Taní winced as the blinding sunlight flooded the world. Good blood, how obnoxiously bright. The incandescent ceiling lights were powerful, but they never hurt to look at. Then again, this was the first time he’d stepped foot outside the academy in a month.

  “Something wrong?” came a shadow with Jaster’s outline.

  “Nah, just bright,” Taní said, shielding his eyes from the sun’s wrath.

  “But you go to the Jerry Joint every day.”

  “Yeah, when it’s all cloudy. Otherwise, I’d be brightstoned off the roof.”

  “Tan?o,” came Lavisa’s voice from the right, “where is this ‘Jerry Joint’ which you speak of?”

  Taní lowered his hand, his eyes having adjusted. “It’s just a storage closet we’ve remodeled.”

  Jaster jabbed him in the ribs, eliciting a sharp yelp.

  “Truly? How did you get away with that?” Lavisa asked, none the wiser.“I s’pose the teachers don’t pay much attention…”

  They started through the garden, passing several idling students. Jaster had explained they had something called a “free period.” It was identical to a grace but thrown in during the dead hours of their schedule. Every student (except him) had one, but the talented received two. One could even have several of these periods auspiciously aligned at the day's end, meaning they could turn in early.

  Taní vowed to emulate their work-ethic. Not in the pursuit of scholarly enlightenment, but because he wanted to nap earlier.

  Lavisa soon took the lead. She hadn’t been the one to suggest the outing, but she accepted the offer all the same. As for Jaster, he would’ve felt bad for not inviting the guy. What with Taní not having paid him a proper visit since his encounter with Innes.

  Taní was slightly upset he wouldn’t be spending time alone with Lavisa, but being with two friends? Two. That was a joy that overshadowed the dampness.

  “Are you certain we won’t be tardy?” Lavisa asked Jaster.

  “We’ve time to kill, plus even if we are, I got a good list of excuses. Not sure if they’ll work for you, though.”

  “You needn’t concern yourself with me. I already possess a solution.”

  Taní cocked a brow at her. “You sound like you’re used to ditching classes.”

  “We aren’t ditching, Tan?o. We simply might be late. Not that the teachers will ask for my reasoning.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Lavisa turned to him with a small, knowing grin. “Would you punish the future ruler of your great nation?”

  Taní stared. God, how cold. He thought her beyond such petty things, but it seemed no one was above abusing their power. Unsure of how to respond, he flashed her an uneven smile and laughed. She caught on right away.

  “You needn’t worry, Tan?o. I’m not one to take light of my power. I simply like to play with it from time to time.”

  Taní relaxed. “Alright…just don’t grow up to be a tyrant. Never works out in the long run.”

  “TAN-TAN,” Jaster screeched. Before he knew it, the Nimmian zipped over and clamped his mouth shut. “He was just joking, your highness. Don’t hold it against him. He’s just simple.”

  Taní clawed at his hands, but something prevented his arms from moving. Something he couldn’t quite pick out.

  “A poor joke, that, but Tan?o isn’t so tasteless. I’m certain he meant well,” Lavisa reasoned.

  “What kind of things have you been telling the princess?” Jaster hissed into his ear.

  Taní managed a muffled grunt that only made his lungs burn.

  “Comedy? Good blood, save that for court! Do you even know what could’ve happened if you’d said the wrong thing?”

  “You needn’t concern yourself, Sir Fernbank,” Lavisa said, starting down the winding path into port once more.

  Jaster removed his hand from Taní’s mouth. “Really?”

  “Yes. Tan?o has done nothing to earn my ire.”

  “Oh…so you’re fine with what he’s said?”

  Lavisa tilted her head up, her royal gaze set on the boundless azure expanse. “Good humor is in short supply these days, Sir Fernbank. Though we’ve an aversion to it, one needs to tread the line of comfort to receive a worthwhile response. You may utter a quip so despicable it generates naught but ire, though the alternative? An unexpected murmur that takes them for a loop… Stealing their breath even as it absolves you of your burdens. Yes…humor is a necessary risk, though one I welcome all the same. For no greater comfort can exist.”

  The soft rise of her sophisticated, northern Coros accent, the manner with which her shoulders rose, and her hand. So delicately balled, almost as if she were holding something precious. They washed away Taní’s every concern, for a purer moment could never exist.

  She didn’t speak with romantic fondness; she spoke with her heart. Just like Danza whenever Taní interrogated the man on why he persisted despite their abuse from other Preservers.

  “Besides,” Lavisa continued, the sun’s gleam turning her salmon-flaxen hair pink. “I’m not my father. I can handle a crude joke or two. And I won’t ask for Tan?o’s life. Not yet, anyhow.”

  Jaster blanched. “But you—”

  “I jest, Sir Fernbank. Like I said: I’m not my father. A life is worth more than a few tasteless words. Even if they’re to be aimed at my family.” Lavisa’s gaze shifted to Taní. “If you’ve any good ones regarding my father, do keep them to yourself until I ascend the throne. I’d rather you not lose your head.”

  Taní waited for her to admit to the jest, but she just continued down the hill not a moment later. He exchanged an uncertain look with Jaster, shrugged, then followed her down to the academy’s carriage station. They were the fastest way to get to town that didn’t involve relying on one’s Sedd, or a horse. Hopefully, Jaster and Lavisa had yet to learn of his inability to wield that arcane energy.

  The carriage set out at a brisk pace, passing several students along the way, though they were usually a hot blur as they used Goem to enhance their speed.

  They discussed the burning topic that was hot on everyone’s minds: the school’s tourney. Lavisa inquired whether Jaster would participate. His response? A look of disgust at the mention of him doing more than was required. Considering his (somehow) near-perfect attendance and class participation, his house had yet to press him on joining. They probably didn’t care enough to bother him.

  Taní, however, sat on the fence. He didn’t doubt his skills with a blade, but Sedd? The other first-years would humiliate him out of mercy rather than toss him around, especially that blowhard prince.

  As for Lavisa, she sounded particularly conflicted. Almost as if she wanted to join but couldn’t bring herself to. Taní amounted that to general anxiety. Mostly because her father—more than anyone else—desired her participation. Maybe she didn’t want to embarrass herself before the student body.

  Once the driver announced their arrival, they stepped off and entered the town’s shopping district. They weren’t here to “buy,” but do something Jaster called “window-shopping.” Lavisa described the process as “browsing the store’s catalogue without the intention to purchase.” Riveting. What a complete waste of time.

  They browsed clothing shops, perused tomes and books labeled “best sellers” (though Lavisa mentioned they were “tasteless” for being full-length stories with poorly disguised concepts ripped from other successful authors), poked at knickknacks in the shape of stackable dolls from northmost Tyrem, and stopped by a small jewel corner where the smiths crafted reflective nametags with various breathtaking vistas (Taní found his towards the bottom. The perks of having a pretty common name). When they couldn’t find Lavisa’s, they interrogated her about the meaning of her name.

  “I’d…rather not say,” she mumbled, a light blush touching her porcelain cheeks.

  “C’mon! It can’t be that embarrassing,” Jaster said.

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  “Unfortunately, mine is.”

  “I’ve been all over Corat?o and I’ve never heard of it before,” Taní remarked, “not that it sounds foreign, but newish.”

  Lavisa pushed herself away from the display hosting the nametags. “My father gave it to me.”

  “And he never told you what it meant?”

  “He did.”

  “Then what’s it mean? C’mon, we won’t tell anyone…” Jaster probed, leaning closer to her.

  Lavisa tapped the display meticulously. Finally, she uttered, “Nothing.”

  “Kind of a weird meaning…”

  “No, it doesn’t mean nothing, it’s—” An exasperated sigh slipped from her perfect lips. “It means hereafter.”

  Taní turned his ear to her. “Excuse me?”

  “It means hereafter.”

  Jaster scratched his head. “If it’s that bad, we c—”

  “HEREAFTER, ALRIGHT? IT MEANS HEREAFTER.”

  Everyone present in the shop swiveled around to face her, though they quickly returned to their own dealings when she shot back a glare. Lavisa wrung the thumb on her right hand, and when neither

  Taní nor Jaster responded, she dipped her head.

  “I apologize. Truly. I did not mean for my temper to get the best of me. Please, forgive me.”

  Taní held up a hand. “It’s fine. We didn’t mean to stress you out. Even if it was over something like a name.”

  “A pretty odd one at that,” Jaster added with a whisper.

  Taní jabbed him in the side, eliciting a yelp.

  In an effort to make her feel better, Taní asked her questions about the things they saw, even uttering a few jokes every now and again, but she never brightened. Not much, anyway. She seemed to be lost, and unlike before, he had an inkling as to why.

  “Do you not like your name?” Taní said, his voice low enough so that only she could hear.

  Lavisa turned her gaze away from him. “Whether I do is of no concern to you.”

  The stores became a blur as they entered one after the other, her name heavy on his mind. Lavisa. Lah-Vees-Ah. Thinking about it now, it reminded him of a concept within Fractism he had initially overlooked. That being Lacoütha. The Ever-Present After.

  Despite being a follower of Fractism (as was the case with every Coros citizen), he didn’t know much beyond the core aspects. That being perfection, rebirth, and centrality. Lacoütha—from what he gathered—dealt with all three simultaneously. As one’s pursuit of centrality would lead to rebirth, and in their pursuit, they would drive the Solanarium to eternal perfection via Cycles. The destiny of Iterations.

  He thought it a funny way to live forever. They all abandoned their old forms, kinda like how the Agents. Their bodies making up the Tower at Godsfield. But they themselves scarcely remembered tidbits of their previous lives. Not that he believed that junk. Immortality—no matter how broken—could never exist. Danza even said so himself. Claiming that trying to live forever only ever ended in tragedy. Taní wondered why he sounded so convincing whenever he uttered those words.

  After exiting the fifth store in their spree, Jaster helped up a hand, then sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

  Taní sniffed and caught a whiff of something nutty and sweet roasting over a…fire?

  “What is it?” He looked around the area for the source.

  Jaster squeezed his shoulder. “Roasted chestnuts, my friend. Roasted chestnuts. The food of the Juneac?o.”

  “I thought that was fí odala.”

  “No, it’s roasted chestnuts.”

  “I’ve never even heard of that until now.”

  “That’s because they’re a Nimmian specialty,” Lavisa chimed in. “They’re a traditional snack to the islanders, but not the Juneac?o of Corat?o.”

  Taní arched a brow. “Why do they sell it up here, then?”

  “The academy’s port is well-known for possessing a range of foreign cuisines. It not only expands a Juneac?o’s palate, but provides them with a glimpse of cultures outside our borders. That, and it provides foreign exchange students with familiar meals.”

  “I take it they aren’t a fan of fish?”

  “Partially correct, but some appreciate having a piece of home away from home.” Lavisa’s gaze traveled down the street. “A?el told me much the same when I was a child. I can’t imagine what it’s like to suddenly leave home one day. Knowing you’ll never be back; knowing you’ve no other choice but to wander, regardless of heart…” She brought a hand to her chest. “I’ve nothing but admiration for the Juries, but Grazers? Those willing to sacrifice their comfort to lend strangers their aid? They’re strong; stronger than blades forged from God’s blood. I only pray that they never come to regret it.”

  Taní’s heart lodged itself in his throat. What was that? No one had ever spoken so highly of Grazers before, and even when they did—

  Taní suppressed the thought. Of course, she didn’t mean it. They never did; they only treated it like some cruel punchline.

  Lavisa turned to Jaster and asked, “Tell me, Sir Fernbank: Do you miss Nimmin?”

  He shrugged. “Nimmin’s fine, but I don’t miss it. Too rainy, I say. Nothing like Corat?o. Warm, sunny…yeah it rains, but it’s never too much. I’d even say it’s perfect. Y’know, if it wasn’t for Hierrsé. Place’s drearier than Nimmin in the morning. What about you?”

  “All of Corat?o is my home. I do not long for her while I am within her borders,” Lavisa stated, cool as ever.

  “Really? You don’t even miss your palace?”

  “I’ve no warmth for my familial dwelling. Histell is a fine city, though it isn’t where I wish to spend the rest of my days.”

  “Is there any place you like being in?”

  “Hierrsé, for one.” Lavisa turned to Taní. “What about you, Tan?o? Do you miss Histell?”

  He blinked. “Huh? How’d you know I was from there?”

  “Your surname’s a common one among the smallfolk.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t the ‘d’ stand for ‘de’ or whatever?” questioned Jester.

  “Correct,” Lavisa said, “you see, Sir Fernbank, surnames in Corat?o derive from one’s place of origin. A holdover from our Ses?o ancestors, one might say. Those of aristocratic descent do not follow this trend, being granted names to distinguish themselves from the commoners.”

  “Oh. Then what about when…”

  Taní listened to their back and forth as Lavisa explained the Coros name conventions. While three names were the standard (with their second name belonging to their most revered ancestor), it wasn’t uncommon for people to have two. These typically belonged to those of low birth. The upper echelons of nobility and royalty reserved four names, but five? That was an ungodly occurrence that had been prevalent during the Three Nations’ Wars.

  After a while, Taní’s thoughts returned to his surname. Home. He could almost see it. The barely held together shack, his mother’s broad smile, the little shrine to his father tucked away in the corner, and his brothers napping after a full day of play.

  It was strange to think about, but not because he missed it. No, he wasn’t sure if he would ever like to visit it again. He was fine with everyone living their lives without worrying about him. Home was…well, like Lavisa, home was anywhere to him. The grass might be greener, and the clouds grayer, but the sun was still the sun, and the moon would always shine anew.

  They arrived at a small establishment shielded from the sun. Towards the back center was a single sheet of metal with what appeared to be roasting shells atop it. Jaster talked to the owner behind the counter, ordering himself a bag. It cost around twenty SG.

  Taní grimaced as the heavenly scent brushed against his nose. I shouldn’t have given away two thousand.

  Lavisa was next, but before she could articulate her order, she turned to Taní. “Would you like a bag?”

  Despite his mind screaming yes, Taní waved. “I’m fine.”“Are you certain?”

  “Yeah…” He watched as Jester tilted his head back and allowed the flow of sugary-sweet roasted chestnuts to flow into his maw. “I’m good…thanks for asking.”

  Lavisa turned to the vendor with two fingers raised. “I’d like a pair, please.”

  “What? But I—”

  “That’ll be forty SG, ma’am.”

  Before Taní could stop her, Lavisa thrust her Brand into a slot on the counter. Her initials on the device distorted, dropping from 45,000 to an odd 44,960 SG. Taní gaped. She’s RICH. Well, I guess that’s kinda obvious considering she’s a princess, but she’s RICH.

  Lavisa sheathed her Brand, accepted her first bag, then offered it to Taní. Unfortunately, his mind was still reeling from the revelation.

  “Tan?o? Is something the matter?”

  Taní jerked free of his stupor. “Oh, no. I’m good. Just…distracted.”

  “Care to take your bag, then?” She gave it a light shake.

  “Uh…” He accepted his serving with a sheepish smile. “Hope it wasn’t too heavy on your SG.”

  “You needn’t concern yourself with that, Tan?o. Just enjoy.”

  “Are you sure…?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here. Now enjoy. You’ll never have this moment back.

  “Huh…sounds flowery.”

  “I suppose it does, doesn’t it? A?el had a habit of saying it whenever I became distracted.”

  This A?el sounds like a smart guy.

  Realizing worrying wouldn’t get him anywhere, Taní tossed a chestnut back. The crunch combined with the warm cinnamon flavor floored him. Was this truly what the Juneac?o of Nimmin ate? It was leagues better than some dumb fish!

  Taní ate without restraint, craving the punch of sugary flavors that only left him wanting. When handfuls wouldn’t suffice, he took after Jaster.

  The Nimmian’s technique, however, was a bit too effective, as a stray nut instantly lodged itself in his windpipe. He held the initial cough, then sputtered all over the place. Wheezing as the remaining spices threaded into the passage.

  Despite his failing strength, Taní held his bag up-right. At least he’d have a treat to celebrate if he survived.

  “Hey Tan-Tan…you look a little off. Something wrong?”

  A less-than-savory curse popped into Taní’s mind, but he couldn’t squeeze it out.

  “Ah!” Jaster snapped his fingers. “You’re choking. Yeah, happens with them all the time. Your highness, you should give him a good smack on the back. I think he might appreciate it.”

  Before Taní could reassure them, an ungodly explosion of agony sliced through his tender skin, reducing the world to blinding white scales. He crumpled to the ground in a heap of limbs and chestnuts, coughing and hissing as he struggled to decide what needed more attention: the new dent in his back, or the mix of ingredients becoming one with his oxygen supply.

  “NOT THAT HARD,” Jaster cried.

  “S-Sorry! Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Just get him up!”

  Taní felt a pair of slender arms rope underneath his shoulders. They counted to three, and upon that mark, lifted him, summoning a searing blade of white-hot pain that gently pressed into his back.

  Try as he might to appear strong before the heir of his nation, he couldn’t help but emit a pathetic yelp.

  “God, did you use your bloody Sedd to clear his throat?” Jaster hissed into his left ear.

  “N-No… Yes… I didn’t know what to do, alright!”

  “You’re supposed to pat them. Y’know, help them dislodge the thing. Not break them.”

  As much as Taní didn’t want to get back onto his feet—and he really didn’t want to get back onto his feet—the other two drew him up.

  At least he’d die with a full stomach.

  As Tygenna’s promised palace gently coaxed Taní from his mortal shell, a distinctive bell tolled in the air, returning him to full alertness. Grace was over.