The Guardians helped Mithra to her feet.

  "Hello, little bug," Bianca was the first to squeeze her in a hug. The black-haired Air Shaper pulled back after a moment, grabbing the younger woman's shoulders. "You grew, again."

  “I didn’t. You got smaller.”

  What followed was a round of hugs and greetings from all the familiar faces, and an awkward handshake with Barlo. The man really was shy.

  "So, food or bath?" Duncan asked again.

  “Any self-respecting establishment won’t let us in looking like that,” Philip said, gesturing at the grime on his robes.

  “Indeed, but I know plenty where we’d fit right in,” Duncan countered with a grin.

  Bianca gave him an unamused look. “I’m not showing my face anywhere near the taverns you seem to frequent. I’ll choose where we eat today.”

  “Fine, bath it is.”

  The group walked to the baths with the happy buzz of soldiers after a long mission. Mithra was content just being with them and listening to their banter. The Guardians were her family, and she was happy to have them back; with them, she didn’t have to pretend to be perfect. Their rare visits always felt like a breath of fresh air for her.

  “How long are you staying?” she asked.

  “Should be about two weeks, if nothing goes wrong,” Duncan answered. “We’ve been in the field too long; we need rest and cleansing rituals. New equipment, too.”

  “Make it a month for the equipment,” Philip interjected. “I heard there are problems with the supply lines.”

  “All hail the incompetent suppliers,” Carla said with a beaming smile. “More vacation time for us.”

  Duncan winced. “Problems with supply lines mean problems for us, Carla. That’s no reason to celebrate.”

  “Right, sorry,” she said. “But I’m still happy for the extra time off.”

  “Aye, me too,” Duncan said with a shrug, “The team needs it.”

  The public baths weren’t far, and soon the group split in two. The twin stone buildings were mostly empty—most of the townspeople were still at work—but the baths were open all day round. Mithra walked with Bianca and Carla, the only two women in Duncan’s team this time. Last year, there were three.

  “Is Lucia…?” Mithra couldn’t finish the question. Death was always close to the Guardians. And it always hurt.

  Carla noticed her worried look. “Oh no, no. She’s fine. She swapped teams not long ago.”

  That was a relief.

  The lady managing the baths shot them a dirty look as they entered, but as soon as Bianca introduced herself as a Guardian, her whole demeanor changed. She called out to the Fire Mage on duty to heat up the baths and ushered the three of them into a changing room. They quickly stripped and moved to the pre-bath area with sponges placed on stools all along the stone wall. Showers mounted on the ceiling provided pleasantly warm water, the water-glyphs shining with dim magical light.

  "Mithra, help me out here," Bianca motioned to her back, and the younger woman got to scrubbing. Under layers of grime, Bianca's muscular back was covered entirely in purple bruises. Despite Mithra’s energetic scrubbing, she didn’t show any signs of pain.

  "What’s got you so banged up?" Mithra asked.

  "An abomination threw me off a roof," she explained. "It would've been much worse if Philip didn't catch me in time."

  "Abomination?” There was an unconcealed excitement in Mithra’s voice. ”You fought an abomination?”

  "More than one. The proper kind, too, with oil for blood," Carla proudly answered instead. She ruffled Mithra's hair affectionately. "Come over here, my turn."

  With a sigh, another scrubbing session commenced. Halfway through, Mithra stopped, her eyes catching on the symbol on Carla's shoulder blade. A Shaper's mark. She traced the dark lines with her finger unwittingly. They moved under her touch, flowing like spilled ink.

  "Hey, stop that, it tickles."

  "Sorry," Mithra said sheepishly.

  "Don't worry, you'll have one of your own soon," Bianca said. Her mark was on her collarbone, slightly obscured by wet hair.

  "Tomorrow."

  "What?"

  "Tomorrow. I'm getting my mark tomorrow."

  "You're turning 18 this year?!" Carla spun on the stool. "We have to throw you a party!"

  "It feels just like yesterday, when Duncan introduced you," Bianca said, nostalgia in her voice. "A little girl, barely ten years old. Hellbent on joining us on a mission."

  Carla laughed. "Remember when she tried sneaking out after us? What was it that Duncan said?" She scrunched her eyebrows and deepened her voice. "If you want to join us, young lady, you will have to defeat me in single combat!"

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  "To the death!" Bianca joined in on the laughter.

  Mithra was red from embarrassment. "Anyways, you want to accompany me to the ceremony tomorrow?"

  "Of course we do," Bianca smiled. "We're going shopping later, we have to buy you a present."

  Carla linked arms with the other women and led them to the bath proper. "About that party..."

  ?

  The trio left the bath a few hours later in fresh clothes, relaxed and ravenous. The men were outside, sitting in a circle on the ground and playing cards.

  “Finally. We thought we’re gonna starve to death waiting for you,” Marco, one of the newer members of the group, said. Two or three years of service, if Mithra remembered correctly. Not much older than herself.

  Philip elbowed him in the side without looking up from his cards. “Don’t listen to him. We ate some chicken skewers while waiting.”

  “You didn’t think to bring us any?” Carla complained.

  “And risk the ire of the bath lady? No way,” he answered.

  “Well, I hope you boys have some appetite left for a proper dinner,” Bianca said. “Duncan’s paying.”

  Duncan looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “I am?”

  “Of course. You’re the one who got a promotion. And you’re throwing your niece a party.”

  “Mithra’s having a party?” Philip asked. “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’m turning eighteen.”

  All heads turned as one, the cards forgotten.

  “Congrats, Mithra,” Marco was the first to stand up. He dusted himself off and reached out a hand to her. “You’re gonna enlist?”

  “Hell yeah, straight after Marking,” she shook his hand. He didn’t look it, but the grip painfully reminded her that Marco was a proper Brute. “I’ll be joining you on the road soon.”

  Philip moved to congratulate her next, but a thunderclap drowned out his words. Dirt went flying everywhere as a rush of air hit the group. Blinded by the cloud of dust, Mithra covered her ringing ears. Another thunderclap sounded, this one much closer. The Guardians were in formation already, weapons drawn.

  The dust cloud dispersed, revealing a man standing in the midst of the group. He was tall, his perfect posture only accentuating the fact. He was wearing impossibly tight clothes with an embroidered flower crest on his chest. Mithra had never seen an outfit like that, but she didn’t have to. She knew what it signified.

  The royal courier saluted. “Urgent news for Guardian Duncan,” he said, producing a letter from thin air.

  Duncan looked even more shocked than Mithra was. He saluted weakly. “Guardian Duncan, on duty.”

  The man handed Duncan the letter and as soon as it left his hands he disappeared with another bang. Mithra’s eardrums almost popped this time. It took a few seconds for her to be able to hear anything again.

  It was chaos. People all around them were panicking. No wonder—those who didn’t see the courier must have thought the city was under attack. Some passersby had their hands on their heads, blood dripping from their ears. A few people fainted.

  The Guardians were shouting over each other. Duncan looked shell-shocked, staring at the letter in his hands. Finally, he snapped to attention.

  “Marco, Philip, Bianca! Take care of the civilians!” he yelled. “Everybody else, silence!”

  Military discipline trumped shock and the trio moved out immediately while the rest of the Guardians quieted down. With shaking hands, Duncan opened the letter. His face dropped, the further he read and he sat down on the ground.

  It took a few minutes to calm down the people and for the three Guardians to come back. When they did, Duncan stood up. Mithra moved in next to him, to steady him just in case. He didn’t look good.

  “Emergency mission,” he said simply. “Type C.”

  The change in the air was palpable. Mithra had no idea what ‘Type C’ meant. No matter how much she asked over the years, the codes were kept secret even from her. But judging by the team’s expression, it was serious.

  “Why us?” Bianca spoke up. “We’re tired, some of us are injured. Not to mention the cleansing rituals. If we go out now, especially for a wi—” She glanced at Mithra. “For a type C, we’ll be dropping like flies.”

  “Command fast-tracked the appropriate rituals for you. It’ll be in three hours, and you’re moving out at dawn,” Duncan said. “As for the why, I don’t know. I wish I did. I’m guessing you’re the closest team available.”

  “Shit, it’s probably Lucia’s team that’s been hit,” Carla muttered under her nose. Duncan either didn’t hear her, or ignored her.

  Mithra’s stomach twisted itself into a knot. Was that what type C meant? An injured Guardian in need of rescue? Or worse, a dead Guardian? The relief she felt hours ago was crushed. She desperately hoped for Lucia to be okay.

  “Wait, you’re not going with us?” Philip asked.

  “No, I’ve got separate orders,” Duncan replied. “I was summoned to the capital.”

  Everyone stopped in a moment of stunned silence. And then exploded all at once.

  “How the hell do they expect us to go outside the Veil without a squad leader?”

  “Gods-damned pencil pushers… who do they think they are?”

  “No equipment, no rest, no Duncan. What a shit-show.”

  “What’s next? They’re gonna have us march without an Air Shaper?”

  “...”

  “Is it that bad?” Bianca said, her soft voice somehow piercing through the cacophony.

  Silence. Duncan sighed.

  “I don’t know. I hope not.” He seemed to finally regain his bearing and stood straight. “Orders!”

  All the Guardians instantly snapped to attention.

  “Philip, you’re the new leader. Don’t get my team killed.”

  “Yes, sir!” He saluted.

  “Bianca, requisition anything you can from the town in terms of equipment. Marco, you’re on food. Barlo, package everything properly. Cal…” Duncan kept giving orders, but Mithra couldn’t listen anymore.

  The whole time she was holding back tears. The rare visits of Duncan and the other Guardians were a highlight of her life. The only time she felt happy. Safe. The only time she didn’t have to try so hard to maintain an untouchable persona. And they were gone, so soon. It was selfish, she knew.

  But she couldn’t help it.

  One by one, the Guardians received their orders. One by one, they approached Mithra and said their goodbyes. Carla promised her a party when they came back. Philip squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. Bianca gave her another hug and apologized for not being able to take her shopping.

  Mithra didn’t say anything. If she did, the tears would have escaped.

  At least Duncan was staying a little longer.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, after everyone went to fulfill their orders.

  “No,” she didn’t have to lie to Duncan. He understood. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. He even looked like he meant it. The initial shock of the orders and the royal courier seemed to wear off, leaving only the usual Duncan exterior.

  “Is Lucia going to be okay?”

  He hesitated.

  “I don’t know.” Duncan never lied to her. “Let’s go home.”