Amelia Thornheart

On the day of the Arcwhale Festival, Amelia woke to a warm weight on her chest. It was Romulus, purring even in his sleep, his furred chest rising and falling with Amelia’s own. The Luscan peeka was her only companion that morning, for the space next to her was empty, devoid of any appropriately Serena-shaped occupants.

She reached out with her perception, examining the aetherfield and the familiar signature in the next room. She could hear the tapping of her girlfriend's finger on her desk. Serena was thinking.

“Morning,” Amelia called. She got a hum in response.

She stretched, yawning loudly. She carefully moved Romulus, turning the sleeping peeka into a grumpy peeka, who then reverted once more into a sleeping peeka in seconds. A measured burst of her healing magic and a quick clean had her dressed and presentable to the wider world. She walked into Serena’s office, noting the demon lost in thought.

“Morning, Anathor,” Amelia said, waving to the moose head.

“Hmm… Morning, Miss Liona,” the formless replied. The moose’s eyes glowed an ominous red that was, in Amelia’s opinion, completely counter to Anathor's lovely personality. He wasn’t scary, just occasionally grumpy and frustratingly mysterious at times.

Amelia found a cup of Jimari waiting for her. Serena had been awake for some time, judging by how empty the coffee press was and how erratic her tapping was.

“Thirsty?” she asked the caffeinated demon. Receiving a nod, she refilled Serena’s cup. “Didn’t hear you get up,” she said, hopping up to sit on the desk.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Serena said, taking a sip. “Was worried Ishaq was going to burn down overnight, or Korvus or Asrar would wake up and storm the ship. None of those things has happened, thank the Empress.” Serena leaned into her cup, taking a breath. “Yet,” she muttered.

“Want me to…?” Amelia trailed off, raising a finger and letting a sliver of her aether glow golden.

Serena shook her head. “The caffeine helps me think.”

“What’s the plan?” Amelia asked.

“First of all, we need to deal with your pet peeka.”

“Our pet peeka.”

Serena blinked. “Our pet peeka. We can’t take him with us into the Red Sands. He’ll have to stay on the ship. Before you leave, give Tomes a visit and inform him of his new responsibilities. After that, Hillbrand wants to see you.” Serena tapped the desk thrice and continued, “Korvus is stable, but Asrar is struggling. That human really pushed himself. I’d like to request the smallest”—Serena held up her thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart—“possible healing. Just enough to take the edge off and ensure he has a clear pathway to a full recovery.”

“No problem.” Amelia flashed a thumbs-up.

“Then we have Officer Aikawa’s debut at midday. I’m sure a few words of encouragement would go a long way. It must be a big deal for her, given her family's history in the industry.” Serena tapped the desk again. “Then you’re free to enjoy the festival until we have to meet Menes. I spoke to him earlier. He’s done good work rooting out the opium dens. The firework finale is set to take place when they launch the funeral ship. That is when you’re needed. With any luck, the glow of your healing will be disguised.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” Amelia gave Serena a salute, prompting an eye roll.

“I’ll see you at the arena,” Serena said. “I need to write orders for Dagon.”

Bidding the demon goodbye, Amelia collected the sleeping peeka into her arms—an action that only generated a brief complaint—and exited the captain's quarters, making her way through the ship. She reached the central stairway and began to ascend to the deck where Tomes’ office was when a noise caused her to pause.

A soft mew.

“Romulus?” Amelia questioned. The peeka jumped out of her arms and darted down the stairs. She followed, finding the peeka scratching at the heavy wooden door to the Fourth Deck. Romulus began pacing the bottom of the door, sniffing at the thin crack. He looked at her and mewed.

“What’s got you so—” Amelia stopped.

Was that..?

Did she imagine it?

For the briefest moment, she thought she saw a dim light coming from the other side of the door. The quickest of flashes, like someone had brandished a lantern for a fraction of a second, waving it about before hurriedly hiding its light. It was so fast she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. Perhaps it was just the stairway aetherlight reflecting off Romulus’ fine coat.

Beyond the door was, as always, a black box for Amelia’s senses. Whether through the material plane or the Shimmer, her sight and perception gave her no clue as to what form the ship’s shard took. Was it perhaps a chunk of sparkling crystal, or something more sinister? She couldn’t see in, but what if it could see out? Every crewmember had a story of passing the Fourth Deck and feeling watched. Was there something in there, some thing, watching her right now? Was it—

“Miss Liona?”

Amelia’s thoughts shattered, tumbling to the floor as she turned around.

“Tomes!” she exclaimed a little too quickly. “I was looking for you!”

“Wrong part of the ship for that, Miss Liona,” he said, narrowing his eyes, flicking his gaze to the door and the inquisitive peeka. “Wouldn’t hang around here, if I were you.”

“Romulus led me here,” Amelia explained, gesturing to the peeka.

“Mew,” Romulus said.

Amelia patted her chest. “Come on,” she encouraged. “Up!”

Romulus launched himself up, his powerful legs turning him into a mobile cloud of silken fluff and licks. Once he’d settled into Amelia’s arms, she turned and gave Tomes a grin. “Can we go to your office? I have something I wanted to ask you.”

Tomes looked at Romulus for a moment. “If he scratches my furniture—”

“He won’t!”

“Or pisses on my—”

“He won’t!” Amelia said more forcefully. She kissed the peeka on his forehead. “You wouldn’t, would you, Rommy?” Once she received an affirmative mew in response, she gave Tomes a grin. “See?”

The Southern demon rolled his eyes. “Come on then.”

They made their way up the staircase. Tomes’ office was its usual organised chaos, with thousands of documents carefully placed throughout the cramped bookcases and floor piles, which, according to Tomes, was exactly how everything needed to be.

Amelia settled into her usual hang-out spot on Tomes’ sofa. The quartermaster sat in his chair. He reached into his pocket and took out his pair of spectacles. Despite Amelia healing away any imperfections in his eyesight, Tomes still swore to this day that he could see better with them on.

“What brings you to my neck of the wilderness?” he asked.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Amelia began, “how much do you know about human history? Specifically, the arrival of humans in this world?”

“I know some,” Tomes said. “What did you want to know?”

“When exactly did humans first appear?”

Tomes looked up, his yellow eyes locked to the ceiling for a moment. “1360 B.V. according to the Cascadian calendar. Today is 846 A.V, so…” Tomes counted on his fingers slowly. “That would be…”

“Two thousand, two hundred, and six years ago,” Amelia said, doing the mental math.

“Two thousand, two hundred, and five years ago,” Tomes corrected. “There is no zero year. After the Empress finished the eighty years of reconquistas and achieved Daemon Victoria, it went from 1 Before Victoria to 1 After Victoria.” The demon chuckled. “That always catches people out.”

Amelia thought back to the timeline of her old world. Assuming the time it had taken for her soul to be placed in its new body wasn’t years, then it meant the humans from her world had first found a route to this realm at the turn of the 16th century. It was a period on Earth known as the Golden Age of Exploration, where the seas were charted with galleons and carracks.

This meant that the technological level of humans when they arrived here was already at least a thousand years ahead of the native demons. From the books she had read about the history of Cascadia, demonkind had only begun to take the first steps into primitive handcannons when the continent collided with the home of the Enemy, and the Long Discordancy began. That would have put them at around the 14th-century level of technology compared to humankind.

Amelia explained her thoughts to Tomes. “So why wasn’t demonkind subjugated by humans? If they already had steel weapons a thousand years ahead of the native demons, why wasn’t there a conquest?” She tilted her head. “Serena mentioned something about humans facing some kind of tribulation.”

Tomes nodded. “There you will find different answers depending on who you ask. You’ll get a very different explanation from a Christdom paladin compared to me.” Tomes reached up and pulled a dusty tome from a shelf. Fingering through it, he hummed, nodding as he found what he was looking for. “That’s right,” he said confidently, tapping the page. “It was aether.”

“Aether?”

“The realm humans came from, your former home, is absent an aetherfield, isn’t that right?” After Amelia nodded, Tomes continued, “That fits in with Imperial teaching. It is said that when the first humans arrived, they soon began to get sick. Entire caravans bedridden and helpless. Their bodies didn’t know how to handle the atmospheric aether, you see. They suffered the same fate that I would if I strayed too close to the lumina. Well…” Tomes knocked the wood of his desk. “When I’m not in this tin can, that is.”

Amelia’s eyes widened in realisation.

Chronic Endothelial Collapse Syndrome!

The same condition she’d suffered in her previous life, brought about by her premature and incomplete bonding with her shard. Her earthly body didn’t know how to handle the divine aether her shard was generating, and so she’d been fated to suffer years in clinical pain. The humans who came to this world would have equally been vulnerable to the aether-rich environment.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“When did the caravans stop?” Amelia asked.

“I don’t think anyone truly knows,” Tomes said. “There were perhaps five or six years of incoming migration before it closed for good. Although I heard there are whispers in human history of lost expeditions that went to different continents. One to Tinh Hai, another over Marzanna’s Circle, to the unknown lands beyond.”

“Hmm…” Amelia hummed, thinking it over. In a few years, how many humans could have arrived from Earth with the transport technology at the time? Ten thousand? How many would have died, the population shrinking until only those who could naturally withstand aether remained? All that industry, all that technology… They must have been set back centuries. That, along with the new illnesses and diseases they would have needed to build resistance to…

Humankind went through its own form of Long Discordancy, didn’t they? Amelia thought. A thousand years before the demons did.

“The demon church calls it the Humonic Tribulation,” Tomes explained. “But that is firmly rejected by Christdom. All a fantasy, according to them. They need to keep up appearances, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Amelia echoed. She knew why. ‘Six Heavens and Seven Hells,’ was an often-heard phrase in Cascadia. In Christdom, it was ‘Seven Heavens and Six Hells,’ for they included the Known World as one of their rightful heavens. It was one of the two driving forces of the Vatican’s xenophobia. One, that demonkind were interlopers on one of the human heavens, and the second, that demon/human progeny was corrupting the human race, and thus coexistence was… discouraged.

“It’s quite arrogant,” Amelia said, “once you think about it. Humans came to a land ill-suited for them, and once they finally survived by forced evolution, they had the temerity to claim it for themselves.” She squeezed her fist. “What a bunch of idiots!”

Tomes chuckled once more. He took off his spectacles and began cleaning them. “Look at you,” he said. “Kanaxai horns or not, you’re just as much of a demon as any of us.”

Something about that made Amelia very happy.

“Thanks, Tomes!” Amelia gave him a wink. “Since you said something so nice, I have a present for you!”

“Oh?” Tomes’ eyes widened.

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded. “Captain’s orders. While you’re off relaxing in Shiloh, you’ve been charged with looking after Rommy!”

“Oh?” Tomes frowned. “Oh?” he muttered again. “Oh…” His eyes met Romulus, who stretched and yawned. “Oh, piss off!” he declared. “Look how much he’s moulted already! I’ll be covered in peeka hair! I—”

“Captain’s orders!” chirped Amelia.

“Captain’s orders, my arse…” Tomes grumbled. For a moment, he threw a tantrum, which in Tomes’ world consisted of him angrily tapping the fine fountain pen Amelia had gifted him against a document, blotting it with specks of ink. “Fine,” he said after half a dozen seconds. “If he causes any damage, I’m sending you an invoice.”

“Why me?” Amelia asked.

“Don’t think we don’t know it was you who pulled the captain’s horns to get her to agree to letting that fleabag onboard.” Tomes jabbed a finger at her. “You’re responsible for the damages.”

“There won’t be any damage, will there, Rommy?”

“Mew,” the peeka responded, flexing his claws.

I’ll take that as a yes, Amelia thought happily.

“I’ll leave him here so you can get to know each other,” Amelia said quickly, smoothing and removing Romulus from her lap and opening the door. “I’ll be back later to say my final goodbyes! Bye!”

Tomes managed to say something that was something between a threat and an insult before Amelia closed the door and darted away. Laughing to herself, she exited the ship onto the first deck.

The crew were up early, preparing to leave. Allston and Evelyn were coordinating the loading of the crystal into the cargo bay. Ishaq didn’t have the mighty steam cranes that Asamaywa possessed, so instead the cargo was hoisted with demon-powered pulleys onto the ship before the deck cranes took them into the cargo hold. The air was filled with the shouts guiding the dockworkers to pull at the right time.

“Hillbrand’s asking for you,” Evelyn called, pointing towards Korvus’ office.

“Thank you!” Amelia was about to step onto the gangway when she paused, sensing a disturbance in the aetherfield. Thankfully, it wasn’t a rampaging Speaker after revenge, nor an animal god looming on the horizon, nor the Vengeance acting up.

It was Mel.

The demon had cornered off a section of the first deck, nestled in between Turret Two and Turret Three. She was diligently going through kata, mixing the structured sequences with the aura-stepping technique Serena favoured. She was sweating heavily, but neither the heat nor Amelia’s presence shattered the demon’s concentration.

Amelia felt herself smile. It was wonderful to see her friends work so hard to improve themselves. Instead of distracting Mel with some encouraging words, Amelia left the early riser and continued on her way.

You’re as much of a demon as any of us.

With Tomes’ words in mind, Amelia climbed the stairs to Korvus’ office. A guard, someone Amelia recognised from the Vengeance, was posted outside. The demon gave her a curt nod and opened the door.

Amelia hadn’t seen the inside of Korvus’ office before, but she could tell a Hillbrand-class hurricane had swept through it, reorganising the space into a field hospital. Chairs and clutter were stacked up against the walls. Two beds had been taken from the ship and set up on either side, each sectioned off by hanging blankets. In one corner, what must have once been Korvus' desk was now used to hold a pile of supplies: bandages, medical chemicals and water.

Hillbrand was there. The short Cerulean demon was speaking with one of her medical teams when she saw Amelia. They exchanged nods, and Amelia was waved over. They were positioned around Asrar. The man had been cleaned up well, but his condition had worsened overnight.

“See how the aura is fluttering?” Hillbrand said. “His aetherflow is burned from pushing too hard. His unconscious mind keeps trying to maintain it, but his natural healing isn’t catching up.”

“Would he die?” Amelia asked.

“For a Speaker? Maybe. There are bioaetheric reflexes that will start to happen if this fluttering continues. In a day or two, his body will flare instinctively in an attempt to find a clean pathway. If one exists, he’ll eventually recover. If not, then he will die.” Hillbrand looked at Asrar with a grim expression. “For a Speaker of his calibre, the odds are in his favour. Ten, maybe twenty percent chance he would die. Considering the situation, it’s a chance we can’t risk.” The demon looked at Amelia. “That’s why you’re here.”

“And Korvus?” she asked, gesturing to the other section.

“Those hardhorns?” The edge of Hillbrand's lips curled up. “He’ll wake up by tonight. It’s not the first time I’ve had that man under my care. You must have hit him hard, Miss Liona.”

“...Yeah.”

What else could she say about her invocation of a seventh-circle spell?

“But now this man”—Hillbrand nodded at Asrar—“needs your subtlety, not your might.”

“How much do you need?”

“Enough for the fluttering to stop, then a little more to be sure. Not enough to have him skipping and dancing out of here.”

“Right.” Amelia swallowed. Aether was easier to control inside her body, so instead of sending her healing magic through the air, she stood closer and placed a finger on Asrar’s forehead. She channelled a sliver of her titanic aether, and then cleaved a sliver off the sliver, forming it into a minuscule healing spell and sending the energy into Asrar.

The faintest golden light shimmered across his body before vanishing.

“...Again,” Hillbrand commanded, deeply focused on her patient's condition.

Amelia repeated the process. Then again, and again.

“That’s enough.”

Strong, stable reds now hued Asrar’s unconscious aura. The fluttering had stopped, and he breathed easily. Amelia looked at Hillbrand. The demon was still looking at Asrar, a complicated expression on her face. Eventually, the medical officer shook her head and muttered, “You make it seem so easy.”

“Sorry.”

“What for?” Hillbrand replied instantly.

Amelia shrugged awkwardly. “I’ve been worried before that having me around might… you know…” She half-heartedly gestured to Hillbrand. “Make you feel…”

“Invalidated?” Hillbrand questioned, scoffing. The demon turned and started wetting and straining some cloth. “Are you worried that my ego is perhaps shaken, or the meaning of my job eradicated?” Hillbrand shook her head and began patting Asrar’s forehead with the wetted cloth. “I’ve seen enough acquaintances and friends die on my table that I’d always welcome you as part of the Vengeance’s crew. There will always be a time and place for me, Miss Liona. There’s more than a hundred million demons on this continent, and try as you might, I don’t think you can heal them all.”

“...I suppose not.”

“Hells, even bloody Christdom, who hoards healers like they’re rare coins, can’t heal everyone. Only one in ten citizens up there has access to magical healing. Guess what kind of person one in ten is?” Hillbrand looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“The rich and powerful?” Amelia offered.

“Aye.” Hillbrand nodded. “The rich and powerful. Or those useful enough, warriors, mages and the like. Aether is limited, even for Christdom. Sure, they would find a healer for a Speaker, but for a common set of horns, like those you healed after the Battle of Port Highwind?” The demon shook her head. “Those are normally left to the care of us medics. The knowledge in our heads, and the skills in our hands. There will always be a need for us.”

“Right,” Amelia nodded. She was glad, in a way. She wasn’t sure if her presence on the Vengeance had frustrated the medical officer. While she didn’t need to be welcomed by everyone, she was happy to be tolerated at the very least.

Korvus took that moment to groan, coughing out in pained gasps.

Hillbrand rolled her eyes. “So dramatic,” she muttered. “Keep an eye on him for a minute,” she instructed Amelia. “Just shout if his aura starts fluttering again. If he’s stable for a few minutes, then I think you’re good to go.” Hillbrand stepped aside, and she and her assistants swarmed Korvus.

Amelia watched them work for a dozen seconds before looking down at Asrar.

Her heart practically jumped out of her chest when she saw his eyes were open and he was looking at her. His gaze was fixed and calculated. The man was fully awake. Her healing had been perhaps a little too much.

“...Water,” he croaked.

Amelia looked at Hillbrand, then back at Asrar. “Right, of course…” she muttered. She poured a small cup of water and paused. Should she pour it into his mouth? Was there a straw? Was—

With a pained groan, Asrar took the cup from her. With great effort, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He took the first sip when Hillbrand reappeared. The sudden awakening of the human Speaker hadn’t fazed her at all. She bent down and took out a pen.

“Follow the pen,” she said, moving a pen slowly in front of each of his eyes. “And only take small sips.”

“Where… am I?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the pen.

“Speaker Maranai’s office,” Hillbrand responded. “You were brought here to recover after the battle yesterday. Here…” The demon pulled an aethertorch out of her pocket. “Look ahead,” she instructed, systematically checking his pupils for a response. “You pushed yourself too far, Speaker Asrar. You almost died from aether exhaustion.”

While Hillbrand explained Asrar’s situation, Amelia sensed movement from the guard outside. She focused and realised he was signalling the Vengeance with a pair of signal flags, no doubt reporting that Asrar had woken up.

“Don’t even think of getting up,” Hillbrand said sternly. “I’ve had more Speakers under my care than you’d think. You need another day before you can walk again. Don’t make my job harder, Speaker Asrar.”

“Speaker Maranai…” Asrar said, his face frowning in concentration. “And Speaker Halen…”

“Will be delighted to see that you’ve recovered,” Hillbrand said. “I’m sure the good captain will want to talk with you and make amends for your… previous disagreement.”

“The Council…”

“All safe and functioning,” Hillbrand answered smoothly. “And today very busy, I imagine. It is the day of the Arcwhale Festival, Speaker Asrar. If you hope to make a limited appearance, I suggest you do what I say and stay in bed.”

“Ah…” was all Asrar responded. He leaned back into his blankets, a mixture of confusion and something else on his face as he looked around the room at everyone and everything, Amelia included.

Korvus groaned again, prompting Hillbrand to tut. “Speakers burn hot when they heal,” she explained. “All that extra biological activity. It generates heat. If they can stay cool, it both accelerates their recovery and minimises the pain. Korvus always burned extra hot. It was as if his body wanted to get back into the fight as quickly as possible. If only we—” Hillbrand paused, looking at Amelia.

“You’re an ice mage, aren’t you?”

Amelia blinked. “Yes, I am.”

She didn’t need any more encouragement. She looked at the bucket of water and began spooling up her aether. Then, realising that one solid block of ice probably wasn’t ideal for cooling down someone's forehead, used the cup to scoop smaller amounts, which she promptly converted to ice.

Once she had made enough ice chunks to wrap in the wetted towels, Hillbrand took one and gave Amelia the other. “Dab his forehead, shoulders and chest,” Hillbrand instructed.

“Sure,” Amelia replied.

Perhaps including her in this small task was one of Hillbrand's ways of letting Amelia know that she accepted her? Either way, while Hillbrand dealt with Korvus, who was doing his best to roleplay as a biological Red Moon, Amelia hummed as she pressed the icy towel against Asrar’s skin. She thought she was doing a good job and was about to comment out loud to herself when Asrar spoke first.

“Human,” he intoned.

Amelia’s hand froze. For a moment, she was as still as ice.

“Umm…” she said.

Asrar blinked.

“Why do you veil your form?” he asked.

Amelia suppressed a groan.

What the hells was she supposed to do now?