The streets of Pearl’s Keep were nothing like that had been in the height of their glory. What were once vibrant store fronts had long been caked with ash and blood. Any goods that hadn’t been looted or salvaged lay abandoned in the streets. Pearlfish shells and abandoned Pearls glittered in the gutters of the worn streets.

  No one had use for pretty baubles anymore. Any value such thing had once had was worthless in the country now, replaced with items of practicality. Steel was worth more than gold, seeds more than gemstones.

  In the ashy muck, Corabelle spotted a glimmer of blue. A rare, beautiful Pearl trying desperately to be seen in this hideous environment.

  Her thumb rubbed the side of her index finger. It had been 5 years since she’d worn that ring and she hadn’t had it long, but she missed it.

  That beautiful piece of useless jewelry had been ever warm, harbouring a rouge Fire Elemental. It would have been more than welcome on a chilly night such as this.

  For a fleeting moment, Corabelle considered grabbing the abandoned pearl, but the urge quickly passed. She had no use for such pointless, beautiful things. Besides, she’d already lost two of its siblings. She was sure she’d lose this one too.

  She stepped past the beckoning shimmer, continuing on her mission.

  The Fae had ordered her to retrieve information from the Registry. They wanted all the information they could acquire on the Houses of Magic in countries across the Serpent’s Sea. Thus far their reach only extended to the kingdoms of Greater Verdiante. The other countries had done a rather good job keeping the budding infections to a minimum.

  The Fae didn’t have the numbers yet to launch full scale attacks across oceans.

  Greater Verdiante had only been unfortunate to be caught by surprise, unprepared for their annihilation.

  Nine days.

  That’s how long it had taken the Fae to fully conquer the government of this continent. They move swiftly, their teleportation magic far stronger than that of this world. They targeted the Houses of Magic first, followed by the kings, followed by soldiers, followed by anyone who crossed their path.

  Soon there wasn’t anyone left to put up a decent fight back, at least not in a way that would give the people a fighting chance to reclaim their land.

  The only good thing about their brutal takeover was that this continental country had been their first target, their limited numbers swarming this relatively isolated area.

  By the time they had fully taken over, the rest of the world had been notified about the invasion and prepared, able to wipe out the limited Fae as they arrived.

  The horrors were isolated.

  And, while there was no formal militia left in Greater Verdiante, rebellions cropped up from every corner of the country. People were still living, still fighting.

  It was futile. They didn’t have the strength, especially as the Demon ranks continued to grow. Though Corabelle couldn't help but feel a glimmer of pride for those who had once been her people.

  Though she kept the traitorous thoughts from the forefront of her mind, deep within she desperately wished they’d manage to overcome this.

  It wasn’t long before she arrived at the Registry building.

  The doors lay on the floor just inside their frames, their brass hardware had been stripped, probably for weaponry or armour.

  The receptionist's desk sat long abandoned. Corabelle briefly wondered what had become of the blind divination mage who used to tend it. Nothing good for certain.

  Corabelle stepped over the toppled doors and around papers glued to the floor with the humidity of the air.

  The Registry was always quiet, but now there was something unnaturally still about the air that hung heavy with salt and smoke.

  Corabelle’s footsteps were silent, muted by one of her newer Runebinds. There was nothing for her to fear here. Not a human existed in this kingdom that could do any real harm to a Faedemon.

  But there was something comforting about silent, unobtrusive movement.

  If the information the Fae were looking for was still here, it wouldn’t be easy to find. Any semblance of the once meticulous organization of this place, was years gone.

  The archive halls were in ruin; papers scattered, their leather binders having been stripped. Shelves were topped, the tracks that had allowed them to slide had been ripped from the floor.

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  They Fae had the foresight to not burn the human’s knowledge, but that didn’t stop the humans from destroying it themselves for a few scraps of leather and ounces of brass.

  Completing this mission would be tedious, but it was certainly better than most other missions she could be given.

  With any luck, the information she was looking for might be somewhat near its original shelf.

  Though nearly pure darkness filled the archive room, one of Corabelle’s first Runebinds allowed her to see with perfect daylight clarity. Perfect enough to see that the plaques, too, had been raided for their screws and frames. The carved glass that had once been held to shelves were now in broken pieces among the rest of the debris.

  Locating the correct section of this place would be nearly as hard as finding the pages.

  She kicked around look papers as she skimmed the headings, looking for a clue, when she heard something rustling to her left.

  She didn’t react quickly, barely glancing in its direction. Probably a small animal or even a draft through a broken window.

  But from the corner of her eye, she spotted it, something distinctly humanoid.

  An irritated huff escaped her lips.

  What absolute idiot would be lurking around the upper city?

  A Lesser or Demon would have made themselves readily known to her. The High Fae didn’t leave the castle. Which meant that this moron was of this world.

  She wished a member of her old kind would have better survival instincts, or maybe this one just wished for death. If that were the case, there were much less painful ways to leave this world, ones that would ensure you actually got to leave.

  She ignored it. Whoever this was, they were free to seek death with someone else. She had no desire to take another life and she had information to find.

  Papers clung together in a small puddle from a crack in the open window. It hasn't rained in days. The smell of mildew made Corabelle’s nose crinkle.

  Smells were so much stronger in this body. It was a worse thing more often than it was a better.

  She knelt to peel apart the sodden material carefully, hoping silently these weren’t what she needed. The ink was muddled, turning the puddle a murky grey. The words were only vaguely legible.

  The sound next to her came much louder this time. Scrambling then a heavy crunch of breaking glass and ragged desperate breathing echoing through the near silent room.

  The noise caught more attention than just her own.

  Kill it.

  The simple indifferent words radiated through her mind from her new master. The order felt like a cat clawing at her grey matter. Zaramir’s orders had been so careful, delicate. Uncomfortable, certainly, but never painful. At least not when he was in control of himself.

  She stood slowly, half hoping that maybe this poor soul would run away before she turned to look. If she truly saw it, then she could no longer pretend she thought it was an animal.

  It had moments to escape, but she could hear the breathing. It wasn’t moving. It froze with the horror of giving away its position to the monster.

  Then Fae’s presence was no longer active in her brain, but they would know if she disobeyed their order.

  Run, you fool. Run. She urged silently, futilely.

  Whoever this was, their mind was already made up, either of their own accord or by their bodies inability to cooperate.

  She turned her head to the stairwell to spot a girl. She was probably not much older than Alina had been when she’d left home, a teenager or barely a woman. Her face looked old with the tedium of existence in this world, but her eyes were young, alert. Her probably once beautiful copper hair was matted and caked with humid ash, though bits of red still sparkled in the limited light.

  Her clothes were dirty and perhaps a year too small for her. They gripped her skinny frame in an uncomfortable looking manner, patted with a nearly matching fabric, but the color was just barely wrong. Her hands were bloody, oozing red into the papers and glass below her from the fall from the last few stairs that had caught the unwanted attention.

  Her eyes were locked on Corabelle's figure. This room was dark, but Corabelle knew her silhouette must be visible in the dull glow of the light reflected from the fires off the clouds.

  The girl didn’t dare to move, not even to pull glass from her palms. She knew as well as Corabelle did, only the few creatures dared to casually wander the Upper City, and they weren’t this redhaired girl’s own kind. She wasn’t here to die, the tears silently streaming down her face said as much.

  There was nothing Corabelle could say to this girl to quell her fear. And she didn’t really want to. This girl had every right to be terrified. The Upper city was dangerous and she’d inexplicably chosen to be here.

  This wasn’t even bravery. This was stupidity or, more likely, desperation.

  But what does she want with an archive? Corabelle had to wonder

  If she had been in the Lower City, she could have been looking for supplies, but there was nothing left for her kind in the Upper City. Everything of any value had been either scrapped by humans or claimed by the Fae.

  The Fae didn’t care about her motivations as their presence returned, forcing the same slashing order through her fascia, “Kill it.”

  This time, they didn’t leave, instead lingering like a spider in the recesses of her brain. They didn’t plan on letting Corabelle get away with ignoring their order.

  Though she kept her true intent well hidden from the Fae, she knew this girl was going to die.

  She ignited her Blaze of Stars, enveloping her arms and torso in glowing white flame that made the room almost unbearably bright.

  The girl's eyes widened, more tears feebly diluting the blood below her. Terror gripped her so tightly that she couldn’t even scream.

  Corabelle approached her swiftly, not giving the poor thing a chance to fully process her fate, as she gripped her in a flaming embrace. She burned as hot as the flames would allow, making sure the girl’s death came quickly, her body turning to ash in mere moments. The room filled with the smell of her burnt skin and hair, any hint of her Spark evaporated into the muggy air.

  The girl had to die. That, Corabelle couldn’t prevent. But she could at least spare her a worse fate.