed cautiously."

"You're an awfully bold man to try and make a deal when we've already won. But I'm willing to hear you out. What do you want?"

"Your Leader is to give himself up for sentencing, and you are to give up your guns, the blueprints, and anything else tangentially related to them to be destroyed. A weapon like that is too dangerous for anyone."

An Unforgivable pressed the barrel of his gun into the Prime Minister's neck. If he fired point blank, he'd decapitate the man. Hana tried to calm her racing pulse.

"That's not needed," said Eigil to the gunman. He lowered his weapon. "How long would it take to give Unforgivables citizenship?"

"Months!" said the PM. "If not years. We'd have to amend the constitution, give everyone his or her legal papers… and not to mention the massive social upheaval! These processes are very long and complicated, and it's absurd to think we could just change things right now."

"Mmm hmm. So you want us to give up our Leader and our weapons right away while you fritter around for years. We don't have any reason to believe you'd keep your word, either. Who's to say things won't just go back to the way they were?" Eigil laughed. "Do you think we're stupid? I'd be insulted if that ploy weren't so pathetic."

"When discussing anything on a national scale, naturally, change is slow to come. We must protect the economy, and our relationship with the rest of the world…"

"Can't you expedite the process?" asked Eigil. "If you could get it done in a few months, then we'll give up our guns. As to whether Leader would give himself up, I can't say."

"We could, but only if you agree to not kill any Sorcerers. Zagiha-sa will ratify that. Should either of us betray the other party, we'll be cursed and die. As a matter of fact, he'll do it the very moment we reach an agreement."

"Are you nuts?" hissed Zagiha. "You're lying out your ass! I can't do anything of the sort right now! And don't you dare enter an agreement without consulting me first…!"

The Prime Minister reached behind his ear and flicked the monkey, shutting Zagiha up.

Oh. Hana knew what he was doing. So he WAS stalling for time until the southern armies arrived. What a risky move. If they discovered what he was doing, he was dead meat.

"Deal," said Eigil. "But we insist on having some of our members in Parliament to oversee the process."

"Deal. As you might have noticed, we've activated the Sealing System. Nobody can come in or out. With the exception of Leader when he's ready to show up, you're not allowed to bring in any insurgents. Rations will be delivered to the citizens biweekly."

"Fine. I'll agree to it. Your God may ratify this now. And one more thing."

The Prime Minister hesitated. "What is it?"

"You're staying with us."

And with that, the Unforgivables were upon him, dragging him kicking and screaming into the ghetto. Ereth dislodged from behind his ear and sailed through the air, landing on the ground between trampling feet.

Crap! Crap! Hana wasn't expecting this! Maybe the PM could stall for a little while, but with this development, they hadn't won much ground in the conflict. She lost sight of the PM… not to mention she was unarmed.

"Get out of there!" cried Zagiha, and Hana swept up Ereth, darting away from the chaos. But before she met Crowe in a dark alley to teleport her home, she locked eyes with the blonde girl who intended to shoot Zagiha.

Their eyes widened at the same time. Hana's face, in shock. Hers… was that… recognition?

"You…" started the girl, but Hana was off. She lost her in the crowd, running back to safety.

--

"Someone saw me!" Hana gasped the moment they got back to the apartment.

"What do you mean?" Zagiha was up and about, walking on shaky legs. His wounds looked better already, but he was still injured.

"The girl!" she gasped. "The one who tried to shoot you! She saw me get Ereth. I think she knows who I am!"

"Oh… Oh Gods…" Zagiha wrung his fingers, pacing about. "That Prime Minister! Riskiest gambit of the century! I didn't even get the chance to explain about the False One…"

"This is really bad," said Crowe. "What do we do?"

"Hide!" he snapped.

"We're almost out of food. Only Rory could do a food run, and people know who he is, too."

"Well, YOU'RE almost out of food," said Zagiha. "But don't worry! I was looking through some old vintage recipe books and prepared a lot of chicken salad aspic, so we're fine for at least a week."

"We're going to starve!" Hana reiterated.

Zagiha put on a hat.

"Are you going out?" Rory asked. "In that condition, sir?"

"I can't stay here any longer," he said, "I'm going to gather intel. As for all of you… don't make a peep."

With that, he was out the door. Hana tried to go after him, but Crowe held her back. "You've done enough today," he said. "Don't risk your life anymore."

Hana nodded. She wanted to help, but she knew Crowe was right. If that girl knew her, she wanted her for something. And that was a great way to end up with a bullet between her eyes. So instead she crawled into bed, praying for Zagiha's return, only to eventually nod off to sleep.

--

Hana awoke to a loud bang.

She gasped, looking toward the window.

"What was that?" she asked. "Were those guns?"

"No, said Crowe. "I don't think so."

She heard a whimper, and realized the corgis hid under her bed.

"What time is it?"

"Two in the morning."

"I slept that long?"

Suddenly, the door opened and Zagiha ran in, slamming it behind him. He threw something on her bed. A rucksack.

"We can't stay here anymore," he said, his voice filled with alarm.

"What do you mean?" asked Hana.

"Pack the essentials. I'll buy you whatever you need when we're out of here." He opened up her drawer, shoving handfuls of enchanted gems in the bag.

"What's the matter, sir?" asked Rory.

"The Unforgivables," he said, upset. "They're coming here. I stopped at the restaurant you used to work at and overheard your old boss telling them your address. They're looking for you specifically, Hana."

"What?" She understood his urgency, and started packing herself, throwing in whatever clothes and toiletries she could. "How much time do we have?"

"By my estimations, not much. And the Sorcerers are rioting outside. We can use the confusion to escape."

"And how will you do that?" asked Crowe. "The Sealing System…"

Zagiha sighed. "Her magic won't work, but mine just might if they only calibrated it for humans. I'm going to fly her above the barrier."

"Where are we going?" asked Hana. "To Caershira?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "Crowe, you hide out in my apartment. Rory, if you could…"

"Yes, sir," said the High Priest, "I'll pretend to be the new tenant."

"And…"

"And I'll look after your dogs, too."

Zagiha sighed. "Oh, Rory, you're truly a Blessing. I'll be back for you all later, but Hana's in the most danger right now. Got your shoes on? Your staff? Good. Let's go."

"I…"

But nobody got the opportunity to say their goodbyes. Zagiha yanked her away, dragging her up the stairs to the rooftop. Hana looked to the streets below. People carried torches and smashed in windows with their staffs.

"Can you do it?" she asked.

"I'm going to have to," he said. "If this doesn't work, I'll still find a way to smuggle you out somehow. Get on my back!" She did, and he launched himself into the sky, over the clouds. It was wet and freezing, and hard to breathe. Hana looked at the city lights below. They were really high up. She clung to him for dear life. The city limits came up. "All right, we're doing this," he said, and he careened at top speed toward the magical barrier, ripping through it. "Yes! It worked!"

He soared for a few more minutes until he lowered his altitude. "So, Hana," he said, "you're either really fat, or I haven't recovered my super strength yet. Probably both. Can you fly with your staff?"

She didn't address the insult. She just followed instructions, flying on her staff while Zagiha soared beside her. As they left the city, the night grew quiet and calm. It was a stark contrast to the riots and gunshots. "Do you think Uncle Crowe and Rory will be okay?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Where are we going?"

Zagiha sighed. "Minumna," he answered.

"We're going there? Into Rirasiru-sa's territory?"

"It's the best hiding place," he said. "They'll find out where your parents live eventually, and Minumna is a secluded Worker village. It's a safe bet. Besides, with Rirasiru gone, he can't… he can't reject us."

"Oh," she said.

They flew for several hours, when Hana heard a gasp beside her. She looked over. Zagiha lost altitude, floating down toward the earth.

"Are you okay?" asked Hana, lowering her own altitude to meet him.

"I'm sorry…" he stammered. His face was white like a ghost. "I thought I had the strength to fly, but I used up my magic again… Of course I failed again. I can't… protect…" He grimaced in pain.

"Don't be like that," said Hana. "Look! In those trees! We can hide there and take a break. You can regenerate your magic there."

"Okay," he said. "But just for an hour or so. We don't have time to waste…"

They almost didn't make it to the forest cover, because Zagiha nearly crash-landed. Hana pulled him down with her, and helped him under a large pine tree. Zagiha coughed and flinched, and when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on it. He wiped it on the ground, as if hoping Hana didn't notice, but she did. She chose not to comment on it.

They sat in silence and quiet contemplation. Hana still felt sleepy from being awoken all of a sudden, but the night was too cold to sleep. A breeze blew, and she shivered.

"I guess I should've had you pack a jacket," said Zagiha. A few more minutes, then: "Here." He held his cloak open. "Get under."

"Uhh," said Hana.

"What?" he snapped. "If you think I'm going to give it to you and freeze, you're dead wrong. Final offer."

"Fine." She crawled under the cloak with him. He wrapped it around her. She blushed. Awkward, awkward, this was awkward! He was too close. He didn't comment on it, though. Zagiha looked up toward the sky. In the darkness of the wilderness, the stars and galaxies glowed brilliantly above.

"The night sky looked a lot different two thousand years ago," he said. His surliness was replaced with gentleness.

"Is that so?" asked Hana.

"Yeah." He leaned back. "I don't think you're ugly," he said.

"What?" Why'd he bring that up, now?

"And I don't think you're dumb at all."

She couldn't see his face under the mask of the shadows.

"I'm proud of you." And with the little moonlight there was, he smiled at her. "It's hard for me to express myself, but you really stepped up today. This whole week. You were a true hero." He scratched the nape of his neck. "You're wonderful, Hana."

She blushed harder.

"Thanks for putting up with me so far. I know I'm such a pain, but…" He buried his face in his collar. "I really like spending time with you. Even if it's this way. When all this is over, can we…?"

"Can we what?"

Was he delirious? But she didn't entirely hate this.

"Never mind," he said. "It's nothing."

She didn't press it. They spent a few more minutes in silence, and Zagiha slumped over her. She flinched. Did flying take too much out of him? Was he going to dissipate? Then a small snore came from him.

So he managed to fall asleep. For real this time, not what he called "hibernating." She scooted aside to give him some space, when suddenly he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in.

"What are you…?" she gasped, but he didn't answer. He just snored again. He was a sleep cuddler, and she was in the line of fire. Hana tried to wriggle out, to no avail. He had her head pressed up against his c.h.e.s.t. Zagiha's body felt warm like a human, but… he had no heartbeat. It was strange, and she was stuck. She didn't want to wake him though, and at the very least, she wasn't cold anymore.

Or that's what she told herself.

Letting him rest, she gazed at the stars alone until she, too, drifted off.