7564 words (30 minute read)

Chapter 5: Black-Star Residue

Hern merely brushed his foot against the ground and a loud creak burst the enveloping silence.

“Shut up!” he hissed. He got the other foot down without a hitch and Rigel followed using Hern’s exact steps. They took extra care after that, stepping on parts of the floor where they knew from experience it wouldn’t squeak or groan or cause much noise. Having had to do this many a time before – albeit, not from the window this quietly – it gave them a slight advantage.

It was pitch black inside and almost everything was blotched out by darkness. The only light that gave them any sort of indication of where everything was came from the moon which was struggling to get through the tree canopy, and a warm soft orange glow coming up through the five landings from the ground floor.

They both gave each other a look before starting to move again. Rigel could hear the echoing sounds of a conversation travelling up from down the stairs and he found himself guessing all sorts of weird and wonderful things. It sounded as if they were preparing something. A recipe? Rigel suddenly had a shooting shock of horror as he imagined it being his birthday cake. If it was, then he’d probably ruined the surprise. Though, he stopped thinking selfishly and started contemplating other things. That and because it was Bifin’s who was doing the baking.

It was a sad fact that they were extremely quiet and well apt when moving around the house. Thankfully, the door didn’t give any signs of squeaking as Rigel gently nudged it further ajar and took the lead walking out his room and onto the fifth-floor landing. Looking over the banister, Rigel could see all the way down the five floors, and found the orange light at the very bottom, as well as hearing the tell-tale crackling of the fire. A quick shadow made its way past said light and they jumped back in fright. Rigel turned to Hern and saw him already making a slow descent down each step towards the fourth floor.

“Oi, thicko. What you doing?” Rigel whispered furiously.

Hern looked back in confusion.

“Getting a better hearing distance,” he said as quietly as he could, very aware that there was a super-hearing ghoul downstairs.

Rigel inwardly screamed and pulled at his hair because of his friend’s stupidity, but followed nonetheless.

They touched onto the fourth landing with noise equivalent to that of a feather landing. At this height, they could start to make out the downstairs conversation.

“He will be slightly dishevelled at your lateness,” they heard Meliya warn.

“Don’t think he’ll be all that cross with me,” they heard Florence say heartily. “Besides, he knows that if I had to be somewhere else rather than at his summoning, then there must be good reason. Rigel’s birthday is one of those good reasons.”

Said boy was currently wondered who exactly they were talking about.

“If you had just come with me when I asked of you, this might have been discussed already and finished,” Meliya said crossly.

“Key choice of word there, Meliya: might. I take no chances with Rigel,” said Florence, followed by two quick grinding noises. “Could you be of some use and help me move this table?” They heard what must have been Meliya huff in annoyance followed by a longer stint of the grinding noise.

Rigel glanced at Hern who did the same to him. They were both thinking along the same lines and wondering what exactly they needed the table moved for. And at this level, they were finding it hard to keep track of what the two downstairs were saying. Hern grabbed Rigel’s attention again and pointed down to the third floor. Rigel shook his head quickly.

“Come on,” implored Hern as quietly as he could, which was pretty much just breathing out and forming words along the way. Rigel took a worrying glance downstairs and only seen empty space, but he knew they were down there and that the slightest bump from himself of Hern would mean game over. He shook his head before nodding once, defeated. Hern grinned and he started heading down to the third floor with Rigel reluctantly following.

The orange glow seemed to strengthen as they descended and Rigel could now make out most things (although they were all still firmly encased in shadow). But more to the point, they could now hear clearly the two on the ground floor. Hern gave a thumbs up and Rigel nodded and the two got comfortable. This could be a long night.

“Well, now that that’s over,” they heard Florence start, “I need you to be quiet for this next part. Concentration is of the essence, as you know. Could you get that for me as well?” There was a pause and the orange light vanished, plunging them all into darkness. “Thank you,” chimed Florence.

The boys waited. They couldn’t see anything, not even the banister in front of them. This continued and all the while they could hear things being moved and small words being spoken downstairs. Almost a full minute after the fire was put out, a cold light-blue, almost white, glow appeared. This had to be Florence’s doing. The glow grew and grew, then stopped, then grew some more and stopped again. Then there was a very loud tearing sound and then, silence. The light was replaced with a now significantly richer deep-blue coloured glow.

“Good to see you, Arnaro,” said Florence warmly.

“And I you, Florence,” came a silvery new voice. Old, ancient and strong were words that sprung to Rigel’s mind after hearing the voice. Anything but frail or decrypted. “I see you decided against heeding my call?” the voice, Arnaro, added accusingly.

“You know exactly what day it is, Arnaro. That should be enough.”

“Yes. How is he? It’s been an age since I last saw him.”

“Fifteen years and three weeks … but who’s counting,” said Florence. The boys could practically hear the grin in her voice.

“Hmm. How time seems to slip away. A blink of an eye and entire decades crumble. You’ve been dearly missed, Florence; Sosfin won’t be silent about your next coming visit. Though, both Flo and Galphino are more than happy to wait.”

“I’ll see the others next time I nip round. How’s Sosfin, then?”

“He seems better since we last met. He now has an accounted one-hundred and fifty-two different recipes for tea. And he’s become simply fascinated with steam power over the decade. Though, I myself cannot quite see the appeal,” said Arnaro. Though he talked bitterly, his voice sounded pleasant.

“Nothing quite different there, then. And you wouldn’t see the appeal of humanity’s form of power – anything human and you go scurrying off,” they heard Florence laugh to herself. “Oh, and before I ask any further, you need to give Meliya here a little reward when she returns. She’s been quite the sport with all these Watsonford festivities going on.”

“Didn’t really have a choice,” they heard Meliya mumble.

Arnaro must have nodded or something because they didn’t hear him, yet Florence continued.

“So, to what reason was I originally called for, Arnaro?” Florence asked merrily. “Can’t imagine anything but the worst or possibly the best could cause that conclusion.”

“Perhaps speaking in person would better benefit us both-”

“If you would kindly wait another three days, then, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Florence … this isn’t something to be spoken about over things like this,” Arnaro told her quietly.

“Oh, I beg to differ. Anything can be said over this form of talk. Glass is secure and only I and a few others can use it,” remarked Florence, a little perturbed. Arnaro did no such thing.

Back up the stairs, Hern looked at Rigel, asking silently if he knew what they were referring to. Obviously Rigel had no idea so he could only shrug. To be quite honest, Rigel was far more curious about the new voice and names they were hearing than anything else. He was wondering just who this Arnaro is. Was he a wizard? He must be, considering they were using some sort of magic to talk. But then, why have a ghoul come to pick Florence up? Maybe Arnaro was a ghoul, it would make more sense, mind you. But what he did know is: to be able to summon Florence who, from what he knew, was a rather strong witch, this Arnaro character must be quite high in power himself. He was also keenly aware that this new person had asked Florence to go, now, to Endoll, and Rigel wondered if Florence would.

“Are you quite sure about that, Florence. I wouldn’t dare reveal information that could lead to a catastrophe days onward,” said Arnaro demandingly.

They heard a light laugh from Florence.

“Come now, Arnaro, I am in Watsonford, during one of their well sought after birthday festivals. I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

“Need I remind you of St Vaulen during the Third War. Specifically the Day-of-Contact,” Arnaro said slowly.

“That has the least amount of relevance to this conversation as does water with fire,” said Florence a little crossly.

“Irony isn’t lost on you, dear friend,” said Arnaro, chuckling for the first time in a way that was akin to a musical symphony. “The fact that water is one of the substance capable of truly extinguishing fire means that it is, in fact, quite relevant.”

“Then hurry up and give me a diluted version of what you so need me for and I’ll be on my merry way,” Florence prattled a little moodily before adding, “Making sure I leave early for Endoll, of course.”

Back up on the third floor, the boys were almost falling over the banister due to trying to get a better view, or rather line of sound on things. Hern opened his mouth to speak but a quick frantic shaking from Rigel’s head stopped him. The ghoul was still down there and without the ground to cover their voices, she would undoubtedly hear them. Rigel motioned for Hern to keep his mouth shut and pointed to a room down the hallway. It was a spare room that was used for storing linen and pillows. Hern glanced at it and looked back to Rigel. Said boy raised two fingers as if to say ’two minutes’. Hern got the meaning and nodded and they both leaned carefully back over the banister to hear. They weren’t aware, but during their little silent conversation, downstairs had also been silent.

Arnaro hadn’t said a word. If the boys could see him, they would see that he was sternly within his own mind thinking things through. Florence sat politely and occasionally glanced around herself waiting.

After a moment they heard Arnaro.

“After what I’m about to say, I don’t fully believe you would willingly stay in Watsonford.”

“Amuse me,” said Florence.

“Mayana’s suffered a city wide bombardment,” said Arnaro carefully.

The boys heard a sharp intake of breath.

“What?!” hissed Florence.

“Attacked by an unknown number of assailants, all appearing in many parts of the city. Royana wasn’t quite able to pin them down.”

“I can’t imagine she, of all ghouls, would let this happen,” Florence commented in thought. Royana, being appointed reigning leader of the Mayana by Arnaro many years ago, was a stern ghoul whom revelled in order and in law; to have that spoiled made the ghoul rather vengeful and ready to dish out punishment.

“No, she wouldn’t normally,” said Arnaro. “Flo is still currently in attendance with her. The reports haven’t since long been here and I’ve only reviewed them five times before contacting you. Thankfully no one was hurt during the event, however, nearly all libraries, vaults and any archives located within the city were ruined beyond repair.”

“They were looking for something,” murmured Florence. Stating it factually rather than asking.

“Yes,” said Arnaro gravely. “hundreds of ghouls are still cataloguing everything as we speak. So far, all is accounted for.”

They heard Florence give a long low hum.

“So what we must ask is: what exactly were they looking for?”

“And if these culprits will do it again,” continued Arnaro.

“Have you convened a congregation tribunal with the others cities, Arnaro? Finnelon, perhaps?” asked Florence. Rigel guessed she must have meant the other ghoul cities.

“I’m in close contact with Royana, but the others are yet unaware. I haven’t and I do not plan to hold a tribunal any time in the near future.”

“Arnaro,” Florence started slowly, “this is not something to be kept privy. If you do not say something soon, then one of the countless ghouls whom come and go will leak the news of what’s happened. I must compel you to say at least something to them. They would think much less of you if news spread through stories that will, undoubtedly, change from city to city. What could possibly give you reason not to?” Rigel could hear the strain in Florence’s voice as she spoke. He guessed that if a city wide attack warranted the help of Florence, then something more must be going on.

Hern tapped his shoulder and help up two fingers. Rigel shook his head and held up three, asking for another three minutes. Hern frowned but conceded.

“Because of the nature the several locations were left in,” Arnaro said hollowly. “They had something within them that I have not seen in near enough a millennia. Something I thought had long gone, never to return.”

“What was it?” came Florence’s curios response. However, there was a worry behind that curiosity heard even by the boys.

“Black-Star residue-”

“Stop!” hissed Florence before Arnaro could finish. From their height, the boys couldn’t see the resentment Florence wore. “Listen, Arnaro, you have to be very sure, and I can’t stress how sure you must be before telling me such things. Clearly I have neither the experience or the knowledge that you yourself have regarding that, with you actually being alive during those times. But even so, please say that there’s a chance one of your ghouls mistook what they saw for something similar?”

“Confirmation came from Sosfin himself,” Arnaro said grimly, as if sealing the last nail in a coffin. “There can be no mistaking it.”

The boys heard what must have been Florence make something like a half sigh half growl.

“So these so-called assailants, then. If what you are saying is true then they must be related to Andowald, somehow.”

“As I can see now, that’s one of only two logical conclusions to draw. The other, and I think more likely, is that it’s someone’s imitating black-star. I don’t quite know how and I don’t like it as much as you, Florence.”

“The likelihood of that being quite slim, I presume. From what I’ve read, Andowald was quite formidable. Do you remember him?” The boys heard Florence move something on the table by way of a grinding noise.

“My memory is quite accurate,” said Arnaro. “He was, indeed, strong. But even so, Andowald is but one of the many dangers that will rise.”

“Call for the Five Races, Arnaro. Tell them it is of the utmost importance they get to you as soon as they can make. I must cut my time here short; I’ll be there by morning after tomorrow,” said Florence in a commanding voice. “Meliya!” she called.

The boys heard some footsteps enter the living room.

“Florence?” she asked.

“Prepare yourself for departure. It appears that you were right and I must make my leave tonight,” said Florence flatly. Rigel heard Meliya scuttle off and out the room. “I will see you soon, my very old friend,” added Florence.

“I hoped for better circumstances but it appears not. May speed be your ally,” said Arnaro in farewell.

The boys heard another tearing sound and the blue glow succumbed to an orange glow again. The boys felt the heat of the fire brush their faces after a moment. A minute went past before they heard the heavy front door open and Meliya’s musical voice echo through.

“You will have to bid farewell to those here, first.”

“It would seem so,” they heard Florence say solemnly. They then heard her get up and move around followed by the front door closing, and then there was silence.

The boys dared not speak in case they were still down there or heard them from outside. Rigel didn’t want to think of that outcome. Some amount time travelled by before Rigel straightened up and put a hand to his temple; he had many things running through his head just now. An attack on Mayana? A summoning of the five races? Andowald? When Rigel decided to follow Florence out of curiosity, and slight worry, he hadn’t expected anything such as this. He felt Hern put a hand on his shoulder.

“Pretty sure they’re gone, come on,” Hern said, although still in a whisper.

He followed his friend down the next three flights of stairs until they were on the ground floor. Once down. they could see that the table had been moved away from the fire and the room itself was more … colourful, in a way. They saw, however, on a silver plate near the fire were tiny specks of blue dust. Rigel walked forward and brushed it with a finger and it left the his finger tip a vibrant bright-blue.

“This must be how she did it,” Rigel said to himself, rubbing the dust between his index finger and thumb.

“So what d’you make of it, then?” asked Hern casually.

“It’s really fine and light. Lighter than dust aught to be-”

“Mate, I don’t mean the blue stuff,” Hern said woodenly. “I mean, everything?”

Rigel waved off the excess blue dust and watched as the fire caught it and turned bright blue and sapphire, but he didn’t notice; he was wondering what he thought of it, himself.

“I don’t know,” Rigel told him honestly. “I mean, it’s not everyday or night you get to hear something like that. And that reaction from Florence, you hear her?”

“Yeah. Sounded like she’d just heard the winning results of the World Cup.”

“Black-Star residue?” Rigel looked at Hern for an answer but got only a shrug. The boys had no idea what it was.

“Your guess is probably better than mine,” Hern told Rigel. “All I can think of is, like … well I can’t actually picture the stuff but from Florence’s reaction-”

“Stuff isn’t good, either way,” finished Rigel.

He turned and flopped onto the couch facing the fire and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting it all mull over in his head and he felt Hern fall down next to him. Truth be told, Rigel was glad he knew something was going on, it meant he could be a little more aware of the outside world. But at the same time, there was a part of him that felt annoyed. After learning Florence would be leaving so soon, all he could think about regarding her was what the witch would be doing in Endoll, and if she would tell him.

“What you thinking?” asked Hern.

Rigel opened his eyes and saw him tossing small clumps of the blue dust into the fire. Each time made the entire thing burst blue before returning to orange.

“Dunno,” said Rigel gently. “Minds all over the place, just now, mate. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?” he wondered, turning to look at Hern. Refusal to believe what was right in front of him had taken over Rigel.

Hern rubbed his face, careful not to get blue dust all over him and said, “You’re asking the wrong person.”

“No, but I mean, c’mon. Surely not?

“Well from what I heard,” Hern started smoothly, “it wasn’t too good. D’you have any idea who this Arnaro character is, though? That might help us.”

“Well they mentioned Mayana and Finnelon and they’re both ghoul cities so he must be a ghoul,” Rigel pointed out.

“That, and he was talking about all the other ghouls searching and doing things,” Hern remarked.

“Cataloguing,” parroted Rigel.

“Right, that. So I think we’re right in saying he’s a ghoul,” said Hern snapping a finger.

They both lapsed into a brief silence again.

Now, Rigel normally handled dire situations with stride and confidence; partly due to the fact that Florence handled shocking situations with a smile and no fear whatsoever and it rubbed off on him. And that handling of horrid situations perfectly sort of painted the witch as this unbeatable role-model to look up to. And for Rigel to see said role model getting in such a state over some far fetched star stuff, it made for a very uncomfortable feeling settling in Rigel’s stomach.

“I reckon it’s got something to do with Warbrin,” Hern muttered aloud. “That place’s always got their hands in one thing or another, even if it isn’t in Skylan.” He eyed Rigel for an answer.

“Nah, can’t be them – we’d of heard of it by now,” said Rigel. He let his head fall back against the couch in wonder. “Because one; Bridgmound and Banifell are both Warbrin’s links into Sera, and even then, they really don’t hold back; and two, Rea’s in Banifell, so news would’ve gotten here by extension from her.”

“Very true,” commented Hern.

“Know there’s a couple more reasons but I can’t think right now.”

“Well I have one: people from Skylan, or Warbrin in particular, don’t bother to raise a finger about anything when it involves Sera or Frayzan or even Fringrad,” said Hern humouredly. “That, and Mayana’s basically on the other side of the planet from Warbrin.”

“That’s for sure,” said Rigel, chewing the words as he spoke.

“D’you know what they were talking about when Florence was all, ’related to Andowlad’,” Hern asked quite cautiously.

“Nope. Don’t know at all.” Rigel shifted and got to his feet. “But I do know that we need to get back to the square ’cause they’ll be looking for us, probably, and we don’t want to get caught being here after that.”

“Too right,” Hern agreed while tossing the remaining blue dust into the fire. He got to his feet too and started heading to the front door.

“Hern, we need to use my window,” said Rigel. “In and out the same way.”

Hern stopped, spun round mid-step and carried on towards the stairs.

“Knew that,” he mumbled. Rigel gave a hollow laugh and followed him.

Once outside, the boys felt grateful for the night-time air being as chilled as it was. It did much to cool their nerves as they headed back to the square which, frankly, they both needed.

“I know it sounds mad,” started Hern, “but why don’t we keep this in the back of our minds just now and focus on the days as they come?” He nudged Rigel slightly.

“Yeah, probably right about that,” Rigel agreed, glancing back up at the moon. “Doing it, though’s a different story.”

“You’re telling me. I can hardly get meals out my mind let alone that peace of theatre we just seen.” Hern shuddered remembering Florence’s reaction. Like Rigel, he had not the slightest idea of what it was about.

Rigel, who was just remembering Anderfil’s trip tomorrow, was furiously trying to squash down the curiosity he had simmering in him, at least until after tomorrow. Then he could let his mind go wild. Now, you wouldn’t be forgiven for completely forgetting something such as what the boys just had saw. You see, it’s best to leave things of great importance floating on top of one’s mind for quick access instead of having to take a long moment to recall them. Hern had a little too much floating on top which made for some interesting facial expressions when searching for stuff, while Rigel struggled to give things any buoyancy to begin with.

“Anyway, game faces when we get back to the square?” remarked Hern.

Rigel nodded.

“Game faces.”

Soon enough, the light rumbling noise of the crowd in the town square became apparent and in a matter of minutes both boys were back in the hustle and bustle of the centre. Rigel caught sight of Florence speaking to Meliya over next to the large pond in the middle of the square and his mother was still within the copper tent with the Burlist’s. Evidently nobody noticed himself and Hern’s quick absence as well as the ghoul and witch’s. Rigel felt somewhat compelled to march over and ask Florence herself what was happening, but his mind told him that it wasn’t his place to ask – he shouldn’t even know in the first place. But Rigel’s good old curiosity and deep seeded suspicion (Which he developed thanks to avoiding Hern’s constant pranks) had almost ordered him to follow. Hern, on the other hand, seemed just fine. He was currently guiding them both towards Sten. Hern wasn’t the type to dwindle on things for too long; he’d much rather go with the flow and let his attention switch as often as it wanted.

They were heading over towards Sten when a distinctively feminine voice yelled out, “You two!”

Rigel turned and saw one of his older friends named Anna walking towards them alongside one of his other friends, Finn.

Anna was a little taller than Rigel, which, again, firmly cemented the fact that he was quite short, and she had blond hair which stood out in the sea of brown hair. She had lived in Watsonford her whole life alongside the others. She also wanted to leave, but for a different reason entirely: she wanted to explore the long abandoned southern cities of Frayzan; the country had an abundance of them. And possibly dabble over the border into Fringrad.

Aside her, Finn was relatively the same height as Hern. He had short brown hair and wore simple trousers and a shirt. He had also lived in Watsonford his entire life, but where most others wanted to leave, he wanted to stay and help the town grow.

Rigel remembered them not being present in his house earlier this morning and he guessed they must have been helping with decorating the square.

Hern groaned next to him.

“Somebody get a bow and arrow,” he rumbled while turning his head to Rigel so the other two couldn’t hear him, “here comes love-one and love-two.”

“You’re so jealous it hurts,” sniggered Rigel.

Hern punched his shoulder but couldn’t say more, the couple were upon them.

“Happy birthday, Rigel!” yelled Anna, bouncing towards him and hugging him quickly.

“Thank-you,” Rigel blurted out.

She stepped away, beaming at him and Finn smacked his shoulder.

“You’re catching up slowly but surely,” he said. He was twenty-four, you see, four years older than Rigel and Hern.

“Obviously,” said Rigel. “All the more reason for me to hurry up and get out there,” he pointed to the mountains in the distance.

“Not gonna happen with Anderfil being here,” Anna said simply. “He stomps all over everyone.”

“Yeah, but he refuses to believe that. Good to see you too, Anna,” said Hern, making a face at Anna.

“Hello, Hern,” she said happily, choosing not to notice.

She had a way to rub her near constant enthusiasm on anyone she talked to. A thing Finn found out to be a rather useful tool when building something or doing cleaning. Everyone hated getting near her when things had to be done; she would always find a way to make someone do something.

She grinned at Hern and said, “Have you been treating Rigel well?”

“Like any of you would!” Hern announced.

“So where have you two been? I was looking for you a while ago,” asked Finn curiously.

Rigel coughed quite suddenly. He hadn’t come up with any sort of clever cover story for those who noticed his brief disappearance. And it was clear that this was a capital mistake on his part. He looked at Hern who in turn stared right back. A quick silent conversation passed between them and Hern closed his eyes with a sigh before holding both his hands up.

“All right, fine, you got me,” he sighed. “I convinced Rigel to share one of his Unusual Surprises with me.”

“Ports Unusual Surprises?” asked Anna.

Hern nodded sheepishly.

“Yup. Halved it between us and I must say, damn good stuff.”

Now, Hern wasn’t any good at lying in his early years. But ever since Florence gave him a piece of advice, he had been brilliant at it. ’Always stay as close to the truth as you can when lying’ was the words Hern remembered, and true enough, they both had gone to Rigel’s house and had sort of halved the information discovered from Florence. So in other words, the only differences were that there was still a full and untouched Ports Unusual Surprises in the house and they only went there because off Florence.

“Which kind you get?” asked Finn.

Hern flustered a little to himself for a moment before saying hurriedly, “Blue-fire flavour.”

“Never had that,” Finn wondered, stroking his chin. “Only had milk, grass and beef flavour. An acquired taste, blue fire, I take it?”

“You either love it or hate it,” shrugged Rigel, adding his own little dashing to their cover. He got an approving nod from the older boy and relaxed.

Finn then took notice of the motus vines in Gordons cage and suddenly felt very competitive.

“What was that record of yours, Rigel?”

“Oi lanky! How’d you know I never beat it?” accused Hern hotly.

Finn barked a laugh to himself and said, “Because I’ve not heard anything from you about it. You’d be parading that news around if you had. And since you aren’t, well.”

Hern grumbled to himself and Rigel suppressed a few teasing remarks.

“Sixty something seconds, if I remember,” Hern grumbled. “Just ask Gordon when you get there.”

Anna leaned against Finn and was peering over at the enclosure.

“Sure thing, mate!” said Finn. “Hey, have a great night, Rigel, and I’ll make sure to come find you if I beat that score. See you two later!” And with that, he slowly started walking away.

“I’ll see you another time, Rigel. Don’t let him have too much fun, now, Hern,” came Anna’s last words as they both left.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hern let out a long breath he’d been holding.

“Dammit, that was brilliant,” he breathed.

“What?” asked Rigel, raising an eyebrow.

“They never kissed or anything. None of that googly-eyed stuff as well,” Hern told him, rubbing his nose. “Oh, I’m surprised all right,” he added.

Rigel couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised as well, now that Hern mentioned it. Normally the two, Anna and Finn that is, were always in a constant state of showing just exactly how much they loved each other. It got very old very fast, to say the least. Rigel and Hern took to teasing them slightly and when that proved to be futile, they just avoided them sometimes. Of course, after a while, the two took the hint and dialled back how much they did in public, to everyone’s relief. And they had been fine ever since.

The boys then went about guiding themselves to the side of the square where they weren’t getting too much in the way of others. Thankfully they were the only ones present their age after Finn and Anna left so they weren’t disturbed very much, but that didn’t matter, they were disturbed enough as it is. To combat this, both boys decided to just enjoy each other’s company for the time being, the end of the night was near.

Half an hour had past when the time came for the festivities to wind down. And how the boys knew that? Well, the only way possible in Watsonford during a birthday: by the mayor of the town giving a quick speech.

Elizabeth was the mayor’s name, and she actually wasn’t from Watsonford. Elizabeth was born and raised in Artnow, and was at the age of fifty-three when she decided to move the town. She had heard about it and visited as a tourist quite often throughout her life and when the job of mayor opened up, she applied immediately. Of course, she got it and here Elizabeth stood now, four years later and still the mayor, preparing for one of many speeches; a thing that had become a staple in many festivals. Let’s just say that Elizabeth got quite perturbed once she learned just exactly how many speeches being mayor entailed. But alas, there was no way out of it and she took to a small podium set at one side of the square and a hushed silence fell over the crowd. Rigel grew a little worried that she might end up calling him out.

“Good evening, everybody!” Elizabeth called pleasantly. She held a voice that was both stern and inviting. One wouldn’t dare get on the wrong side of her. “I’m glad to say that tonight went rather well, seeing as the food and drink have lasted all the way up until now. Especially the drink. Unlike the last birthday – I’m looking at you, Finn, Hern.” Hern seemed to shrink back at the sight of all eyes suddenly turning to him, while Finn merely called straight back that it was fantastic drink, earning a crowd-wide murmur of a chuckle. “Our town is one of the only towns small enough to be able to host something like this for our voted people every birthday. I’m sure you’re all aware how lucky we are to be able to do so – even though most people arrive here for the New Year parties, but never mind that. Tonight, we are here to celebrate the twentieth birthday of Rigel.” She turned and started speaking directly to him.

“Now, we all know that you can get up to some funny activities here in Watsonford. Most of which involve you and your little accomplice thing actively taking advantage of some of the residences lacking ability to see a prank. It’s a sad thing that I speak from experience there, and I’ve yet to return the favour. But nevertheless, having Rigel here with us seems to brighten the day. Whether he helps with some everyday jobs or is trying to outdo Anderfil. And yes, even if himself and Hern’s’ legendary rivalry just happens to break something, the town wouldn’t be the same without him,” A man quickly handed her a glass swirling with some red wine, “and I send my greatest wishes to you for the future, Rigel. I’m sure the entire town is alike when I say to you, have a very happy birthday!” She then held up her glass and the rest of the square followed suit, coupled with a large cheer. Rigel could do nothing but nod, still not used to the punishing amounts of attention he had received today. “And now, on to prepare for the next birthday in two weeks,” Elizabeth added gaining another laugh.

Rigel seen his mother at the beginning of Origin Street waving at him. She pointed towards their house and Rigel gave a thumbs up in return.

“I’m guessing Florence will leave when we’re all asleep?” said Hern in a hushed voice, watching Alison leave. Rigel nodded at him but said nothing.

Speaking of said witch, she was actually heading over towards the boys just now. Nothing on her person pointed towards her leaving tonight, but they both knew it was inevitable. Meliya wasn’t anywhere close by from what they could see. Florence halted before them and clasped her hands together, letting her small cane stand on end without her help, a thing Hern found confusing to say the least.

“Magic is useful for all things,” commented Florence. She watched as Hern pushed the cane over, only for it to snap back into an upright position.

“Can see that,” came Hern’s struggle of a reply.

Florence then turned to Rigel and gave a small clap.

“So, how have you enjoyed yourself, Rigel? Must say, I think the town did splendidly.”

“They did, Florence. Couldn’t have asked for a better night,” said Rigel cautiously, nearly tripping over his last couple of words.

Florence took no notice.

“It appears that your combined record with Hern still remains intact over at that motus cage. Gordon gained some well-earned money after it.”

“They were betting?” asked Hern.

“They were betting if you could beat it or not, yes. Gordon said you couldn’t and won quite a fair few gilds for it,” said Florence. She casually missed out the part in which she herself betted Rigel would beat his previous score, but those were finer details. The witch rested her elbow on one folded hand and used the other to rub her cheek. “Amuses me how such a dangerous species of flora can be used for games. Humans, I guess – always finding the best uses for everything.”

“Very best,” said Hern, patting Rigel. “So, Florence, what’re your plans?” Hern’s hand gave a small bit of pressure against Rigel shoulder. They both knew that a large string of excuses was about to hit square in the chin and they both were wondering just how the witch would word it.

“Actually, dear Hern, I’m afraid I must leave tonight,” Florence gloomily told them.

Both Rigel’s and Hern’s eyes popped out their heads. Never did they expect Florence to just up and tell the truth about leaving.

“Why?” said Rigel, partially rehearsed for what he thought the witch would’ve said but also partially out of genuine curiosity. He never expected the witch to be so truthful, so he now wondered exactly how far she would go.

“I have some business I need to attend to and I must make haste so staying tonight is a no go,” Florence told them. And it became quite clear that that was as far as she was willing to go.

The boys kept privy their deliberations as Florence spoke to them.

“Must be serious to make you do that?” Rigel added while suppressing an irritated huff.

Florence gave him a pale look.

“Indeed … but nevertheless, I’ve spoken with your mother and she understands quite well which I’m thankful for. I hope you can understand, too?”

“Don’t worry about it, Florence. Whatever makes you act like this must be bad,” said Rigel.

Florence felt herself become mightily relieved that neither of the boys weren’t going to pressure her into giving an answer.

“Allow me to walk you both home – assuming you’re staying with Rigel, Hern?”

“I’ll let you think about that for a moment?” Hern told the witch.

“Very well, then, shall we?”

Florence made a move towards Rigel’s house, the boys followed at her side and Rigel thought he saw Florence glance at him slightly.

The witch knew they weren’t blind, and that they had an incline as to where she was off to, due to Meliya being present. But the witch made sure not to let on to it. Rigel found himself pondering again over just what was going on and he started thinking of all the races that could be part of this Five Races group, carry on; humanity had to be there, after all, they were the most abundant race on the planet; Ghouls, quite possibly; another random race, most probably. But that would only come to three, so who were the others?

Rigel hummed to himself in thought when they reached the large white door of his house and he seen the lights were on inside signalling his mum was inside. The trio stopped outside the door and the boys looked to Florence.

“This is where we part ways, boys,” said Florence softly.

Hern laughed loudly.

“Hope you fix whatever’s going on,” he said, giving more truth in his words than he meant. Thankfully, his words could mean anything.

“Yeah. And come back sooner this time,” snapped Rigel. “It’s been too long since the last time we saw each other.”

Florence seemed to relish in the conflict.

“I’ll certainly try my best, Hern. And once I’ve completed what I’m about to undertake, I’ll make it a priority to venture back here. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like the best I’m going to get from you,” said Rigel, trying to hide the bitterness of the situation.

“You never know,” said Florence. “Might turn up in a months’ time.” She paused and stared down the street, before nodding to an inner conversation. “Now, I really must go, so I bid you both a goodnight. Hern, don’t eat too much and, Rigel, have a wonderful end to your birthday,” she told them warmly before she turned and started to walk away.

The boys were a little shocked at just how fast a departure Florence was making; barely an hour ago she was sitting having a brilliant time with them all, and now, she was on her way out. But any last words by Rigel were thrown out of his mind by Hern in complete Hern-fashion. He took a couple of steps forward and cupped his mouth.

“DON’T GET LOST IN THE WOODS, BUTTER-SCOTCH!” he yelled.

Florence was now a good bit away but she lifted her walking cane and gave it a light shake. A white light shined from the end and Hern’s normal brown hair burst into a bright-purple colour.

Hern gave a loud shriek and grabbed his head and started spinning. Rigel, on the other hand, had to hold his sides with laughter.

Florence gave a last wave in the distance, was joined by Meliya appearing with a sack full of food from the festival, and vanished round the bend of the street. The boys waited for a moment and eventually could hear the cracks and snapping of the trees in the distance.

Hern fumed to himself, pulling his hair down over his eyes to see the vivid purple.

“See that little … I can’t. This hair was perfect-”

“Calm down. It’ll probably wear off later or by morning,” said Rigel, clearly amused by Hern’s sudden conundrum.

“It better. Otherwise I’m cutting her bald next time she’s here.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Rigel, opening the door.

Both boys went into the house, their minds still swimming with weird and wonderful theories about Black-Star Residue, and called it a night.