Changeling-(100): Siblings

Changeling-(100): Siblings

Nestra was sneaking in a portal world.
It was a disgrace. It was also a sign of maturity but mostly it was a disgrace. Nestra was infiltrating the place
without killing the sentries
with all their delicious, delicious power. But alas. Alas. Big picture and all that.
She couldn’t afford to get caught. She was still simply too weak to fight a protracted battle here. Her goal was a single target she would need to defeat before a squad of heavenly nobles cleared the rest of the temple. Time was of the essence. And so, she stalked. The shadowy wings of her skin and darkness affinity allowed her to blend in the shadows of coral pillars and shell-decorated walls. Grotesque statues of deep-sea life offered temporary shelters from scale-covered humanoids in stone armor carrying two-prongued spears. Their pallid green skins sometimes reflected cold light from sparse lanterns, but it was the ground Nestra had to watch for. Half of the temple was aboveground, wet as it was. Half of it lay under her feet through thin walls, accessible by trenches, trapdoors and pools covering a good half of every room. Sometimes, serpentine heads rose from the depth to taste the air with their forked tongues before diving back again. The place was eerily quiet besides the constant trickle of water, and the mana saturation made detecting anything difficult. It worked well for Nestra too, her Skin covering every centimeter of her body so she wouldn’t let any smell out.
After a while, patrols started appearing led by low B-class guards in heavy armor. She would hide and give them a wide berth as their seahorse hound hybrids would easily sense her presence. Minutes passed by. Sometimes, she could hear a distant explosion from the raiders carving a path forward.
She was on a timer.
Nestra soon entered a large room occupied by what appeared to be a priestess in a shimmering stone mask, her back to the entrance. A ritual was on the way, one she had no interest in stopping. A small gate to her left led to a different wing of the temple complex. There, the light dimmed even more and the patrols made themselves scarcer and larger in numbers. They carried more lights with them. Sometimes, dark things with too many eyes broke the surface of the brackish waters. It started to smell bad: stagnant water and spoiled meat.
Nestra went deeper still. At the end of a lightless corridor was a mural upon which a scene of carnage was depicted, of a large hybrid creature slaughtering smaller victims, their blood darkening the water. Carefully engraved lines showed each strike of his monstrous polearm. On the left of that mural was a hidden lever that revealed a panel. Nestra entered a combination of letters she didn’t understand. Slowly, the mural slid open.
She walked in.
It was dark inside. The water, stagnant and murky, mirrored the bare ceiling on its oily surface. As she entered, two torches bathed the scene in grey light. A creature waited at the end of the tunnel, its upper body similar to the sentries Nestra had passed, but the lower part being that of a spider crab: crustacean limbs, twisted and spiky, ending in shell blades. Muscular arms grabbed a trident, then with a smirk, it reached for a lever. The mural at Nestra’s back slammed shut, as she knew it would.
Azure eyes met hers. They were the only sources of color in this decayed world. The guardian was known only as the Recluse. Nestra wasn’t sure if he was really a historical figure, a monster so revolting that whatever strange intelligence created the portal worlds had immortalized him, or if he was just some amalgam of dreadful qualities taken haphazardly from the many worlds. What she knew was that he was a renowned team killer. His death would fuel her next progression. Hopefully. Nestra drew her sword and breathed to ready herself for the battle to come. She didn’t have to wait long. In an instant, the Recluse aimed his trident forward and charged.
Nestra aimed high, ready to welcome the charge while the Recluse snorted with contempt. Her arcane strike crashed against the trident on its way down. The impact was cataclysmic, sending pieces of mana-reinforced stone flying through the air. Every bone in Nestra’s arms shook from the pain. And despite all of this… she’d barely stopped it.
Can’t block him.
He pulled the trident and tried to cleave her in the same upward sweep. A powerful side strike barely deflected it, but Nestra still managed to side step the blow. Coating her thorn blade, she attacked but one of the crab legs rose and her strike barely scraped the shell. Spider crab claws whistled past her ears. She dove under just as the trident smashed into the ravaged ground behind her. She struck up, again leaving a long black gash against the shell but little more. She followed up with a dot for a void bolt but water rose around her, threatening to drown her. She was inside a big circle of water with a trident going for her.
Need better timing.
Nestra charged herself with electricity which she released on the spot. Despite that, she was still caught by the half sweep. It was only because she was midair that the blow sent her flying instead of testing her resilience.
Fuck.
The wall was coming fast but Nestra had a trick. She used passe-muraille to move in, then waited until she was deep in the rock to bounce back. Hearing the wall shatter behind her through stone was a weird and novel experience. She emerged from it at full speed and into a furious Recluse. He attacked again, and Nestra was forced to dodge across the room.
The Recluse fought like he was alone. He didn’t go for clean hits. He just struck Nestra’s general area and it worked because even a glancing blow meant Nestra would get an arm torn off.
Momentum
kept her safe from the worst attacks but she needed to change the rhythm of the battle. With an effort, she asked her Skin to change configuration and it obeyed. The symbiote withdrew from her hands, feet, and the back of her body to form durable greaves and armguards. If Nestra was hit in the head she was dead anyway.
Nestra danced at the edge of death again and again. If she couldn’t dodge, she used
momentum
. If she couldn’t use
momentum
yet, she blocked the glancing blows with her Skin. The Recluse blocked any attempt to reach his upper body with carefully placed water shields that burst into Nestra’s face like mines. He ignored those aimed at the crustacean body, confident in his defenses. It was a mistake. After yet another darkening slice, he frowned. And then he jumped in one of the pools. Fetid water sprayed the room. The water gurgled.
No way Nestra was following him in there. Thankfully, she was prepared. Suddenly, the room was larger and the mana concentration dangerously high and the stench disappeared from her nose, blocked by the Bellerophon’s helmet. Human Nestra immediately triggered her zero aura, spreading her new C-class power through the room. The stone froze immediately, a breath of rime that turned the room white. Except for one spot where the Recluse’s mana saturated the local water.
There.
The recluse jumped out just as Nestra returned to her true form. He used jets of water to try and spray her which was his first and so far only offensive spell. She was barely fast enough to weave between them. One of them grabbed a stone which it pulled back towards the Recluse.
Are those tentacles?
Ice had made the room treacherous. She moved back in, and then it happened. One of the spider crab legs slipped on frost as the Recluse moved forward. Stained with void mana, the articulation finally snapped, cracking shell and revealing pale flesh underneath. The Recluse
screamed
.
Nestra charged in. She surrounded herself with electricity. As expected, the hybrid recovered almost too fast to use the opening. She used
momentum
to slip between legs but this time, when the water shields appeared, she released the electric mana inside of them. Errant black bolts dissipated the shields long enough for her to prepare an arcane strike. She attacked just as the Recluse recovered but too late. Nestra roared. Her blade traveled up, slicing through weakened chitin and the pale flesh over it. Arterial blood sprayed her face, smelling of salt and victory.
So she didn’t see the kick coming. Her left greave blocked the claw but not the strength behind it.
Nestra flew, again, but this time there was pain. This time she didn’t use passe-muraille, instead twisting midair to land. Her leg screamed in protest. She stumbled. The Recluse jumped on her with a screech of fury.
He’d taken her mobility. So Nestra let herself fall on her back and this time, she used passe-muraille. As expected, the hybrid failed the landing with his weakened legs. He half-collapsed, half-skittered to a stop while Nestra emerged, aiming up.
Her void bolt exploded against a hastily formed shield. Droplets of water filled Nestra’s vision but she used precision and her one good leg to aim up, an impossible thrust through the gaping wound and into the hybrid’s torso. He shuddered. Then slowly, like a toppling tree, he fell to the side, crab legs twitching and contracting in a macabre show. Nestra crawled from the grabbing claw trap with a sigh of pleasure despite it all. Massive power filled her, gathering into her core in preparation for her next change. She’d done it. She’d won.
Damn, the heavenlies sure had good fucking portals.
Nestra gasped, this time from pain. This had been close. Too close. She looked at her thorn sword which had withstood the trident like it was a fork.
“You’re Nettle.”
The growth item didn’t react, not that she had expected it to. It was organic and it stung so she thought the name fit but after the Window Maker incident, maybe her naming sense just wasn’t all that good. Now done christening the blade, Nestra approached the twitching corpse. Time to get what she was here for. Nestra dug into the hybrid’s chest, taking away a deep blue core barely tainted by black dots. It was amazingly pure despite its host’s horrendous nature. A powerful B-class core. Back on Earth those could go for millions of creds.
She took a bite. The mana tasted absolutely delicious like a fresh bath after a Little People League sewer day. It washed away her exhaustion until only anxiety remained. This was it. If Blinky was right… Yes, she could feel it. Her core grabbed a strand as the mana radiated, not to dissolve it but to… unspool it. The sensation was very strange now that her mana control was fine enough to detect it. It was like peeling at layers that didn’t exist until they were carefully sliced open. Her Aszhii body absorbed and changed the mana, turning it to void, the only thing she was capable of, but in the guise of water. Thick, not tarry but flowing like a river at midnight, the false core slowly pulsed to a full awakening next to the shadow one. It was the blue of the ocean near Threshold when seen at night though the Beacon’s window.
She now had three affinities and quite a few new tools.
It was a little weird. Nestra hadn’t felt like water would be her next element. She had never felt a strong affinity for the sea, what with the beaches being reserved for gleams and often filled with monsters. She supposed that her unpredictable style and affinity for the void of space played a role there, but her understanding of the mana was still only basic. The new false core didn’t feel any weaker for it, however.
Luckily, Shinran’s secret training meant she had a solid base of what kind of spell she could integrate with her style though she would probably need help from a mentor.
Well it would be a question for another time. She had to get out. More training was required before she could help Sereth. And she would help him.
***
Two Earth months later.
If the space elves had one thing, it was architects. No wonder Sereth hadn’t been particularly impressed by Threshold, seeing the ‘prison’ his sister resided in. Nestra had to admit, as far as low security prisons went, this was definitely on the high end of the scale. Nestled in a quiet vale at the foot of a remote mountain range, the estate consisted of a white stone arches and gardens integrated with the thick surrounding forest. A manor ruled over the picturesque landscape in haughty solitude, its white spires like silvery pines. The estate was quiet at this time of the night. The guards were out of sight, though it was too much to hope that they would be too complacent to be attentive. Nestra checked the place. An obvious gatehouse served as the official entrance. Although Nestra suspected there were few visitors, there would be a guard here if there were any. She planned her route.
“We are here for your brother,” Grook whispered by her side.
Nestra blinked, cogitation on pause. The tall girl was getting positively chatty.
“Yes,” Nestra replied.
Nestra knew it was probably just a statement to prepare for her next question. Grook’s heavenly jaw worked quietly while she formulated her thoughts. Maybe the mask was helping her because her troll form wasn’t much for talking.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, the violation.
“What is a brother?” she eventually asked.
“I assume you’re not asking about the biological implications?”
Grook shook her head. Nestra forced back a sigh. Back in MaxSec, operators kept their existential questions in the changing room, but she wasn’t in Threshold anymore. Here, it was more important to make sure Grook was fully committed. Besides, they had time, and they were far enough away to escape scrutiny from the skeleton crew manning the estate. If she repeated those truths to herself enough times, her anxiety over the breach of protocol would surely go away. Yep.
“Siblings are… siblings can be a great many things in species that rear them together, like mine. A sibling is someone you grow up with. You know them better than most people. You spend a lot of time together with them whether you want to or not. It can lead to many things.”
“What if you don’t like them?” Grook asked, worried.
“Then you build resentment that can last a whole life. But even if you don’t like them, so long as you don’t hate them, there are expectations. Many people believe siblings will stand together and protect each other no matter what.”
“Does it happen?”
“Not always. I am speaking about… general rules. Sibling dynamics are as varied as the siblings themselves. It can be good, or absolutely horrible. Or somewhere in between. I was very close to my little sister when I was young, but my big brother and I? It was more complicated. He didn’t grow up doing his best and I was very competitive, for example, so my parents came to see me as the potential heir. That means the sibling who inherits the duties of the parents.”
Grook nodded but her face was a deep frown, a sign Nestra should slow down with the info dump. After a while, Grook’s features smoothed over.
“But you did not grow up with Sereth?”
“No, I did not. But when he came he was what I wanted a sibling to be.”
Grook leaned forward.
“And what is that?”
“Someone who is happy for me when something good happens, mad on my behalf when something bad happens, congratulates me on what I’m proud of and calls me out for my bullshit. Someone who cares and shows they care. Someone who’s there when I need them, who has my back. Someone I’m proud of being a sibling to so I can do the same for them. And most importantly, someone who does all of this without an expectation of reward. Sereth was here for me, and he didn’t ask for favors in return. I’m not saying it should be unconditional. For example, he couldn’t help me in portals and I respected that he needed time for himself and his own life. But when I needed him, he was there, and now he needs me… and I’m here.”
Grook looked at the estate, then back to Nestra.
“I think I understand.”
“Good.”
“My host kin do not have siblings. My mother told me so. She told me that the woman raises the child alone, then they separate when the cub is almost an adult. Then she raises another. She says my host kin seldom meet. She says we are lone hunters. I know that the host kin influences how the Aszhii thinks. My mother comes from a hive species. They are never alone, which is very different, yet she is my mother. I am… not sure what I am.”
Ooof. Nestra fully turned to Grook. This was going to require her full attention.
“What do you think you are?”
“I know I am Aszhii,” Grook replied, annoyed. “But I don’t know what that means. What that means for me, at least. My host kin are loners yet we are raised by our mothers and stay with them for many years. So are we truly loners? I am part of the coven, yet I stay with my mother, and I have no expectations of me. Am I a child Aszhii, or an adult Aszhii? All the other coven members have lived a life before this one. I have not.”
Grook paused then. Nestra wasn’t sure what to do. Grook needed a therapist, well, like at least half of the Aszhii population if she had to be honest. But there were steps she could take.
“Your mana manipulation is pretty good and you already have your own stuff. How about we ask your mom to let you move out?”
Grook looked up, intrigued.
“You… think she will let me go?”
“As far as I can tell, Sorai is overly protective because she’s worried about you, but no matter the species, the young ones always leave the nest. Or the cave.”
“I understand metaphors.”
“Right. So, I think she won’t be sad that you leave as much as she’ll be proud that you have the confidence to go out into the world. Even if that world is at the end of the next alley, or in portal worlds she can easily find. She wants you to be happy, most of all.”
“She said that many times.”
“Parents are not always right, but they’re also often trying their best.”
Nestra’s heart tightened.
“At least, I think mine were. Anyway, my point is, Sorai will support you.”
Grook nodded. It looked like she had more to say.
“You started by asking about my brother, yes?” Nestra prompted.
“Yes. So. I am not a loner, as an Aszhii. I think that hunts can be fun alone and I like growing stronger, but the best hunt should be… shared. Told. I want to share meat, too, good meat, well-prepared. And I want to go see the Mixed Mana Martial Arts tournaments. I don’t want to be a loner.”
“And as long as I’m around, you won’t have to.”
“Yes!” Grook cheered, jumping on that reply. “Then…”
She sighed, suddenly embarrassed.
“Can I be your
sister
?”
Grook had used the heavenly word that implied a lack of blood relation, a union based on affection and not lineage, because Aszhii didn’t have a word for what she was trying to express. Nestra felt an unexpected pang of emotion make a treacherous grab for her heart. It was ok, though. Nestra had failed Helena before but she was younger and hurt. It would be different this time.
“Alright, Grook. You’re my
sister
now.”
“Yes! Aszhii sister.”
“Alright.”
Nestra reached up to pat Grook’s shoulder. It felt strangely close to rock climbing.
“Now let’s save your brother,” Grook said with confidence.
“Not immediately but we will work on it.”
***
Sargas found that now that something was finally happening in this rotten, career-ending assignment, he didn’t care for it. His instincts had been telling him something was wrong all evening. He always listened to those because they’d saved his life before, so when he went to check the gatehouse and found one of the guards slumped against the wall, he wasn’t surprised. Just immensely anxious. Makihel the Fallen had reached high and that tended to attract powerful enemies. He moved into the trees to the side, hand on his blade.
If it was a shadow cabal, he would already be dead. Sargas allowed himself a breath of relief. He knew Makihel had been too quiet. What was it, mercenaries?
No, he was wasting time. Protocol. Follow the protocol. With tight fingers, he pressed the shield badge on his armor.
“Shera?”
“Hmm?” the sleepy voice replied.
Oh good she was alive.
“Intruder alert. Guard down.”
“What?”
“Hush. They might have a third ascension. Ring the alarm and secure the cell, I’m on my way there.”
Chimes rang in the night as he rushed towards the manor’s entrance, which was still closed. He briefly checked for traps before entering and finding Lico slumped in his chest by the entrance. Behind him, the empty room extended in all its bare glory, all stone including the tight set of stairs hugging the wall to his right, which led to the prisoner’s domain. Lico was surprisingly alive. A dart emerged from the left shoulder of his plate armor through the metal. His chest rose and fell peacefully. Relief flooded Sargas’ mind because this wasn’t a full purge, but he forced the emotion back. A clean extraction was clean so long as it worked. Sargas wasted five seconds to check the left wing barracks, finding his three remaining subordinates similarly disabled.
Emperor’s balls. He raced back, then skittered to a halt. Someone was waiting for him: a woman, blonde with a black sword hanging from her belt. She didn’t look like an infiltrator. Her gear was unmarked and a deep blue, cobbled together from various schools of designs. Definitely a mercenary from the Emerald Sea. Thunder and water alignment. Third ascension.
Sargas paused. She felt at the very beginning of her journey, so he had the advantage here. Young ones like her tended to get cocky. He should still not underestimate her. With a careful gesture, he pulled his blade.
She mirrored him. They both saluted.
Not from the Emerald Sea then? What a strange salute.
Then the woman surged forward in a rush of electricity, and there was no longer time for reflection. Sargas coated his blade as he drew, drawing on the strength of stone to shield him from the bolts scouring the entrance. He blocked the first lunge easily, then parried the next two strikes. His confidence grew.
Few people expected an Earth practitioner to pick the nervous system as their first change, and sinews as the second. Sargas was
very
proud of his speed and he would —
“Hah!”
Demonstrate.
“Sah!”
Huh. She followed. Weird style, definitely a wild talent. A fierce exchange. Sargas was confused by the woman’s technique. Very methodical, minimal movements. No class, no flourish. Felt like Imperial Guard school but definitely more offensive. A thrust cracked against his guard. He backed off, overextended.
Definitely more offensive. But controlled. For all of their power, neither fighter had yet to damage the lustrous stone of the entrance. If they fought with spells, the manor would already be falling apart. He was fine with the contest. Then he heard it, above: the crack of Shera’s favorite spell. Shit, she was only second ascension. He hoped she would hold on.
Maybe time wasn’t on his side.
Sargas redoubled his efforts. He managed to pressure his opponent. A hasty parry led to Drunken Wit, a devastating counter only available to those who had transcended the limits of their bodies but the woman blocked it like she’d been expecting it. Frustration. She felt young, unpolished. Still making mistakes, unused to her new body. And yet, and yet. He couldn’t crack her guard open. He tried strength. He tried more speed. He used the tricks he knew, some he hadn’t practiced in a decade. Humiliation hounded his steps, growing a bitter fire in his heart because he could feel it as she ignored yet another feint to deflect the follow up to counter with yet another sequence he knew she was improvising. She was, simply, more talented. And he was rusty from lack of sparring partners.
Five more years and she would have pinned him to the wall.
The temptation to shatter the manor grew, but he could still salvage the situation if he fended her off and prevented either the escape or the assassination of his captive. It wasn’t over yet. He still had experience on his side. Drawing from years of meditation, he evened his temper, letting his emotions evaporate. Only the fight mattered. He slowed down a little to build a thin layer of stone around his body. The woman used the opportunity to counter now that he was slowing down, perhaps thinking him tired. All part of the plan. He lured her in, allowing her to draw blood across his shoulder. Almost there. Almost. Above him, the sounds of close quarter battle were a bad sign because Shera was a mage. He had to help her.
There.
When she next charged, he let part of the stone armor explode. Dangerous shrapnel peppered the woman. He struck… and was parried once more. A fresh layer of water covered her.
She had seen him build the trap, and used water’s superior flow to build a quick defense. Emperor dammit. She stopped, but the water continued. It splashed him.
Current coursed through his body. Only the remnants of earth mana prevented him from being stunned on the spot. The woman had shed the coating then infused it with electric mana. Those fucking storm affinities… And now she struck again. Sargas managed to deflect most of the blow using half an armguard. He still bled for it, but now he was holding her wrists. She allowed it, grabbing his in return. Her momentum slammed him against the wall, cracking it.
He smiled at her despite everything. It was, to be fair, a great fucking fight.
“Is the next part of our duel to be wrestling?” He asked with all the grace he could muster.
“A duel?” the woman asked with mock confusion.
The ceiling above him cracked. He heard the sound of armored boots hitting the ground then someone punched him through the nearest wall.
He couldn’t be mad.
***
Makihel’s quarters were Spartan. Nestra spotted the little signs of humiliation designed to grind someone down day after day, like locks that opened from the outside, stale bread left on the dinner table and otherwise the infantilizing tools used to make someone’s soul die by a thousand cuts. As expected, the woman was awake. She waited for Nestra facing a barred window and wearing a nightgown that had seen better days. Despite its ratty appearance, her outfit was clean and artfully arranged with a variety of colorful ribbons in a last gesture of defiance to her perceived doom. She even turned dramatically to face Nestra.
None of Agathon’s children looked like him due to the quirks of Aszhii reproduction, so Nestra looked nothing like him and that was expected, but seeing Sereth’s likeness recognizable on a stranger still came as a shock. Makihel shared his height and the aristocratic bent to his features, but that was where the similarities ended. She was charming where he was thoughtful, elegant where he was dangerous. Even now, her blue eyes calculated the chances she might survive, framed by the waterfall of her brown curls. Makihel was classically beautiful according to heavenly aesthetics and if Sereth’s words were to be believed, she had been a good player of the Great Game. Now though, things were different. Without Sereth’s support and after his disgrace, she had become a rose without thorns. She had failed to secure further alliances and now she was exiled. Such a fate wasn’t a death sentence for a low B-class age wouldn’t touch, but there were many players and few chances at redemption.
“So, to what do I owe the honor of this late visit?” Makihel asked while Nestra was still coming to terms with the existence of Sereth’s sister.
Bloody competition.
“I’m here about your brother,” Nestra replied.
Makihel flinched, apparently not expecting this.
“You are quite blunt. I must say though, that I haven’t seen him in over a hundred and seventy years.”
“Yeah that’s what I’m here about. I need your help to rescue him from captivity.”
Makihel blinked, shook her head, then finished with a bitter laugh.
“You must be mad. I had but one brother. Surely, you knew of his nature.”
“Oh, right. I’m wearing the mask again. Are there surveillance devices here?”
“They have no need for such tasteless tools,” Makihel replied. “Not when I have lost everything.”
“Not quite. Let me just…”
Nestra removed her mask. Makihel gasped again, eyes filled with disbelief.
“A manachrome reaver… female?”
“I prefer ‘woman’.”
Nestra walked forward, eager to get a move on before the sleeping poison faded or the house staff grew a spine.
“I need your help and you’re going to give it to me.”
“I am not sure I follow,” the scared space elf replied, taking a few steps back. “My brother was a monster, no harm intended.”
“Harm taken so shut the fuck up and listen. I knocked out the guards on my way here but I didn’t kill anyone. Yet. Either you come with me willingly and it will look like a deathless escape, one that does not spit on the ‘mercy’ you received in your exile. Or you don’t. In which case I’ll take you anyway but I’ll also decapitate the head of the guard and take his core.”
Even the veteran courtier appeared suitably horrified.
“If you do this, I am dead.”
“Correction. If I do this, you are desperate and on the run.”
Nestra walked up to the woman. In her Aszhii form, she towered over the tall space elf.
“Let me be abundantly clear. Sereth is your half brother on your mother’s side. He’s mine on my father’s side. That means he’s important to me, and you’re important to him, but you’re no one to me. I don’t give two shits about you or your well-being. I can get him out if you call for him or if I can demonstrate you’re in grave danger. Either way works for me. You only control which one it’s going to be.”
Nestra waited for Makihel to reply. Contrary to her expectations, the statuesque woman walked forward, head tilted to the side. It felt like a ballet introduction when the dancing was only hinted at.
“How old are you, exactly, oh my distant sister.”
“I fail to see how that’s relevant.”
“Less than fifty and not one of us. Ah, I see. You are very passionate. Tell me… does he really still care for me? After all this time? After I repudiated him with all the scorn my young heart could muster? Does he still care despite it all?”
Nestra hesitated.
“You should ask him.”
“So he does. My. Tonight has been full of surprises.”
“Surprises are good but for safety reasons, we should really leave before anything else. I need you to decide.”
Nestra could portal out at any time, of course, but she was pretty sure there would be investigators and the fewer signs of Aszhii intervention there were, the better. Agathon suspecting Nestra would be better than him knowing what Nestra was doing.
“Oh, darling, I believe I would enjoy a short discussion first. I know you need me alive and in good health now, and I know my brother yet loves me, so your threats have lost much of their weight, would you not agree?”
Makihel smiled, the first hint of carnivorous glee the woman had ever displayed. Riel, but she looked so much like Sereth.
“Ya reckon?” Nestra asked.
“Yes, I reckon.”
So Nestra grabbed the neared flower vase and smashed it into her nose.

.
!
(100): Siblings