In yet another city, she didn’t care about their names, Yaro reluctantly bought from a merchant. The stingy humi wanted five fuur for one stick for ghrepul jerky, a scam of a price. The tasteless meat stick should be worth one fuur, maybe two at most. Yaro handed the small ball of light over to the man with her ethereal hand and asked casually about a sight broker in the city. The humi shrugged, and grunted in a direction as she took her jerky. Yaro left without the pleasantries typically afforded to parting.

No longer leaving behind a trail of blood, Yaro couldn't help but worry that her disguise has some sort of flaw in it. Her horns have always been the most difficult part. She’d thought about having them sanded down before, but they make great lances in a pinch. And, they actually add to a disguise, not take away, being a stylish decoration of a passed loved one. This felt odd to her and others, but held unspokenly accepted mostly for mourning. The difficult part was making them look like they were attached to and not sprouting forth from the old silky dark-green cloak.

Oh, and the cloak, she made a huge mistake getting a feathered one. It did have ties on the inside, but the drag of feathers in the wind taunted her with the threat of blowing everything open with a particularly strong gust. She wished she wasn’t so stupid as to make her newer one filthy beyond repair. It would be better to have this than nothing. It’s all about expectations, for dress in public.

Yaro stumbled over a loose stone; these streets of Yon were out to kill her. She wasn’t used to wearing boots either, or the approximations she had wrapped around her feet. Footprints in the dirt had to be masked by a wooden palate, wrapped to her leg with cloth -she had to wrap her tail to a leg with cloth as well. Nothing else would fit. She did miss traveling with her Atho along the streets to heavily trafficked to leave footprints in. 

The backup mask, ivory and empty, she forgot how hot it got wearing it too long. An opaque veil was much more comfortable. Another thing she was able to wear with her Atho.

The whole getup kept people away with expectations that she is a part of the Dreulbe faith. No one would ask her to remove her mask. No one would think it’s odd that she was clothed head to toe. And somehow, this lie of faith, it felt normal. 

It all felt so easy to fall back into.

The sign “Fortune’s Fate” rocked in the wind. Tacky with a space motif and striking colors, this must be the place. Inside, cleaning products replaced the stench of the city. The waiting room was dim, surely to hide the imperfections they could not afford to fix. The air was sterile with a faint smell of incense, the kind used for relaxation. Yaro hoped they weren’t enchanted to enhance the effect. It all did not bode well for the proficiency of the owner. Still, she needed information, any at all, even if they gave a simple, ‘he’s alive’.

She knelt on the cushion closest to the door and waited for Ku Fortune's Fate to return. Her shin ached slightly, but she had done a well enough job setting the bones and healing. She’d not done a perfect job and she would need time for her leg to heal completely, but it was usable and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have to worry about any infections, ever.

She would have rather stood, though she knew standing led to the other person being more alert to her. Sitting or laying gave the impression that she was no threat. Every little bit helped.

A few minutes of muffled street-noise passed before the trumpeting of a solumkerd emerged from the back drape-door. The only thing more irritating than its joviality was the tapping of its shovel claws hitting the floor. If it weren’t for that tapping Yaro would not have guessed her to be a solumkerd, considering the amount of garish cloth draped over her. Only her face, with twin nostrils flailing about, was uncovered to reveal, surprisingly naturally colored, black fur. “Thank you, oh thank you Ku. Ashum,” she barked. Her voice was too high pitched for such a large creature, Yaro absently thought. What would she have to hide?

First obscured by the mass of the solumkerd, a scrawny humi waited by the drape-door. “It’s no problem at all Ka. Vithe. Try not to let little Bar out of his pen again.” He wore work boots and a smile, that was about it. More modest than Yaro had expected, considering his place of work. Likely to show he’s got nothing to hide, make the guests more comfortable.

The solumkerd blubbered more thanks before Ashum all but pushed her out the door. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” Ashum said with a smile only a person who worked with idiots daily could make. He retreated behind the front desk and ruffled through some cloth-parchment. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

He took interest in one particular piece of paper. “Fortune smiles upon you today Ka,” Ashum said rounding the desk. Yaro stood as the fareseer spread his arms. “What can I do for you? Would you like to know your future, about a lover, I can even change your fortune for the right price.” Yaro winced at his toothy grin and turned to leave. Changing luck? This hack could not possibly be good enough to do that. And that he offered, well, there was no need for him. “Not what you’re looking for? I have plenty of remedies for a myriad of ailments.” As Yaro opened the door, Ashum adopted a more relaxed tone in his voice, more sleazy. “Ah, you’re trying to find someone, someone lost perhaps.” 

Yaro slowed, unsure if he happened to be lucky in his guess or if he- if he read her mind. If he had, she would have known. If she didn’t know, he would die.

“Why would anyone love a beast like her?” he jovially prodded. She stopped, there's no way he could know, her figure was completely hidden and no one could tell from her aura. Her mind was like a diamond, impenetrable to even protectors. “Of course, you only think of yourself as a beast,” he said, “to him you're as normal as anyone else.” He must be trying to con her to come back in, saying things that would apply to anyone and thus her too, there's no way he could know. “And besides, it's not safe for a drake to be wandering the streets alone.” She does not turn around, nor does she say anything. “Maybe I should call in some help to guide you back home, I'm sure the protectorate would find you very interesting.”

Yaro turned to tower over him. He must want to die; she would be glad to do the act. But how? Her cloak was specially made to keep her figure hidden, even to those with penetrating sight or from astral projection. She released the burning sensation in her palms. He hadn’t called for anyone yet; he was a man of money. “How much?”

He greeted her with a grin, “So intimidating.” He bowed, “I promise to not let our little secret slip. Three-hundred fuur is my price for missing persons. I’ll give you a discount of one-hundred for being so personable.”

“Sixty”, she responded. 

He eyed her with a gaze that seemed to pierce her mask. “Finding someone missing is so very difficult. It’s fortunate that I have the instruments that do so, but they were quite expensive you see.”

“Sixty,” she stated. Despite his honestly surprising skill, it might be better to find someone else. That skill, it might be that he's just an absurdly good mind reader. A greasy mind-reader. There was that change, one she couldn’t ignore. And she would have to make sure, one way or another, her secret would die with him.

Maybe he could see through her? He grinned as she made up her mind. She wanted to punch those teeth in. He said, “Sixty.”

She eyed him from behind her mask, “That’s awfully generous.”

“I’m used to dealing with more… wealthy patrons. I didn’t lie that my methods cost a bonfire, you pay for what you expect.” He put forth a hand, beckoning for her to follow him into the back room through the drape-door.

Yaro held still for a moment. He was suicidal, bringing her to where no one would see. Unless it was an ambush, invisible people waiting behind the door to kill her. She didn’t have time to die, not a reason yet either. However, that would be unnecessarily complicated. He could just as easily shout for help and that would be the end of it. No, he’s offering his services to her. In the darkness she could handle herself; it would be easier for her to take care of him, she guessed.

She followed him through the door and down a dim hallway of navy curtains. She felt no one but the two of them around. Behind another drape-door, they stepped into an only slightly brighter room. In the center rested a table with two pillows on either side and a farseer orb in the center. She’d heard of these devices before, multipurpose machines that amplified one’s abilities. This one reflected no light and swirled with… power was the word that came to mind. She took the seat nearest and Ashum sat across from her.

Ashum closed his eyes and put a hand to the orb. The swirls inside stirred and settled into a triangular pattern. She could feel it settle as well, that sent a shiver up her spine. Despite the bravado and showiness of everything, there was something behind it all. She wondered if this was showmanship, or if what she felt was truly something more. 

“Let’s get straight to it, shall we?” He said, resting his hands into his lap. Humi sat so oddly, with legs crossed over each other. It would take him longer to get up if he needed to run. She too took longer to get up than other creatures. “Is there a possession that was once his? Something important to him, that he had for years?”

Yaro thought of what she had. It wasn’t like she could have gone back to their home to retrieve something of his. Home was countries away now. On top of that, he was the one who carried their belongings, despite how much weaker he was. She never understood why he wanted to take the burden. It ended up leaving her with nothing when he left, maybe that was why. She did have things of her own, things that were then on her body. And her ring.

She would not give him that. “I have nothing of his. His disappearance was rather sudden.”

“Unfortunately,” he said, “I need something physically linked to the missing person. You understand.”

“And why can’t you use my presence? If you need something linked to his soul, you can find that in me.” Yaro grimaced at how open she was. Desperation would have to be dealt with harshly and soon.

“Ku… pardon my poor hospitality. My name is Ashum, what’s yours?”

“Why do you need something physical?”

Ashum grunted a flash of annoyance before recovering. “Yes, well. A living soul, you know how many people and things you interact with, it gets too tangled. One thread moves and everything has to be restarted.”

There, she cornered him. “And you’re not good enough to deal with changes of fortune?” But a cornered velur only makes it more dangerous.

“Pardon me, Ku,” he paused, “Ka Lost. One’s abilities can only go so far, even with enchantments. And I am able to help you, if you could provide a personal item of his. Something stable.”

Yaro took her ring from its dark-gem holder and clutched it. 

“Someone as powerful as you should be able to accomplish such a feat.” Flattery, a tool that took her almost everywhere. He shook his head and proposed there must be something she has. He promised -she has yet to see any of his promises fulfilled- that no harm will come to the object. He would follow the lingering imprint of the person’s soul.

Yaro swallowed. She could burn him to a crisp, shred his feeble body easily, break him if he did anything. No, she couldn’t take the chance. With her ethereal hand, she frees the black-gem from its divot in a leather necklace. She pushed the bead from under her cloak and onto the table, careful that nothing could be seen.

With his own ethereal hand, he took it and inspected it. “This won’t do,” he said with a discerning frown.

“Why,” demanded Yaro.

He looked from the bead to Yaro, placing it on the table in front of her. He claimed that it was too inert, not important enough to anyone to find them, not even her. She snatched it back into her cloak, setting it back in her necklace. He sighed. “Is there anything you can tell me about this person? A name, a face, a memory?”

“No.” A bit of fire escaped her lips. It burned.

Ashum bowed and emanated exhaustion. “Please Ku, You’re making my work rashly more difficult than it already is. I can only work with knowledge and things I have.”

Yaro knee this. He won’t be able to tell anyone when she leaves, she reminds herself. There’s no point in beating around the bush, she needed information. With heavy reluctance, she pulled the ring from her cloak. She did not let go of the ring even as it sat still on the table.

He reached with his ethereal hand and Yaro pulled hers away as they touched. It was instinctive; she hated the feeling of overlapping another's aura. His toothy grin returned, he explained how one’s soul lingers in important objects. How it will stay embedded for years, so there was no need to worry. He added that objects aren’t as fickle as living things. Yaro knew to take this as an affront.

To her surprise, he put the ring back down as soon as he’d picked it up. “If it will ease you,” he said as he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid -Yaro could not tell from where. “Let me give you a demonstration.” He popped the cork and let the, seemingly water, pour out onto the table. It wasn’t; it globbed together like honey but still as viscous as water. “This, my master gave to me upon my ascension. I’ll never forget the day.”

“Why show me this? I’ve already given you what you need.”

More theatrics. The water began to crawl back toward him, like a larva away from her as a predator. “It always returns home, a way for me to always return home.” His aura leaked and rushed Yaro with melancholic grace. With the feelings flowed another presence, one far away to the south. The liquid climbed back into the placed bottle before being sealed away. “Home can be anywhere in the world.” Yaro didn’t care, home was an illusion to help the feeble feel safe.

“Information.”

Ashum nodded. “I know you’re a creature that shouldn’t be… alive,” he so blatantly said that Yaro lost all gumption. “I know why you hide yourself, why you take faith the way you do.”

Yaro shot up. She could feel her tattoos burn her palms. She could feel the fear tingle into rage within her chest. “Do you have a death wish?”

Ashum continued, “and here you are, no one around that can hurt you. Only help…”

“If you wish to help, then do so. Quit being Yon-waiting and do it.”

He bowed and picked up her ring once again. She started before catching herself. He lifted the ring and placed it on the orb. With a disgusting sound the orb ate the ring. Her ring. He stared at her, mouthing that this was all part of the process. Yaro stepped around the table, the glow of her flames escaping from her robe and illuminating his face. He turned from her and clapped the orb.

The room washed with memories, all to faint feelings that were neither of theirs. Feelings she recognized very well. The feeling most prominent, at least for Yaro, was nostalgia. It smelled like freshly baked bread, and tasted like a soft pastry. The ring did. The ring smelled like him. And, there he was. Not with her, not now, but where they were in the past. She was thrown back there, a thing she didn’t fight against. Back into their kitchen, back into helping him cook dinner. He had just gotten home from work, weary from saving those orphaned gorgons. It would have been terrible to leave them out into the wilderness alone. Dangerous for the city. He loved to cook, and she loved watching him. She helped where she could, bringing salt or kneading in the seeds. The sun was hot coming through the window. He sweetly smiled at her, mouth moving but without sound. He told her-

“I can,” Ashum said in a strained voice, “where is it? This person, they are… How is this possible? They are here but not. They are both halves, and somehow neither. I can find them, they are here, they are far away. But, how can this be? They are not here, they do not… Something is wrong.”

All at once, the miasma and memories vanished. And in its place raced nothingness, defeat. The ring sat, inert once again, on the table before her. She scooped it up, returning it to its rightful place. She tried to open her palm to press it against her chest, then realized her cramp. It was painful prying her hands open, her muscles screamed at her.

“My apologies Ku, this is beyond my ability.” Ashum was bent over, heaving with labored breaths. So he was a hack. A hack that got her no closer to finding her Atho.

After catching his breath, Ashum looked up to her. “this person, their soul… how do I explain it? It’s like, it appears- they are so odd. Like they are but also aren’t? My apologies.”

Walking back to the front, he sighed that she would not have to pay for his services. With venom in his voice he admitted he had failed. He looked more defeated than she felt. Yaro would have to seek his master, no other far-seer would do.

“And where is this ‘master’ of yours?” Despite how he had just proven himself, Yaro was still skeptical.

“South in Hyiv, Kexist, a city called Miraul.” He led her to the door and bowed. “She is far more adept than I -and anyone I’ve ever known.”

She left Ashum without harming him. She pondered if she would come to regret that decision. But now, she had a lead, something no one else had provided her. Egra would be able to help her find her Atho.

She considered taking a bath before actually leaving for this Egra. She deserved it. That and she walked through the streets smelling of incense and cleaning product. Which, while better than garbage, was no more pleasing to her nostrils. She snorted.