[Infinity Nikki] Devotion - Chapter 2

[avicinda]

• Fandom: Infinity Nikki
• Series: Oaths
• Relationships: Avicinda/Giroda | Avicinda/Chigda
• Characters: Avicinda | Charlobo | Siyabo | Chigda
• Rating: Mature
• Word Count: 7142 words
• Content Tags: Pre-Canon, Angst, Blackmail, Emotional Manipulation (via Religion)

Navigation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Injured by the vine, Avicinda is taken to the Delicious Wish Clinic where he is left to recover. But what can he do when Captain Siyabo comes to take his purpose away?

---

Devotion

Chapter 2: Grace

There was a parrot singing on one of the rooftops below the clinic.

Avicinda listened to it from his cot. There was not much else he could do; Dr. Charlobo would only come and order him to lay back down and then grouse at him for disobeying her were he to try and fly away.

The doctors had thankfully hung up curtains around him for privacy. Injuries as extensive as his were no longer common, after all, so there had been no shortage of gawking when the Paladins brought him up to the clinic. No, most Faewish Sprites who would be injured this badly by an Esseling would have simply died.

They had also given him a quill and a pad of paper for him to occupy himself with, but every sketch had come out so horribly wrong, he'd torn them all up and thrown the pad through a gap in the curtain with all his frustration. His reward was someone yelping in pain, to which Avicinda couldn't help laughing—until Dr. Melibo came in to give him a scolding.

So now he did nothing but listen to the parrot and the buzzing chatter of other Faewish Sprites.

The curtain moved, and Dr. Charlobo came in.

She greeted him, but Avicinda did not respond. It was easier to let her do her job without stirring up needless conversation.

Charlobo floated around the end of the bed, over to the side he could not see. He felt her moving the bandage, felt it slip off. She uttered a quiet "hmmm" which prompted him to turn his head to look at her. She was gazing back at him with her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed.

"Avicinda, do you feel any pain anywhere? Your head?"

"No," he replied, "Should I be?"

"No, but..." Charlobo tapped her chin, evidently lost in thought. "The medicine doesn't seem to be having any effect. You may never see out of that eye again."

He stared at her.

She held his gaze calmly, clearly unintimidated and used to all sorts of disagreeable patients.

"The truth," she started, "is that from our examinations, your eye is actually intact—but something else seems to have happened to it, and it's not something we can explain. If you could tell us what kind of Esseling did this, we might be able to put some research into it, but I'm afraid we also cannot guarantee anything."

Avicinda grimaced; he had done his best not to think of that day in the highlands, because doing so meant thinking of Giroda, and that...that brought a pain that he was uncertain to survive.

He let the seconds stretch on. On and on.

"It wasn't a normal Esseling," he said finally. "It was a weird vine."

Charlobo's brow furrowed further. "A vine. You're sure about this?"

"Yes?" Avicinda glared at her. "I didn't get a good look at it, but that's what I would call it."

There was that "hmmm" again, but this time she gestured for him to turn his injured eye to her. He did as ordered, and felt her begin to wrap that side of his head with fresh bandages. "I'll need to discuss this with Dr. Melibo," she said, pausing only to finish her work. "And I'm increasing your Delicious Orb dosage as a preventative measure."

"What? Preventative for what?" he asked, turning to her, but she had already gone through the curtains, leaving him once more to avoid thinking about Giroda and to listen to that singing bird.

---

But Giroda was not really a thought Avicinda could avoid.

As his days in the clinic stretched on, the curtains around his cot would occasionally warp and change, twisting into wooden walls lined with ivy.

"How are you feeling?" Giroda would ask as he entered the tree hollow. Avicinda never answered, merely turning away from him. He had nothing to say to a traitor.

And Giroda liked to fuss over him as much as the doctors did. And Giroda brought him medicine and Delicious Orbs. And sometimes he changed his bandages for him. And Avicinda tossed and turned in his sleep because every night he dreamt of the way Giroda had looked back then, barely held back by Paladins and staring at him as he uttered again and again the words he had wielded like a sword.

There was only one traitor between the two of them, he reminded himself after waking. And then it was a day of warily watching for when the curtains would change, when Dr. Charlobo's fluttering would become footsteps on a wooden floor.

Until finally, Avicinda could not stand it any longer.

"Get away from me," he said, as Giroda approached with a plate of Delicious Orbs. When he did not turn back, when he only continued closer, Avicinda did not hide his anger anymore. He reached out and slapped the plate away, scattering the precious orbs and making Giroda freeze in place. "I said get away!"

Dr. Charlobo turned and left without a word.

There was a parrot singing on one of the rooftops below the clinic.

Avicinda glared straight up, toward the branches of the Grand Millewish Tree overhead. As he listened to the parrot's song, it seemed to carry with it voices from beyond the ivy entrance of his little tree hollow.

"...getting worse..."

"...symptoms don't..."

He shut his eye, hoping to find peace in sleep, but it only magnified every note and every word instead.

"...refusing treatment just like the Wish..."

"...recommend keeping him here until full recovery."

"Let me talk to him first."

This last voice was different from the doctors', distinct to make Avicinda rub his eye and sit up. He was still in the clinic, with bright blue curtains around him—curtains which parted for his visitor.

Captain Siyabo regarded him with a curious expression.

"Avicinda?"

He stared back at her, considered all he had heard, and said, "When can I leave this place?"

She winced. "Avicinda, you can't leave," she said carefully, "Not until you're better."

"My eye will never get better," he replied, "The doctors insist on keeping it bandaged, but I know it's scarring. I'll train to be a one-eyed Paladin. I'll start right away once you get me out of here."

"No, that's..." Siyabo sucked in a breath, then adjusted her glasses. They shone like her helm, obscuring her eyes. "Not your eye, Avicinda. Your mind. Your heart. The doctors say there's something hurting you from the inside, but it's not anything medicine alone can fix."

"There's nothing wrong with me," he snapped.

She fell quiet for a long moment, as if struggling with what words she wanted to say. He could tell there was something, but he had never known her hesitant to speak her mind.

Finally, she broke the silence. "In my capacity as Captain, I'm officially putting you on leave from the Wish Master's Paladins until the doctors say you are ready to return."

Despite himself, Avicinda began to tremble. He shook with—he could not even put a name to how he felt.

If he were not a Paladin for even a moment, then what was he? How could he, who had held a sword from the moment he awakened, serve the Wishing One as anything but? He found himself meeting Siyabo's gaze, searching her eyes, but he knew—she was not the one who could give him an answer to those questions. Perhaps there was no one who could, not in this world or lifetime.

He knew what he had to do.

Avicinda breathed.

"...okay," he said. "I'll stay as long as I need to."

Siyabo's brow raised. Perhaps she had been expecting an outburst from someone she had always thought hotheaded, but with no such reaction, she nodded, expression settling into a sort of uncomfortable smile that he found faintly amusing.

"Good, good," she said, nodding again. She paused, then hovered closer. Moments passed as he waited for her to...do whatever it was she intended, until finally she reached out and merely patted his shoulder before quickly putting distance between them again. "Avicinda, when you come back, I'll be the first to welcome you."

---

There was a parrot singing on one of the rooftops below the clinic.

Though the sun hung low behind the mountains of their valley and many Faewish Sprites had gone to sleep, still the parrot sung a sweet melody that accompanied the gentle lullabies of the Temple choir lingering through the latent divine power in the air. The fluttering of cloaks and wings in the Grand Millewish Tree had died down for the day, replaced by the steady buzzing of nocturnal bugs. Only the Paladins remained alert, patrolling through the residential area or on duty still at their posts. Partnered Paladins occasionally chatted, their soft voices joining the backdrop of parrotsong and lullaby.

It was under the cover of the Grand Tree's sunset symphony that Avicinda emerged from behind the curtains sequestering his cot from the rest of the Grand Tree.

At this time, Dr. Charlobo was enjoying her daily wanders through the residential areas, while Dr. Melibo was deep into a story for a regular patient of the clinic who seemed to have a new ache every other day. At this time, a pair of Paladins named Reida and Ulubo hovered near the entrance to the Garrison of the Paladins. Ulubo glared at her partner with exasperation, eager for the imminent changing of the guard, as Reida wondered aloud, not for the first or hundredth time this week, about the strange events that had recently occurred in the highlands to the north.

As Dr. Charlobo rounded the path to visit an old friend in their home, as Dr. Melibo sighed and began a second story at her patient's request, Avicinda flew off the edge of the clinic platform, skirting as close to the tree's massive trunk as he could on his way up. His flight was shaky, but he had spent several days thinking on this, practicing corrections to his movement in the middle of the night when no would see his shadow hovering back and forth through the curtains.

As a pair of Paladins arrived at the Garrison to finally relieve Reida and Ulubo, as Ulubo shot off in a rush to catch a late dinner at Dorobo's Restaurant, as Reida chased after her with a hurried yell—Avicinda found it trivial to sneak close and borrow a sword from the training area.

What sort of Paladin would he be, without one?

Then he was flying free, away from the Grand Millewish Tree, into the wilderness of the Wishing Woods.

---

Avicinda's plan was simple enough: he would either learn to fight with only one eye, or return to the realm of the Wishing One.

And in the wilderness, he found them, packs of Esselings, wretched creatures of Dark essence awaiting the sword they existed to whet. They slithered; they flapped; they jumped—they watched as a lone Faewish Sprite entered their territory with none of the fear they might have preyed upon.

Thus, the night hunt began.

---

Avicinda steadied himself against a fallen tree.

Sunlight crested the distant silhouette of the Grand Millewish Tree as the final strands of Dark essence dissipated around him. He gazed out over the landscape of rising and dipping hills before him, the spaces between the scattered trees now empty, save for a lone squirrel venturing forth to retrieve a dropped buttoncone, emboldened by the sudden lack of Esselings. In the silence, he swung his sword back and forth toward the tree's bark, testing his understanding of the changes in his abilities.

He was not where he wanted to be, not yet. His swings were slow compared to before and his Whim imprecise—against the Esselings, his reactions had been sluggish. It wasn't enough.

As he looked across the landscape one more time, some small part of him whispered if maybe it had been enough. After all, no other Paladin could cleanse these hills so thoroughly of Dark essence. But was it? Was that perhaps good enough?

He stifled a laugh to himself as he hovered lower down the tree's side. Of course not.

Avicinda paused as he reached an opening in the tree. He gazed into the hollow beyond for a moment, before turning away and making for a rock formation he'd spotted earlier.

Laying under an overhang, he found sleep a welcome embrace, as, for the first time in so long, he did not dream of Giroda.

---

He had barely a moment to open his eye and roll away as an orb of dark essence landed where he'd been laying.

He jumped to his feet and pushed off into the air, dashing away from the rock formation. He swerved, another orb flying past him from behind and grazing the hem of his cloak. Turning in midair to dodge another going past his ear, Avicinda spotted—Esselings—

One shot through the air and lunged at him as he took stock of the situation. He dodged its bite easily, then slashed at it with his sword, purifying it immediately.

But that was only one. Avicinda flew, over and under orbs, rolling this way and that from claws and fangs, purifying as he went. By his quick count—a simple task with the sun high in the sky—there were more now than there had been when he first arrived in this part of the Wishing Woods, and all of them concentrated on his location. He had never known Esselings to be intelligent and organized, but had his slaughter elicited some sort of previously unseen reaction from their forces?

There was no time to ponder such a thing. Just as the Esselings attacked without a moment's pause, Avicinda did not relent either; every movement he made was accompanied by an attack, Whim flying together with slashes of his wooden blade.

Much to his dismay, this was not enough—he had barely thinned the swarm. They stared back as he surveyed them, halting their attack as if it were an intentional insult to him.

What could he do but fight?

And thus, the hunt continued. He caught his breath quick and offered a prayer to the Wishing One, and then he was diving back into the fray.

But still, it seemed as if the swarm only grew, for all his efforts. Orbs of dark essence came at him from every direction and fabric claws closed in on him alongside their cacophonous cries; no matter which way he flew, he was met with an Esseling ready to snarl and snap at his cloak and those that could fly gave chase as he sped past them, their own wings beating after him, ribbon tails spiraling behind them like foul mockeries of Faewish wings.

At last—at last—

Avicinda dove as several orbs flew past, stabbing his sword down against the Esseling beneath him; his Whim raced though it, dissipating the monster, and, at that exact moment, the wooden blade of his battered and worn sword first splintered with a horrible noise, then shattered.

He watched the pieces of wood scatter; each one glittered still with traces of Whim, forming a shining, gently falling wave like that of a Faewish Sprite's cloak being swished. For his distraction, something struck him from behind, sending him careening through the air until he felt himself slam into a tree, the pain jolting him out of his brief shock.

Avicinda groaned as he slid down to the grass, landing with a thud. He rolled onto his back, laying there between the roots of the tree behind him, and gazed up at a sky of glowing, ravenous eyes framed in the purple mist of dark essence.

He was returning to the realm of the Wishing One, or maybe he would become a ghost, and he knew this time he was not waking up, because this time...Why had he come here alone anyway? His whole body ached worse than when he'd been in that tree hollow, his exertions crashing down upon him all at once. He fought against the weight in his limbs, struggling to rise once more, but as he barely managed to climb to his feet, Avicinda felt something give, and he slipped backward, slumping into a deathbed of grass and leaves and roots and branches.

Why was he here alone? He had a partner, a knight just like him, who ripped up his own cloak to save him, whose Whim had engulfed him as he fell, who walked as no sprite was ever meant to for his sake...

Who had lied to him...

Still, it was this name that came unbidden as his eye closed in acceptance of what was coming, the syllables slipping out like a whispered prayer against the darkness clamping down around him: "Giroda..."

Avicinda heard, rather than saw, something large moving around him.

Leaves rustled in its wake, both those above and those on the ground. It moved like a cleansing wind, Esseling cries filling the air together with the wooshing sounds of its movement.

Avicinda slowly opened his eye once more.

It was a massive vine much like the one that had attacked them in the highlands, emerging out of the purple mist from somewhere unseen to sweep through the swarm in large arcs, clearing entire swathes of them at once. Angry red thorns protuded from it, tearing the Esselings caught on them into shreds that swiftly dissipated with the rest of their essence. Avicinda watched, barely able to breath from the thought that it could turn on him next. Even through the fog of resignation, of accepting the end of his unfulfilled mission, a speck of hope formed; if this vine so like the one that had taken his eye could clear the Esselings for him—if it would stop its deliberate, graceful attacks before turning on him—then he could still escape.

If he could escape, then he was truly blessed to continue his training another day.

But the vine began to descend as the mist settled into a familiar landscape once more. Avicinda pressed back against the tree's roots as it landed before him and began to coil, trapping him against the tree.

It stopped, and he found himself looking at a bright red bud that reminded him of an Aurosa.

"Avicinda..."

He froze.

He knew that voice, of course. What Faewish Sprite didn't know the voice of their beloved Wish Master?

"Lord...Lord Chigda?" Somehow, he found his own voice, but it sounded small compared to the vine. Avicinda couldn't remember seeing the Wish Master recently, not since before the latest ceremony. There had been murmurs about how often the doctors were visiting him, and rumours of some kind of illness, but Avicinda had shamefully been too busy thinking of his position within the Paladins to look further into it.

"Avicinda," said the Wish Master's voice again, coming through the bud so clearly, he knew it could not be a trick. "Faithful little one. You fought for so long and so hard—were you scared? It's all right now, my child...I am here."

He breathed, feeling his shoulders sag as all the tension of combat left him now that he knew the identity of his savior. Avicinda took a moment to rise to the air, dusting off his clothes and cloak to be just a little more presentable. He bowed his head to the bud, to show reverence and to hide the way his relief had begun to form dewdrops at the corners of his eyes.

"Wish Master," he said, "I don't understand this form you've taken, but thank you for saving me from the Esselings."

"Rejoice, Avicinda, you are the first I've shown these vines," replied the Wish Master, "The Wishing One has blessed me with a grand revelation, such that I was able to recover from severe Desperation Syndrome."

Avicinda's gaze snapped up to the bud. He was faintly aware of the illness, but only to the extent of understanding that no one had ever survived it when it had reached a stage one could call severe.

"I have been bound to the vines entwined around our home," continued the Wish Master, "and thus, I can no longer leave the Temple of Wishes. Faithful one, I have need of your assistance to achieve the mission granted to me by the Wishing One."

"What is this mission, Lord Chigda?"

"He has tasked me with gathering divine power." The bud swelled, petals shifting. "When this is complete, He shall return. The Wishing One shall be reborn through me and become a new god."

Avicinda drew in a breath. Suddenly, everything that had happened did not seem to matter: there was only the bud on a vine before him. There was only the Wish Master and this promise from the Wishing One. There was only the quiet, burgeoning hope swiftly enveloping him.

He hovered closer to the vine, only to recoil when dark essence washed over him. His Whim surged forth in response, encasing him like a shield.

"Don't fear," cooed the Wish Master, voice gentle and low. It was the way Avicinda remembered it at his Coming-of-Age Ceremony, when the Wish Master had so kindly welcomed him and the rest of his generation to the world. "This dark essence will be purified into divine power within my buds. It is how we shall complete our mission—we need only gather more."

"...how?" His own question surprised him, as did the sudden unease gripping him. He had never heard of such a thing, but perhaps...this was something well beyond the realm of mere Stylists, even for a Faewish Sprite.

"You must approach before I can tell you, Avicinda."

The flower seemed to gesture to him as purple wisps escaped it, its petals beckoning, so Avicinda breathed in deep once more and pulled back his Whim. He had nothing to fear. Was the Wish Master not the finest of all the descendants of the Wishing One? And was it not the Wish Master who had come to save him from the Esselings? He pushed aside any lingering discomfort and approached, reaching out as the petals swayed toward him. Dark essence seemed to reach back for him, but he pushed through and touched the petal. He felt the entire bud shudder.

"Your faith assures me," said the Wish Master, and Avicinda felt a different vine touch first his feet—then his hands—then his left cheek under his closed eye in a caressing motion so gentle he could forget the way he had watched the first destroy Esselings with ease.

"I am destined to serve the Wishing One," he said, and speaking the words aloud only reminded Avicinda of the final words his father had spoken to him before his departure for the Land of Starfall. It had been the week after his awakening, just enough time to ensure he was aware of his family's history and the legacy being passed on to him in the shape of a sword.

"Yes, and now you may serve me to prepare for His return," replied the Wish Master, and any lingering worry immediately faded. "What we must do is gather multitudes of Desperation Orbs, and you must be prepared to make any sacrifice necessary to assist me."

May yours be the destiny that prevails, his father had whispered. Avicinda wanted to laugh at the memory. Instead, he merely bowed his head again to the bud and the vine. The Wishing One had truly chosen to bless him, and now, instead of doing as generations before him had done of waiting tirelessly then growing old then having an heir then becoming nothing more than a glimmer in the light of the Starlink Stone—now, Avicinda had received a response from the Wishing One.

At last, destiny was indeed his to fulfill.

---

As the current Captain of the Wish Master's Paladins, Siyabo had a great number of duties to attend to.

Most of them were expected of her job: she approved or rejected recruits, oversaw the garrison, assigned positions and gave orders, and, of course, she generally did what she could to keep the peace in the Wishing Woods as a whole. Such were the things expected of the Captain of the Paladins.

Then there were the other, stranger duties given to her by the Wish Master that were well outside what she thought made sense, and also very much off any official records.

Such as the Desperation Orbs.

Lord Chigda had tasked her with collecting them; he insisted it was for personal research when she'd questioned it, then got angry when she reminded him that the Desperation Syndrome Research Center had that sort of matter well in hand. Then he had yelled at her when she had never known him to be anything but warm and reasonable. Siyabo looked back on that moment often as the first sign of the Wish Master's Desperation Syndrome and how she should have gone straight to the doctors about it.

The Wish Master only got worse, after that, at least until his miraculous recovery.

But still he commanded her to bring him Desperation Orbs.

Siyabo grumbled quietly to herself as she lifted the basket from where she'd left it at the entrance to the tunnel, knowing that she could not put off bringing this batch of orbs to the Temple of Wishes. She could hear Giroda somewhere in the cavern behind her, sniffling as the sound of chalk scratching against stone filled the stale air. She'd spent yet another favor from one of her lady lovers to acquire that high quality chalk for him, the latest in a series of small comforts she had thought to offer him.

This one was a personal duty. Born out of guilt, certainly, but Siyabo knew if she did not do such things for the young fairy, then there was no one who could, not while he was imprisoned.

Perhaps she was overdue for a visit to Babarada.

She checked the basket in her arms, ensured the blanket hiding the vile red orbs within was secure, then began on her way toward the silhouette of the Grand Millewish Tree in the distance.

The landscape of the Wishing Woods stretched out beneath and around her, trees standing tall amidst the brilliant green grass and colorful patches of flowers. In the river, a trio of anglers were competing for the largest fish, splashing each other with playful dives in and out of the water, the fish fin ornaments of their hoods glinting in the warmth of the sunny day. Across from them, a herd of wreathdoes grazed and wandered whilst their crowndeer stood guard and watched the anglers with an alert curiousity. Somewhere to the south, a Farewisher father and son duo were preparing for the night's ceremony. West of them, a couple danced amongst the Aurosa blooms, spinning in the air hand-in-hand as they laughed and sang prayers to the Wishing One. Further west, the Wish Inspection Center was hard at work ensuring no one would suffer from the very sort of orbs she carried.

The Wishing Woods stretched out beneath and around her. Yes, this was where Siyabo's people lived, where Faewish Sprites slept and ate and fell in love. This was what she had sworn to protect and watch over. Somewhere amongst them all was her beloved grandson Adoda, perhaps off trying out another job in his search for his life's purpose. She could picture him easily, his determined expressions as he threw himself into his latest work and his joyous laughter when playing with friends.

And somewhere, elsewhere, someplace she had not yet thought to look, was...

Siyabo came to a halt so suddenly that she startled a nearby Faewish Sprite on one of the confetti cannon platforms this side of the tree into dropping his half-eaten Delicious Orb. It rolled away and off the side, prompting him to hurriedly dive after it. Siyabo took no notice of this, too busy mulling over her thoughts as she adjusted her grip on the basket.

Avicinda had disappeared from the clinic around a week ago.

Panic had naturally ensued amongst the doctors, and Dr. Charlobo had immediately contacted her despite it being the middle of the night. Siyabo had arrived to find the clinic in disarray, several other Paladins having come to check on the situation before her. She had swiftly and futilely organized a search party and sent them off.

Because the greatest worry at the time had been that Avicinda's Desperation Syndrome would cause him to fall out of the sky.

No, she reminded herself yet again, Avicinda didn't have Desperation Syndrome.

Siyabo huffed and began her ascent to the Temple, no small part of her aching once more at the thought of the missing young Paladin. She'd done what she could to offer him guidance as his superior, but it was nothing comparable to the nurture his damnable father should have stuck around to provide. But no, he was only the last heir in a family in such a great hurry to serve the Wishing One, they were growing old before having babies, and then rushing off to the Land of Starfall once said babies were grown...

"Captain Siyabo!" Several other fairies greeted her as she flew past them. She nodded to each one and returned every greeting, careful to keep the basket covered.

Avicinda had no family. And no friends. He cared only about training and fulfilling his legacy. He'd kept to himself even within the Paladins where she had hoped he would form some kind of relationship with those around him, but every single partner she'd assigned to him had requested a transfer not long after. Two of them had even come to her in tears. Siyabo sighed to herself. In all her years, she'd never met anyone so difficult to get along with.

That didn't mean he deserved the sudden, mysterious illness that had overtaken him after the incident in the highlands, with its symptoms so similar to Desperation Syndrome that even the doctors kept needing to correct themselves.

"Captain Siyabo!" It was little Dorobo, coming toward her from where she'd just dropped off an order at the table closest to the entrance of her restaurant. "Is that for the Wish Master?"

"Yes, but it's a surprise," she replied, careful to tuck the basket under her cloak and away from Dorobo's discerning gaze and ears. Siyabo had never been particularly gifted at listening to wishes, but it was a different matter for a chef who worked with Wishing Orbs all day long. She chose her words carefully. "But just like all the other gifts, it'll spoil if I show it to anyone else before the Wish Master sees it. I wouldn't want to bring him something spoiled, hm?"

"No, no, that wouldn't be good." Dorobo nodded, then gestured behind herself. "Come stop by later for a snack!"

"Of course, little Dorobo," replied Siyabo with a smile. "Now, I better get this to the Temple of Wishes."

The restaurant was as busy as ever, so Dorobo was swift to return to her work. Faewish Sprites chatted as they ate, occasionally flitting between tables. Siyabo watched them for only a moment longer, then shook her head to clear her thoughts before turning down the path to the Temple of Wishes.

She could not deny the apprehension settling into her stomach as she floated along the way.

"Captain? Are you all right?"

Siyabo hadn't realized how slow she'd been going until Chachada came over to check on her. Though he was meant to never leave his post at the entrance of the Temple, the concern in his eyes did warm Siyabo's heart. She took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Yes, I'm quite all right," she said, fluttering her cloak with her free hand to reassure him. "I'll be heading in now, so back to your post."

Chachada looked doubtful still, but did as commanded. Siyabo made for the door, only to feel his touch on her arm.

"Captain, I've been...hesitant to make this report," he said, "but lately I've heard voices from inside. The Wish Master speaks with someone, but he recently sent away all the librarians, and there haven't been any visitors. I thought at first he was calling for me, but he was only angry when I asked, and demanded I tell no one..."

Siyabo frowned; his description reminded her of a certain darker time in the Wish Master's recent history. "I'll speak with him and find out what's happening. Thank you, Chachada."

This did very little to quell her apprehension. She stopped at the door, listening for a moment. There were no voices now, but Chachada's description...

Something was going horribly wrong here.

Adjusting her grip on the basket one last time, she pushed the curtain aside and entered the Temple of Wishes.

The same thing that struck her every time she came here did so again this time—that it always smelled so strange in here. There was an abundance of flowers decorating the Temple, so it was fragrant and floral, but there was always another scent under it she could not quite identify.

The curtains were drawn around the Wish Master's throne, as usual, as were the ones on the upper floor, leaving the room cast in only a dim light. Siyabo could just barely see his shadow through the white fabric, lounging on the throne.

"Wish Master," she said aloud, "It's Captain Siyabo. I...I've brought you those orbs you asked for."

His silhouette moved, slowly sitting up.

"Good, good," said the Wish Master, nodding his head. "You can leave it by the curtain."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as Siyabo carefully brought the basket closer. A weight seemed to fall across her shoulders as she neared the center of the room, and she thought she saw his silhouette moving again, turning his head in her direction. She could feel his gaze on him, closing in on her like a pounceria tracking its prey. Her breath came heavy as she set it down where he asked, then she hurriedly scurried backward in the air.

"Lord Chigda..." she started once she caught her breath, hoping to ask once more what he intended to do with the orbs, but she stopped as movement caught her eye.

There, floating down from the upper balcony, despite the dim light framing his yellow cloak, was unmistakably Avicinda.

She watched in shock as he went up to the basket, tossed the blanket aside, then picked up one of the Desperation Orbs and began to examine it.

"A-Avicinda—!" she exclaimed, once her voice returned to her.

He paused, but did not acknowledge her, turning instead toward the throne. "Lord Chigda, these Desperation Orbs appear to be suitably fresh, if a little small."

"Avicinda, what are you doing here?" Siyabo demanded, all her resolve bubbling forth. She was the Captain of the Paladins, and he was—he was still one of her Paladins, and he was only so young and, and, and he was not authorized to be here, and...

Avicinda sighed, and turned to her with that slow gait of annoyance, his head raised as he regarded her with his good eye. He did not look any worse than the last time she saw him. In fact, from what she could see, he seemed to be doing much better. His left eye had scarred over, leaving a stardust-colored line across it and a single bright star on his cheek.

"I am serving Lord Chigda," he said. His voice held no trace of his usual challenging tone. It was calm and even. "Just as he has asked me to."

"How...?" Siyabo thought over the timeline of events. He had gone missing...and then? Then where did he go? "When? Have you been here this whole time?"

Avicinda scoffed. "No, of course not. I have been training and carrying out errands for Lord Chigda."

"I...I do not understand," she said.

And from behind the curtain, a chuckle.

"My dear Captain Siyabo," said the Wish Master. His voice was more like how she remembered it now, kind and gentle, before the Desperation Syndrome. "Do you not think you are overdue for your next...what was it you call it? 'Fresh Freshday'?"

And that was when Siyabo did understand.

"...no, I am not," she said, calling on her resolve once more. She glanced at the silhouette through the curtain, but kept her gaze trained instead on Avicinda, who simply returned her stare with his brow quirked and his cheek twitching. "I am not at all bored with being Captain of the Paladins, Lord Chigda. In fact, I rather enjoy it and I believe the other Paladins like me as their Captain."

"My, are you certain?" said the Wish Master.

"Yes, I'm certain..." replied Siyabo, frowning. Her apprehension had only grown, and she found herself on guard.

"Ah, but..." And here, Lord Chigda's voice softened to a near whisper, and Siyabo subconsciously hovered closer, turning her attention entirely to the silhouette. Faintly, she thought it odd that he wasn't moving at all, not even as he continued, "What about your grandson Adoda?"

Siyabo froze.

"What...what about my little Adoda?" she asked.

"He hasn't found his purpose in life yet, has he?" drawled Chigda. "Perhaps I can help him along and choose for him. It would be a blessing from both the Wishing One and myself...what do you think, Avicinda?"

Avicinda was not holding back his smirk anymore.

"I am sure you would find something suitable, Lord Chigda," he said. His expression darkened, though the smirk never faded. "But I do have a suggestion—Adoda is physically strong, and there's always a shortage of builders and transporters of building materials. He would do well there, if nowhere else."

"No!" Siyabo blurted out before she could stop herself.

"You reject a blessing from the Wish Master?" demanded Avicinda.

"...no," repeated Siyabo. She shook her head. Chigda had not moved once since Avicinda's arrival, but she had no time to dwell on this. "That is not...that is not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean, Captain Siyabo?" asked Chigda.

Siyabo breathed in deep. She glared at Avicinda, and wondered briefly how it had come to this.

She wasn't bored with the job. That wasn't a lie, because if she truly were bored with the job she would have held a Fresh Freshday by now. But she didn't like the job either, not as it currently consisted of attending to Chigda's secret orders and bringing him Desperation Orbs. That part had made it so much less fun, and, given the conversation they were currently in the middle of, she had to admit: Lord Chigda terrified her more than she adored him.

But she knew there were things only she could do, as Captain of the Paladins. She had a great number of duties: some expected, some unwanted, and some personal.

She thought of flying over the landscape of the Wishing Woods. She thought of the residential area with its many stores and the hanging treehouses overhead where neighbors flitted and waved at each other. She thought of the parrots singing on rooftops and the buzz of chit-chat rising from the restaurant.

This was her home, where her people slept and ate and fell in love.

And it was where they died.

In that instant, as Siyabo weighed the choice before her, she thought of little Giroda in his prison.

But...Adoda...

Siyabo cleared her throat and looked Avicinda square in the eye. "Wish Master, you do bring up a good point," she said, "I believe it really is time for my next Fresh Freshday, and maybe I can even use it to help my dear Adoda find his purpose. I'm deeply grateful for your offer of a blessing for him, but I'm sure I can guide him in the right direction."

"You've done well as Captain of the Wish Master's Paladins," said Chigda, "But this is not the first time you've decided a job wasn't for you anymore, so I will allow your resignation."

She grimaced, once more distracted by the lack of motion from his shadow. "I will have my candidates for the next captain ready."

"There's no need for that," he replied. "Avicinda will make an excellent captain."

"What?"

"You shouldn't question the Wish Master like that," said Avicinda, but Siyabo found her vision blurring in the light of this relevation.

Was this all his doing, then? Did he sneak into the Temple of Wishes when he grew frustrated with the doctors? Did he come here and...and poison the Wish Master's mind somehow?

No, she quickly reminded herself, the Wish Master had already changed, long before Avicinda.

"I have one request before I fully transfer the role to him then," she said, blinking to clear her head, "Please allow me one more day to prepare the other Paladins for this change in command—and to wrap up some paperwork and other unfinished business. An overly sudden change might only confuse everyone and even cause gossip."

Avicinda's eye narrowed.

"...I'll grant your request," said Chigda. "As Wish Master, I thank you for your years of serving the Wishing One and protecting our home as Captain of the Paladins. You may go."

Siyabo hesitated, not quite wanting things to end so abruptly, but she felt once more Chigda's gaze on her. It was like a weight bearing down, heavier and heavier on her shoulders, and every part of her body began to scream at her to fly away to safety again—but the pounceria had already pounced. At last, she understood: she had never been safe in the first place.

"By your leave, Wish Master Chigda," she said, bowing her head and hurrying to the exit.

"Siyabo," said Avicinda, making her pause. "It's unfortunate you found the job boring so fast, but I'm sure you'll have a good Fresh Freshday."

She said nothing, only going through the curtain. Chachada turned to her, tilting his head quizzically at the expression on her face.

Siyabo breathed. In. Out. Deep. Clean, fresh air.

"Captain? Is something wrong?"

Her mind was clearer than ever. Siyabo shook her head and forced out a smile. "Chachada, I have an announcement to make at the garrison later, at sunset. For now...I think I will go to the restaurant and have a snack."

"Huh? Um, Captain—"

But she was off before he could stop her, because Siyabo had only a day to take care of the matters most important to her.

First things first, she had to find a certain Mr. Babarada.

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