As the first light of day crested the unseen horizon, even the near complete darkness at the base of the Arm of Caevo was brimming with life. The chirruping and buzzing of insects eased into silence as the distant calls of birds arose. The long, damp grasses swayed and danced in the cool morning breeze, concealing the point from which the massive Arm long-ago erupted from deep beneath the earth. Standing as still as a statue, head bowed in reverence and eyes mostly shut, was one of the few granted passage to this place. One of a mere handful of avian people to live within the city of Crater, he was the only one to visit this holy site each morning like clockwork. The silence was ended with a whistled song, an ancient verse to give thanks to his creator. As he repeated the intricate tune, he raised his head skyward, following the immensity of the Arm to its peak. Though he couldn’t see it from beneath, he recalled his birthplace in the sky: the city of Caevo’s Palm. The avian city was built upon the ground which once filled the spot where he now stood before it was lifted into the air as a gift to Caevo’s children. Beneath him, he swore he felt a pulsating heartbeat emanating from the body of his god beneath the earth. In truth, he knew the sensation to mean that it was time to return home. The small spherical device hung at his waist by a strap across his chest had finished its purpose for the day and now thrummed with energy against his feathered thigh. With great care, he made his way through the grasses and back to the road which spiralled up through the remaining levels of the city.
From here, he saw looming above him much of Crater, a city with a curious history and even stranger citizens. Its conception was archived as one of the great tales of the avian people, one which pleased Caevo. An avian woman, far from home and searching for a tale to please her God, flew over a human village that had been burned to ash. She found a small group returning to their former home, left with little more than the clothes on their backs, and offered to guide them to a new, safe place they could call their own. This group became the only flightless beings to ever stay within Caevo’s Palm while the construction of the first buildings of Crater was underway. A close comradery was woven between the settlements on either side of the Arm. What had started as a place of respite in the face of tragedy became one of the first places to reject the long-held taboo against interracial cooperation and a celebration of hope against adversity. Many people of different races flocked to Crater for its core ideology and promise of respect and fortune for all. Others felt called to worship at the sight of the miraculous Arm, a sure indication of a god’s presence. The previously barren pit flourished with farm fields that encircled its outer rim, wells to access and purify groundwater, and various mining tunnels rich with minerals. A wide, circular road which looped around the base of the Arm and a dozen or more stone stairways provided access to the vertical tiers of the city.
“Not watching where you’re headed again this morning, Em?”
A voice startled the avian man to a halt mid-step, forcing an alerted whistle out from his throat. He turned his head away from the majesty of the Arm in the morning’s light and found himself face to face with a brick wall.
“Come on, stargazer. I’ve already got your order prepared. Take a seat. I’ll bring it out in just a sec.”
Before he could attempt to respond, the familiar woman returned inside. The sudden jingling of a bell welcomed her back. He chuckled at his own foolishness. Nearly every day, he found himself so entranced by the sight before him that he wound up in some form of trouble. The young woman who ran this café, the lowest-down eatery in Crater and thus closest to his morning ritual spot, had come to his rescue countless times. She never had much business, at least not this early, leaving plenty of extra time to prepare a small off-menu meal and a free table. Today, like most days, Em hopped into a chair just outside the small building and continued his admiration. Even the bell did not shake him from his thoughts.
“One special salad bowl for my very special customer, and a very regular water as well.”
“Oh!” He jumped, steadying himself with a wing to his still damp chest. “You have my thanks.”
“Anything for my favourite early riser. It does look quite nice today, doesn’t it?”
He nodded, already lost in his own mind, letting out a low, cheery coo. From such a low angle, it was difficult to see why the Arm was named as such. It looked like a clumsy column of dark rock with all of its details hidden by the shadow of the island above. The way it jut out at a low angle from Crater’s deepest reaches always gave the impression that the entire structure threatened to come crashing down at any moment. In his mind’s eye, Em envisioned its true beauty as he had seen it before: a giant pillar of obsidian black rock emerging from unknowable depths, bending abruptly halfway to its peak. It was unmistakable as the arm of his god holding the avian city aloft. Its upper half was encircled by brilliant verdant vines and the leaves that tumbled off its surface transformed it into a mighty wing when seen from afar. The view was both exciting and calming for the aging avian. Each morning, he looked upon it with new eyes, and each night, he was grounded by its humbling presence. Through muscle memory alone, Em finished his meal and hopped down off the tall chair. From a leather satchel strapped over his chest, he retrieved a few coins and tossed them onto the table with his beak before waving farewell to his friend.
Though he passed each of the city’s main stairways along his trek back home, he remained along the main street throughout his morning stroll. Only just short of his third decade, still young by the standards of most within the city, Em was showing many signs of age. His frail legs were often incompatible with the high steps of Crater. His wings were still in excellent shape, and he supposed he could fly, but he had little desire to change his morning routine. In this way, he felt closer to the city he had grown to love and which had welcomed him with confused but open arms. Most avian people did not stay in Crater. Those that did were not particularly close friends, or even family, but rather a disparate group each called down to the Arm for their own purpose. The rest of Em’s family and closest avian friends were not even permanent residents of Caevo’s Palm above him. It was uncommon for avians of age to remain within their city, instead taking to the skies in search of interesting stories which were collected and shared at an annual celebration of their god. This was the purpose given to them by Caevo at their creation: to explore and see all of the world that they could not.
Em was unique as his purpose was much closer to home. He had spent years travelling to and from Caevo’s Palm in search of tales that inspired and surprised his people, but it became more and more difficult to leave the nest each time. For two years, he wandered Caevo’s Palm and Crater in search of what it was that seemed to glue him to this place, and often he found himself at the base of the Arm in quiet meditation. On the eve of the annual Recounting festival, ashamed that he still lacked a tale or song to share, he called out to Caevo for guidance.
And for the first time in over a century, Caevo’s voice was heard. The song rang through Em’s head, deep but delicate like a large, wooden wind chime dancing in a sudden gust of air.
Soon, all must flee both nest and roots alike.
The curtain call draws near; even as I act to sour the stage, tragedy comes.
A force washed over Em’s body, threatening to knock him off his feet and carry him away from the Arm. As he braced himself with talons in the dirt, a warmth spread across his chest and his once dull feathers there turned a vibrant emerald green. It was a mark not seen since the last who had heard Caevo’s song. His story was archived the following day, earning him the unique title of The Emerald Omen, though most now refer to him as Em for short.
Nearly a decade passed and, though efforts had begun to find a suitable new home for the avians and the means to relocate, most others dismissed Em’s message as a false alarm. He remained within the city hoping to convince as many as possible to leave before it was too late. Yet the Crater population never turned away from a challenge, especially one which undermined the core values of the city and stained the reputation of their deity. It was an outsider that Em was first able to convince of impending disaster, though the man seemed almost too eager to agree with the dooming prophecy.
Fredrik had lived within Crater for some time before Caevo’s warning, yet no one knew much about him. He had come from some distant land and arrived to the city alone with a cart containing various basic living supplies interspersed with a handful of odd instruments and measuring devices. His residence was within the highest ring of the city, underneath the near constant shade of the Arm and Palm, and it was rare to see him anywhere but inside his small abode. His neighbours learned that he was a researcher, but his interests remained shrouded. Even the few assistants he hired gleaned only the most basic of information from him, serving to further stir up rumours and gossip about the hermit scientist on the edge of town.
After Em received his emerald feathers, the life of the foreign scientist took an unexpected turn. It started with a mother whose only child, just old enough to speak, refused to eat for days. When no one else could help her, she brought the young one to Fredrik’s doorstep, sobbing as she explained that he was her last hope. He was clearly intelligent and many in the city thought him to be some form of physician or medicine man. Though he refuted such titles, he welcomed the pair into his home with a rare smile. The following day, the child began to eat once more. Then came a man whose brother experienced violent fits during the night, leaving him with chronic fatigue, dozens of bruises, and hallucinations. Next, a boy fell ill and could not be woken from a week-long sleep. Another woman arrived after waking one morning with burns across her legs and hair which fell out in handfuls. Each account of suffering was different, all of them unexplained, unprecedented, and unresponsive to normal treatment. It became evident that Fredrik and his methods were anything but normal. He was no miracle worker, and there were many cases which he could not solve, but soon the rumours of a shut-away foreigner gave way to praise for a mysterious man who would cure all ailments of anyone who came to him.
This compassion is what drew Em to Fredrik’s door for help. It seemed that everyone within the city was doomed to some terrible fate, yet no one listened to his warning. Em had been laughed off, ignored, and ridiculed as a lunatic. A few believed that he had lost his faith in Caevo’s power to protect their children from harm. Surely this doctor, a man who had defied all expectations, must be different. To Em’s great relief, Fredrik did not disappoint, and he never failed to surprise either. After seeing first-hand the increasing frequency of illness and even complete madness arising within Crater, Fredrik concurred that something terrible was happening. He was not sure of the culprit, or of the true meaning behind Caevo’s warning, and needed Em to assist in his research to learn more. The two became fast friends and partners, helping each other toward their different but intertwined goals. Not long after, Em took up residence in Fredrik’s somewhat cramped den to be more available when he was needed. The doctor told all of his patients that their livelihood would improve outside Crater, urging them to pack up their lives and leave. The respect he had earned in the community worked wonders to this effect. In exchange, Em performed some duties which Fredrik rarely had time to fulfill: fetching various supplies (and food, which Fredrik often overlooked), along with greeting and tending to patients with simpler conditions, and being the more sociable face of the clinic. His final duty was to take a strange spherical device, no larger than an apple, along with him to his morning rituals. While there, the device performed its readings automatically and allowed Fredrik regular insight into various matters, chief among them being the mana emanating from the heart of the city.
With the orb at his thigh, still thrumming with energy, Em arrived at last at home. His beak had just found purchase on the doorknob when an unfamiliar voice called out to him from up the road.
“Excuse me! Sorry, would you happen to be Dr. Fredrik? I was told to meet with him, and someone said I’d find him at this—”
“I am not.”
“Oh, I must have misunderstood those directions. Do you know where he lives?”
Em produced a low but cheery whistle, looking back up at the door beside him. “This home is his.”
“Is he available right now, do you know? I have—uh, we have some things for him.”
Peering around the man, Em saw a small cart pulled by a single horse with mounded contents concealed by a simple woven tarp. Beside it stood another horse whose lead was held tight by a humanoid figure. Their form appeared feminine and human, but a large hood shadowed their entire head, leaving only the tips of their shoulder-length hair visible in the daylight.
“Wait here, please.” Em resumed opening the door, pushing it aside with his wing. “I can fetch him. Please, tie up the horses down the road.”
Em pointed to his right toward a series of sturdy wooden posts, part of the fence lining the inside of Crater’s main road. Hustling inside, he closed the door behind him with haste. He unfastened the clasp on his shoulder with his beak, freeing the strap to which the orb was secured, and hung it from a hook upon a nearby wall. The main room was dark, but a clattering from a room away meant that Fredrik was not still asleep. Em hoped Fredrik would be able to meet with the strangers soon, freeing him from the responsibility. While he did his best to be courteous and carry conversation, traditional speech did not always come naturally to him. Avians, while able to speak using words, often preferred to communicate through their native means of whistles, cries, and gestures. Em was no exception, though his position as Fredrik’s assistant meant working on his speech on a daily basis. Nevertheless, it remained difficult.
“You’re back a bit late again today, Em. No troubles on your way back, I hope?”
A light was flicked on, stunning Em for just a moment. He shielded his eyes with his wing and whistled low, watching as Fredrik lifted the orb from the hanging belt and moved it to a recession carved into his desk in the corner of the room. Fredrik sat down, bending his long legs into awkward angles on the low chair. His shoulders hunched as he began the long process of studying the day’s findings. Em strut over and pecked at the man’s thigh to stop him from becoming too absorbed in his work.
“I need to concentrate for this, you know,” Fredrik said, his eyes not moving from the orb.
“No time. Two visitors outside.”
“Visitors? I didn’t think that our last patient was scheduled to return until tomorrow at the rate they were progressing. Did they seem urgently ill?”
“Not sick. Strangers with horses and supplies.”
“A delivery, then. Did I have you order something at the post office lately?”
“No.”
“I guess I’d better get changed, then. Do you mind stalling them? You know I’ll need a few minutes.”
Fredrik stood up from his seat, rising well above Em’s tiny stature, and made his way back into his chambers. Em clicked his beak and pushed the chair back under the desk. The space was messy with various folders, notes, scientific instruments, and tools strewn about, but he had no time to attempt to tidy up for their coming guests. With what little time he had left, he decided to prepare in case the visitors intended to stay for tea.
Em was grateful that they took quiet a while to return, allowing Fredrik to answer the knock at the door. He had swapped his simple robe for a pair of straight black pants and a button-down shirt, complete with a tie that was too short for him. His bald head seemed freshly polished and his standard goatee trimmed to a short stubble of dark hair creeping over his chin. Even the scar on his cheek had been faded away to appear more presentable. It was an impressive trick, and one which Em never got used to.
“Hello, would you be Dr. Fredrik?” The voice from before came through the door as Em turned on the kettle in the kitchen.
“Just Fredrik is fine. Come in, come in, we can talk inside.”
“Thank you, sir. Are you certain our cart will be fine unattended like this? We’ve come a long way with it all.”
“It will be fine, I assure you. And please, just call me Fredrik.”
“Sorry s— Fredrik. Force of habit. My name is Henry Argeron, and this is Juniper.”
“Please, call me June. It is nice to meet you,” the woman said.
“The pleasure is mine. I believe the two of you have already met my assistant, Em?” Em rounded the corner out of the kitchen and ruffled his chest feathers, finally dry after his time spent in the dewy grasses earlier this morning. “Please, have a seat. What brings you to my door, evidently quite far from home?”
“We’ve come from the capital, actually. A woman I know who lives there—her name is Maria, she was born and raised here—she sent us here because she said the city was in need of supplies. So we’ve come with some food and clothing, some tools and herbs and, well, a bit of everything really. But it looks like the city is fine, so I think there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”
“Maria… Ah, she and her baby boy were some of my first patients here. I remember her. How are they these days?”
“As well as they can be. The capital isn’t always the easiest place to live. The five of them are healthy, from what I can tell.”
“Five? I suppose the family has grown since I saw them last.”
“I guess so. Three young boys they’ve got, all very energetic last I saw them. Anyway, about the supplies. She had said you were the one that requested them.”
“Yes, I remember writing her and telling her I could use some things. She mentioned you in her response, now that I think back on it. The name is familiar, at least. But I don’t recall her mentioning a Mrs. Argeron in her letter.”
“Oh, I am not— we are—” June stumbled over her words as her face turned bright red.
“Not married yet, hm? You’re both still very young, I suppose. But you have come from the capital as well, I take it? Are you also acquainted with Maria?”
The room fell silent for a moment. Em piped up with a high-pitched squeak and returned to the kitchen where the kettle was approaching a screaming boil. He turned off the heat and called out for Fredrik’s assistance with a practised whistle.
“I’ve gotten very ahead of myself it seems. Thank the gods for Em, always on top of things. Would you both like some tea?”
“Please,” Henry said, placing his hand on June’s thigh.
Fredrik strode into the kitchen and heard soft whispering between the couple behind him. Beyond the closed door, Em had placed several teabags on a platter next to the still boiling kettle. H stood upon the perching rails they had installed along the lower cabinets to allow him to reach the high counter tops. He shuffled aside as Fredrik entered, watching as he grabbed three teacups from a high shelf and began to prepare the refreshments.
“There’s something strange about her. I can feel it.” Fredrik’s voice was hushed as he glanced toward the door, crouching down to meet Em face to face. Em hopped down from his rail. “She seems almost afraid to speak. Did you notice anything strange about her?”
“She wore a large hood when we met. They left it behind with the horses.”
“A new fashion down in the capital maybe? Or maybe she’s hiding herself. Interesting.” He stood back up and continued assembling the necessities for tea. “I think there’s an accent she’s trying to cover as well. It sounds very familiar.”
Em couldn’t help himself, releasing a short squeak in surprise. “Do you think—?”
“I’m not sure. Not yet. It would be quite interesting if she is though, wouldn’t it?”
“Please keep your composure. They are guests.”
“You know I always do. Did you want something to sip on while we’re in here?”
Em shook his head and the two returned back to their company. Fredrik placed the tray down on a small table in front of Henry and June before scooping some sugar into his own tea and taking a seat. Em remained standing at his side, eyes half shut.
“So, where were we? And please, help yourselves.” He held his teacup close to his face as the floral scent rose up and tickled his nose. “June, I’m interested to hear what brought you so far from your home back in the capital.”
“I am not from the capital, actually.” June glanced up to Fredrik’s gaze, then down to her hand held in Henry’s comforting grasp. “I was raised in a very small village nearby. Henry arrived with some things for us one day, and that is when we met.”
“I knew there was something different about her when I first laid eyes on her,” Henry said. “I went back again and again with more rations just to see her. And when I said I was headed northwest, and wouldn’t be back for quite a while, she insisted she come with me. Gods, I’m glad she did. She’s been really helpful with the horses the whole way. I’m not very good with them myself, but they really listen to her.”
“And your family was fine with you leaving so suddenly? A young woman like yourself must have worried your parents sick when you told them.”
“I do not have a family.” Her face looked sad when she said it, but her eyes failed to fully conceal something else hiding beneath.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.” Fredrik sipped his tea, not breaking eye contact with June.
Silence settled into the room. Henry was the first to break it.
“So what exactly did you need the supplies for, anyway? I was told the city was running short, but Crater seems almost as well off as the capital.”
“The supplies aren’t for the city. I could probably use a few things on that cart of yours, but Em always manages to find what I need. The supplies are for the two of you.”
“For us? I don’t understand.”
“I suppose my letter to Maria didn’t explain things very well. There must have been a bit lost in that communication. Where do I begin?” He placed his tea on the platter and stood up, pacing aimlessly around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s start with this: what do you know about what I do here in Crater?”
“Maria didn’t tell me much. She said you were a doctor that helped her out a few years ago, but that’s about it. Never really felt right asking what you had helped her with.”
“Fair enough. I am currently Crater’s only medical expert of sorts, though I’d likely pale in comparison to what you’d know from the capital. My practice is a bit ramshackle, as you can see.” Fredrik stopped and placed his hand on what looked like an examination table at the side of the room, piled high with papers, scrawled notes, and a few dirty dishes. A long, dark curtain hung from a series of hooks in the ceiling surrounding the table, but most of it lay trailing along the floor. “I was a researcher here long before some… circumstances led to my current position.”
“A man we saw on our way in asked us if we were here because of… ‘some sickness.’ Is that what you mean?”
“Seems you got quite the warm welcome. Yes, that’s exactly the circumstances I mean. There have been numerous cases of disease cropping up within Crater in the last few years, starting not long before our friend Maria and her son fell sick. Theirs was a much more manageable illness, thankfully. Very mild compared to some things Em and I have seen here lately. I’ll spare you the details during tea — there is plenty more if you’d like some, by the way. In any case, when these mysterious ailments started appearing, no one quite knew what to do. A few got the idea that my research might be of use against them, and next thing you know I’m the most well-known name in town. At least, that’s what they tell me.”
“You were researching cures for diseases before this started, then?”
“No, no, nothing quite so mundane as that.” Fredrik stopped his pacing in the corner of the room, placing his hand upon the orb which he had wished to analyze earlier. “I was researching the effects of mana.”
The room fell silent again and neither Fredrik nor Em missed seeing June’s head whip up towards the orb before meeting Fredrik’s gaze.
“Mana? And they thought that was related to people getting sick? I don’t know much about the stuff myself,” Henry said, again quick to stifle the growing tension in the room.
“Most people don’t, I would bet. I’m not from Crater originally myself, actually, but when I heard of a city where people of all shapes and sizes gathered around a structure so closely tied to the history of a god, I knew it would be an excellent place to conduct my research. Everyone knows that mana and the gods are closely related, after all. I was specifically looking at how mana affects people, how it interacts with them, and how that differs from race to race. That has given me quite the insight into the current situation in the city.”
“Such research would be quite dangerous, it sounds,” June said. “I have heard that mana can be poisonous to humans.”
“That is true, very good. I assure you I am quite careful in my actions and have developed a few ways to lessen the effects of the substance. As it turns out, these methods are also quite effective against these so-called diseases that have been arriving at my door.”
“You think they are caused by mana,” June said.
“Correct again.”
“But how’s that possible? A city like this would never have sprung up near some lake of mana or something. It would have failed from the start. Wouldn’t these incidents have occurred since Crater was first built?”
“Mana is not always so apparent, Henry.” Fredrik made his way back to his high-backed chair and took a seat. “And its very existence is not understood. It is possible, for example, that this region was once free of higher concentrations but is now sitting within a sort of cloud of mana, so to speak, much like the clouds in the sky move and change unpredictably. I have a few other theories as well.”
“We had heard that there is a city above Crater,” June said, glancing toward Em as he adjusted his rigid stance. “I did not understand how at first, but we saw it from great distance with our own eyes. It is incredible. That city, has it been affected as well?”
“Caevo’s Palm is not yet afflicted. Our people who reside there are safe, but worried.”
“Em does not mince his words. I suspect you are unaware of avian culture as I once was, but you are in the presence of an extremely highly regarded man within their flock. The green feathers on his chest signify that he has spoken to their creator, the god Caevo.”
“Please, Fredrik, I’m not as important as you say. I did not speak, I heard their voice. Only once. They gave a warning: the people of both cities are in great danger.”
“Danger? Wouldn’t they be able to protect you from pretty much anything? Caevo is protective of their children, right? At least, that’s what I was told.”
“Yes, Henry, they are. And this begs the question: why give such an ominous warning? What danger could be so great that even Caevo would speak for the first time in more than one hundred years, telling their people to flee from a land that has been theirs since their birth?”
“Do you think it’s these diseases? The mana cloud?”
“Perhaps. Or maybe those are symptoms of a greater disaster that has yet to reveal itself. Either way, Crater is not safe, and Palm too will soon face the same tragedies.”
“You wish us to lead people out of here. That is what the supplies are for,” said June.
“Yes, that is right. Em and I have been trying to get people out of the city as fast as possible, but everyone seems convinced that Crater will remain safe. The devout believe that Caevo will save them, and the others insist that Crater has been a bastion against adversity since its inception. Fantastic people, but very stubborn, all of them. My patients, at least, are understandably less attached to these ideals and many of them have left after their treatment. So far, it’s pretty much all we’ve been able to do.”
“There is a family who are ready to leave as early as tomorrow, if their condition has improved enough,” Em said. “We hope you can help.”
“Say no more. If there’s anything else we can do, just ask. I guess you can grab some things from our supplies, now that we’ll be needing a bit more space.”
“That is very much appreciated, Henry. I regret to say we don’t have room for the two of you to stay here with us in the meantime,” Fredrik turned toward the table of disarray, chuckling. “Unless you’d like to sleep on a table. There should be a hostel not far from here where you can sleep. And I will pay you for your services, of course.”
Henry placed his teacup back on the table next to June’s cup, which was still full. June and Fredrik rose to their feet and he walked toward the door to see them out.
“I have a question before we go, if you do not mind,” June said, glancing back into the room.
“Of course, anything.”
“Have you studied mana on all of the races?”
“All of them? That is in line with my interests, but it would be quite the undertaking. Even Crater is only home to a handful. Some races are quite secluded and difficult to reach. The giants, for example. The way they venerate their bodies, never mind their remote location… it would certainly be difficult to study them, that is certain. And they are not alone in that regard.”
“But the others, you have studied them?”
“Many of them, yes.”
“Even the elves?”
A subtle grin crept up Fredrik’s face before quickly receding into his professional blank expression. “They would be among those that are difficult to reach, I’m sure you’re aware. I have yet to meet anyone from the elven clans who would cooperate with a human like me. Even if I could find such a gracious subject, it pains me to say that it would be quite difficult for the people of Crater to accept an elf living here for me to study.”
“I hear they are very close to mana too, like the Gods. That must be very interesting for you. Useful, even. I have heard they have ways to use mana that remind me of what you said earlier, that you could lessen its effects. Actually, I was shocked to hear you say that. I have never heard of anyone but the elves working with mana at all.”
“I’m surprised at the knowledge you have for someone from such quaint roots, June. I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of my theories some time.”
June’s face reddened, but again her eyes remained firm. “I would love to hear how you have discovered these methods of yours. I noticed the —”
“Maybe another time, June. I’m sure Fredrik has got a lot on his plate right now,” Henry said, gently grabbing June’s fingers and guiding her toward the door. He reached behind him for the doorknob, clumsily missing it several times.
“Yes, perhaps some other time. I must get back to my studies now. You’re welcome to return if you have any other questions, though. It was very nice to meet you, both of you.”
“Same to you. Until tomorrow, sirs.”
The door opened and closed behind them. Silence set into the room once more as Fredrik moved swiftly back to his corner desk, itching to analyze the orb at last.
“So?” Em followed behind him, struggling to keep up.
“It seems she and I are not too dissimilar, my friend. Unfortunate that her partner is so protective, but I guess that can’t be helped. We should hire them again soon. I need to know more.”
Jeff's Imaginary Archive 