Monthly Extra: A Night Around the Fire

This one is canon.

"Can one of you magic-types douse the fire a little?"

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. I'm resting on the cheerful burnt orange couch in Tiane's living room, with the rest of our crew lounging around with me. Keo's on a large floor cushion reading while Viara peruses Tiane's bookshelf and Wren stands by the window, enjoying the view of the night sky. Rin and Tiane are each seated in armchairs with their feet curled under them.

"Yeah, I've got it," I reply to Rin's request, sitting up before anyone else can tend to the task. I extend a hand and reach out with my magic until I feel it touch the hot aura around the fireplace. I remind it of sleep, and calm, and the ash that rests beneath dying embers. The flames shrink, and the room cools.

"Much better," the rogue sighs, and I find myself silently agreeing. It's still early enough in spring to be chilly at night, but I've had no desire to bundle up in blankets tonight. The cream colored throw on the back of the couch rests exactly where Tiane had apparently tossed it this morning.

"This is new, isn't it, Tiane?" I ask, idly passing my fingers through its fringe. The brown and mustard yellow pattern is a good choice for the room, complementing the warmth of the other colors in here as much as the soft glow of the light that comes from the fire.

"I picked it up last week," she confirms over a cup of tea. "The weaver's from Leas, but she said she imported the threads from Dalusin. The lighter strands are called fog-strings because they're made with magic in that kind of weather. Assuming she wasn't pulling one over on me, anyway."

"You think you were lied to?" Viara raises a brow. "Why would you buy it, then?"

"Does it matter?" she shrugs. "Either it's real and I got a nice blanket, or it's fake and I got a nice blanket with a good story."

"Well said," Wren laughs, turning back to us from gazing out the window and walking over to settle near the fire. "We do have someone who might know the truth, though."

We all turn to Rin, who huffs a sigh. "I don't know everything about Dalusin just because I'm from there. When the hell did I say I was a weaver?"

"Maybe your parents are?" Tiane guesses, not seeming particularly attached to the thought as she stretches and shifts in the armchair she's curled up in. "What's your family do, anyway?"

I tense immediately, and I don't need to look to feel the way Wren and Keo do the same. I debate changing the subject, but Rin answers first. "They were... artisans. They made jewelry. And sometimes charms for the temples." It's not said with much emotion, and I wonder if that's a good or bad thing.

"Oh," Tiane's eyes widen, catching the 'were' in the statement quickly. "I'm sorry."

"They must have been talented," Viara says, her tone finding such a perfect balance between kindness and normalcy I'm reminded of how well-suited she is for her diplomatic role in the Den.

"Temples hire only the best," Keo hums in agreement, sounding mildly impressed.

"I guess so."

"What about your family, Wren?" Tiane asks after a beat of silence. "Are they scholars, like you?"

Wren hesitates. "In their way, yes. They know a great deal about their field of interest, but none have studied formally at an archive or been to the City of Arcanum."

"Really?" she asks with mild surprise. "How'd you end up straying so far from the family business?"

"And what is the 'family business?'" Viara adds curiously.

"My family are healers. I wound up-"

"Wait - healers in Nosret?" her brow furrows. "Do you know-"

"I'm not a healer myself," Wren says with an apologetic grimace. "I can make potions and poultices, but I'm just following recipes. I won't be able to answer anything meaningful on the subject."

"Oh," her eyes flicker to me as though unsure, before she nods. I say nothing, unsure what I'd tell her even if we were alone. It's an almost identical response to the one I remember from Lasan, though I don't understand the reluctance that colors it.

"What of Tiane's question?" Keo prods, sitting up with interest and setting the book aside. "How did your path to this work unfold?"

"It was a long chain of events that have entirely too much to do with luck," Wren chuckles. "It's a little terrifying when I think of how random getting to this point was. I just happened to meet the right people who encouraged me in the right direction."

"They would not have done so, had you lacked the talent required."

"Yeah," I agree. "It can't be easy to get to the City of Arcanum to study, no matter how lucky you are."

"Well, yes. As talented as anyone in this room."

The truth of the statement hits me with an unexpected force. To me these are simply my friends - most of whom I've known since we were children. But as my eyes sweep across each person I see one of the Den's foremost healers, an Avir who's survived both the fae and human realms, a top diplomat, a master archivist, and a rogue skilled enough to operate in a foreign city alone. And then there's me, with the iridescent magic that feels almost like a part of me now. For the first time I realize what a powerful group of people I'm sitting with.

The magic stirs behind my eyes, bringing with it something that's not quite a full dream - no imagery, no words from the Guide or anyone else - just a strong feeling that we're going somewhere, whether we know it or not.