Kethra approved therapy

Around them the bazaar pressed in a crush of color and noise, but all Tia could hear was her own pulse. Balthan cut a path ahead, broad shoulders parting the crowd as he steered her down narrow lanes between stalls, away from fountains and awnings where gossip clung like smoke.

Everywhere, the murmurs seemed to follow.
“…blank mark, saw it myself –”
“…divine glow, a sign of war coming –”
“…the guards won’t let it stand, not if they’re smart…”

Tia hugged her arms tight against her chest, wishing she could scrape the words off her skin. Every laugh, every pointed glance in the crowd made her wonder if someone had already guessed.

Balthan’s hand found her shoulder again, steady and firm. “Don’t listen,” he muttered without looking back. “Keep your eyes forward.”

Step by step, the press of people thinned. The chatter dulled. The city felt almost normal again – just another terrace with laundry strung across balconies, children chasing a ball across the cobbles, the faint hum of cicadas in the heat.

Tia slowed a little, dragging in a long breath. She tasted dust instead of perfume, stone instead of flowers. For the first time since the market, her shoulders eased.

And then she saw it.
Their tavern, squat and weather-worn, tucked against the slope of the next terrace. From this angle its signboard caught the sunlight, crooked but familiar. Safe. Close.

Her chest loosened. “Almost there,” she whispered, more to herself than to Balthan. “Almost– ”

A shadow moved beside them. A figure, feathers the same brown as his tattered cloak. Tia blinked as the avian shuffled past, bell clutched in one clawed hand, beak clacking quietly as though testing the words before he spoke them.

He mounted the low lip of the terrace’s edge, wings half-flared to balance, and raised the bell high.

Clang – clang – clang.

– and then a harsh, creaking cry split the air.
“HEAR YE, HEAR YE! BY DECREE OF THE CITY WATCH!”

The sound hit like iron on stone. Tia’s step faltered. Relief shriveled in her chest. Tia turned her head to see the hawker, literally a hawk, perched atop a wooden stand at the far edge of the terrace, feathers shining dull bronze beneath his cloak. He rang a hand-bell once more for silence, wings half-flared for balance as his beak snapped words with sharp precision.

“Gate inspections will now be doubled! All goods entering Ssarradon are to be logged and weighed! Any smuggling found will be seized for crown property! Anyone withholding goods from the Watch will be fined, flogged, or worse!”

A low grumble rose from the gathered crowd – merchants, porters, even a few children drawn by the noise. Someone muttered about taxes, another about delays at the gates.

Tia’s stomach clenched. Her mark burned phantom-hot in her mind.

The hawker’s voice cut sharper still:
“New patrols at the edge! Licenses and papers to be shown on demand! For the good of trade, for the safety of Ssarradon!”

Balthan stood rooted beside her, jaw set, eyes narrowed at the hawker. Only when the crowd began to break apart, muttering and cursing under their breaths, did he nudge Tia forward again.

“Move,” he said under his breath. “We’ve seen enough.”

But as they neared the next stairway, Tia froze. Ahead, three guards in iron half-helms were marching toward the main gates. One peeled off, stopping a merchant with bulging satchels slung across both shoulders.

“Identification,” the guard barked.

They produced their Guild Mark from their belt pouch with a stammered “Y-yes…”
Tia’s fingers itched to tug her sleeve down over her wrist.
What if they ask me? What if they can tell just by looking?

Meanwhile the guard scanned the card, squinting, then gave the man a shove. “Go.”

With a relieved breath out, the innocent merchant scrambled off. The patrol didn’t glance at her, didn’t even slow. Still, Tia couldn’t breathe until they’d passed.

“Act like you belong,” Balthan said quietly. “That’s all.”

She swallowed hard and forced her legs to move.

The tavern loomed ahead a few turns later, squat and weather-worn, its crooked signboard catching the noon sun. Inside it was quiet, only the innkeep polishing mugs and a pair of old drunks asleep over their table. No sign of the others, obviously. They’d just departed an hour or two ago.

Relief should have come, but instead Tia’s stomach twisted tighter. “We can’t leave,” she blurted as soon as the door shut behind them.
“Not with the cart. Not with Kethra. They’ll stop us the second we try.”

Balthan’s silence was as heavy as stone. He didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Tia crouched low in the side yard, fingers buried deep in the folds of scale along Kethra’s thick neck. The beast was sprawled in the dust, six legs tucked like coiled springs, tail flicking lazily as she chewed through something that looked like half a bushel of wilted greens and – was that a dead rat mixed in? Tia didn’t ask. She just pressed her face briefly against the warm, leathery hide and exhaled.

Kethra smelled like sun-warmed stone and old hay, not perfume or spice, and that grounded her more than anything in the city ever had. Except maybe that breakfast the first day.
The steady rise and fall of that massive chest, the slow rumble vibrating under her palms – it drowned out the market voices still echoing in her skull.

“…they’ll stop us… blank mark… divine glow… I hate this.”

Her throat tightened. She pressed harder, as though she could shove the thoughts into Kethra’s hide and leave them there. “You don’t care, huh? You don’t even know what a Guild Mark is. Lucky you.”

Kethra let out a low, gurgling rumble – half purr, half earthquake. Her blunt muzzle nudged at Tia’s shoulder until she laughed despite herself. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m being dramatic.”

From the wall nearby, Balthan’s voice came, steady as always. “Dramatic keeps you sharp. Just don’t let it freeze you.”

Tia glanced up. He was leaning against the stone, arms crossed, gaze sweeping the yard as though expecting patrols to march right in. He hadn’t relaxed once since they left the bazaar. Maybe he never did.

She turned back to Kethra, stroking along the ridge of scales until her heartbeat finally slowed. “…We can’t leave, can we?” she murmured. “Not with her. Not with the cart. They’d stop us before we even hit the first gate.”

Balthan didn’t answer right away. She could feel his silence like a weight pressing down on her shoulders. When he did speak, his voice was low and certain:

“No. Not yet.”

Kethra snorted, scattering dust over Tia’s knees, and leaned harder into her touch. Tia laughed again, shakier this time, and pressed her forehead against the beast’s warm hide.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?” she whispered.

The lizard’s tail thumped once in the dirt.

Tia stayed pressed against Kethra’s side until her legs went numb. The beast’s slow breathing steadied her own, but the quiet that followed pressed harder than the bazaar’s noise. She spoke before she could think better of it.
“I don’t belong here.”
The words slipped out small, like a secret she hadn’t meant to give.
“None of it makes sense. The rules, the marks, the way everyone looks at you like you’re supposed to just… know.”
She shook her head, rubbing at Kethra’s hide as though the scales could take the sting from her throat.
“I don’t have anyone here. No family. No one who…” She trailed off.

Balthan shifted slightly, the wall cold behind him, hands clasped loosely. For a long moment he said nothing. Then, his voice, rough but steady, came low:

“Family doesn’t mean much once it’s gone… it’s complicated.”

Her gaze flicked up. His eyes weren’t on her, they were somewhere far off, fixed on nothing.
“You lost them?”

A pause. His jaw shifted.
“Years ago. Fire took the house. Smoke got the rest.”

Tia’s breath caught, but he didn’t give her time to fumble out pity.
“After that I stopped chasing places to belong. It doesn’t work. You move, you fight, you live. That’s enough.”

She turned her face back into Kethra’s hide, throat tight.
“That’s… lonely.”

“It’s simple,” he corrected. But softer, almost to himself, “Lonely too. Sometimes.”

Silence stretched. The tavern wall was warm at his back. Kethra’s ribs rose and fell steady under her palms. For once, Tia didn’t fill the quiet with words.

When Balthan finally spoke again, it was with the same steady weight he always carried.
“Then you end up finding another kind of family. The people you choose. You fight alongside them, you share bread, you watch each other’s backs. Keeps you from becoming a grim loner who talks to shadows. Vesh. Rika. Kethra. Even… Corin, and you…”
“you all keep me from going mad. From forgetting what it’s like to be… sane.”

Tia blinked. That wasn’t what she expected. He didn’t seem like the type to say things like that. The edge of the wall pressed against her shoulder, Kethra’s warm side under her palms, and the weight in her chest loosened just slightly.

“I… I have a family,” she said softly, surprising herself. “Parents. Little sister. They… they were so supportive. Always proud, always cheering me on when I was down. I love them, even when my sis bragged about… well, being good at everything.” Her voice cracked, a little bitter, a little fond. “And now, I’m here. Without them. And I know… they’re missing it. Missing me. Missing all of this.”

Tia pressed her forehead to Kethra’s neck, muttering under her breath as a few hot tears slid down her cheek. “And this… this whole apostle thing, Celestia… the animal people, the languages I never heard… I can understand some of it, I can even read some of it… but it’s still… strange. Unfamiliar. Not home.”

Balthan finally let a small, almost imperceptible nod escape him, a softening at the edges of his usual stoicism.
“You’ll find your place. Not home… yet. But your place. The world here… it’s just a little stranger than it should be. Takes time to get used to.”

Tia sniffed, still clinging to Kethra. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll ever really get used to it.”

“You will,” Balthan said, voice firm but quiet, “and not alone. That’s the point.”

They stayed like that a while longer, hands still on Kethra, listening to the faint scrape of a tavern chair inside, the distant chatter of the city. Slowly, the tension eased, like a cord unwinding.

When at last they pushed themselves up, brushing dust and straw from their clothes, the tavern doors creaked. Through the sun-dappled threshold, voices called out familiar greetings.

Vesh, Rika, and Corin were returning, laughing quietly at some silly joke.
The day hadn’t gone easy for them either, but seeing Balthan and Tia at the window brought a sense of relief, a signal that the group was whole again – for the moment, at least.

Tia caught Balthan’s eye and gave the faintest, shaky smile. He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and stepped aside.

“Let’s see what stories the market brought them,” he murmured, and together they moved back inside.

The tavern’s dining room smelled of roasting meat and herbs, a warm, comforting aroma that seemed to push back the edges of the day’s tension. Tia eased herself onto a bench, the same one as the times before.

“Hey guys, how did it go?” Tia called out.

“Looks like we made a little profit today,” Vesh said, setting a small thread of coins on the table. A crests, a couple of frills, and some odd trinkets they’d managed to flip. “Not enough to retire on, but enough to keep me from owing more to Maressa.”

Rika snorted, wiping a smear of flour from her hand. “And enough to pay for this feast, at least. I vote we start with the bread – it’s still warm from the baker.” She tore off a thick, crusty loaf, the interior soft and steaming, almost. The scent made Tia’s stomach tighten, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now.

Corin, seated opposite her, grinned crookedly, shoving a piece of his own into his mouth. “I tried haggling today. Mostly I glared at them until they blinked first.” His grin widened. “Works every time. Sometimes.”

Rika raised a brow. “Glare technique, huh? I’ve heard of that. Usually works better if you’re taller and not underage.”

Corin waved a hand, mock offended. “Excuse me, I was practically terrifying.”

Vesh leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Somehow I don’t think your technique will hold up against city guards or hawkers with sharp tongues.”

Soon Maressa came and took their order. There were only two options for food really, but still.

Tia tried to push the conversation into the background, focusing instead on the smell of roasted meat, the warmth of the tavern, the soft rumble of Kethra in her mind. She picked at a piece of bread, thinking about the hawker in the market, the doubled inspections, the murmurs about blank marks. Her fingers itched for the card in her pocket. Though it was still upstairs. She pushed it down, forcing herself to eat.

Balthan, seated quietly at her side, watched the room with his usual sharp eyes. When the clamor of coin and casual chatter drowned the faint hum of her thoughts, he leaned closer, voice low.

“Gate inspections are doubled,” he murmured. “Not for smuggling alone. They’re watching more closely now.”

Corin’s stomach clenched. “You mean… the rumors?”

Balthan didn’t answer, just kept his gaze on the other.

From across the table, Vesh’s voice rose above the clatter. “That’s why we saw those guards sneaking across the market earlier. They weren’t lost, apparently.”

Rika chimed in with a laugh. “Yeah, we thought someone just didn’t like our faces.”

Tia’s pulse jumped. The room felt simultaneously safe and precarious. They were together, eating, laughing, sharing small victories of coin and food – but outside, the city’s gaze was sharpening.

Corin tilted his head toward Balthan, curiosity creeping in. “So… does that mean we’re… in trouble?”

Balthan’s eyes flicked to him, sharp as a knife. “No. Not yet. But stay close. Eyes open. And,” he added, glancing at Tia, “you two are going to that wizard tomorrow. Mystikos. Learn what you can, but don’t draw attention.”

Tia’s eyes widened. Corin blinked, eyebrows shooting up. It wasn’t phrased as permission – it was an order – but somehow, both understood. They exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of freedom with boundaries.

Vesh raised a brow, lips curling faintly. “That’s… generous.”

Rika shrugged. “Better you two get out of the ‘Dozing Serpent’ and have fun rather than stew in here all day.” She shot Corin a look, “I know I was a bit stern about it up until now, but… as long as no one finds out, you’ll be doing just fine.”

The meal continued, and slowly, the tension melted into something warmer, almost ordinary. Tia slid out the bench and gave Kethra a slice of roasted meat, who sniffed and nudged it with a blunt muzzle, rumbling softly. She laughed despite herself, the sound lighter than it had been in hours.

When she came back inside Rika said “So,” wiping her hands, “tell us what we missed at the stalls. Any rare seeds, exotic roots, or bizarre herbs?”

Peeking up at Balthan, trying to read his expression, Tia saw his jaw tight, brows drawn, but there was a slight curve to his mouth that could almost be a smile.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Keep your eyes on what matters. Strange bulbs and screaming roots don’t usually kill you. People do.”

Conversation drifted then, to lighter topics. Corin recounted a botched haggling attempt, Rika teased him endlessly, and Vesh quietly observed, chiming in occasionally with trivia about ssarradonian merchanting habits.
Tia added small comments here and there, careful not to draw attention to herself or her glowing mark too loudly. The weight of secrecy and danger still pressed on her, but these small moments of laughter and food kept it bearable.

As the plates cleared and the last crumbs were swept aside, Balthan’s voice cut softly across the table. “Tomorrow. You two, the wizard. Stay out of trouble, but learn well. And… relax a little.”

Tia nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. She could already see his stupid pointy hat above his just as stupid grin.

Vesh leaned forward, intertwining his fingers conspiratorially as he looked at Balthan.
“And we two. We’ll go turn pesky little claws into crests.”

Balthan gave a weak chuckle and finished his plate as well.

Outside, the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon, streaking the tavern with gold. Tomorrow would bring the visit to Mystikos, a chance to stretch beyond the mystery of magic. But tonight, the warmth of food, friends, and a giant, purring beast reminded her that even in a strange, dangerous world, there were anchors she could hold onto.

And that was enough, for now.