"A hero is someone who is recognized by their back…" Bruno tapped the quill against his chin. "Yeah, yeah that's not bad. What do you think, Aria?"

His twin sister brushed aside her silver hair, lavender eyes glancing in his direction.

"Is that so important right this moment?" she asked, her foot tapping softly against the wooden floor. "We have a show in an hour."

Bruno waved his hand dismissively. "There's always a show coming up, Aria, and another show going. If we ever want to reach a real stage, we have to think beyond just this show."

She frowned. "I don't know about that." She reached out and grabbed her lyre, plucking the strings absentmindedly. Even such a simple thing stirred the spirits, and for a moment the lights in the room seemed to grow a little brighter. "Isn't the most important thing giving your all to each performance?" It's our first show in Liresil, Bruno. Why do you not take it seriously?"

"I do take it seriously." Bruno leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "But I don't think there's anything wrong with looking ahead either."

Aria didn't respond for some time, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

The room they'd rented wasn't much larger than a closet, with a sloped ceiling and cracked wooden beams. One square window looked out over the winding alleys of Liresil's lower quarter, set in polished white stone. They'd used up most of their funds paying for transportation—adventurers weren't so cheap to hire for long-distance travel, and performing in small taverns didn't pay well.

But it was better than the streets.

"A hero is someone recognized by their back, huh?" She finally said, seemingly ready to humor him. "It sounds nice, and I understand what you're going for, but isn't it a bit reductive? You're speaking of protecting someone from danger, but what about helping others face to face."

Bruno hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah maybe, but it's not like I have to capture the whole truth. What we need is a punchy line that sticks in people's heads. What makes a hero is their legacy, the impression they leave behind."

"That's such a sad way to think about it," she said.

"Is it?"

"It makes sense for you I suppose. Your stories always end with the hero dying." She crinkled her nose. "But it's sad to only focus on what's left once they're gone. It should be about how they change, or inspire the people around them. How they make you feel in the moment."

"Maybe…" he tapped the quill a few more times. It wasn't exactly a pressing issue, but it was just something he'd been thinking about lately. For all they sang about heroes, he'd rarely given thought to what it truly meant to be one.

His sister didn't seem interested in letting him continue his ruminating though.

"Now can we practice please?" She asked. "No matter what you say, this is an important show. It's not some small tavern Bruno, there are hundreds, thousands of other performers here. Maybe I can sing well enough for a countryside town, but here?"

"You'll blow them away all the same. I have absolute faith in you." he smiled. "And besides, don't think of it like that. Think of this as a stepping stone. Just one more show along the way. We're going to perform in the Theatre Caelestis someday, Aria. This is nothing."

She sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the strings as her eyes flicked towards the door. "I wish I had half your confidence."

"Alright alright," he conceded. "We'll call this a warm up then. I'll keep time. Start from measure sixteen. One. Two. One two three four…"

***

An hour later, the two of them walked out on stage together. Bruno had been surprised the first time he'd seen the amphitheatres which dotted the city. After performing in taverns and town squares for years, seeing the spaces dedicated to music was something of a dream—and so many of them.

For that alone, he was grateful, knowing his sister's voice would be better amplified by the sloping shape of the venue. The audience was already present, some leaving after the previous show, and others arriving to watch the new one. It had taken a whole week to secure a single slot in one of the amphitheaters, but Bruno had wanted to make their Liresil debut on the best stage possible.

The edge of the stage was framed with paper lanterns, one of the only sources of light in the area. With the evening sun dipping lower over the hills, the audience grew dimmer, drawing even more attention to the two of them.

As he approached the front of the stage, Bruno could hear the same whispers as always.

"...that silver hair, stunning…"

"...beautiful eyes. Have you seen her before?"

"I'd remember if I had. I wonder if…"

"He's kind of… plain though. Isn't he?"

"...probably her patron. Unless he can sing…"

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His smile wavered for the smallest of moments, but he didn't let it slip, and continued as though he'd never heard them. He flexed his fingers once, then again. They trembled slightly. They always did, no matter what he pretended. But he wasn't worried for himself.

He looked back towards his sister as she nervously adjusted her hair. Their eyes met, and he smiled. She seemed to calm down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

As long as we're together, we're invincible. This cold doesn't bother us one bit! Get it Aria? The two of us? We don't have anything to fear.

It was as true now as when he'd said it the first time.

He turned back to the crowd, taking a deep breath of his own. Then, he threw his arms out with a flourish, his coat sweeping out behind him.

"Good evening, citizens of Liresil!" he began, hiding the shaking of his voice behind its volume. "We thank you for lending us your time tonight! My name is Bruno Virellian, and I will be performing alongside my sister, Aria."

"They're related?" someone whispered.

"They don't look it," another replied.

Bruno ignored them. "Tonight we hope to share with you a story in the form of a song. This story is not that of a warrior, not of a king, but of a dreamer." He thrust his trembling arm out towards his sister. "Sing me a song, Aria! Sing me the song of a child who looked up, and believed the stars were not so far!"

He held the pose, arm outstretched, as he waited for her to begin.

Aria took a single breath, and the strings of her lyre stirred. A few notes rang out over the stage, and the whispering grew quieter.

Then she sang.

One note, that was all. The crowd fell silent. Her voice reached out into the crowd, brushing against them in a gentle caress.

Bruno's outstretched hand finally stopped trembling. And for a moment, he was as entranced as the crowd. No matter how many times he heard her, that never changed.

Then, he turned in place, and began to dance. It was nothing grand, nothing sweeping. As always, he was certain not one eye was on him. His sister would draw them all. But he became another instrument in the performance nonetheless, letting her voice move him.

As she sang, the spirits gathered around her dancing in the air around her. Song spirits, shimmering ribbons of moonlight, swirled in the air above the amphitheater, drawn to her voice like moths to flame. In the audience, he caught some people gasping at the sight, and he couldn't help but smile.

He closed his eyes.

They were on the stage in Taravst—the Theatre Caelestis. The audience stretched endlessly in front of them. The ceiling above them was domed crystal, catching the light of the stars.

And his sister shined more brightly than any of them.

***

Sadof Venal, First Sepal of Liresil, walked through the darkened hall of the Ecclesterion, nestled amidst the highest branches of the spirit tree. Despite its significance to human governance, the tree's powers thinned the further one strayed from its roots, and he did not appreciate being summoned there.

But of course Viresa would choose this place. Her ties to the Ecclesia still ran deep. Nonetheless, he would have preferred to meet within the sanctum. Only the four of them could enter the sacred place without restriction, and it was far more secure than anywhere else in Liresil.

Though, that was only true most of the time. The summer solstice was quickly approaching. It was a day of celebration, but also when the tree would be most vulnerable, and for that, he worried.

For some time now, he'd felt a vague impression of unease in his mind, as though there was something watching him from just out of sight. He knew better than to dismiss it as simple superstition, or even as his own emotion. It wasn't the first time he'd felt such sensations through the bond, but they'd never been so strong before. If the others felt it as well…

Rounding the corner, he saw a large rat, bent over as it gnashed at some crumbs that had fallen. He was somewhat surprised, as he would have assumed the Ecclesterion would be better cared for, but it seemed even a place like this wasn't safe from infestation. Upon catching sight of him, the creature froze for an instant, then dashed into a cracked part of the wall and out of sight.

He reached the heart of the structure, a large space, much like the stages which were so popular with the rest of the city, complete with a stage and stepped slopes. A portico ran around the front and sides before ending abruptly as the structure gave way to open air.

From the portico, he could see a hooded figure standing on the stage, looking out towards the hills below. They were too tall to be Viresa.

Sadof started down the stairs, sandals clopping against the stone as he kept his eyes on the figure.

"Excuse me!"

Whoever it was didn't reply.

He kept walking closer. "You, in the hood. I would request you to leave this place. I am supposed to be meeting—"

Flee.

He stumbled as the voice entered his mind. It wasn't—it couldn't have been. The sanctum wasn't yet open, and the solstice was still over a month away. To push against the restraints like that... He looked around to make sure he hadn't imagined it, purely instinctually. He knew he hadn't. The voice had come directly through his bond.

Sadof turned back to the figure in the hood, his unease growing by the second.

The figure turned slowly, shrugging the robes from their shoulders. Sadof's eyes widened.

A grey-skinned, four-armed man stared back at him with harsh golden eyes.

"So you're the first Sepal are you?" he said slowly. "You're different than I expected. Shorter."

"Who are you?" Sadof demanded, clasping his fingers on the hilt of his blade. A twisted sort of aura emanated from the man. Something about it seemed so familiar, yet he wasn't able to place it right away.

The man smiled, two of his hands spreading in a mockery of welcome. "Does it really matter?"

"You are trespassing on the grounds of the Ecclesterion. Identify yourself. Now. Or I will be forced to remove you."

"Oh?" His grin widened. "And do you think you can? Your compatriots weren't so successful."

Sadof's eyes narrowed. "You're saying—"

"The other Sepal are dead," he said. Then, his aura burst outward like a wave. "By my hands."

As it washed over him, Sadof was finally able to place the bad feeling he'd gotten. It was a subtle thing, something only he—or someone like him—would recognize. He staggered back as the truth hit him.

"You…you can't be." His face twisted. "What has been done to you?"

The man—the thing, laughed. "I have become something more."

"No. You're no longer human," Sadof growled. A part of him grieved for the loss of the other Sepal. Viresa, Caln, Yyida…

If only he remained, then he would fulfill his duty until the bitter end.

He drew his blade, and the spirit song grew sharper within his mind as he drew on his bond for power.

The branches of the tree began to shake around them, and wooden tendrils burst the stone at his feet as they sprouted up from below, answering his call. His scimitar flared with a rich green-gold light, basking the amphitheatre in its glow.

Still, the thing only smiled.

"And you," it said, stepping forward, "will soon be nothing at all."

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