2-4

Reba’s chest tightened.

They weren’t far from the Scrappers’ District. If any unsuspecting Selplian ran into the Mimic, there could be a whole slew of new wraths and not enough gold to save them all.

“Let go of me, you freaks!” She kicked one of the guards in the ribs.

“Gah. You little—”

From the sidelines, Joke watched with disappointment.

“A thief. A Selplian thief.”

He had seen too many young ones like this throw their lives away for some temporary coin. How on Magmat’s Earth would they get anywhere if they relied on crime instead of hard labor and smart thinking? This one clearly had a lesson to learn.

“Now, now,” he said, stepping forward. “Let me talk to her. Perhaps one of her own kind may be better to get her to calm down.”

The guards nodded, though they kept her restrained.

Joke crouched in front of Reba, expression full of exaggerated wisdom. “Now listen to Ol’ Joke, young one. Crime does not pay. No matter how much you think it does. You should be like me. Earn your coin respectfully and keep it all to yourself. Otherwise, you just make a hard time for nice young guards like these.”

“Thanks, Joke.” One of the guards smirked. “We would’ve been in real trouble if it weren’t for your ears.”

“Any time.”

Reba stared at him blankly, as if he had just spoken in some unknown language.

Joke sighed. “Ah, well. Maybe a trip to the dungeons will teach you not to be so greedy.”

But something caught his eye.

A gold coin lay on the ground.

It didn’t look like a normal sina. No symbol, no well-grooved builder-made edges.

Just… gold. Gold hadn’t been used for trading since the age of spirits, but he was sure it was still worth a fortune.

Joke’s eyes flicked toward the guards, making sure none of them were watching. Then, with a quick flick of his fingers, he swiped it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his throat. “I’m rich. With this, I’ll finally get out of this blasted city and be done pandering to these stupid guards.”

“DON’T, YOU STUPID OLD MAN!” Reba’s shout tore through the air.

She kicked wildly, and before anyone could stop her, the wolf pup launched itself from her back, snapping its jaws around a guard’s fingers.

The man yelped in pain, loosening his grip for just a second. And Reba wrenched herself free. She charged at Joke, ripping the coin from his fingers. Then, without hesitation, she hurled it toward the ocean.

"What do you think you’re doing? My gold!" Joke shouted in tears of shattered dreams.

Before he could take his anger out on the girl, the coin morphed midair into a wicked creature. Joke's eyes widened beyond imagining as he realized he had been seconds away from becoming the Coin Mimic’s wrath.

The moment the spirit fully revealed itself, the guards fled in terror.

"SPIRIT! IT’S A SPIRIT!"

They were all young, inexperienced, and without a shred of dignity to their names—even Ol’ Joke took off right along with them.

"Wait! You cowards!" Reba would’ve thought royal guards would have at least some bravery, but they weren’t knights. And she was left alone with the spirit.

Not alone. For some strange reason, the pup was still there. After biting the man, it jumped back into the makeshift sash on Reba’s back. She expected it to run away too, but instead it found more comfort shaking at her back.

Reba took note of it and the Mimic in front of her. "The Scrappers’ District is nearby, which means if we don’t take care of this now, then someone’s in trouble—and I don’t have any more coins for another wrath. So if you’re staying, it’s going to get rough," she said to the pup.

The wolf pup gave her a concerned look, but she didn't notice. She was already preparing for another fight when the Mimic suddenly encased itself in gold.

She had dropped her staff inside the warehouse with no time to make another. But she was able to find and grab her shield. She guarded her head. Which barely protected her when the Mimic launched itself like a battering ram.

"Scow…" Without a weapon, she was hard-pressed to do anything to the spirit. Punching gold would only result in a broken knuckle and an undamaged spirit.

Her only choice was movement. She needed to keep its attention on her so it didn’t run off into the city. But the port left few places to run that weren’t ocean. With nowhere else to go, she scurried up the side of a large cargo ship, the Mimic chasing after her, its small gold-covered fists pattering against the wooden hull.

She barely made it to the deck before another barrage of coins rained down on her. Raising her arms, she blocked what she could, but the shield didn’t give her full protection for her body. Coins knicked her legs as she guarded her head and neck. She stayed on her feet, and when the Mimic realized its attack didn’t work, it jumped on top of her shield, clawing and banging against its silver edges. Reba quickly dissipated the chains holding it to her arm and tossed the shield away—Mimic included.

Her eyes darted around, looking for a new plan. Spotting a weight-tied rope at the ship’s center mast, she quickly untied it. The sudden shift in balance sent the counterweight dropping, while the untied rope slingshotted her upward.

As she shot toward the sky, she pulled a hook from her satchel, repurposing it as a makeshift knife. Dragging it against the sail, she sliced the fabric in two. The massive cloth drifted down directly onto the Mimic, confusing it.

At the top of the mast, Reba perched, catching her breath. "Okay, I need to figure  out how to get through that gold cover." It made the Mimic nearly impossible to touch, yet it could still somehow see her through it.

Then, she noticed a lump sniffing around beneath the fallen sail. And she heard the familiar sound of coins being consumed. “It's in the middle of a fight, and it's still worried about its coins.”

Her gaze flicked to her satchel.

She looked past the ship—past the city—toward the bottomless pit of water that was Osiedi’s Gift. A plan came to her.

"Think quick on your feet, and no matter what, keep your balance," her uncle Kreo would say.

“You still alive back there?” she called to the pup. She got a pitiful yelp in response. It almost sounded like a no. “Well, keep still. Now comes the good part.”

She dropped onto the mast, balancing herself on the wooden logs that formerly held the sail of the ship.

The moment the Mimic shook itself free from the cloth, it spotted her, immediately climbing the mast to close the distance.

Reba needed distance.

The second it got too close, she leaped, diving off the mast and into what would’ve been a straight fall into the ocean.

But she didn’t fall. Instead, she landed on the adjacent ship, grabbing a hanging rope and riding it down to the deck. The little lavender dog’s mouth stretched open like it was screaming the entire way down.

With distance between them, the Mimic had no choice but to launch another long-range attack. Coins blasted toward her, forcing Reba to duck behind the ship’s hull. She pushed the pup’s head down behind her as metal rained over them.

A few coins had landed near her feet. With a maniacal grin, she started collecting them in her satchel.

The wolf cocked its head, confused.

“A few extra coins won’t hurt, right?” Reba muttered.

More coins came. More filled her bag. More free riches. Eventually, her satchel was full.

Then, without warning, the coins stopped coming.

Reba frowned. "What happened to it?"

The pup shrugged… somehow.

Peeking over the edge of the ship, she scanned the wreckage below, but the Mimic was gone.

She stood, tense. "Ooni. It didn’t escape when I wasn’t looking, did it?"

Her head whipped left, then right, panic creeping in. Then she heard a bark. Followed by a yelp.

The dog’s weight shifted against her back. Reba spun around. Just in time to see the Mimic falling from the sky.

She leaped backward, not realizing she didn’t have any more ground to stand on. Her foot slipped off the edge of the ship, and she plummeted straight down into the ship’s side fishing net.

It saved her from the Gift—but it also trapped her. Tangled in a web of ropes, she struggled, twisting and jerking to break free.

The Mimic landed on the port below, just beneath her, watching as she fought against the net.

"Oniii… Please… gods…"

The creature inched closer, reaching out with its devilish, grubby hands, its fingers stretching toward her face.

This was it.

She was going to be turned, transformed into one of its hideous golden statues, but the statue that came to mind was the one in her father’s room.

Her breath caught. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Then—

The innocent weight on her back suddenly leapt in front of her.

Only, it wasn’t a pup anymore.

A hiss of smoke filled the air, and in the blink of an eye, something entirely different stood between her and the greed spirit.

Light lavender hair. Arms and legs covered in dragon-like scales.

The figure stood tall, imposing, like a knight among men. Its presence alone cast a shadow too overwhelming for the average eye to bear.

It was a warrior dragon in the shape of a Myri girl.

The greed spirit shrank back, startled by the sudden change. Reba, equally in shock, gawked at what had just become of that cute little... “pup?”

Now she was sure she recognized it, for the creature held that same distinct scar above its eye—The number 13 slashed through by the eyebrow.

"Crate girl?"

But the moment she spoke, smoke rose again.

In the next instant, the dragon was gone, and the fearful little pup was back. It yelped and scurried away, hiding beneath the nearest cloth, its trembling hindquarters still sticking out.

"What?! No! Turn back into that other thing! Help me!" Reba flailed, her struggling only making her situation worse. But before she recaught the Mimic’s attention, she quickly conjured a small, ragged shiv. It nicked her hand to handle, but it was able to cut the rope that bound her. She dumped to the dock with a hard thud.

The Mimic, at the sight of the dragon, had shrunken in fear. But its threat had suddenly disappeared. It now realized it couldn’t ignore the shaking pup. It stalked forward, ready to pull it from its hiding place.

"Hey!" Reba shouted, beaming it in the back with one of its own coins.

The Mimic snapped its head toward the coin first, swiping it up into itself before regarding the one who threw it.

Reba lifted her satchel, shaking it so the gold inside clinked together. "I got your gold! Want it back?"

She dangled the bag over the ocean, watching as the Mimic froze. A high-pitched squeal left its mouth, its golden armor showing the first signs of cracking.

It crawled toward her with a slimy desperation.

"Oh, you really want it, huh? Fine. You can have it."

She dropped the satchel, spilling the gold pieces onto the dock. Like a starving pig, the Mimic lunged for the coins. It shoveled them into its mouth—first the ones scattered on the ground, then deeper and deeper into the bag. So deep, its entire head disappeared inside.

That was the moment Reba struck.

She snatched up the satchel, yanked it shut, and wrapped the opening tightly.

The Mimic thrashed inside, screeching and flailing against the leather.

Reba didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a boat chain—one of the very same chains she had crafted at the factory—and wrapped it around the bag.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times over.

She made sure the spirit was squeezed tight, the metal locking its writhing form in place. Once she was sure it had no escape, she let shine a devilish smile and hurled the squirming satchel into the Gift.

The weight of the gold inside caused it to plummet instantaneously, and it was swallowed in the deep void of the ocean.

Moments passed.

Spirits didn’t bleed. They weren’t people. They weren’t creatures. They were beings of pure archaea, and when they died, their archaea returned to the Neri, where they would heal and rise again someday.

But not for a while.

From the depths of the sea, the remnants of the Mimic’s archaea floated up—silver streaks of energy twisting toward the sky.

Then, they disappeared, sinking into the deepest reaches of the world’s unknown.

Reba exhaled, satisfied. "I killed it. I really killed it…."

But the victory didn’t live long. There was another matter to deal with.

The dog wasn’t a dog anymore. Crate Girl was back. Weird lavender hair and all. She let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her now that the battle was over. But she was still crouched beneath the same measly cloth the wolf pup had hidden under.

Reba narrowed her eyes.

The Myri were known for their ability to transform parts of their bodies. They could grow fur, stiffen their skin, sharpen their teeth—but they couldn’t change their size and shape completely.

And yet, that was exactly what this girl had done. Reba was never more sure than she was right then. That strange sense she had about the pup—the way it felt familiar. After what just happened, there was no denying it.

She took a step closer, just enough to catch the girl’s eye.

"You’re a wrath."

The girl shrank, and then came a puff of smoke.

"Wait!" Reba called out, but the word may as well have been silent.

The moment she spoke the word 'wrath,' an unimaginable fear overtook the girl. Reba saw it on her face in the split second before she transformed back into the wolf cub.

It was a cursed word, one that carried only horror for those afflicted. To those untouched by it, wrath was a warning, a nightmare, a reason to run. But to the cursed themselves, it was something else entirely—an affirmation of their greatest crime.

And so she fled.

The terrified cub bolted from the docks, leaving the remnants of their battle behind. The form, while clearly a pup of some wolf breed, seemed far more fluid than that. It was as if it still retained the girl’s face, her posture, and her mind.

"I don't care! I just... just wait!" Reba called after her.

But the girl had heard that before.

They were always lies. A trick to capture her. A way to turn her in. Once people knew what she was, they always came after her.

Always.

With tears in her eyes, she ran.

But Reba knew the city better than she did. The wrath was from a land far away. Armonia was a stranger to her. She ran through alleys and dead ends, a maze she didn’t understand. One of which Reba finally cornered her in.

The cub tried to dart between her legs, but Reba caught her, pinning her against her chest. "Just calm down a moment!"

Eventually, the cub tired out. So much so that it seemed to shrink. It became so small that it was completely hidden in the palms of Reba’s hands. Reba couldn’t tell if the girl had disappeared entirely, leaving only a leaf or a cricket in her hands. But suddenly, she felt something stir inside her palms, and they warmed.

There was a moment of stillness. She peeked into her hands, and something tiny shot from between her fingers. A fleeing fairy, trailing lavender hair and sparkling wings.

Reba lunged, trying to catch it again.

Another puff of smoke.

The dragon woman returned, but this time, she had a clear direction.

Reba latched onto her scaly tail as she tried to run, refusing to let go. "Please..." she gasped.

Another transformation.

A small bear—snarling, thrashing.

Then the cub again.

Then the fairy.

Then the dragon woman.

The forms came so quickly that Reba squeezed her eyes shut and simply held on for dear life. It felt like holding onto a brick of uncooked dough, an unstable mass of shifting flesh and bone.

But no matter how she changed, no matter how she tried to slip away, Reba refused to let go. If she let her go, she would be alone in a world that would see her dead.

Reba thought of the statue—the way it had clutched its egg, chained together in life and death. But even the strongest grip wasn’t perfect.

A sharp turn sent Reba crashing into a stone wall. Pain shot up her spine. Her fingers wrenched open against her will.

The pup rolled free, tumbling across the dirt. And without warning, the girl was back. She groaned, rubbing her head, eyes blinking blearily. Both of them crawled to their knees, regaining their senses, and locked eyes.

But before she could say another word, the pain in Reba’s back halted her, and the smoke sent the pup scurrying away.

Reba fell back to the ground, her body forcing a surrender. The battle with the Mimic and everything that followed, her bones told her that she was done for the day. There wasn’t much more she could do without healing, and so she waited.

A Havi man drifted silently from around the corner. He surveyed the surrounding area to be sure that the danger was gone and the fight was over. Havi could only intervene when a battle was surely ended. And so they lurked, watching and never moving until one side was defeated and the other was done with them.

He scanned Reba’s body for all its wounds. “Are you in need?” He said.

“Just get on with it.”

He hovered his hand over her body, eyes closed in prayer, and began to heal her. Reba turned her head from him, watching the direction the wrath ran off to. She thought of her uncle Kreo. That maybe she could find him and tell him about her. Get her the help she needed.

The fear in her wasn’t something Reba wanted to bear. The way she took off as if it weren’t even possible for her to have a friend in this world. She sat up, the feeling returning to her back and limbs.

“You can go now.”

“But there’s still pain,” the Havi said.

“I’m fine. Now go.”

After a moment of hesitation, the Havi man bowed and went on his way. She wanted to get home already. Her father wasn’t one not to notice when she’d been missing for so long. And she had to figure out a way to contact Kreo while he was still in the city. If he still was.

But he said he was here for the Archas Knights' determinations. It would still be another few days before those began, and at least a while more before it ended. So he would have plenty of time to visit again before he left.

She started on her way home before she was passed by a strange man, and an eerie feeling. She froze as a shadow of a man stepped two paces past her. He stopped as well. It was one of the last people she ever thought she would see again. Second shield Athi Kimble.

He was the only space archad in the entirety of the capital. Space archaea was the least studied of them all. There were only a handful in the world, and they were all of the same family under the same god, Subar.

His eyes were shaded with mysterious black lines, each ending in a spiral. Everything about him seemed as though it had come from a different world and time—from his royal vested garb to the cleanliness of his face. Even his eyes were like staring into a bad dream.

Being Second Shield meant that his strength was only second to Osher Strongbow. Which is why it was no question of how he could be out alone at this time of night under the moon of his god.

“Excuse me, young miss,” he said.

“Umm. Yes, ardentia?” She found herself bowing unconsciously.

“I heard cries that there was a spirit in this area. You wouldn’t have happened to have seen anything, now would you have?”

“No… I mean, there was one, but it's dead now.”

“Dead? And how did that come to be?”

Reba was hesitant to answer but had no reason to lie to the Archas Knight. “I… trapped it in my satchel and threw it into Osiedi’s Gift.”

“You did? A lone builder?”

“Yes. Ardentia.” She wouldn’t dare mention the wrath that was with her.

“Hmm. The men’s stories did have mention of a young girl facing off against a spirit of her own kind. It seems bravery can come in all forms. You have done an Archas Knight’s work.”

She bowed again. “Thank you. But I’m a builder, ardentia. We have no knights.”

“Ah, yes, this is true. But we here in the capital don’t take the slaying of spirits lightly. It is a great deal, indeed. Especially for someone as young as yourself. I feel I must reward you.”

“No. That’s okay. I’m just heading home.”

“Modest. But if I told you the amount of coin the capital pays for the slaying of spirits, I’m sure your tune would be quite different.”

“Coin?”

The man laughed. “You just slayed the Coin Mimic, spirit of greed. Did you not?”

“Right, sorry.” Reba feigned a nervous laugh.

“I jest. You are definitely deserving of a reward, for at the very least saving me the hassle. How’s this? Meet me tomorrow at the Blacksword’s Tourney, and I shall have your reward prepared for you there.”

He shifted away, sliding his feet across the dirt, and the dirt did not react. Like he was never touching it in the first place. He didn’t even wait for her answer. But she had one, and she yelled it to him.

“Reba Kotter!”

“What was that?” He turned.

“My name, ardentia, sir.”

“Right. I forget it's normal to ask that kind of thing. Well, I will see you tomorrow, Reba.” And then he walked, disappearing just before the darkness swallowed him.

Reba remembered him from all those years ago. A face like that one never forgot in their lifetime. She was suddenly to have a meeting with an Archas Knight. And it might’ve been a crime for her to say no.

Reba stood silent in the cooling hush, her own name still ringing in her ears long after the ardentia faded from sight. The moon was a thin, scratched coin behind a mirage of clouds. A restless energy prickled beneath her skin.

A reward, he’d said, at the Blacksword’s Tourney.

She almost laughed, thinking of wraths and spirits and how the night had twisted in so many directions. She tucked her hands in her pockets and strode home, thinking about the future.