Berlennia was barren. It was also dark and cloudy with a strong wind above churning the clouds making liquid potion. And it was windy down here, too. A newspaper clipping caught on a rock and Cypur picked it up.

'Ten thousand omnia reward for turning in Cypur Cromlight,' he read to himself and widened his eyes. He couldn't believe he was so expensive. He was a Sorcerer, not a Rauvuren. Ten thousand was enough to buy a couple mansions with golden chandeliers and probably still have some left over. He dropped his gaze to the clipping again.

'...a convicted murderer who is wanted for the deaths of Gallen lòr Vallius (Human) and Srymeon Pementius (Leovra). Potentials for raise. Anyone or anything associated will also be brought in for questioning. He read. 

When he looked over his shoulder, Wescherlie had her head bowed as if curling in on herself, trying to keep warm. The wind was turning to the typical biting Wintertine winds. If he was caught, Wescherlie would be, too. Never mind she could fly without transforming. Rauvurens were considered war criminals. She would lose her freedom.

He then thought of the option of going their separate ways. Cypur to find a way into Zarkentauf on his own. Wescherlie to go to Poppintum and hope for the best. The thought hollowed his chest, but he wasn't sure why. They were only partners, not friends. But he couldn't think about them going separate ways.

We just need to stay hidden. Be careful.

"What's it say?" Wescherlie said with chattering teeth, coming to walk next to him.

Cypur stuffed it in his pocket. He would keep it a secret as long as he could. "Nothing important. You cold? Wanna join me under here?" He offered a smile and cast a warmth spell over the inner layer of his cape. She slipped in beside him with a grateful nod and a sliver of a smile stretching upon her lips. He walked with an arm around her shoulder.

A biting wind shimmied up his shirt then, giving him a cruel chill, but the cape was warm enough and so was Wescherlie. But the warmth spell wouldn't last the entire way. There was still so much Barrenlennia to cover to get to Priviturn Lake. He knew the lake side had old lodges that citizens used to use for camping back when camping was still considered aesthetically pleasing activities for children. But some time ago, the lake became infested with rogue portals that Sorcerers put there for fun. Too dangerous for leisure.

"Do you have siblings?" Wescherlie asked, breaking her silence. Before he could answer, she held up her finger. "No, wait, let me guess. You don't look like the kind with a sister. I'm getting," She squinted, and he felt her gaze on him, "brother vibes. Younger brother?"

He sucked in his lip, letting a smile fade. "Yeah, you got it."

Wescherlie made a fist of victory in front of her face. "I'm good at guessing. What's he like?"

Cypur thought of his brother, Jarvur. Long black hair, taking after his mother. The average height of a Sorcerer, but he was still only twelve years old. Not even come to puberty yet to develop his Faud. There was no doubt in teachers' minds that he would. They were going to make him Junior rank early.

Mom and Dad are proud of him, not me.

"He's taller than me," Cypur said after a pause, shoving those thoughts aside, "three years younger. I remember when he was born."

"You get along?" Wescherlie asked. A cold wind nipped their skin and they shuddered at the same time. She put her arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "Damn, it's cold."

"Wintertine. And I guess." He shrugged. He and Jarvur did have the usual sibling rivalry, but it wasn't malicious

"Think the news said anything about you yet?" Her fingers tickled his leg. He squirmed under her touch.

"I don't know." He lied, heart thumping against his chest.

Suddenly, Wescherlie bent down. "Shoelace," she said, "I felt rain." He held his cape out like an umbrella and scanned the barren land. Nothing but gray dirt, gray sky, and unreflective puddles. It really was Barrenlennia.

"Really? So, you think the police is doing this without telling the media?" she asked.

"They keep things behind the scenes, until they're sure," he said, feeling unease churn in his stomach. A hint of nausea swirled like the dark clouds swirling above them.

When he turned back, Wescherlie's purple eyes snatched his in her glare. She crossed her arms. Rain fell around them, colder and colder at each passing minute. He worried she somehow knew about the news. They didn't pass any billboards or screens, but maybe she heard it in passing?

"You know, I can't be involved in legal stuff. Never mind me being a flier. They all think we're as evil as Xohr who tried to get the world corrupt. But we're innocent. Do they listen? No."

Cypur sighed, filling with relief. So that's why she's asking. Not because she knows. His conviction would remain secret for the time being. Rauvurens were a rare species, it was understandable be worried. And didn't she say she had to move around a lot to keep from getting caught? Anyone would be a little bit paranoid if they lived like that for a long time.

He lay a hand on her arm and offered a smile. "It's fine. There's been nothing. I haven't seen or heard and if there was, I would have told you right away."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he didn't want her to leave. The reason was still hidden. The Sorcerer mindset of needing each other for something was engrained in him. You couldn't just need someone. There was always a reason.

But Wescherlie's frown didn't disappear. Why was she so crabby? Maybe Rauvurens hated the cold? He extended his hand to her. "Partners in crime?" He smirked.

She slapped his hand away. Cypur jolted backwards, stepping into a puddle. Her eyes blazed with fury, and she waved the newspaper clipping in the air. His body stiffened. When did she take it? The shoelace or when she put her arm around him?

"You liar!" She shrieked. "You've been convicted! It's not just police coming after you for questioning. They skipped it. You're wanted by the law." She held up the newspaper clipping.

"Why didn't you just tell the truth?" She shouted, "I gave you chances. Fuu-you, partner in crime." The air crackled around them as purple lightning zipped across her body. "Fuu-you!" she spat. "I fuu-trusted you!"

Cypur straightened his back, trying to get a hold of the situation. "But you need me to get to—"

"I don't." She cut him off. "Precense showed me where it is, but I decided to go with you because I trusted you to have my back. But now you're wanted by the law, you won't even tell me, and I'm not going to risk my freedom. I always prepare for the worst."

He knew this would be where she would smile and crinkle her nose, proud for being self-sufficient, but her eyes remained cold. He had jeopardized her trust. Had it been that frail?

"I hoped you were different from other Sorcerers," she said in a chilling tone, "but I guess once a Sorcerer, always a Sorcerer."

In that moment, he realized how different their lives had been. There were some similarities with being outcasts, looking for their biological parents, but Wescherlie lived her life in fear of the law. Cypur lived in the law, abided by it even at the cost of his happiness.

"But," He tried to find something, anything that would make her stay, "you need me to—"

Wescherlie crowed. "Shut up. I don't need you. I don't give a damn."

Her motto that was a laugh now pricked his skin like needles. Was this how it would end with them? Cypur hadn't thought about the far future, or even about how long they would travel together. Her wings unfurled and cocooned around her. She cast her gaze toward the perimeters of Berlennia, turned her back, and set off.

"But—" He reached for her and stopped. It was better this way. He was a criminal. She was free. She didn't need to be involved in all his issues.

Rain plummeted down, hard and icy as he stood unmoving as if frozen to the ground. When did Wintertine arrive? Soon the frozen rain would coat the ground with a sheet of ice. It already coated his heart. He messed up. Such a small thing, and he ruined it.

And what am I going to do about it? Cypur gripped the sides of his cape and threw it back, lifting his head. Wescherlie was so far away and blurred. He wiped his eyes. A word caught in his throat, trickled across his tongue, and stopped before he could utter it.

Wescherlie was strong-willed, quirky, and kind. She made him smile and laugh. And in Narrentry Woodland, she brought out his fun side. Encouraged it, too. He was free. Light. Almost happy. Around Wescherlie, he was beginning to like himself.

Cypur tried to focus on the black blur obscured beyond the streaks of rain. The land had a slight decline. Soon, she would fade behind the sloped ground. He would never see her again. Water dribbled down his chin, soaking his collar, chilling his skin.

He nodded. It was true. She didn't need him.

But...

Cypur ran. His boots squelched through mud or crunched accumulating ice. The clouds attacked relentlessly, sending hail. Pointy particles poked through his shirt, stuck to his hair, and scratched his nose and cheeks.

Wescherlie screamed.

Skidding downwards, Cypur found potholes so deep, the bottom vanished in the shadows. They were scattered throughout the land. He dodged the forming holes, glimpsing the perimeter beyond. Wescherlie was hanging off the edge of one.

When she saw him, she plucked a feather and it turned into a spike. Using that she hauled herself out of the hole.

"I don't need you!" she shouted over the gushing rain.

He came to stand opposite the hole. "I know!" he shouted back and forced the words out of his mouth. "But I need you."

Lightning blinded him. He squinted his eyes. Thunder cracked. Wind pummeled around him, pushing him toward the hole. Wescherlie was still on the other side with the perimeter of Berlennia behind. 

He spotted an alleyway. 

Calling upon his magick, he teleported to her side, looped his arm around her waist amidst her protests to leave her alone, and teleported again into the alley. They were under the awning of an inn. Orange light painted wet cobblestones. Laughter erupted from inside.

No one can see us from here. Cypur let out a breath when he heard sobs. He turned to face Wescherlie crying into her hands.

"N-No one ever comes after me," she said through tears, "and I have trust issues."

"I'm sorry for lying. I really am," he said, and she looked up with red eyes. Cypur pulled his cape off and pronounced a dry spell. He put it over her shoulders. "I thought you might need," He shook his head, that wasn't the truth, "I wanted you to stay and be my friend."

"But I'm not good friend material." She gave a wry smile. "Always been on my own."

"You make me smile. I can laugh. I feel free with you. You're non-judgmental. You're funny. I can be funny with you and it's natural. I need you. I have no one else." He paused. He sounded like a sorry loner. "I can't face this without you, and I promised." He reached out to take her hands. To seal it again. "I promised to help you if you help me. Remember? Partners in crime."

Wescherlie cast her gaze downward. Cypur waited. Rain whispered in his ear. Now more like water, but still as cold as if it had freezer time before falling.

"No one's ever needed me." Wescherlie lifted her eyes to meet his. "They want me for things, but not need. They never need."

Cypur couldn't help but smile. The hollowed hurt filling up again. "Well, I guess I'm the first," he said and combed back his wet hair, "and that I should be," he teased, "I'm exceptional after all."

Wescherlie laughed and cried at the same time. She wrapped him in a hug which he didn't resist. Her feathers were softer than they looked. They buried their faces in each other's shoulders.

"Apology accepted," she whispered in his ear. Relief welled over him at those words. He vowed to never lie to her like that again. He didn't know what he would do without her. She filled a space in his heart that no one filled before.

"Friends?" he ventured, heart thumping with strange nerves.

"Friends," she said, without a moment's hesitation. Her body shook as she snickered and then she hugged him tighter.

They broke apart when stomachs grumbled at the same time. Not just hunger, but Cypur became acutely aware of how sweaty, wet, cold, and miserable he felt. In need of a nice warm shower. He turned to inn and noticed it was pay by aesthetics. That would be good.

"We'll stay the night here." He pointed to the inn and covered his hair with his cape, making sure none of the gold poked through. Wescherlie turned into a raven, perching atop his shoulder.

"I gather you have money?" she whispered as the left the alley behind.

"No, it's pay by aesthetics." He entered the inn.

The inn keeper, a female with plump cheeks, asked for how many nights and told him the mealtimes. Then she ushered him into a private room. He'd done pay by aesthetics before even though it made him cringe on the inside.

For the next five minutes, he showered her with aesthetic praise using words like "luscious", "alluring", "exquisite", or "charming", and, since he was a young male, he had to sing her a song called, 'Lilac My Love', a love song for ones' beauty. All the while, he kept his Sorcerer act on, keeping calm and collected.

Finally, he and Wescherlie had a meal in their room. He ordered an extra loaf making it out like he was starving to give it to Wescherlie. No one questioned why he was out alone. Many young Sorcerers went on journeys for self-discovery anyway.

"I wanted to peck her eyes out," Wescherlie was saying, "Looking at you like you were a snack." She sat cross legged on the floor, eating her loaf slathered with butter. "You are good at singing though. Top of your class?" She grinned.

Cypur nodded with a smirk, but the memories of music class were not good. They thought he sounded like a female, ridiculing him for it. He never sung in his natural range again. But right now, he shoved those thoughts away. Too hungry to think about much else other than that he had a friend. 

A real friend. 

He smiled at Wescherlie who crinkled her nose at him.