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Chapter Text

The city of Vesuvia was alive day and night this time of year. People bustled about on the streets, hanging up decorations and preparing stalls that lined every street leading up to the palace. They spoke with excitement in their voices about the coming celebrations and what they might hold this year.

“I hope the season rooms are there again,” one man had wondered aloud.

“Of course they will, they were so popular last year,” a woman had replied.

“I can’t wait to taste all the wonderful food they’ll have,”

“The alcohol is always the highlight of the Masquerade, always so many wonderous bottles from far away…”

Menaiah wasn’t used to the fast pace of it all, having lived in the country with her father her whole life. The small cottage they shared was peaceful, with only the sound of the wildlife and running water from the brook nearby. She knew she would have to get used to the noise, if she was to stay in Vesuvia once her schooling had finished. After all, there was nothing for her in that cottage that would sustain her or her future.

She stood behind the counter, adding up the money that had been made that day while her aunt finished closing up, sweeping the floor and adjusting jars on their shelves. The profit was better than the day before; people were piling in the door asking for charms to help with all sorts of things, most of them men asking for help wooing women. Menaiah felt her skin crawl every time one shot her a smirk as she readied the bottles for them, trying to move as fast as possible to get them away from her quickly.

“Good job today, Nai,” her aunt spoke up, pulling Menaiah out of her thoughts. “The Masquerade starts tonight. Will you be going out?”

“Oh, uhm…” she furrowed her eyebrows, thinking about if she would be alright with the crowds for a little bit of culture. She wanted to experience everything the city could offer her, but she wasn’t used to so many people around her at once. “I might do, for a little bit,” she finally replied.

Her aunt simply smiled. “Well, there’s a few dresses in my wardrobe you can look through and borrow if you want. After all, going out tonight without looking even a little fancy is just wrong,” she chuckled.

Menaiah understood that the Masquerade was hosted by Vesuvia’s Count Lucio for his birthday. It kicked off on the 13th, and went on for days after. Her aunt told her the city didn’t recover fully from the celebrations until a good month after they started. She just didn’t understand why dressing up all fancy with big, colourful costumes and masks was required. She felt comfortable enough in her normal getup of loose fitting trousers and a shirt tucked into her corset. Still, she had never been one to turn down a pretty dress, and her aunt did enjoy dressing up as if she were wealthier than she actually was.

So, she left the counter and the money behind and pulled herself up the steep stairs to the cosy living space above the shop. Despite the clutter, it was very neat. Two twin beds were pushed up against the far back wall under the window, a plush two-seater sofa at the foot of it. Books were piled up next to it, most of them spell books, mingled with some fiction books Menaiah had brought with her from home.

Menaiah wandered over to the wardrobe next to her aunt’s bed and threw open the doors, immediately going to sift through the bright colours. It didn’t take her long to pick out a few options and lay them out on the bed. She considered them all for a few minutes before settling on a simple light blue dress that came down to her knees and showed off her collarbones. A white corset drew her waist in and pushed up her cleavage a little, making it seem bigger than it was.

To pull it together, she decided to wear her favourite silver choker, a moonstone attached to the center of it, and a pair of tear drop earrings that shone rainbow in the right light. She chose a pair of white wedge heels, not too high that they were uncomfortable, but high enough to make her walk with elegance. The only thing missing was a mask, but she supposed she could find a stall selling them.

She waved goodbye to her aunt for the night before leaving the warmth and quiet of the shop and stepping into the chill of the night. Immediately, a hundred smells hit her nose, making her mouth water, and the sound of people excitedly chatting and distant fireworks made her heart speed up a little bit. She took a deep breath before moving forward and taking in the sights of the city around her.

Before she could walk much further than a few meters from the front door, however, she found herself being shoved into a covered stall next to her shop by people who were murmuring amongst themselves.

“Is it her?”

“Who?”

“The Prakran princess, they say she’s to wed the Count,”

“She’s beautiful!”

Menaiah stood on her toes to see what the fuss was about, and she only just caught sight of a splendid carriage, white with purple and gold accents, and a woman with dark skin and long, full hair flowing around her shoulders. She didn’t see her face, but Menaiah knew then that she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

It took a few minutes for the excitement to die down, and people started to file out of the tent, leaving her pressed up against the table. She stayed there for a second before a voice from behind her addressed her.

“Coming out without a mask? That won’t do at all.”

She whipped around to meet the violet eyes of a boy, around the same age as her, smiling at her gently. She felt the breath catch in her throat as she took in his soft features. His smile widened, bringing out small dimples in his cheeks.

“I have lots for you to choose from,” he continued. “Please, take your pick.”

Menaiah blinked and then tore her eyes away from his face to peer down at the table in front of her. The surface was filled with wooden masks of different shapes and sizes, carved to smooth perfection and delicately painted in an array of colours.

“These are beautiful,” she remarked. “Did you make them?”

“With my friend’s help,” the boy chuckled. “He doesn’t like crowds so he’s not here tonight, but I’m more than happy to help you out.”

“Hmm,” Menaiah hummed, putting a hand to her chin as she considered the different masks before her. “I suppose some help would be nice. I’ve never been to a Masquerade before so I don’t know what mask would suit me best.”

“Then you’re in the right place! You see, I’m also a bit of a magician,” he smirked at her, pulling out a deck of tarot cards from the bag that sat at his hip.

“Oh?” Menaiah arched a brow, hearing the whispering coming from his deck and immediately feeling herself drawn to him. “I’d love to see what you can do with those. I’m a practicing magician myself.” She puffed out her chest a little as she matched his smirk.

Within seconds, the boy had shuffled and spread out the cards on the table, waiting expectantly for her to choose one. She looked back at him and hummed again.

“You’re not going to ask my name? You'll need it for an accurate reading, y'know.”

The boy blushed. “O-oh, right! Sorry…” Menaiah could only smile softly. “So, your name?”

“It’s Menaiah,” she replied quietly, her eyes soft as she gazed into his.

“Menaiah…” he whispered, as if he were testing how the name felt on his tongue. “Beautiful,” he stated, before reshuffling the cards and spreading them out again. “Choose a card.”

Menaiah hovered her hands over the cards, finally feeling a tug towards one. She picked it up and flipped it over.

“Death,” she whispered. “What does Death hold for me?”

The boy seemed to hesitate for a second before replying. “You’re about to face a big change in your life. An end to what you once knew, a transition into something else. Take this change in your stride, and know it is what you need to push you into a better self.”

Menaiah stared at him in somewhat shock, and then grinned at him.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Most fortune readers stroke a crystal ball and tell you nonsense that you could hear from anyone,” She snorted. “But this was definitely a good reading. Thank you-” She went to say his name but realized he hadn’t told her what it was yet.

Seeming to hear her thoughts, the boy laughed (a sound that made her heart skip a beat) and looked towards her as he gathered up his deck.

“Asra Alnazar, at your service,” He bowed deeply, almost mockingly, before standing up straight and moving to pick up a mask. “As for the final piece of your costume, I believe this one will fit perfectly.”

He handed it over to her, and she regarded it with a curious eye. She turned it over in her hands and found the delicate little lines shone like silver in the dim lighting. The colour was a beautiful seafoam green that brought out her eyes, and it was shaped like a fox. Menaiah was in awe at its beauty.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingers along the swirly lines that patterned it.

“Thank you,” Asra grinned, his dimples showing again. “It’s usually five silvers for a mask, but I’ll give you a special price of only three.”

“Only… but why?” Menaiah tilted her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows together. “I don’t mind paying full price.”

“Well, I couldn’t possibly charge a fellow magician full price, especially not one as pretty as yourself,” Asra smirked and wiggled his eyebrows a little, making Menaiah blush and sputter out a nervous laugh. She didn’t know how to answer to that, now that he was looking at her like that.

“I, uh, well- I mean, th-thank you…?” Menaiah stumbled over her words, her face growing hotter with every second before she finally gave up and buried her face in her hands. Asra only laughed.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he reached out to take her hands and pull them away from her face, looking into her sapphire eyes. “Here, let me help you put your mask on.”

Before Menaiah could respond, Asra had moved around the table and lifted the mask into his hands pushing it gently onto her face and doing up the strap at the back. This close, she could feel the warmth coming off his tanned skin, and she noticed he was just a couple of inches taller than her. She would barely have to lean up to…

She shut her eyes quickly as he wiggled the mask around a little, ensuring it sat comfortably on her nose, then stepped back to admire her. He smiled softly then, heart speeding up a little as he realized that the mask made her outfit perfectly complete. He barely knew her, yet she was beautiful to him and for a second, he wanted nothing more than to leave his stall where it was and disappear into the party with her.

“Thank you,” Menaiah said, bringing Asra out of his trance. “I, uhm, oh, here’s what I owe you.” She dug out her coin purse and dropped three silver coins on the table where the mask used to sit. “I’m gonna… go explore I guess.” She mumbled. “I hope I’ll see you again?”

Asra blinked, then smirked. “If you want to see me again, I’m sure I can return to this spot tomorrow night.”

Menaiah smiled and nodded, giving him a small wave before she disappeared into the crowd. Asra watched her leave before letting out a breath and moving his hand to cover his heart. He had never felt an aura so strong before. Despite its strength, it was gentle and it made Asra’s heart flutter. He hoped she didn’t notice.

Faust slithered out from under the table at that point and wound her way up his leg.

“New friend?” She asked softly, looking at Asra hopefully. Asra nodded in response with a faint smile painting his face.

“I hope so Faust,” he sighed. “I really hope so.”

Chapter Text

Asra kept his promise and was waiting for Menaiah the next night in the same spot. His stall wasn’t there, but he was dressed how he was before, wearing a simple mask painted in a lavender colour with gold accents around the eyes. He took her by the arm and whisked her through the streets, introducing her to his favourite baker (of course, he bought her his favourite spiced bun and it filled her mouth with warmth), showing her where the famous Heart District was (“it’s very fancy there but it’s great if you want a pretty dress or some of the best lipstick you’ve ever worn”), and finally leading her up the steps to the palace.

Menaiah could only stare in awe at the magnificence of it; the spires towered high into the sky, and it seemed to shine with its own light. People were filing in through the gates, talking excitedly about what was inside. Asra only smiled at her as he slipped his hand into hers.

“We don’t have to go in,” he began. “But there’s a hundred different rooms with a hundred different things to do inside and it’s the highlight of the Masquerade. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a glimpse of the Count himself.” He winked at her as he squeezed her hand.

And they went in. Menaiah thought of how easy it would be to lose track of time in the winding halls of the palace, but she didn’t think she would mind all that much with Asra next to her. As the night went on, she found herself full of some of the best food she had ever eaten. She squeezed Asra’s hand as she led them into a dim lighted room, the sound of the crowd outside muffling until all they could hear was the serenity of running water and bird song.

“The Water Room,” Asra whispered, moving to push his boots off his feet. Menaiah did the same, and they stepped inside, the water pooling around their ankles. It was cool, but relaxing and they wandered over to a dry bank to sit on.

“This is wonderful, Asra,” Menaiah laughed softly, looking into Asra’s violet eyes. “Thank you for showing me around.”

“It’s no problem,” Asra replied, threading his fingers with hers. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

Menaiah laid back on the bank, tugging Asra down to lie next to her. The ceiling was projected with a night sky, stars twinkling above them and a crescent moon shining brightly. The silence between them was comfortable, and Menaiah found that she didn’t want to leave. The moment was perfect; there were barely any people inside the room with them and the stars were ever so romantic in her eyes.

Asra’s heart was beating loudly in his ears as their hands stayed joined between them. He was so close to her, and she looked radiant beneath the starlight. He knew that after tonight he would likely never see Menaiah again, though he wanted to. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that drew him into her so much – perhaps it was her soft nature or her powerful aura that made him want to learn more about her magic – but he did know that she was here with him, gazing up at the stars and holding his hand.

They were there for what felt like hours, lying in comfortable silence. Asra knew that he would have to cut their time together short soon, and he wished he could just stay with her there, but eventually and hesitantly he sat up, tugging on her hand.

“Come on,” he whispered. “It’s late. You have a shop to help run, I believe.”

Asra walked her back to the shop, the streets still loud and raucous despite the sun beginning to peek over the buildings. He left Menaiah on her doorstep with a lingering gaze and a whispered ‘goodnight’ before he turned and vanished into the crowd. Menaiah found herself leaning against the door after she shut it behind her and sighing heavily. She wanted to see him again so desperately.

But she didn’t.

The next night, neither the stall nor Asra were standing next to the shop and Menaiah decided to stay in the shop. The Masquerade came to an end a few days later, and Menaiah still hadn’t seen Asra since that night. She wondered if he was just pretending, if the fondness she swore she saw in his eyes was simply her imagination. She mentally smacked herself for thinking that he might have felt the same connection she did, but she found herself easily distracted by the work in the shop.

A few months after the celebrations had ended, Menaiah returned home to her father’s cottage in the countryside to continue her schooling. Her aunt was upset that she didn't stay for longer; the Count had oficially proposed to the Prakran Princess Nadia Satrinava and their wedding was to be held later that year, but Menaiah had other important things to worry about than the wedding of a couple of noble people (apparently it was big and beautiful, and both the Count and the new Countess had looked ravishing during the ceremony). She had under a year left until she was 18 and then she could finish up everything and move to Vesuvia permanently. Her father was thrilled at the stories she told him about the city, and he smirked at her when she mentioned Asra. She blushed and shoved his shoulder before quickly moving on.

The year went quickly and Menaiah found herself travelling back to Vesuvia for another few months. Once again, she arrived amid preparations for the Masquerade, and she fell back into the pattern of waking early and opening the shop with her aunt. She had learnt a lot more magic since she had been away and was more confident in making up charms and potions for customers herself. She had even forgotten about Asra for a short while, until the first night of the party came and Menaiah found the mask he had chosen for her at the bottom of her wardrobe. She slipped it on and left the shop for the night.

There was no sign of his stall next to the shop, but it was still early and the fireworks hadn’t gone off yet, so she wandered down to the docks where she hoped she could find a gondola to row her out to sea and watch the show without the crowd surrounding her. Luckily she found one, and standing next to it, handing over some coins to the gondolier, was none other than-

“Asra?” Menaiah stepped closer as the white-haired figure turned to face her, eyes lighting up in recognition immediately and face splitting into a huge dimpled grin.

“Menaiah!” He exclaimed, moving forward to wrap her in a hug. He smelled earthy, and the scent brought back the memories of last year’s Masquerade. “How have you been? I was hoping to see you again this year.”

Menaiah frowned and walked past him to the boat, putting another few coins in the man’s hand before turning back to Asra. “Are you coming then?”

Asra used his magic to push the boat out far enough that they could still see the docks but that there were hardly any other boats near them. There were little candles stuck on the edge of it, lighting up their faces just enough that they could see each other’s features.

“You still have that mask. I’m glad.” Asra smiled at her, eyes soft as they were when he looked at her last year. Menaiah removed it from her face and placed it gently in her lap, running her fingers along the silver swirls.

“You disappeared last year,” she recalled. “I thought you would be there again the night after and you weren’t. Where did you go?”

Asra faltered then, cheeks heating up and pulse quickening. “Ah, well, I- hm, I suppose I disappointed you?” He chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry, I had to return to my friend, and then I… well I went away for a bit.”

“Away?” Menaiah frowned deeper, if that was possible. “You could have said. I wondered if you just wanted someone to explore the party with. I didn’t…” She suddenly cut herself off, not wanting to make a fool of herself anymore. “I thought we might become friends or… or something, I suppose…”

“Oh,” Asra shifted in his seat and moved his gaze down to his lap. “I’m sorry, I… I didn't just want company for that one night. I didn’t want to leave, but I had to.” He looked back at her then, moving forward to lean over and take her hands in his. “You... you were more than just a night of fun to me.”

As he finished his sentence, Menaiah could hear fireworks start to explode in the sky above them, and the colourful light they gave off shone upon Asra’s face in an almost angelic way. He was stunning, she thought, as she watched him lean closer to rest his forehead against hers.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper, breath tickling her lips, eyes already closed. Menaiah could just barely hear him and she nodded, feeling him quickly push his lips against hers in the next second. It was soft and languid, Asra taking his time with it. Her heartbeat was so loud she could have sworn he must have heard it as he chuckled into the kiss before pulling back and holding her face in his hands.

“You look so pretty in this light,” he breathed, reveling in the way her face turned bright red, and her eyes tried to look anywhere but at his face. “Come on, let’s head back to shore and explore again.”

The two explored the stalls much like they had done the year before, this time however they were slower, and Asra insisted on buying her trinkets and food from most of the stalls they visited (sometimes he slipped something into his bag when no one was looking though, earning him a smack to the arm from Menaiah). Eventually, they decided to come back to the shop, their bags full of small things and their bellies full of delicious food. Menaiah let them inside, knowing her aunt was out somewhere in the crowd herself, and lit the lanterns, setting down her gifts on the counter. Asra did the same before looking around in awe.

“Wow, you have so much here,” he mumbled, wandering around to examine the different jars and bottles. He didn’t recognize a lot of their contents and it showed as he stared at some of the ingredients with a brow cocked. He knew some of the basic ingredients for simple potions. Menaiah wondered if he’d let her teach him. “It’s nice and warm in here too.”

“Oh yeah, our stove salamander sees to that,” Menaiah smiled, wandering over to the smouldering fireplace and saying something into it before turning back to Asra, a small glowing lizard in her hands. “Say hi!”

Asra stared at it in wonder before his face broke out in a grin and he introduced himself to the salamander politely. The salamander tilted its head it him before decided to curl up in Menaiah’s palms. She opted to put him back in his home before returning to Asra.

“So,” she started, but realized she didn’t know what to talk about. “Sooo… ah, when you said you went away last year after the Masquerade, where exactly did you go?”

“Oh, just away,” Asra replied nonchalantly. “I travel a lot to help hone my magic skills. I’m self-taught, you see, so I don’t have a teacher or anything. I travel the world in search of new techniques I can use,”

“I see,” Menaiah hummed, regarding him carefully. “When are you planning on leaving next then?”

“Same time as last year. I’ll be gone by tomorrow night,” He replied, looking over at her and smiling. He tipped her head up with his finger so she was looking directly at his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you. I might even bring you something back, if you want.”

Menaiah didn’t particularly care much for gifts; right now, she was so heavily focused on the finger beneath her chin and the look Asra was giving her that she only nodded once, making Asra laugh under his breath.

Menaiah felt a surge of confidence then, seeing his sweet smile directed at her, and she took a step forward to close the gap between them, kissing him again. She boldly moved her lips against his, and when she felt him gasp into it, she poked her tongue out to run it against his lower lip. She could feel rather than see the blush take over his face and warm up the tips of his ears.

Menaiah pulled away first to rest her forehead against his. She could feel his magic coursing through him, like a lazy river flowing gently through a field. She took his hand and smiled gently, noticing how he struggled to meet her gaze.

“Well,” she breathed. “Do you want a cup of tea, maybe?”

They ended up sitting on the edge of Menaiah’s bed, sipping at jasmine tea and chatting to each other about anything that came to mind. There was a comfortable silence between each subject, and Asra emptied his mug before Menaiah.

“So you’ll be here forever soon?” Asra asked her, following on from listening to her telling him about her life outside of Vesuvia with her father.

“That’s right,” Menaiah responded, emptying her tea as well. “I’ll go back after the Masqurade to finalize some things and then I’m moving into the shop permanently. I can learn more here than I can from my father.”

Asra hummed, mind racing at the thought that he would be able to see her whenever he was in Vesuvia rather than just once every year. He hated knowing she was never at the shop at any other time, but now he could get closer to her without worrying about her disappearing from the city.

“Anyway, I’ve told you all about my life.” Menaiah turned to face Asra fully, crossing her legs on the bed under her. “What about you?”

Asra gulped. His life wasn’t anywhere near as lovely as hers had sounded. He was suddenly terrified to tell her anything about him and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, fingers tightening around his mug. Menaiah noticed his hesitation and frowned, leaning forward to put a hand over his.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to coax him into looking at her. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to tell me then you don’t have to.”

Asra shook his head. “No, I… I can tell you but, it’s not a happy story.”

Menaiah gave him all the time she could, listening intently as he told her about his parents disappearing when he was just a child and how he had lived by the docks with all the other orphans. He told her about how he never had any friends until one other child came along, a boy named Muriel, just three years older than him, and they stuck together. He told her about the hut they built in the woods and the wards and protections Asra taught Muriel to keep them both safe.

“It’s where we live, although Muriel stays there a lot more than I do,” Asra chuckled under his breath. “He’s the one who carved that mask you bought from me. He’s good at wood carving.”

Menaiah smiled, thinking of Asra and his friend surviving their childhoods together and how they must have such an inseparable bond between them. She wondered if she would ever meet Muriel, but she didn’t push it. Asra stood and moved towards the window, the sounds of people partying and playing music drifting into the room.

“Sometimes I feel terrible for leaving him there,” he started. “He’s had it much rougher than me and, even though he says he prefers being alone, it just leaves him with his own thoughts, and he doesn’t eat very well when I’m not there to cook.” Asra took a deep breath, curling his hands into fists. “One day, I’ll find us somewhere better to live, and I’ll help him become more confident. I swear it.”

Menaiah could see the tears forming in Asra’s eyes and she felt his aura become tight around his body, the flow becoming rigid inside him. She stood up and walked over to him, pulling him down into a tight hug. They stayed holding each other for a long time until finally Asra decided it was time for him to return home and prepare for his trip the following night. They kissed each other goodbye and Asra promised to come and find her before the next Masquerade.

She believed him.

Chapter Text

The first time he met her, he felt his heart flutter like a baby bird. Asra had never seen someone more beautiful or powerful as her; he could feel her magic moving through her body like fire whenever his skin brushed against hers, meeting the softness of his water-like magic and the two of them almost mingling perfectly. He was desperate to see her again, though he thought he never would.

As he left her at her shop that night and wandered back through the city to the woods, all he could think about was her. Her deep hair glowing in the light of the lanterns, her ocean-blue gaze boring deep into his soul, her soft voice ringing like music in his ears. He couldn’t get enough of her in just one night. He wondered if he would ever meet someone else like her. Probably not.

He slowly opened the door to the hut, trying to be as quiet as possible thinking that Muriel might be asleep.

“You were gone a while,” a deep voice said from in front of the low fire.

“Ah,” Asra breathed, smiling sheepishly as he shut the door behind him. “Sorry, Muri, I was exploring the city.”

“…why?” Muriel asked. “You know it like the back of your hand.”

“Yeah, but it’s always different during the Masquerade,” Asra retorted, joining Muriel by the fire.

“Asra!” A familiar voice chimed in as Faust popped her head out from under Muriel’s cloak.

“Hey Faust.” Asra grinned and reached out to take her, allowing her to wind herself around his arm. “Have you been keeping Muriel safe for me?”

“Safe!” She hissed, tightening around his arm. “Squeeze!”

“Ah,” Asra took in a sharp breath as his fingers started to tingle. “Loosen up a little, will you? You’re much stronger than you think.”

Faust loosened her grip a little, flashing her tongue in and out in her own way of laughing.

“Anyway, I wasn’t exploring just for myself,” Asra continued, turning his attention back to Muriel. “There’s someone new to the city who bought a mask from us yesterday and I offered to show her around.”

“Oh,” Muriel grunted, lowering the knife from the wooden figure he was whittling.

“New friend?” Faust tilted her head at Asra expectantly, and Asra smiled sadly.

“I’ll probably never see her again, Faust,” He replied.

Muriel suddenly stood up and moved over to the bed, shedding his cloak and lying down, his back turned to Asra. Asra sighed. He knew why Muriel was acting this way; he wasn’t fond of other people, and if Asra made another friend that meant another person coming into their lives. Muriel was perfectly fine with how things were and he didn’t want them to change any time soon.

Asra let Faust stay by the now smouldering remains of the fire so she would be warm, and went to lay next to Muriel, resting his forehead on his broad back.

“You know that I would never replace you, Muriel,” Asra whispered, feeling Muriel’s deep breathing. “You’re my oldest friend, but I can’t stay in these woods with you alone forever.”

Muriel turned over to face Asra and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. He avoided Asra’s eyes but he knew Asra was looking at him with that sad gaze he usually had when they spoke about this.

“…I know,” He sighed.

Neither of them said anything else to each other after that, and Asra found himself drifting off easily next to Muriel. Muriel didn’t fall asleep until a long while after that, and every time he let his eyes roam over Asra’s sleeping form he very quickly tore them away again, feeling his face heat up almost unbearably.

Muriel knew it was selfish to only want Asra to himself, but he was the one who had saved him back then from a gang of children and Count Lucio. He owed him a great debt, and Asra had always been kind to him. He sometimes even dared to hope that when Asra touched his arm or smiled at him that he would linger longer than normal, but he knew that hoping was dangerous and useless.

The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Asra quietly packed his bag and left the hut, strengthening the wards around it and taking Faust to go on another journey to a faraway land. He whispered a farewell to Muriel and promised to bring him back something before leaving the woods altogether and finding the beast who usually grazed in the fields outside the city gates. He asked him to take them to Nopal, somewhere he had been before and was fond of.

The people there offered him a night of dancing and warm food when he arrived, and he graciously accepted. He let himself fall into the rhythm the drums set and danced around the other bodies around him. He even allowed himself to dance with someone else, enjoying the way they seemed to melt under his teasing touch. He was more tense than he had thought, because he found himself pulling them away from the crowd and towards a large tree that hid them from everyone else. It was easy to find the things that made them squirm under him, and Asra was a people-pleaser. He didn’t mind giving them what they wanted without receiving anything in return. It was lucky that the other person wanted to return the favour, and by the time they were finished, Asra was sweaty and panting.

For the next few days, Asra spent his time with the familiar magician who had taught him a lot already. This time, Asra was trying to learn how to communicate through water and reflections.

“Open your mind to the person you want to reach,” the magician had told him. “Think about how they sound, how they smell, how they move. Think only of them, and their face will appear to you in their nearest reflection.”

Asra had practiced with the magician, and after a couple of days he had managed to summon their face in the basin of water he held. The image wasn’t solid, and the outline wriggled around in the water but it was an accomplishment he had pride in.

After another couple of weeks in Nopal, Asra decided to return to Vesuvia, trinkets in tow and a gift for Muriel tucked safely into his bag. Faust had twisted herself in Asra’s scarf, clearly tired, but she stayed awake for the journey back to keep an eye out for any danger that might come their way. Luckily, they made it back in one piece and without incident.

Muriel was sat outside of the hut, weaving another protection charm as Asra approached with a smile. They hugged, and Asra produced Muriel’s gifts; a small wooden bear that Asra had bought from a merchant and then painted himself to match the muted greens that Muriel often wore. Despite the little emotion Muriel often wore, he seemed pleased with the figure and went inside to put it on the makeshift shelf beside the bed.

Asra couldn’t resist showing off his new trick to Muriel and Muriel huffed a small laugh when he called out to him through the water in the bucket from the stream nearby.

And so, they fell back into their usual routine of Asra going into the city whenever they needed to buy more food to sell fortune readings and card tricks. Once again, Muriel was calm, and he even followed Asra into the city a couple of times to pick out some things that he wanted to eat for himself.

It wasn’t long before the next Masquerade came around, and Asra disappeared back into the festivities. When he heard a familiar voice call out to him while he was standing at the boats, he felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn’t help but smile wide and hug her.

Menaiah looked beautiful, just like she had done last year, but she was upset with him. He felt horrible when she told him that she felt like nothing but a night of fun to him, and so he did what he knew best. He apologized to her, and kissed her under the light of the fireworks, feeling her magical aura against his again. It was stronger than before, a year’s worth of maturity added to it and he remembered everything he had felt a year ago returning as he held her face in his hands.

The night they spent together was perfect, and they spoke about everything they could possibly think of as he led her around the stalls, buying her anything that caught her eye, even when she laughed and told him to stop throwing his money away. Gods, that laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard.

After they had spent some time together in her shop, he kissed her again and promised her he would see her again before the next Masquerade before leaving her alone once more and returning home.

Faust noticed his lovesickness before Muriel realised something was different.

“Love?” She had asked him, winding her way up his arm. Asra chuckled.

“I hardly know her, Faust.” He sighed then, running a hand through his hair. “But I think I could, very easily.”

“Could what?” Muriel asked from his seat at the table. It seemed he had just finished eating.

“Ah,” Asra faltered, knowing Muriel wouldn’t like the answer to his question. “Well, I met that girl again from last year and we… well, spent some more time together. She’s going to be moving to the city, isn’t that great?”

Faust wriggled in excitement, repeating the word ‘friend’ over and over, tickling Asra as he laughed and eventually begged her to stop. Muriel however wasn’t as excited as Faust. Deep down he was happy that Asra had found someone else and that he wouldn’t be dragging him down anymore, but on the surface he didn’t want Asra to leave him alone again. As much as he enjoyed his solitude, he didn’t want to be completely lonely like he was as a child. But he would never say that aloud.

Asra spoke about Menaiah for a few minutes, describing her and her magic, and talking about her shop and the jars of things inside. He spoke about the stove salamander (“I’m sure it’s not her familiar but it was super cute curled up in her hand like that”) and then finished by saying that he couldn’t wait to see her again.

They all went to sleep that night feeling very different things regarding Menaiah. Asra felt excitement and contentment in his heart at the thought of a future with her in it, while Faust was happy to have a potential new friend and therefore someone else to squeeze. Muriel was unsure about the thought of her living in Vesuvia permanently because he knew it would mean Asra spending more time away from him and their home. Still, he was happy to see Asra’s face so lit up while he spoke about her, and all he wanted was for his best and only friend to be happy.

Chapter Text

Springtime at the cottage was Menaiah’s favourite time of year. The flowers were beginning to bloom again in the expansive garden, exploding like watercolours in the green canvas of the grass in hues of blues, pinks and yellows. The birds came out to sing every day as the sun rose, and the animals that lived in the forest nearby were coming out to visit with their new offspring who followed them on wobbly legs. Menaiah could sit at the metal table in the garden and watch the world go by forever.

“Your room looks ever so big without everything in it,” her father sighed, coming out to join her in the chair opposite her. His eyes were lidded and he yawned; he had spent the night helping her organize the remainder of her belongings into bags. “I’ll miss your company, my dear.”

Menaiah took a long sip of her tea. “I’ll miss you too, father,” she replied, leaning over to place a hand over his. “But I’ll come to visit often, and I’ll write you even more. I promise.”

The two sat for what felt like hours, but realistically was only a few minutes, until the carriage arrived at the front of the house. Menaiah and her father packed her bags into it tightly until there was a gap left in the seat for Menaiah. She sighed, turning to smile at her father who was looking back at her with the same bittersweet expression. They hugged tightly, tears threatening to spill from their eyes as they whispered farewells to each other. They knew the other would be fine but living without each other permanently would be difficult to adjust to at first.

Still, Menaiah climbed into her seat and shut the door behind her, allowing the horses to pull the carriage away from the cottage and into the forest. She waved out the window at her father, watching him disappear back inside after she had passed the garden. Menaiah settled back in her seat and sighed deeply. Her new life would be full of opportunity and magic, and she was so excited for that. She only wished her father would come to the city with her, but the cottage was all he had left of her mother, and he refused to leave it to someone else in case they changed it, and he would never abandon it to simply rot away. She never knew her mother, but she heard the stories of her from her father growing up; she heard of a kind, beautiful woman who poured her magic into greenery and potions. The garden was her handiwork, and while she was carrying Menaiah inside her, she glowed like the sun at dusk. She nurtured the bump and sung to it gently throughout the months, and when she had given birth she used her last breath to tell her new daughter how much she loved her and how special she was. Despite never knowing her mother, she felt her magic in everything around the cottage and knew that she was still there, watching over her and her father.

Lost in thought, she hardly noticed when the trees gave way to buildings on the outskirts of the city, and suddenly they had stopped right outside the magic shop. Menaiah’s aunt came running out to greet her, throwing her arms around her and laughing.

“Welcome home, Nai,” she said to her, holding her face in her hands. “Let me help with those bags.”

Within hours, Menaiah was completely unpacked and the little living space above the shop was filled with her belongings, the wardrobe almost overflowing with her clothes, and the bathtub in the next room was surrounded by her own shampoo and other concoctions. The shop remained closed that day, with Menaiah and her aunt leaving to go deeper into the city, eventually sitting by the docks and watching ships sail lazily in and out of the bay as they ate a loaf of warm pumpkin bread they had bought from the baker.

Menaiah watched children running around on the sand and up and down the wooden piers, remembering Asra and what he had told her of his childhood. She imagined him as a child running around with the children she watched, hair too messy and getting in his eyes, scarf wrapped three times around his neck and still too big for him, laughing as he cast crude light spells in his hands to make shapes for the others. She smiled gently, wondering when she would see him next. She hoped it would be soon.

Eventually, Menaiah and her aunt slowly made their way back to the shop, the sun beginning to set behind the horizon and casting pink and orange lights on the walls of the buildings around them. The city was quiet in the night at this time of year; it had only been a couple of months since the last Masquerade and people were tired now, shutting down their market stalls and bringing their children in for the night to sleep.

But Menaiah wasn’t tired, and so she waited for her aunt to fall asleep before wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and quietly leaving the shop to step out into the cool night air and going to explore. She wandered down alleys and followed canals until she came to a tavern tucked away in the corner of the city, a sign hanging above the door decorated with the shape of a raven.

The Rowdy Raven. She could hear music coming from inside, and laughter drifted out the door and into the air. Menaiah smiled and decided that it could be fun to join in with the fun inside the tavern, and she let her feet carry her in through the door.

Inside, the light was low and warm, and the smell of food and alcohol filled her nose. People were spread around the room, some sitting in booths and at tables and some leaning on the bar, chatting to other patrons or to the bartender. She noticed a group of people playing cards in the middle of the room, a small crowd watching them and clearly rooting for the middle-aged woman who sat with her back facing Menaiah. They all whooped and raised their glasses at a certain move and Menaiah laughed under her breath watching the other people in the game groan and throw their cards down in front of them.

Menaiah ordered a glass of wine and went to squeeze herself into a booth in the corner while she waited. People watching was something she didn’t do often but this crowd was so interesting to her, she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes wandered over women who danced with men, people laughing and cheering, clinking their glasses together, and eventually she settled on a man standing by the bar on his own, drinking from a tankard. He seemed to be watching the crowd too, his eyes wandering over the people until they stopped at her. He grinned, raising his glass in cheers at her and she blinked before smiling back at him. It was then that her drink arrived, being placed on the table in front of her and she quietly thanked the barmaid, tearing her eyes away from the man.

When she looked back up, he was gone. She furrowed her eyebrows but didn’t think much on it as she took a sip. The wine was fruity and it felt warm as it slid down her throat, and suddenly the music picked up and people started to stand from their seats to join the dancing. She noticed the man from the bar had picked up a violin and had joined the band, playing what sounded like a sea shanty. Some of the men started to sing along to the song, drunk and out of tune but it didn’t sound bad.

Menaiah grinned and emptied her glass much quicker than she had planned, giving it a few moments before her head felt light and she rose from her chair to join the merriment. She found herself hand in hand with another woman, laughing and dancing around the room, and people started climbing on the tables. Menaiah joined them, her feet moving almost of their own accord as she held her skirt and moved it around her. She had never felt more alive than in that moment, atop a table, tipsy and dancing without a care, and as the song came to an end, the other patrons cheered and laughed, and a hand helped her down from where she stood. She was breathless and rosy cheeked as she wandered back to the bar to order another drink.

“You looked great up there,” a deep voice came from beside her. Menaiah looked up at him as her drink arrived in front of her.

“Thank you,” she replied, taking a long sip. “You play the violin well.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, pushing his fingers through his hair to sweep it away from his face. “Julian Devorak, doctor.” He held out a hand for her to shake it and she stared at it for a moment.

“Menaiah Laurier, magician.” She took his hand and shook it. She couldn’t help but laugh when Julian gasped at the word ‘magician’.

“Magician?” He gaped at her, dropping her hand. “Can you – oh wow – can you show me some magic? Ah, sorry, that’s probably too forward, right? I mean-”

Menaiah laughed loudly, drinking more wine. “Give me your hand,” She replied to his stutters, the alcohol giving her the confidence to show off a little.

Julian didn’t say anything else; he simply held his hand out to her, a small smile playing on his lips. Menaiah barely knew this man, and the sheer height of him was a little intimidating but the way he spoke was soft and deep and calming, and his grey eyes didn’t hold anything in them that told Menaiah he might not mean well, and so she took his hand and breathed deeply.

Menaiah poured her magic into Julian’s hand, making him gasp at the feeling, and she summoned a ball of light that hovered just above his skin. His eyes were wide with wonder, and Menaiah thought he looked almost like a child. She changed the colour and shape of the ball, making it a blue bird, an orange cat, a pink flower. Julian smiled, the light reflected in his eyes, and he laughed a little, shifting his gaze to Menaiah’s face and grinning from ear to ear. By now, a small audience had gathered, all of whom were also staring in awe at the light show Menaiah was giving. She thought she ought to charge them for this, but she didn’t mind all that much. It was just a little light, after all.

Eventually, she put it away and let go of Julian’s hand. She earned herself a small round of applause before everyone went back to their usual activities. Julian was still staring at her with his mouth open in the shape of an ‘o’.

“That was wonderful,” he breathed. “It felt all tingly. You can just… do that whenever you want?”

Menaiah nodded, turning to finish her wine. “I can, and I can do more than that too.”

“You can?” Julian gaped. Menaiah couldn’t help but giggle – he really was like a child. “What else can you do?”

“Hmm…” Menaiah pretended to think for a moment. “Well, I can change my body temperature, I can light a fire, I could use the moisture in the air to make it rain if I really tried, I could probably also freeze it to make ice if I really, really tried, although I might pass out if I did…”

By this point, Julian’s jaw was practically on the floor as she listed off things she could do, and Menaiah cut herself off with a loud laugh. She found herself falling into easy conversation with Julian, drinking two more glasses of wine, and Julian ordering a few more tankards of a drink called Salty Bitters and by the time they decided that it was probably time to turn in, the sun was peeking over the horizon and they were both a little more than just tipsy.

They giggled as they staggered through the streets to the magic shop, where Menaiah’s aunt was standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest and a very stern look on her face. Menaiah gulped, and patted Julian’s arm.

“Well… thanks for walking me home, Julian,” she grinned lopsidedly. “I think I might be in trouble though so I’ll go from here. Goodbye!”

Julian chuckled as he swayed where he stood. “Good luck, ‘Naiah. I hope we can do this again sometime!” He called after her, waving at her as she trudged towards her aunt. She waved back at him and watched him turn and walk away before going to meet her fate.

Despite the earful she received from her aunt before being sent straight to bed with a glass of water, Menaiah couldn’t deny the amount of fun she had had. Julian seemed like a man who knew how to have a good time, and she hoped that he would be a good friend and another familiar face to her in the city that she was still so unfamiliar with.

Chapter Text

Summer in the city wasn’t terribly hot, but it was humid and the air was infected with all kinds of insects. They were everywhere; outside, inside, in your face, on your skin. And there was no way of escaping the horrific sweatiness you would no doubt experience. Even still, the market was in full swing, and merchants hung silks that were no good to sell between stalls to provide some more blissful shade.

Menaiah was wearing as little clothing as she could get away with in public and she still felt like she might keel over from heat exhaustion at any moment. Her hair had been haphazardly placed into a bun high atop her head and her shirt was loose and tied together rather than buttoned up. She had decided to forego wearing a corset like she normally did, deciding that she’d much rather let her tummy be free than drown in her own sweat.

Her aunt had sent her out on an errand to get some more ingredients for the shop, since Menaiah had rather stupidly gotten drunk with Julian again the night before and, upon returning to the shop, had knocked over a few jars which smashed everywhere and rendered the contents unviable. She deserved this punishment, she thought as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She almost had everything; she just needed some myrrh and she could retreat back to the shop where her aunt had cast a cooling spell. Thankfully, the stall that sold it was just around the corner.

Except there was also a very big someone right around the same corner and Menaiah crashed right into their back, toppling over with a loud ‘oof’ and dropping the contents of her basket everywhere. Menaiah groaned and sat up, glaring up at the stranger.

“What do you think you’re doing standing there? At least move a bit further forward so no one else has to slam into you!” She snapped, the heat getting the best of her attitude, not least of all her hangover.

“…sorry,” the stranger replied, almost quiet enough that Menaiah didn’t hear it.

“Ah! We’re sorry, we’re just-” another voice came from around the man and as the person it belonged to stepped out, they stopped mid-sentence when their eyes met. “Menaiah!”

“A-Asra?” Menaiah blushed, looking between the magician and the very broad-shouldered man. “Uh, I… oh gods, is this a friend of yours? I’m sorry, I’m-”

Menaiah was cut off when Asra laughed and crouched down to start helping her pick up her things. She swallowed hard and picked up what remained before allowing him to help her back onto her feet. Menaiah noticed Asra’s sash wriggle before Faust popped her head out and poked her tongue out.

“Friend!” She slithered towards Menaiah, who ran her fingers down the back of her head. Faust shivered.

Asra smiled at the two. “Menaiah, this is Muriel, my oldest friend. Muriel, this is Menaiah, the magician I met a couple of years ago,” Asra introduced the two of them, and Menaiah swore her heart actually fell out of her ass. This was Muriel? And she had just shouted at him in front of Asra. She felt so stupid.

“Ah, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Muriel.” She held out a hand for him to shake but he didn’t take it. Awkwardly, she lowered her hand. Asra laughed again.

“Muriel doesn’t really like strangers,” he explained and Menaiah remembered when he had told her about him. “Honestly, it’s a miracle I got him here! And in this heat too, he refuses to take this cloak off.”

“…it’s comfy,” Muriel grunted, staring down at Menaiah with a look that she couldn’t quite place. She only knew that he didn’t seem happy to meet her. She didn’t take it personally.

“Anyway, we’re just buying some things to make some new charms,” Asra continued. “You look like you have your hands full here.”

Menaiah huffed out a laugh and explained why she was there and what she needed to buy. Asra grinned, his dimples popping out on his cheeks (gods, she wanted to kiss those dimples) and whipping out a small fabric bag from his pocket, tied shut with a simple string.

“We have plenty of myrrh, it’s Muriel’s favourite thing to use at the moment.” He handed her the bag and Menaiah accepted it gratefully. She was glad her coin purse didn’t have to suffer anymore; nothing she needed to buy had been cheap, and she hadn’t paid for it all using only money. Using her magic to help pay had worn her out even further and by now all she wanted was to lie down somewhere dark and cool.

“Thank you, Asra,” she smiled at him softly, nodding and sending her smile towards Muriel too. There wasn’t much in the way of smiling returned to her. “I should get this back to the shop, my aunt will be fuming if I don’t get it to her quickly.”

“Well, hey why don’t we come with you?” Asra suggested. “After all, that basket looks pretty heavy, I wouldn’t mind taking some of the weight off of it.”

Menaiah could have dropped to her knees and thanked whatever god was listening to her at that moment. Asra was definitely an angel sent to her from above. So, the three of them wandered back through the market and away from the hustle and bustle of it all, Menaiah and Asra chatting and laughing and Muriel trailing behind glaring daggers at Menaiah. She was beautiful and bubbly, just like Asra, and she was a magician like him too. Muriel knew that they could disappear into their own world together if they wanted to and leave everything behind and he would never be able to follow. He didn’t want to lose Asra, but how could he even try to keep him when compared to her? Even Faust seemed to like her, which wasn’t unusual, but it made Muriel feel worse somehow.

The shop was quiet, the only customer collecting a potion they had ordered the afternoon before, and Menaiah and Asra dropped the ingredients of the counter in front of her. Muriel decided to wait outside.

“Well done, Nai,” she praised, and then turned her gaze to Asra. “And who do we have here?”

“Asra Alnazar, at your service,” Asra smiled and bowed like he had done when he introduced himself to Menaiah at the Masquerade. Faust slithered her way up and around Asra until she was wound around his neck, her head next to his. “And this is my familiar, Faust.”

Menaiah’s aunt chuckled and folded her arms over her chest. “My, how charming,” she winked at Menaiah. “A young magician and his familiar, come to enchant my niece, hm?”

Asra blushed and scratched the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. Menaiah beamed at him and took his hand in hers.

“Something like that,” she breathed, not moving her gaze away from his face. Seeing him turn to smile lopsidedly at her made her heart skip a beat. Her aunt only looked on proudly.

“How lovely.” She clapped her hands together once and started gathering up the ingredients. “Well, if neither of you are going to help then you ought to go and do something else with your time. Unless you’re happy to just stand there and look at one another,”

Menaiah stuttered and coughed; her aunt was always the kind to tease. Before she could get another word out, the two left the shop to rejoin Muriel who was wondering at the plants climbing up the wall of the shop. It was then that Asra suggested they all go back to the hut in the woods.

“What.” Muriel stared at him, eyebrows furrowed and unsure why on earth he would ever suggest a thing.

“What?” Asra laughed, patting him on the arm. “I’ve seen where Menaiah lives so surely she should see where I live too?”

“Home!” Faust exclaimed.

Menaiah didn’t want to overstep anything. She could see that Muriel was less than comfortable with her around and she could feel how he tried to cling to Asra without physically touching him whenever the two were near each other. For a second she could swear she sensed something else, something more, in the way Muriel searched Asra’s eyes for an answer as to why he would bring a stranger into his home, but as soon as she tried to look further Muriel turned away.

Without another word, Muriel huffed and began to walk off towards the edge of the city. Asra simply smiled and squeezed Menaiah’s hand as they began to follow. It didn’t take long to come to the edge of the forest and the sounds of the city got quieter and quieter until the only thing they could hear was the sound of birds singing high above them and their own footsteps.

No one spoke as they wove their way around trees and over thick roots. The forest produced a lot of noise the deeper in they went, and the sunlight became more and more filtered as they walked. The trees became closer until they were practically on top of each other and, if you didn’t know exactly where you were going, you could easily wander aimlessly forever, never finding your way out or knowing which way is which. Menaiah considered herself lucky to have someone guiding her.

Eventually, they stopped at a tree whose roots were clinging onto the roof of a shabby little hut made amateurishly with unrefined stone bricks and a wonky wooden door. It was a wonder that this place could house anyone, let alone someone as large as Muriel alongside another person. Even still, Muriel shouldered the door open and ducked inside. Asra followed, and before he disappeared into the darkness, he peered behind him at Menaiah, giving her a mischievous grin. Menaiah took a breath before she too went inside.

The hut was chilly (a blessing in the summer heat) and very basic, but it seemed cosy. The crude little fireplace had wood in it already and Asra lit it with little difficulty. Furs were laid out on the floor in front of it, taking on the role of a rug and there were even more furs draped over a chair and on a bed in the corner of the room. The bed itself was definitely handmade but it almost looked comfy – Asra’s work for sure. Menaiah shuffled closer to the fire where Faust had made herself comfortable on the floor already, coiled and clearly relaxed.

Asra sprawled out on the floor and patted the space next to him for Menaiah to sit. He watched her take in her dim surroundings and felt a pang in his chest when a small smile played on her lips. She sat next to him and curled into his side as she snaked an arm around her shoulders. Meanwhile, Muriel made himself comfortable on a chair by the table, dropping his bag and emptying it out.

“So, what do you think?” Asra whispered so as not to disturb Muriel. He knew the hut wasn’t much but it had kept them both safe for so long, and it was far better than the docks. He was proud of it, despite how little it was.

Menaiah sighed wistfully. “I think it’s lovely.” Turning back to look at Asra, she grinned widely and leaned forward to scratch Faust’s chin. “You built this yourself?”

“Yes,” Asra nodded and squeezed Menaiah closer to him. “I used my magic to help hold the bricks together and Muriel did most of the heavy lifting. It keeps us dry and safe, which is good enough for me.”

Menaiah turned to look back at Muriel who had sorted everything they had bought in the market and was placing them away on shelves beside the bed. He seemed to feel her eyes on his back because he turned around to look down at her, huffing and moving awkwardly to finish his task. It didn’t seem as though he was as enthused about Menaiah being there as Asra was, but she supposed that was to be expected. Remembering when Asra had told her about where they grew up, the coldness Muriel showed her was surely because of his trauma. She knew pity would likely not be well received but she felt sorry for him nonetheless.

Eventually, the room became too dark to see anything in as the fire got lower and lower, and Asra stood from where he sat to go and get some more wood from the shed outside. If Muriel was unhappy to be left alone with Menaiah, he didn’t show it. Menaiah thought it would be a good time to try to break through some of those walls he had up.

“Sooo, Muriel…” she wandered over to him and took a seat on one of the stalls by the table, just opposite him. He tensed up slightly. “How old were you when you met Asra? He told me a little bit about your past and-”

Muriel very quickly stood from his chair, tipping it over in the process and moved away from her, ignoring her question. He had lost a few inches from his height with how tensed up he was, shoulders hunched up to his ears and arms folded across his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop talking.”

It was a little shocking when Muriel practically growled at her, not looking at her face but clearly glaring. If looks could kill, she would die on the spot if he moved his eyes to her face for even a second.

“Muriel?” She whispered, slowly standing from her seat. She frowned, but decided against moving towards him as she felt her heart speed up. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Asra wants us to get along so let’s just-”

“You’re not welcome here.”

Menaiah’s eyes widened at the statement, and this time she was the one who tensed up. Suddenly, she realized that his apparent dislike for her ran much deeper than simple social anxiety. She was smart enough to realise that someone coming into your only friend’s life, someone who was just like them, would probably feel pretty awful. Now, more than ever, she felt like she was far overstepping and she wanted nothing more than to run back to the shop and never go back.

“I-I’m not going to take him away, if that’s why you’re so upset with me,” she began carefully. “But if you really don’t like me then I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Menaiah was met with nothing but silence, and she took that as her cue to leave the hut. She knew she couldn’t get very far in the forest with Asra though, and so she simply sat down on a felled tree trunk outside while she waited for him to return. She frowned as she thought about how awful Muriel’s life had to have been for him to have the mindset he had; while Asra had mentioned that they grew up together at the docks and that it was them against everyone else, he hadn’t given many details about Muriel’s personal past. Not knowing exactly what he had been through made it harder to understand but she didn’t dwell on it.

It wasn’t long before Asra came into view carrying a few logs with Faust hanging around his shoulders. He grinned and waved when he saw her outside the hut.

“Hey, I’ve got the wood,” he announced. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s cooler in there than it is out here.”

“Ah, I- well…” Menaiah struggled to find the words. She decided that saying ‘hey your friend hates me because he thinks I’m going to steal you away from him and basically kicked me out’ wasn’t the best way to tell him what happened. “I don’t think Muriel likes me very much…” Is what she settled on instead. Asra frowned.

“I see. Wait here.” Asra strutted past her, pushing the door open and setting the wood down just inside before shutting it again. Menaiah could hear muffled voices inside, Asra’s calm, soothing voiced followed by short low grunts from Muriel.

Asra reappeared next to her after a few seconds without Faust, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he stated, turning to look at her apologetically. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your shop.”

The walk back was silent. Menaiah could feel the conflict in Asra’s mind. She could tell he felt bad that his two friends weren’t getting along well, and she wondered if somehow he blamed himself for the confrontation they had while he was gone. She hoped not. She didn’t say anything to him, instead allowing him time to sift through his thoughts. The shop was in sight by the time he spoke up again.

“I’m sorry again for what Muriel said,” he uttered, hand slipping into hers. She could feel his magic tentatively reaching out for hers, and she couldn’t help but meet him in the middle. He sighed then, basking in the feeling of her. “You both mean a lot to me. I won’t leave either of you behind, but I won’t expect you to like each other. So, it’ll just be you and me whenever you see me from now on. I promise.”

Menaiah frowned; she felt awful that Asra came to that conclusion, though she didn’t see any other way for everyone to get along. She knew it would be better if her and Muriel didn’t meet anymore, so she simply nodded and took his face in her hands.

“Make sure he knows I’m not replacing him,” she whispered. He smiled and covered her hands with his, nodding once. She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, feeling him relax against her body as his hands slipped down to grip her hips.

They waved goodbye to each other once again, Menaiah going towards the city and Asra walking away from it. She hoped that it wouldn’t be long until their next meeting, and she looked forward to it every day.

Chapter Text

“Is it selfish to ask them to move in with me?”

“What? Of course not!”

A few weeks ago, ownership of the magic shop had officially been passed over to Menaiah by her aunt as she retired to move away from the city and go south. It was incredibly daunting at first, but nothing really changed much; the routine of waking up early and sorting out the shop ready for customers was exactly the same, except now she did it alone. The days seemed longer and she was far more tired by the end of them, having to rush around to fulfill charm and potion orders and doing tarot readings between keeping the shelves tidy and ensuring that the money she received was the right amount for what had been bought.

It was lonely, and the living space above the shop felt far larger with no one else around. On the other hand, Menaiah seemed to be seeing more of Asra. He had gone away on a trip a week prior to her wandering into The Rowdy Raven, and she was wondering how he might react if she asked him to help her run the shop. She didn’t want to take away from his time with Muriel anymore than she already was but she didn’t know anyone else that well and she was beginning to feel loneliness take its toll on her.

She was three Salty Bitters down, rosy cheeked and positively drunk as she conversed with Julian, who was equally drunk, sitting across from her in a booth. It was quiet in the tavern. Well, quieter than usual. She ended up spilling everything to him about Asra (she never mentioned his name just in case Julian knew him and he told him that she was talking about him) and their situation, and eventually asked if he thought it would be alright if she asked him to move in with her.

“Really?” She asked, finishing her drink and waving down a barmaid for a refill. “I just don’t want their friend to hate me even more…”

“It’s fine!” Julian smirked. “You’re a young woman with needs, and this man - sorry, person - seems to have just what you’re looking for! Don’t be scared to go and get it.”

Menaiah couldn’t tell if Julian’s advice was actually good or if she was just too far gone. In the back of her mind, though, she knew he was right; sometimes it was okay to be selfish and take what you want.

The two drank some more, joining in with a couple of songs the band played before stumbling outside into the cold winter night. Menaiah leaned on Julian all the way home, laughing as he dramatically wailed about her previous plight. Eventually they were outside the front door, and Julian leaned down to cover her body in a warm hug. Menaiah hummed and squeezed him back.

“Good luck, ‘Naiah!” He called to her as he wandered off into the city, and she giggled as she struggled to let herself in.

The next day, Menaiah didn’t do much of anything, and the shop remained shut as she struggled with the monster hangover she was suffering from. It seemed, however, that she had received a mysterious visitor to her shop, as she retrieved a note that had been shoved under the front door, written in scruffy handwriting.

I hope you feel better soon! I’ll be in the city tomorrow, come and find me ;p xo Asra

Menaiah grinned at the thought of Asra being back in Vesuvia, and of course he knew she wasn’t well; he seemed to have an intuition for that kind of thing. She made a mental note to go into the city tomorrow and returned to bed.

The next morning was the coldest of the year so far; when she woke up there was condensation on the windows and the puddles outside had frozen over. Menaiah asked the stove salamander to light a fire for her so she could have a cup of tea and a bowl of hot porridge before she set out for the day. Finding Asra was at the top of her priority list, and she wondered if it would be like a game of cat and mouse. It seemed like something Asra would do.

Once she had wrapped herself up warm in several layers of clothing and was full of warm food, she put the fire out and finally left the comfort of her cosy home. Outside, people were walking briskly in an attempt to keep themselves warm, and their breath fanned out in a fine mist in front of their faces. Hats, gloves and scarves were worn by everyone she saw, including herself, but the bitter chill seemed to go right through her anyway. She hoped that she could find Asra quickly so she could get back into the warmth as soon as possible.

Luckily, Asra’s behaviour was somewhat predictable and she found him sat inside the bakery, huddled over a table in the back corner with Faust curled around the cup of whatever hot drink he had.

“You were exceedingly easy to find,” Menaiah chuckled as she wandered over to him. When he looked up, he couldn’t help the smile that slid onto his face.

“I needed something warm,” he replied, offering the seat opposite him to her. “Besides, it’s still early. I didn’t think you’d come out until later.”

“I always wake up early,” Menaiah scoffed, taking a seat and asking the baker for the freshest pastry he had. “I have a shop to run, remember?”

Asra laughed, and Faust lifted her head up lazily as if to say ‘I’m sleeping, be quiet’. They took their time in the bakery where it was warmer than it was outside (albeit not by much), and eventually they slowly started to make their way back through the city streets and towards the shop. Faust had taken refuge at the bottom of Asra’s bag, trying to keep as far away from the freezing cold as possible.

Menaiah cast a warming spell over the shop as soon as they opened the door and they both stripped off their coats. Faust poked her head out of Asra’s bag and, upon feeling the temperature, she slithered out and made herself at home.

“Warm!” She cried joyfully as she wound her way up a shelf and curled up in a gap.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Menaiah offered. Asra followed her up the stairs and sprawled out on the bed, toeing off his boots to get comfy. He looked almost cat-like, she thought, as she started another fire and shuffled over to him, sitting down next to him.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Asra suddenly reached for his bag that he had dropped on the floor and rummaged around inside it, retrieving a small wooden figure. It had been carved so intricately into the shape of a little lizard and painted in oranges and reds. He handed it over to her, beaming from ear to ear. “I bought this for you while I was away! It reminded me of your stove salamander!”

Menaiah felt her heart skip a beat; he had thought of her enough while he was away that he bought her something that fit so perfectly into her life. She carefully took the figure from his hands, appraising it with a soft smile before throwing her arms around Asra in a tight hug, knocking him onto his back. She shifted a little so she was comfy on top of him, straddling his hips, and she sighed when his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her down further.

“Thank you,” she whispered, only pulling away to place the little lizard on the bedside table. Once it was perfectly placed, she planted her hand next to Asra’s head so she was hovering over him. He was blushing, she noted, cheeks and ears flushed pink as he stared up at her with those eyes that she just knew she could get lost in.

He reached up slowly, as if he was worried he would frighten her, and tucked some loose hairs behind her ear before allowing his fingers to brush along her jawline.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed, his other hand coming up to rest on her hip.

“Speak for yourself,” Menaiah scoffed, though she thought her heart would simply pop out of her chest at how hard it was pumping. They had kissed plenty of times before, but there in her bed, they were so close to each other, and she wondered if perhaps his voice would sound just as pretty moaning her name.

She leaned down to bump their noses together before closing the gap between them, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He sighed against her lips, poking his tongue out and gasping as it met hers. She started trailing soft kisses down his jaw and under his ear before licking across his collarbones. Testing the waters, she gently began to suck on the soft skin on his throat and his breath caught as his fingers tangled in her hair.

She didn’t leave a mark, despite wanting to. Instead she moved her hands down his torso to rest just under the hem of his shirt and she kissed him again, softer this time, before pulling back to search his eyes, asking silently for permission to touch him. He nodded once, pulling her back down to kiss her again (she would never get enough of his kisses, she decided).

Eventually, Asra’s chest and tummy were completely exposed and heaving with his breath as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch Menaiah kiss her way down his body, open-mouthed and hot. She stopped to look up at him again as she rested her fingers over the lacing of his trousers, and he nodded once more, giving her permission to go further. He wanted her so badly, he didn’t care how he had her, just as long as she gave him the pleasure he craved.

Menaiah’s heart was beating loudly in her ears as she drank in the sight of Asra beneath her, panting as though he had just been for a run and flushed pink from his cheeks down to his chest, and his golden skin was impossibly soft. She made quick work of his trousers, slowly pulling them down to reveal everything he was hiding.

The next few minutes passed by quickly; Menaiah made sure Asra felt as good as possible, running her hands along every inch of skin and using her mouth on him until he tipped over the edge, spilling himself down her throat as he whined her name, head tipped back and fingers gripping her hair. Menaiah made sure to swallow every drop before she pulled back with a soft pop. Gods, it was sinful the way he cried out for her, yet he looked so angelic as he relaxed back into the mattress, breathing steadying slowly but surely.

“‘Naiah…” he whimpered, looking down at her and tugging on her hair to pull her up. He kissed her hungrily, tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting himself inside. “Let me… I want you to feel good too…”

Menaiah smiled and nodded, allowing Asra to gently flip them so she was the one lying underneath him this time. He unhooked her corset (with a little help of course) and slid her trousers down her legs, discarding them somewhere she didn’t see. It wasn’t long until she was a mess, moaning out a mixture of ‘fuck’, ‘gods’, and ‘Asra’. His tongue moved against her in a way she had never felt before, and she knew it wouldn’t take long for her to reach her climax. Her vision burst into white behind her eyelids as she came, Asra not slowing down until she was pushing at his head, whimpering his name.

Asra smirked up at her as he wiped his mouth and crawled back up the bed to lie next to her, planting a quick kiss to her lips. Their hands tangled together between them without them even having to think about it, and Menaiah had never felt so warm and happy before. She turned her head to look at him with a loving smile, and suddenly she remembered that she needed to ask him something extremely important.

“Asra,” she breathed, receiving a hum in response. “D’you want to help me run the shop?”

Asra remained silent for a second and she worried that she had asked too much of him, but in a flash she was pulled into his arms and he was peppering her face with kisses that made her giggle.

“Oh, I’d love nothing more!” He exclaimed, finally stopping to cup her jaw in his hands. “Of course I’ll help you!”

Menaiah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Thank the gods,” she muttered. “Well, it means you’d have to live here too-”

“I’ll pack my things tonight!” He laughed, kissing her again and again. “I’d love to live in the city again, and I’m sure Muriel will be thankful for the extra space,” He hummed, finally settling down and pulling her close to him.

They laid there together for the rest of the day, only moving to eat and feed the salamander more coal, and Menaiah knew in her heart that nothing could ever take this happiness away from her.

Chapter Text

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned so easily into months. The shop was more alive with customers and magic than ever with the two young magicians at its helm. They had rearranged the internal layout of it, giving it more space for more people, and the backroom was fitted with a larger table for joint readings. During the summer months, Asra would cast cooling spells on the shop, making it a haven to escape from the summer sun, and during the winter Menaiah would cast a warming spell. They found that people would wander into the shop for some relief and would always leave having bought something – it helped their business greatly. So much so that they could eventually afford to redo the living space upstairs. It couldn’t be made bigger, but it was made to suit them much more, the twin beds replaced with a double bed and the number of pillows and blankets always seemed to increase.

Of course, living together meant that Menaiah felt Asra’s absence more when he went away on journeys. Customers would ask after him, and the shop was never quite as cool on hot days without him; water and cooling magic was never her strong suit. She noticed that little packages of protection charms and other magical ingredients would be left on her doorstep when he was away, usually containing at least one small piece of myrrh. Though she never saw him, she knew that Muriel was stopping by during those times. She wondered if Asra had asked him to.

Soon, the shop was filled with little knick-knacks and ingredients from far-off lands that Asra never failed to bring back to Menaiah. No matter how long he was away, he would always return home with that particular grin that brought out his dimples and Faust curled around his neck, always so excited to see her. His grip on her as he held her close never loosened, and his kiss was always full of warmth. She could never complain when he distracted her from her work by pressing into her from behind as she stood at the counter or when his fingers traced along her inner thigh when they were reading the cards for someone. She would shut the shop for a quick ‘lunch break’ so that he could lift her up and press her against the nearest wall or pull her upstairs and ravish her.

Falling for Asra was so easy; he was beautiful in every way, and he brought so much light into Menaiah’s life that it almost blinded her. She loved him so much she felt as though she could explode, but she was never sure if he loved her back. He was always gone, always trying to chase new magic and new adventures, always without her. She wondered if he thought about her when they were apart, but then remembered he had other things he was concentrating on, more important things surely. One minute she was going to tell him how she felt and the next he was gone again.

Their fourth Masquerade came around quickly, and it was becoming a tradition for Asra to choose her an outfit that went with the mask she had bought from him when they first met.

“What about this one for you, then?” Asra asked her, holding up a cobalt shirt with a plunging neckline that was sure to expose much more cleavage than she usually did and raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s your colour.”

Menaiah had rolled her eyes playfully, folding her arms over her chest. “You say that about every colour,” she replied, glancing over at the various coloured dresses and shirts Asra had offered, all of them too much or too bright for her liking.

“I can’t help it, Menaiah,” he chuckled. “You look radiant in everything.” Menaiah remained unimpressed, staring at him until he grinned. “Fine, what about this one?”

Asra grabbed an outfit that had Menaiah feeling slightly queasy. It was incredibly gaudy and loud and the pattern was simply hideous.

“Asra!” She exclaimed, pulling a face of disgust. “Do you want me to blind people?”

“I’m already blinded by your beauty.” Asra smirked, stepping closer to snake an arm around Menaiah’s waist and pull her into him, throwing the outfit onto the bed along with all the others.

“Asra,” Menaiah groaned, but was unable to help her smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

They had fun together, Menaiah couldn’t deny it. She only wished they had more time together, or that he would bring her with him whenever he left. She knew better than to ask, however, knowing that whatever journey a magician decides to make for their power is one they must make alone.

She had never worried about him much, but soon whispers of a strange disease reached her ears and she couldn’t simply ignore them.

“I heard it turns your fingers red like blood,” one voice murmured.

“And your eyes too,” another replied.

“Apparently they’re building a hospital on the island off the south coast,”

“It’s only somewhere they can bring the sick so they can study them before they die,”

Menaiah had found herself twitching with quiet anxiety; her leg bounced when she sat, she fiddled with the edges of pages in the books she read, and she was chewing on her lips until they were rough and bleeding when she waited for Asra to return from his journeys. It seemed, however, that he was taking far less time away, and whenever he returned his bright smile had become a sigh of relief when he saw her. His arms held her tighter, and one hand found its way to the back of her head, keeping her there for a second longer than he usually held her.

“You don’t think this will become something more, do you?” Menaiah asked Julian one night. He had come to visit her at her shop just before she closed it while Asra was away. She couldn’t help but ask him about this strange plague, what with him being a doctor.

“I can’t tell just yet,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “Me and other doctors in the city are trying to study it as best we can but it’s tricky. My mentor was the one who figured out its symptoms, and we’ve found that it takes a week, at most, to kill someone, but that’s about it.”

Menaiah sighed and placed a hand on his bicep. “Be safe, Ilya,” Menaiah whispered to him, not knowing if she could take the pain of losing one of her best friends.

The moment Menaiah knew she couldn’t idle by in the shop any longer was the day a letter arrived for her. By this time, the plague was running through the city and the doctors had declared that it was transmitted via bodily fluids and that the red beetles that had been spotted were likely carrying it. The letter contained a short apology from a stranger, and the news of the death of her father. She hadn’t believed it at first, not until she stole a horse and rode it out to the little cottage she had grown up in. It smelt clean from where it had clearly been disinfected and it was horrifyingly empty. She screamed out her sorrow in his bedroom, clutching at the crystal necklace he had once worn, gifted to him by her mother.

When she returned home in the early hours of the morning, Asra and Faust were there, offering her comfort and warm food. For days, the shop remained closed and Menaiah hardly moved from her bed. The necklace sat around her neck, and she clung to it every minute she was awake, chasing the remnants of her father’s magic that it had been imbued with until it vanished. Finally, she rose with red rimmed eyes and a hoarse voice to draw herself a bath. She invited Asra to join her and he cautiously accepted, settling behind her and gently washing her hair for her. He laid soft kisses along her skin and did all he could to comfort her and place even a small smile on her lips.

(He decided that now wouldn’t be the best time to tell her he loved her.)

Packing his bags, Asra was interrupted by Menaiah who had left the shop for a short while, likely to simply get some fresh air after being cooped up, he thought.

“You’re leaving again,” she mumbled, watching him stand up straight and look at her.

“Yes,” he began, hand running through his messy hair. “I… I think this time you should come with me.”

Menaiah’s heart sank; she had been waiting so long to hear him say that, but now the words only saddened her. She knew what he was doing. She could feel the fear in his aura, not just for himself, but for her too. The plague had shut down many market stalls and destroyed hundreds of families in the city. The Lazaret, as it was now called, wasn’t a hospital, it was a crematorium, a place where the dead and dying went to be disposed of. Doctors in the city were overwhelmed, and the palace had made a plea for anyone who might be able to help to come and work inside their walls where there were more resources and more space for them to work. A fair few had taken the offer.

“Oh, Asra,” she sighed. “I can’t go with you. I’m sorry but I’ve…” she chewed on her lip, trying to figure out how to tell him that she was putting herself on the front lines, so to speak. “The city’s doctors are asking for help from anyone who’s willing. A friend of mine is working so hard and I’ve decided that I’m going to help him. As of tomorrow, I’m his apprentice.”

Asra’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. Menaiah was about to speak again when he opened his mouth.

“You’ll die,” he whispered. “You can’t… Menaiah, it will kill you.”

“I can’t run away from this.” She took a step forward, glancing over to the bags he packed and to Faust who was curled up on top of one. “I’m sorry, I’m not going with you.”

“But!” Asra exclaimed. “Please! I don’t want to lose you so let’s go! Anywhere, please, just come with me. We can come back when the plague’s all but gone, just-”

“Wait.” Menaiah froze. “You’re just going to run away and pretend like this isn’t happening, is that it?” Anger bubbled up in her chest until her face started to grow warm and disbelief filled her eyes. “You’re going to abandon your home, your friends, all because you’re afraid?”

“What? No that’s not-”

“Everyone’s afraid, Asra, but in case you forgot my father is dead because of this plague! I refuse to disappear when the city needs me!”

“Nai-”

At this point, Asra’s voice was wavering as the tears threatened to blur his vision. Menaiah had never shouted before, had never become angry with him. Yet here she was, raising her voice with a red face and throwing bitter words his way. He wasn’t sure what he could say to calm her down; he understood her feelings but he desperately wanted her to change her mind.

“Run away if you want to, but I refuse to follow you!” She was frowning deeply at him as she stepped closer and closer until she was shouting in his face, forcing him to back right up against the counter of the kitchen. Faust had raised her head to watch them, hissing words at Asra that he wasn’t listening to.

“Nai, please,” Asra whispered, not trusting his voice to hold out. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t lose this city,” Menaiah replied, her voice now quiet. “But if you want to be a coward then go.”

Asra’s heart fell, and he choked out a sob. He wiped furiously at his eyes as Menaiah simply watched him, never reaching out to hold him like she would do when he was upset. Never once offering words of comfort, or telling him that it would be okay and that she was there. No, instead she was telling him to leave.

“Did you hear me? I said, go! Magicians who won’t use their magic for good aren’t welcome in my shop!”

Every word stung like a dagger in his chest. He could hardly believe that the woman he had grown to love so deeply could be so cruel. But if she would spit venom in his face he couldn’t just stand there and take it. Even if it killed him, he needed her to see that her efforts would all be in vain.

“Fine,” he muttered, holding out his arm to Faust who crawled up it and rested around his shoulders. He grabbed his coat and hat, putting them on slowly before picking up his bags and shouldering past Menaiah. He didn’t dare look back at her. “I don’t know if you’re brave or… or stupid,” he struggled with his words, but it was too late to stop now. “Either way, it’s not going to stop you from dying alone. Goodbye, Menaiah. I hope you get the glory you so clearly crave.”

And with that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the living room door behind him, and then the shop door too. Once he was out on the street, he let his tears fall from his eyes and he took a shaky breath. Faust bumped her head against his cheek to comfort him, and he found his feet carrying him away from his love, from his home.

Menaiah was left staring at the empty space in the kitchen and she huffed, giving it a minute before she stalked after him. She knew he wasn’t serious; he was never harsh. It wasn’t his nature to speak like that and be serious about it. She swung the door open and stomped down the stairs, finding the shop empty and shaking her head.

“Alright you’ve made your point,” she called out, walking over to the front door. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m still staying, but maybe I was a little-”

As she opened the door, she expected that Asra would be standing there, looking back at her and ready to talk with her properly. She hoped they might find a compromise, but instead she was met with nothing but the wind. She froze; had he really meant it? Surely not. But as she looked around outside, calling his name once, twice, she realized that he was gone. Slowly, she wandered back into the shop, shutting the door and leaning back against it before she slid to the floor.

“…Asra,” she breathed into the silence before she began to sob, burying her face in her knees and hugging them to her chest. She didn’t know how long she sat there, crying out Asra’s name into the darkness, begging whoever might be listening to give her another chance to keep him by her side.

Eventually, though, she rose from the floor, hiccupping and exhausted. She trudged to bed, trying to sleep for as long as she possibly could before she headed out into the city to meet with Julian for her first day of work as a Plague Doctor’s apprentice.

Chapter Text

The sadness that sat in Menaiah’s heart soon turned to numbness, and it only ached when she saw anything that pertained to Asra and his absence (which was almost everything in the room above the shop at this point). She missed what was supposed to be her first day in Julian’s clinic, and the second, and Julian had stopped by to slide a note under the front door which simply read ‘I don’t know what’s up, but you know where I am if you need me -J’.

Eventually Menaiah forced herself up from her bed and threw on an outfit that definitely didn’t look good at all. She left the shop, locking it up before wandering through Vesuvia towards the clinic. She knocked once, hearing a voice from inside that was familiar and comforting to her.

“Please wait, I’ll be right there!” It called to her, and she took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself to keep out the chill of the wind. The door slowly opened, a long beak poking out from behind it, startling her, before the rest of the mask appeared. “Ah!” A muffled voice gasped and the figure stepped outside of the door proper, standing tall in front of her. He was wearing a typical plague doctor get-up, all in black with not a single bit of skin showing. Creepy as the outfit was, Menaiah was relieved to see him as he removed his mask.

“Hey, Ilya,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his grey ones.

“Naiah,” he greeted, smiling gently down at her. “I was wondering when you would come by. I’d hug you but I’m covered in blood,” he laughed awkwardly as Menaiah’s gaze shifted down to his outfit. The black colour meant that any fluids on it were difficult to see but when she squinted she could see splatters of some kind of liquid on him. “Uh, come with me. Whenever you come here you should go through the back,” he explained, leading her away from the front door.

The two walked around the building, reaching another smaller door at the back and entering through it into a well-lit room. It was small and in the far corner was a bag and a pile of clothes Menaiah recognized as Julian’s usual attire. Next to it hung another plague doctor outfit on the wall, a mask resting on a small wooden chair.

“This room is clean, I make sure of that every day,” Julian began, wandering over to the black outfit hanging up and getting it down after removing his gloves. “I’ll show you how to properly clean it later. First, put this on. If it doesn’t fit I’ll get it sorted.”

It fit Menaiah perfectly, not too tight but tight enough that any fabric tucked in to stop the exposure of skin would not become untucked. She slid the long gloves on her hands and the boots onto her feet, moving over to the floor length mirror to stare herself down. She looked strange in an outfit devoid of all colour, and she looked nothing like herself with the messy ponytail she wore, but she knew she would just have to get used to it. She was a doctor’s apprentice now, and the work she would be doing was dangerous. Her gaze flitted over to the beaked mask on the table and she lifted up it, examining it in her hands. She wasn’t sure why it looked like a raven, but Julian chuckled at the look on her face and told her that the beak held herbs and flowers to drown out the scent of death.

“If you want to replace the herbs with your own then feel free to bring some,” he mentioned. “Now, I need to warn you about what you’re going to see in the next room.”

Julian began to explain to Menaiah that inside the clinic were ten beds, all full of plague victims who were at varying stages of the illness. The worst ones were hardly people anymore, skeletal, the plague having sapped their bodies of all strength and body fat, turning their extremities and eyes a deep bloody red that ran under their skin and through their veins. Menaiah would not leave the clinic as clean as she started; it was guaranteed that she would be covered in blood that the victims had coughed onto her, or vomit. She would hear the people begging for a cure or for the release of death in croaky voices, and they would all cry until they didn’t have the strength anymore, instead opting to lie limply and breathe shallowly, the air rattling around in their ribs and making the most horrible choking noise.

As Julian spoke, Menaiah became more and more unsure of what she had signed up for, but she swallowed the lump her throat, turning to face the door into a clinic and fixing the mask tightly over her face. Her nose was assaulted with the scent of lavender and peppermint, but she supposed it would be better than the stench of decay. Taking a deep breath, she nodded once at Julian who now stood next to her, and he opened the door to let her in.

Inside, the scene was far worse than she had imagined. It was dim, but the outline of bodies scattered around the room was unmistakable. She could hear soft groaning, and someone was muttering a broken prayer somewhere at the far wall. The images before her were tinted red by the glassy eyes of the plague mask, but no less visible as she looked around, her eyes wandering over the faces of those who were inside. There were tables that held medical tools she didn’t recognize, almost all of them stained with blood. The urge to cry at how overwhelmed she was at the utter hopelessness of the room was difficult to suppress, but Julian had placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“If you want to cut today short and go home, I understand,” he whispered. “But this is the reality of the Red Plague.”

Julian began to explain how things worked in the clinic. How whenever someone died, he would dissect them to try to find something that might hint to a cure, but eventually the body would be placed into a wagon that sat by the door, ready for collection by other doctors who swept the streets, bringing the dead and dying to the docks where they were shipped to the Lazaret. He explained that Menaiah would not have to dissect someone, but that if she was to learn she would watch him perform one at some point. He told her how to care for someone who was on their death bed and how to clean up the space they had occupied after they were gone. He showed her how to properly wash her hands, bringing the soap up to her elbows and rinsing before drying thoroughly. She opted to use a simple spell to dry herself. Finally, he taught her not talk about anything personal with the victims.

“You don’t want a personal connection to anyone who walks in that door,” he muttered lowly. “It only impedes on your work and makes it worse when they die.”

Menaiah wished the day had gone quicker than it did, but in reality it was uncomfortable and slow. She watched the life drain out of a person’s eyes as they gripped her sleeve, trying to form the words to ask her to kill them. She couldn’t watch as Julian pushed a cart of medical blades towards them and lifted one to their stomach. She had never seen Julian so serious before, but she knew that it simply came with the job. Watching people die was something that a person could never get used to. She only wondered how he was so full of life and happiness outside of this.

Slowly, but surely, the day came to an end as another doctor entered the clinic through the back door, whispering with Julian before dismissing them both. The change back into their normal clothes was silent. They took turns using the small shower cubicle to scrub their bodies clean. Julian assured her that everything inside the small back room was clean and that the chances of her bringing home the plague with her was slim, so long as she took the necessary precautions.

“Want to grab a drink?” Julian asked softly, placing his hand on her shoulder again as she slipped her shoes on. She looked up at him and sighed softly before nodding once.

The two made their way to their usual haunt and got lost in the booze they bought. Soon, they were buzzing and merry, the events of the day lost in the back of their minds as they sung along to the band and danced together. Julian was gracious enough to offer her the next day off, though she was too rowdy to really hear what he said.

Instead, Menaiah found herself enjoying Julian’s company far more than usual, and in a different way. Her gaze wandered over his exposed chest, biting her lip when he grinned at her while they danced. The way his arm wound around her waist and dipped her down low, laughing with her was intoxicating; Menaiah didn’t know why she suddenly felt this way but she needed to feel something after days of emptiness. For a split second, she wondered if maybe it was because Asra had left a void in her heart, but she pushed the thought away, not willing to let the sight of Asra’s back moving away from her ruin her night.

She found herself grabbing Julian’s hand and yanking him away from the crowd and towards the alley behind the tavern, shoving him against the brick wall out there and reveling in the gasp that fell from his lips. She quickly covered his mouth with hers, not caring about how their teeth clashed together, only really noticing how he melted into her body. The kiss was hungry and desperate as Julian managed to switch their places and lift Menaiah up, hands under her thighs, and she linked her ankles behind around his slim waist. Their fingers carded through each other’s hair as they kissed, tugging and holding onto each other as if they would float away if they loosened up even a little.

Menaiah could feel Julian’s hardness poking at her backside and moaned into his mouth, beginning to trail open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and across his throat, canines scraping along the pale skin there. Julian almost whimpered at the feeling, his hips jutting upwards towards her and groaning at the friction.

Drunk and far too gone to care about what she was doing, she ground her hips down in response, panting against Julian’s skin as she moved. She angled her head to kiss him again, just as desperate as before. She lost her mind as Julian bounced her in his arms, both of them grinding against the other so deliciously, but the friction was gone just as quickly as it came.

Julian eyes shot open as he realized what they were doing and put her down, taking a step back and covering his mouth with the back of his hand. His hair was disheveled and there was a very obvious tent in the crotch of his trousers. Menaiah was panting as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, not thinking as she reached for him, trying to pull him back.

“Stop,” he breathed out, catching her hands in his and moving them down. “W-we can’t do this, Naiah.”

Menaiah whined and stepped towards him, standing on her toes to try and kiss him again, but he refused to let her. “Why not?” she whispered. “Don’t you want me?”

“I… yes, I do. Gods, I really do,” he whispered, eyes roaming her body for a second and allowing her back into his space but not initiating any contact again. “But you’re drunk…”

“So are you.” Menaiah pouted. She stopped trying to touch the man in front of her, instead gazing into his eyes as he looked down at her with pity. “Please, Ilya,” she whispered, removing her hand from his to brush his hair out of his face. “I need this, I need something, anything,”

“Y-you…” Julian blushed, avoiding her gaze. “What about… what about your other friend, the one you live with?”

Menaiah realized Julian didn’t know why she had isolated herself from the world; she hadn’t told him about Asra leaving or about the emptiness she felt now. She shook her head, huffing sharply.

“Fuck him,” she sighed, deciding she wasn’t going to tell him about it now. “I want… I just want you, Ilya. Please, let me have you, please…”

Julian’s mind was in a war with itself. On the one hand, he knew it would be wrong to give Menaiah what she thought she wanted in the state she was in. She had drunk so much, her cheeks were rosy and she had shed her corset inside, and he was able to figure out that she was using him as a rebound. On the other hand, he was desperate to throw caution to the wind and just take her, to hold her against the wall again and feel her fuck herself on him. He had wanted her since the moment he first saw her climb onto the tables and dance along to the song he played. She was beautiful and the two just clicked together. He wanted her thighs back in his hands, he wanted to feel her hips against his, he wanted to hear her moan, to have her make him moan.

He shook his head.

“You can have my company, Naiah, but not…” He sighed, moving a hand to cup her cheek and run his thumb under her eye. “Not like that.”

Menaiah deflated and leaned forward to rest her forehead on Julian’s chest. Julian became faintly aware of the quiet sobs that seemed to leave her lips, and he frowned, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. His chin came to rest on top of her head as he rubbed her back, silently comforting her.

“M'sorry,” she whimpered. “M’sorry, I just want him back…” The words cut through Julian, but he ignored it and decided to stay with her like that until she stopped crying. Then, he led her back inside, gathering up her corset and bag and taking her home. He let her unlock the door and they both wandered upstairs, Menaiah crawling into bed and offering the space next to her for Julian.

“I won’t… try to fuck you again,” she laughed sadly. “Promise,”

Julian believed her and laid down next to her, allowing her to curl into his arms and he held her tight against him, fingers gently stroking her arm and lulling her to sleep.

When she awoke, Menaiah was seemingly alone and her head was throbbing. Unfortunately, the memories of what she had done the night before hadn’t left her and she groaned, slowly sitting up with a frown.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a familiar voice came from the kitchenette beside her and she peered over to see Julian leaning against the counter with a mug of something steaming hot. “I, uh, I figured out your stove and I’ve made you some tea. But it’s probably not great,” He chuckled nervously, bringing the mug over to her. Taking a sip, Menaiah grimaced at the taste. It was jasmine but somehow it tasted awful.

“What did you do to this?” She whispered, her voice somewhat hoarse.

“It’s probably best you don’t know,” he smiled sheepishly as she placed the mug on the bedside table, and he took a seat on the bed beside her. “I’m not the best with tea. I drink coffee so…”

Menaiah nodded and smiled, leaning against Julian. The silence was comfortable as he sipped at his drink.

“About… about last night,” Menaiah began, and she felt Julian tense up beside her. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight and I just wanted… I wanted something to fill the gap he’s left.”

Julian took another sip and sighed. He wound an arm around Menaiah’s shoulders and squeezed.

“S’alright,” he whispered. “I understand.”

Menaiah swallowed down a sob; she was so grateful for the man beside her, and she knew that if he had given into her she would only have regretted it in the morning and hurt him. She remembered how he told her that he wanted her, and she wondered if it was only in that moment or if he had always felt that way. She felt strongly that it was the latter.

“If you need to talk, I’m right here,” Julian rubbed her arm and shifted slightly to rest his head atop hers.

Menaiah sighed and decided it might help to talk, so she spilled everything. She told him about the argument she had had with Asra and about the horrible things she said to him. She told him how he had left her and how heartbroken she felt afterwards. She mentioned the emptiness inside her, how the shop being filled with reminders of him made it so difficult to be there. Julian offered to let her stay at his place in the South End, but she turned it down. She knew that if she was drunk with him again, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself, and she knew that if she tried to have sex with him again he probably wouldn’t deny her this time.

Instead, Julian spent the day helping her to move things into boxes and place them in a corner behind the wardrobe. She didn’t know if it felt better not being able to see all of Asra’s things, the living space seeming so much larger now, but at least she wasn’t surrounded by him anymore. She wondered aloud why Julian was okay to not go to work, and he explained that despite leading his clinic, he worked there with three other doctors and they took it in turns to work there.

“Are you going to be alright to come in with me tomorrow?” He asked her, both of them holding a mug in their hands (Menaiah insisted on showing him how to properly make a cup of tea).

Menaiah considered it for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I decided I needed to help and I’m not backing out of that.”

Julian smiled fondly at her determination. He was glad to have her as a friend, and now as a coworker. They could lean on each other whenever they needed it, and he was content on having that with her.

Chapter Text

Six months seemed like an age, but at the same time the beginning of her apprenticeship felt like it was only yesterday. Julian helped to ease Menaiah’s discomfort and inner turmoil, and she became used to the sights of death around her. The first time she had observed Julian dissecting a dead body she had thrown up in the corner and had to take the rest of the day off, but now the sight of blood and organs strewn about the clinic hardly phased her. She had replaced the herbs in the beak of her plague mask with some from home; dried jasmine tea leaves and rose petals, and sometimes she slipped some lapsang souchong tea in too because no matter how much it hurt, she never wanted to forget the warmth Asra’s scent brought to her heart.

Soon, word spread around Vesuvia that the palace was opening its doors to doctors, scientists, and researchers to aid the search for a cure. They were seemingly desperate, since Count Lucio himself had seemingly contracted the disease. While he was stable and still somewhat lively, the staff and Countess were rightfully desperate for anything that would save his life.

Menaiah came to find out that Julian knew the Count personally from his days as a trainee, and that he was the one who had saved his life before by amputating his left arm.

“It was a great and terrifying learning experience,” Julian laughed, holding a letter that was addressed to him. “I suppose he expects me to save his life again.”

And so Menaiah was left on her own again, as Julian packed his kit up and moved to the Palace to join the team there. She found herself taking charge of his shifts at the clinic, and though she was nowhere near qualified to research a cure herself, she did all that she could to ensure the comfort of those who came to her in their last moments. She used honeyed words and gentle touches of magic to soothe them and ease their pain as they whimpered and cried and begged for her help. It didn’t get easier to watch them die, but it was like clockwork to bring them in and send them out in a cart and bring new people in again. Eventually, the other doctors she worked with became her patients too, and she found herself running the place alone, watching each of them die the same way everyone else did.

Of course, Menaiah made sure to keep Julian updated with letters and reports that she sent to him about how many patients she was dealing with, the fates of his old colleagues and just how she was doing. It was the only joy she received when she opened the letters he sent her in reply. It was a shame that he didn’t have the time to escape for a night and join her for a drink or two at the Rowdy Raven like they used to.

Sadly, fate seemed to have cruel plans for her. Right at the end of her shift, when she was particularly tired, Menaiah had managed to trip over her own feet and cut her hand on a jar she knocked to the floor and smashed. Unfortunately, the jar held biohazards from victims of the plague and her fresh cut went straight into the blood that had spilled. No amount of hand washing would save her now, she knew that, but her mind was racing and she scrubbed her hands until they were sore and red. She sobbed as she realized what would come for her, remembering what Asra had said to her before he turned his back on her.

“I hope you get the glory you so clearly crave.”

She hadn’t gotten any glory. All she got was a black uniform, an empty home and fading memories. And now she would die with nothing but that.

She couldn’t bring herself to go and see Julian again, no matter how much she knew he would hurt at the news, and that he would blame himself for leaving her alone. She didn’t want him to blame himself. Instead, she worked for three more days, and at the end of those three days, she removed her mask and saw the sclera of her left eye had turned into the telltale red during the day.

That evening, she removed the bodies from the clinic to the cart outside and locked it up, painting the large red ‘X’ on the door to signal that the plague had swept through. It should have been painted on earlier, she knew, but no one had the time or the energy before. She dragged herself back to the shop and locked herself inside, trying to take a breath without coughing her lungs up. Drops of blood started to come up with her spluttering and she knew she was nearing the end when the next day she could hardly stand and she was decidedly paler and skinnier than before. Menaiah decided that she needed to inform Julian of what was wrong before she couldn’t anymore, and so she uncovered her quill and some parchment and got to work.

Julian,

I hope you’re well, and that work is better at the palace than it was here. Unfortunately, the amount of people who walk through the clinic’s doors hasn’t slowed, nor has the amount of bodies that leave for the Lazaret. There’s nothing much I can do here without the proper training so I’m doing what I can to try and make them as comfortable as possible before they die, like you taught me.

I’m afraid this letter is also the last you will receive from me. The clinic is closed indefinitely, and has been since yesterday. I’m simply waiting out my own death now. At some point, I became careless and now I’m showing symptoms of the plague. My extremities are red and one of my sclera is red too. I can’t stop coughing and soon I’ll hardly be able to hold myself up.

I don’t want you to feel as though you’re somehow to blame for this. I know you felt guilty when you left for the palace but it’s not like you had much of a choice. I don’t blame you at all. It was my own negligence that caused me to contract this awful disease after all.

I want you to know that you were an amazing teacher and an even better friend. I will always treasure the moments we spent together in each other’s company, laughing and drinking and watching you lose horribly at a card game. Thank you for making the world seem a little brighter.

Keep working hard, Ilya, I know you can find the cure. I believe in you. Perhaps in another life we will meet again under better circumstances.

Goodbye, dear friend.

Menaiah

She finished by scribbling her name at the bottom and she sniffed, folding the paper in half and sealing it into an envelope. She decided to hand deliver it to the palace, knowing it might not reach it’s destination for a few days if she posted it. She decided to use her plague doctor uniform to take it so that she could hide her symptoms from everyone and she wouldn’t have to deal with any trouble.

The gates of the palace were guarded by two large men, standing stiff, and they watched Menaiah approach with caution.

“Another doctor come to help?” One of them asked.

“State your name.” The other demanded.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I only need to get this letter to someone inside,” Menaiah whispered, straining to hold the coughing and spluttering down. “It’s for Doctor Julian Devorak. He goes by Ilya sometimes too. Please make sure he gets it ASAP.”

Menaiah held the letter out and the guards examined it before one of them too it from her. He raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded.

“I’ll make sure it gets to him when my shift ends in an hour.”

Menaiah thanked him before turning on her heel and walking off, trying to maintain a semblance of health until she rounded the corner and she removed her mask, leaning against a nearby wall and letting out the coughs she had held down. Blood splattered onto the cobblestones beneath her feet and dribbled down her chin, mixing with her saliva and making her cringe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she hurried the rest of the way back to the shop. She had one more letter to write before she knew she had to leave her home behind for the Lazaret.

My dearest Asra,

She began, tears already pricking at her eyes as she thought of him finding the shop empty when he returned. She knew he would eventually return.

By the time you read this, I’ll likely be long gone. I know you’ll come back to Vesuvia, but you’ll be too late.

The doctor I had my apprenticeship under was personally called to the palace by Count Lucio. It seems they knew each other earlier in their lives, and the Count has fallen ill with the plague himself. I kept the clinic running for another two weeks before I managed to cut myself and some infected blood got on my hands. I couldn’t ignore the apparent symptoms that presented themselves soon after, no matter how much I wanted to.

As I write this, my fingers and eyes are all red and it’s beginning to creep into my cheeks and up my arms. I apologise for the blood on the page. I can’t hold it down. The clinic is closed and I’ll be closing the shop too, at least until you return and the plague has all but run its course. After that, I’d like you to reopen the shop and continue running it for me. There’s no one more suited for the job and my aunt would be happy to see you in charge of it.

As for myself, once I’ve finished writing this, I’ll use the last of my strength to take myself to the docks where they’ll shove me onto a boat and take me to the Lazaret.

I’m so sorry the last words I said to you were words of anger. I didn’t mean a single thing I said. Now I’ll never see you again, and there are so many things I need you to know, but for now I’ll tell you the most important thing.

I love you.

Menaiah choked out a sob as she wrote the three words she had longed to say to Asra for so long. She wished he would come home and hold her and make everything better again, but she knew she would never feel his warmth again. She continued to write.

I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you crammed into the back of your little stall at the Masquerade. The mask you chose for me is still under the bed. I treasure it.

I’m sorry I never worked up the courage to tell you sooner. Perhaps in another life we can meet again and do things right. I’d like to do right by you, Asra.

Please don’t come after me. I’ll likely be nothing but ash by the time you open this letter, and I would hate for you to hurt anymore because of me.

Goodbye my love.

Yours forever,

Menaiah

Menaiah’s tears flowed down her cheeks as she finished and folded the letter in half. Before she sealed it into an envelope, she removed the necklace from around her neck, the one she had retrieved from her father’s cottage, and placed it inside for Asra to have. She wanted him to have something physical to rest over his heart so that she could always be with him.

Leaving the envelope on the counter by the door, and sweeping her eyes over the interior of the shop and laid a protection charm over it. She said goodbye to the stove salamander, who tilted his head at her as she gently stroked his head, and stepped out into the fresh air of the city. She shut the door and locked it with a cross-me-not spell before magically painting a large red ‘X’ on the door. She sighed as she stared at it for a second, and then trudged off to the docks.

By the time her feet hit the wooden pier, she was stumbling and her breath was rough and shallow. A doctor helped her step into a boat alongside other victims, some dead, some still alive, and they rowed off to the lonely island. The swaying of the boat only made her feel worse and at some point, Menaiah leaned over the side to throw up.

The landing at the shore of the Lazaret was rough but quiet, and the sand was black with ash. She could feel it sticking to the soles of her shoes as she leaned on someone who lead her inside the stone building. There was a stench of something foul coming from the large chimneys and she distantly wondered if it was the smell of burning flesh, but her mind was foggy and her whole body ached as she dropped onto a bed that was still warm from whoever was there before.

Menaiah had no idea how much time passed after she laid her head down on the hard pillow. Surrounding her were the sounds of groaning and of doctors whispering to each other. Every now and then, she heard one walk past her quickly, stopping every now and then to check if she was still alive and then moving on. In the moments before she died, she could see a familiar head of fluffy white hair standing by her bed. The figure was fuzzy, but she knew it was him.

“I’m… sorry…” She croaked, reaching her hand out to take his already outstretched one, trying desperately to touch him one last time.

A female doctor bustled through the room and stopped by Menaiah’s bed, looking down at her still, pale body, and tutted. She quickly searched for a pulse, and upon finding nothing, scribbled something on her clipboard and moved along to report the newest death.

Menaiah’s body was burned within the hour and her ashes scattered along the beach with everyone else.

Chapter Text

“Asra… I’m sorry…”

Asra opened his eyes to find himself in a place he had only seen between sleep and wakefulness. Darkness surrounded him, though he could see perfectly. He felt as though he was floating, and despite his body breathing, he knew he didn’t need to.

“Asra…”

Spinning around, Asra found the source of the voice calling out to him. Far off in the distance, he could see the familiar locks of purple hair cascading down her back. He furrowed his eyebrows, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Nai?” He called, noting that she didn’t seem to be quite right. She was tense and even from that distance, he could see that she was notably thinner than before. “Menaiah?” He called again, louder this time, and she turned to face him.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight of her like that; eyes and fingers bloody red, and blood seeping from her mouth. It made him want to throw up; his worst fear was staring him right in the face and he knew there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice carrying all the way to him and sounding as though she were standing right next to him. With one last look, she turned away and began walking.

“W-wait!” He cried, and he picked up his own pace, trying desperately to catch up to her. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes as the image of Menaiah walking away from him faded from sight.

Jumping up from bed, Asra gasped. His cheeks were wet, and his hand was held out in front of him as though trying to grab something invisible. Slowly, he lowered it to his chest in an attempt to still his racing heart. The room was still dark, despite the stream of moonlight filtering in through the window behind the bed. Faust was fast asleep, curled up at the foot of the bed, and everything remained in its place.

However, Asra could not get the image of Menaiah, sick and gaunt, out of his mind and he knew he couldn’t simply go back to bed and continue to live away from Vesuvia, pretending like the plague wasn’t destroying his city anymore. Once he was able to take a breath, he swung his legs over the bed to stand and make his way over to the small kitchen, grabbing a cup and conjuring some water to chug down.

He didn’t know how long he actually spent just standing there in the silence, mind racing, wondering if what he had seen was something that could be changed, or if it had already happened. He hoped it was the former. Eventually, Asra gathered himself enough to start repacking his bags, opting not to disturb Faust until his boots were on his feet and his coat was on.

“Sleepy…” she muttered as he gently lifted her. He didn’t respond, only let her curl around his neck and rest in a fold of his scarf. Asra hesitated at the door for a second; the only thought going through his head was that the last thing he had said to her was full of anger and spite, and that if she were to die before he could return to her he would never forgive himself.

By the time the sun had risen, Asra was on a ship, sailing across the Malvent Strait from Zadith to Vesuvia. He was to arrive at the next sunrise, and so he explored the ship, avoiding the sailors and other rowdy passengers for the next few hours before settling on the deck, listening to the churning water below and mindlessly speaking to Faust, who was still a little upset at being so suddenly upheaved.

Neither of them slept, both sharing the worry of possibly losing Menaiah, and as the ship pulled into the bay and finally came to a halt at the East Docks. Asra elbowed his way through everyone else who wanted to leave the ship, running as soon as he could through the cobbled streets towards the shop he so loved.

Surrounding him, the buildings were grey and cold, and so many doors were painted with large, red ‘X’s. He hardly had to guess at what that meant. He passed by people he knew, some simply walking aimlessly, some crying, most of them watching as he ran. With every step, his heart fell further down. The once lively city he had so loved was now bare and ominous, the cover of fog beckoning another hellish day filled with suffering and death.

“She’ll be there, she will, the shop will be fine, everything will be fine, she’ll be there-” Asra was panting out affirmations to himself, and as he rounded the corner, he could feel his eyes start to sting with the air hitting them. The sight that met him there made him want to scream.

The door of the shop, shut tight, had a red ‘X’ on it, shaky but bright.

“No…” he whispered, shaking his head and taking three long strides towards it.

The door opened easily, and Asra was hit with the unmistakeable smell of dust and damp. Peering around, he lit the lamps with his magic, showing him just how abandoned the shop was. A fine layer of dust covered every surface, and he heard the scurry of rats somewhere within. Faust was the first to notice the letter on the counter.

“Friend!” She hissed, smelling Menaiah on the paper. Asra, hands shaking and blinking furiously to hold back his tears, picked up the heavy envelope and opened it up.

First, he pulled out the necklace that sat at the bottom and his breath caught in his throat. He knew Menaiah would never leave this necklace, her father’s necklace, behind. Unless…

No, there was surely still hope? Maybe someone who was infected came through and she left the shop behind to go and live somewhere else, somewhere safe? Maybe she was at the palace, where those who had something that might help were going?

He took a deep breath before pulling the letter out. The first thing he noticed was the blood smeared on the corner, dry and brown. Faust cried out for Menaiah again. Asra’s eyes skimmed the words written in the first two paragraphs before he threw down the paper and let his tears fall.

“Nai!” He cried out, running off to climb the uneven wooden stairs to the living space above the shop. The room was so empty, most of the pillows and trinkets that belonged to him had gone, probably in those boxes he could see peeking out from behind the wardrobe, and it was just as abandoned as downstairs. “Menaiah!” He called again, frantically searching around the room for her; under the bed, inside the wardrobe, even in cupboards under the sink in the hopes that this was some horrific prank.

Distantly, Asra could hear Faust calling for him from downstairs. He was standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily and unevenly, having not found any trace of his favourite person. So, he slowly descended the stairs again to find Faust sitting on top of the letter. When she saw him move into the room, she perked up her head.

“Love.” She said calmly, and she wouldn’t elaborate.

Asra didn’t want to read further into the letter, not prepared for Menaiah having written that she hated him and that she was glad he was gone, that she wished that, even if she wasn’t going to die, she never wanted to see him again. He definitely wasn’t prepared to see those words.

‘I love you.’

For a second, he couldn’t believe it, but then it settled into his mind and he had never felt more like a terrible person as he did in this moment. He had told her that she was going to die alone and that she was stupid for wanting to try and help. He was reminded of every time he wanted to profess his love to her in the past, and how every time he ran away, going somewhere else to bury himself in studying magic to distract himself. He simply couldn’t fathom the thought that she might had loved him back, and so he opted to shove his feelings to the side, lest he lose everything he had built with her.

Now, he felt horrifically dumb. Perhaps if he had said it, she might have followed him, or if he had heard her say it he might have pushed his fear aside and stayed with her.

He knew where she would be now. He hoped that she was still there, in one piece, that the letter was simply written a matter of hours ago rather than days. He left Faust behind in the shop, letting his feet carry him back to the docks where he stole a gondola and rowed himself across the water to the dreaded shores of the Lazaret. The stench of the dead was almost enough to make him turn around and leave again. Almost.

He jumped out of the boat and pulled it to the shore, noting the stickiness of the dark sand under his foot. Or was it ash? He wasn’t sure anymore, but either way he muttered a protective charm over himself before moving forward. It wasn’t long before he was spotted.

“Hey!” Someone called, running over to him. They were wearing the typical plague doctor uniform, and it creeped Asra out. “You shouldn’t be here, this whole place is infected.”

“I’m looking for someone. She was here,” he murmured. “I need to see her.”

“Wha- hey, are you listening? You need to leave! If you’re looking for a doctor, she’ll return to-”

“She was sick, I think,” he interrupted. The gleaming red eyes of the mask seemed to bore into his soul and he felt a shiver run down his back as another doctor walked by, pushing a cart of ashes that they tipped out onto the sand unceremoniously. “She would have been here.”

The doctor in front of him sighed. “Look, I’m sorry but if she came here, your friend is already dead. The last group of people arrived here about two hours ago and they’re all dead and burned now.”

Asra could feel his face grow hot at the blunt nature of the doctor’s words. He couldn’t understand how they spoke so flatly about people’s suffering like that. Before he could say anything else, the doctor marched back into the tree line and towards the looming building. Dazed, Asra started to make his way back to the shoreline before dropping to his knees.

Menaiah had to be around there somewhere. He started to dig.

He didn’t notice his hands becoming more frantic, or the hole getting deeper until he hit normal sand, and he moved a few feet to the left to begin again. Eventually, it got to the point that he was throwing ash around, creating piles of it behind him, and there were small holes everywhere. A couple of doctors had stopped what they were doing to watch him, noting his tears and muttering about how sad the sight was, before moving on.

Asra didn’t care about the pain he felt in his fingers, nor did he care when he caught his fingernail on something sharp that tore through it, ripping half of it away from his finger. Blood began to stain his hands red, but he still didn’t stop, grunting and digging furiously until suddenly, his hand hit something solid in the eighth hole he had dug. He let out a shaky breath, digging around it until he could pull it free. He stupidly hoped it was her, or something of hers that was missed or dropped, but when he finally held it in his hands, he was sorely disappointed.

A small bone, maybe from someone’s hand, rested in his palm, ash sticking to it, but it was clean otherwise. He couldn’t even guess how long it had been there to have been so deeply buried, but as he stared at it, he came to the realization that this was it. This bone wasn’t hers, he knew, but he was surrounded by her ashes on that beach, surrounded by the smell of her burning body and the sound of her groaning in pain, crying for someone to help her.

And then he cried. He screamed and screamed for what felt like hours, until he couldn’t scream anymore and there was blood on his face from where he had wiped at his tears, and the bone was lying on the floor in front of him.

This was it. Asra would never see Menaiah again. 

Chapter Text

“Have you read through this one yet?”

Asra exhaled through his nose and glanced at Faust, who was curled up on the desk in front of him. She looked back at him with sleepy eyes, not saying anything but Asra could almost hear her lilted voice saying, “You chose to do this, don’t blame me”.

It had been almost two months since Asra came back to Vesuvia and discovered his worst nightmare had turned into reality. After his throat had grown hoarse and his fingers were nothing but open wounds, he dragged himself back to the mainland and wound up at Muriel’s door. His best friend brought him inside and, despite the obvious awkwardness, did his best to make Asra feel comforted. He brewed tea over the fire and draped a thick fur around Asra’s shoulders. Muriel didn’t touch him; he wasn’t a touchy person, and in that moment, Asra was thankful for it. He figured that if he was held or touched even a little bit, he would burst out crying again and he didn’t think he would ever be able to stop.

Asra didn’t leave the hut for a week and a half, remaining curled up in Muriel’s bed feeling the sadness come and go in waves. It would dissipate and he thought that maybe he could get up and do something, but when he did it would hit him like a wild boar and paralyse him again. He almost felt guilty getting out of bed, as though Menaiah’s ghost was forcing him to stay in it and mourn her for eternity. It wasn’t until Muriel wrinkled up his nose one afternoon when he sat next to Asra that he figured he should push through the pain and take care of himself.

Going back to the city was one of the hardest things Asra had ever done. It was even worse entering the shop and going back to the living space above it to have a bath. Everything was dusty and grey, and Asra could see memories of Menaiah everywhere. She stood at the kitchen counter brewing a cup of tea, she sat on the bed poring over books, she was in the bath inviting Asra to come and join her with that look on her face that promised more than just a wash. It felt like he was wading through thick mud when he ran the water and got in. His fingers brushed over the necklace Menaiah had left behind and he felt his eyes stinging again.

After that, he sat on the floor and stared at nothing in particular for… well, he had no idea how long he was there. He only got up once Faust nudged his hand with her head.

“Hungry…” she whispered, as though she was afraid to make Asra feel worse.

And that’s how Asra had spent the next two weeks. A mindless cycle of sleep, wake up, eat, sleep again.

Until he heard that Count Lucio was still searching for someone who could cure the plague. An idea struck him at once. Muriel wasn’t fond of the idea of Asra going to work for the Count, but in Asra’s mind it was the only way he could find information he needed. He had to try.

Asra now found himself in the stuffy old library, leaning over thick medical tomes and pretending to be interested in their contents while his partner held another one up in front of him.

Of course I have you idiot, is what Asra wanted to say and he almost rolled his eyes before he caught himself. He needed to work with this man if he was going to get anywhere.

“Yes I think so,” is what he actually came out with. “I wasn’t a fan of the diagrams.”

Ilya snorted and pulled the book back into his chest. “Yeah, that’s medicine for you. Lots and lots of pretty gruesome drawings.” He chuckled, and slid the book back into it’s place on the shelf. “What are you reading now?”

Ilya put his hands on the desk, and Faust saw an opportunity. She moved quickly, darting up his right arm and coiling around it tightly.

“Squeeze!”

Ilya winced. “Faust! That’s tight!”

It was Asra’s turn to snort now. “That’s how she shows you she likes you.”

“I’ve never seen her – ah – squeeze you like this…”

“She loves me. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, of course, of course – Gods she’s damn strong!”

Asra shut the book in front of him and pushed it to the side. He rose from the chair, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. Reaching an arm out, he beckoned Faust away from Ilya, and she slunk off of his arm and around the shoulders of her magician.

“Time for a break,” Asra stated, and began to turn so he could leave the library and go for a walk through the gardens.

“Already? It’s barely noon!” Ilya huffed, and stepped forward to try and catch Asra, who deftly avoided his outstretched hand.

“I’m simply exhausted,” Asra faked another yawn to emphasise his point. “I’ll only be an hour, maybe. You keep reading those boring old books and see if you can’t find something meaningful, Ilya.” He shot a sweet smile over his shoulder at Ilya, which cause the doctor’s face to redden almost immediately. Asra huffed and continued on his path to the door.

It had been just under three weeks since Asra came to the palace, and he had already completely sussed Ilya out. It seemed far too easy to fluster that man, and Asra knew that he could probably get away with murder if he simply looked up at him through his eyelashes or lowered his voice to barely a whisper. It was fun, watching him stumble like that. When Asra introduced himself to Ilya on his first day, his face was soft and he smiled at him, and Ilya almost choked. Asra entertained himself with forcing those reactions out of the taller man. At least it tore his mind away from Menaiah for a while.

Asra walked until he found himself under the willow tree in the garden. Asra spent a lot of time under that tree, napping or daydreaming about Menaiah. She would love the gardens of the palace, he knew, and he would imagine her lying next to him in the soft grass, talking about everything and nothing. Her voice was distant, however, and her blue eyes were never quite as vivid as he knew them to be in his imaginations. She was fading away from his mind.

“We need to hurry,” Asra whispered to no one in particular, but Faust nudged her head against his jaw in comfort. “I need her back with me, Faust. I don’t know if I can do this without her…”

Asra was almost loathe to return to the library, dark and smelling of old parchment. When he entered, he expected to see Ilya pacing around or sitting at a desk with too many papers in front of him, but it was silent.

“Ilya?” He called. “I’m back. Anything new?”

“Ah, you’re here,” an almost sultry voice replied, and Asra immediately went on his guard as Faust dove into his scarf. There was a danger in that voice. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a few days.”

From out of the shadows stepped a man shorter than Ilya, but somehow far more imposing. His blonde hair was sleeked back and his clothes were pristine, but his eyes were the telltale red of the plague.

Count Lucio stood before Asra in all his glory, smirking with a hand on his hip.

“I sent Jules to assist my Quaestor for a while. I hope you don’t mind.” Lucio’s smirk widened. “I have some questions for you and I wanted a little privacy.”

Asra’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t exactly say no to the Count, so he slowly moved towards the arm chairs in the middle of the room. Taking a seat, he offered the Count the one opposite him, who graciously accepted.

“So, you’re a magician by trade, is that right?” Lucio crossed one leg over the other and rested his gilded prosthetic on his knee, making sure to flex the clawed fingers. A quiet threat, Asra knew.

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “My parents were magicians too, and they started teaching me as soon as I learned to read.”

“Plenty of experience then,” Lucio hummed. “What do you know of the Arcana?”

Asra frowned. “In what respect?”

“I want to make a deal.”

Asra almost choked. He knew making deals with one the Arcana was something that people did when they were desperate, but he didn’t think the Count would be someone who was desperate enough. Then again, the man was actively dying, albeit far slower than everyone else.

“That’s… terribly dangerous,” Asra explained slowly. “The Arcana aren’t exactly known for being… overly generous. Whatever you ask of them, they’ll ask a price of you. Depending on who you go to, what you give will be far more than what you receive.”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” Lucio waved his arm in front of his face and rolled his eyes. “What I need to know is if they would be able to give me a new body.”

What?

“A new…” Asra was rendered speechless, which didn’t happen all that often. A new body was an extortionate thing to ask of anyone, let alone the Arcana. The price someone might have to pay for something like that… Asra didn’t want to think about it. “I don’t think-”

“I don’t need you to think, I just want to know if they can do it!” Lucio slammed his fist on the arm of his chair, making Asra jump and Faust hiss as she tried to bury herself further into Asra’s scarf.

“I…” Asra took a breath. “Well, yes, they probably could, but-”

“Excellent!” Lucio grinned once more, and uncrossed his legs to push himself to his feet. “I’ll need you to help me with the ritual then! I can get you all the information you need, and then-”

“Wait, wait,” Asra gaped. “You want me to help you perform a ritual this big? This could put my life at risk, both of our lives! There are so many ways this kind of thing could go wrong, I just don’t know if I can.”

Lucio glared down at Asra and strode over to him. In two steps, his toes were right in front of Asra’s, and he leaned down to cage Asra into his chair, both hands placed on the arms either side of him.

“I wasn’t asking,” he growled lowly. “You will help me do this, magician, or else, I can have your little friend in the woods hunted for sport.”

Asra’s blood ran cold and his face blanched.

“Muriel…” He whispered.

“Yes, Muriel.” Lucio dragged the name out as if seeing how it felt in his mouth. “I think he’d look wonderful in my coliseum, don’t you? His size tells me he’d be a formidable opponent.”

“Don’t!” Asra gasped, almost crying at the thought of poor, scared Muriel being made to fight and kill people for an audience. “Leave him alone!”

“Aw, but I think you need a little… motivation, don’t you?” Lucio chuckled. “I’ll give him challengers who are sure to lose to him, so long as you do what I need you to do. But should you ever refuse me, little magician, then you can be sure that your dear friend won’t make it out of the ring alive.”

Asra’s shock and fear was painted all over his face, and Lucio laughed as he stood up straight and turned to walk away.

“I’ll have the information you need sent your way,” he called over his shoulder. “You can start working on it as soon as you receive it.”

Asra slumped in his chair, breathing out a sigh of relief as Lucio shut the door behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest, and Faust slowly poked her head out.

“Gone?” She whispered.

Asra could only nod.

A ritual for a new body? Asra had never heard of such a thing. But right as he was thinking about what that could possibly entail, he was struck with a brilliant idea.

“We need to sabotage that ritual,” he breathed, afraid Lucio might hear him. “Maybe we can make our own deal.”