Bravehaven wasn’t the first name this little town carried. It was actually the sixth, with the original settlement constructed in 1687 under the name Pierretown. The small New England downtown had been abandoned after the Duel but reclaimed two years later by a band of remainers, seeking to rebuild some small piece of their lives.

  Name: Bravehaven

  Population: 212

  Description: A formerly abandoned downtown section located between a small stretch of forest, a river just big enough to require a bridge for crossing, an old Amtrak station, and a two-lane highway. Buildings are painted gray and blue, with most consisting of shops on the first floor and makeshift flats above. Almost all of the buildings are made of brick. Most of the row houses downtown are made available to residents with disabilities who are unable to use stairs and live on a second floor. Some buildings along the river have access to basic electricity via a pair of waterwheels and old generators.

  Maeve and Dysella walked up to the bridge and began to cross. An older man armed with a shotgun and an axe nearby spotted the pair and rose from a chair where he’d been drinking a morning coffee.

  “Well, well! It’s been a few days since I seen you two. Finally get bored of drinking by yourselves up in the tavern, huh?” the man said.

  He appeared to be in his 60s and wore a gray tank top and shorts with camouflage on them. His eyes were brown, and two teeth were missing on the man’s left side. It was obvious as he smiled at them.

  Maeve shook the man’s hand after he placed his firearm gently against the bridge rail.

  “Hey, Chester. How are you and Mickey doing?” the fae asked.

  “Eh, he’s still a little stiff after the fall from last week. But my grumpy husband is managing to hobble around the house. I’ve got Margaret looking in on him while I’m on guard duty this morning.”

  Dysella nodded at the man.

  “Hey there, angel. A visitor to town last night dropped your name, said you killed four bloodsuckers out on Broomfield Road. What’s that bring your tally up to now? One oh seven?”

  System note: With most of the population of Nameless evacuating from the continent, those who remain are often prey for the monsters that weren’t driven away by the Duel or its aftereffects. In a desperate bid for survival, increasing numbers of humans are looking to “arm” themselves with supernatural abilities. And one of the most widespread ways to do that is willing submission to vampirism. Some humans chose to become part of a vampire nest in exchange for better odds of survival, often underestimating how difficult vampiric instincts are to control.

  The warrior grimaced.

  “It brings the total to 104, Chester. Where did this visitor go?”

  “Oh, last I saw her, she was grabbing breakfast at the Four Leaf. She actually stayed with Margaret last night. Sweet girl. Wicked small thing. Odd to see her traveling alone. Most of the women I see brave enough to make their way from town to town have a bit of muscle on them, like you ladies. But this girl? You’d think her mom and dad were twigs.”

  Maeve snickered at that.

  But Dysella just nodded quietly at Chester and started to walk toward the Four Leaf Cafe, the common feeding ground, watering hole, and community meeting space of Bravehaven.

  “Thanks, Chester. We’ve actually gotta go track her down for a little chat. I hope Mickey gets to feeling better,” Maeve said, patting the old man on the back.

  “I’ll pass that along,” he said, before sitting down again and picking up his thermos. The sun was hiding behind clouds today, and that brought temperatures down a more mercifcul 85F.

  Maeve was ever the sunshine to Dysella’s cloudy day. She often attributed this stark difference in personalities to her being a fae of the Sun Court, born under the long-running reign of Queen Titania.

  Dysella, by comparison, was abandoned (or “lost” if you believed her mother) at a fire station in Phoenix, Arizona, as a baby. She went through several foster families, growing increasingly unstable due to her unrecognized angelic nature, giving her vision that spotted things other humans didn’t believe existed at the time.

  Maeve and Dysella passed familiar faces heading further into town. They walked by some teens working in a community garden, another patrolling guard who had her firearm holstered, and finally were stopped by the town’s headwoman.

  Name: Zahra Ahmadi

  Age: 42

  Species: Human

  Description: Zahra is the current elected leader of Bravehaven. She’s halfway through her second two-year term. She is 5’5” and is often seen wearing colorful dresses around town. Zahra is of average build and often wears her black hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  History with Dysella and Maeve: Zahra has tried multiple times to persuade Dysella and Maeve to move into Bravehaven’s town proper, as they are its regular defenders. But they commonly resist, mostly because Dysella doesn’t want to be around the people who rely on her protection. The half-breed angel says the looks people give her around town make her sick to her stomach. “You mean gratitude?” Zahra asked once before Dysella stormed off.

  The long white sleeves on Zahra’s dress covered most of the brown skin of her arms. Her hazel eyes scanned over Dysella and Maeve before the headwoman decided to offer a hug to the fae. As they embraced, Dysella tried to keep walking toward Four Leaf.

  She was stopped by Zahra grabbing onto the edge of Dysella’s navy tank top.

  “Hold on there, angel. I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” she said.

  Dysella sighed.

  “Look, I’ve already got one unpleasant conversation to get through today. Why add another?” the half-breed angel grumbled.

  Zahra just smiled.

  “Are you going to be unpleasant when speaking with me?”

  Maeve elbowed her girlfriend, who stared daggers at the bartender.

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” she finally said through gritted teeth.

  “Good! I didn’t plan on it either,” Zahra said, clasping her hands together and smiling wider.

  With a sigh, the half-breed angel stopped and crossed her arms. Zahra let go of her shirt and looked the angel up and down. Her eyes stopped on the bandages, freshly changed this morning.

  Dysella’s HP: 102/112

  “So the new girl wasn’t lying. You really did get into a scrape yesterday,” Zahra said, lifting her eyes from the bandages.

  Dysella grunted.

  “Four vamps. They were trying to establish a nest in a farmhouse west of here at the edge of the woods. I killed them all,” Dysella said.

  The headwoman rubbed her chin.

  “The people who lived in the house originally?” she asked.

  Dysella looked at the ground.

  “Dead. Their names were Gabriel and Thomas. They lived there for years without much trouble. It’s a quiet area. I don’t remember once having to fight a monster near there.”

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  Thinking for a moment, Zahra’s eyes widened with recognition.

  “The squash farmers. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll send out some people to give them a proper burial,” she said.

  Dysella closed her eyes for a moment and then looked toward the town’s only eatery. Licking her lips, she glanced back at the headwoman.

  “Was there anything else, or can I go now?”

  Zahra cocked her head to the side.

  “Why is it every time I see you in my town, you’re in a hurry? I can’t recall ever once seeing you sitting in our park or visiting our library. You won’t even eat at the Four Leaf. Does my town disgust you so much?”

  As Dysella’s eyes widened, she paused. And she may not have quite looked ashamed, but she was definitely pretty damn far from comfortable.

  Two kids ran by with balloons tied to strings, one in the shape of a llama, and another in the shape of a sword.

  Ignoring them, Dysella closed her eyes for a moment.

  “I’m not disgusted by Bravehaven, Zahra. I wouldn’t have spent the last several years protecting this place if I hated it. You know that.”

  Zahra put her hands on her hips.

  “Then why are you never around unless there’s a fight to be fought? We’re grateful for all you and Maeve do. But I have a town full of people eager to know you both. Every month at our meeting, I must have five people asking me why you spend your days hiding up in that cave. If you don’t think my town is disgusting, then what is it?”

  Dysella growled and clenched her fists. She hated this line of questioning. All last night after fucking Maeve, Dysella had worked to psych herself up for talking to Chloey again, agreeing to help the magician. The half-breed angel had conversations in her head about what she’d say. She rehearsed in her room to find the right balance between petily demanding an apology and begrudgingly offering assistance.

  What she didn’t plan for was humanity. Someone stopping Dysella in her tracks to ask why she was so resistant to the idea of humans knowing her and learning more about her. The half-breed angel didn’t have any rehearsed lines for Zahra. Didn’t even plan on seeing the headwoman this morning.

  I’ve tried the “letting humans get to know me” thing before, she thought. That leads to friends, which leads to teammates, which leads to—no. I’m not doing this.

  What Dysella refused to say was that the idea of dying while in a vicious fight to protect people was infinitely less terrifying than facing a handful of them asking to see her, get to know her.

  A little bit of distance was easy. You keep folks close enough to fight for them, but far enough away so you can’t hear them when they want to say “thank you.”

  Dysella finally stormed away from the headwoman, unable to say anything that wouldn’t come across as hurtful.

  Remaining behind for a moment longer, Maeve offered a soft hand on Zahra’s shoulder. Then, in a low murmur, the fae said, “Please don’t take it personally. My girlfriend isn’t much of a people person ever since she lost her people. I think she’d rather be stabbed once for every person in Bravehaven than speak to even a single soul for longer than 30 seconds.”

  The headwoman shook her head.

  “You’re a fae, are you not? Can’t you just enchant her to be a little more present?” she chuckled.

  Maeve snorted.

  “If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have to keep devilpiss in my icebox. I’d have her enchanted to drink whiskey instead.”

  Zahra scratched the back of her head.

  “Or you could enchant her not to drink at all. I find it’s a lot easier to protect my town while sober. A lot easier to feel the trust my neighbors place upon me when I can feel the ground beneath my own two feet,” she said.

  A man carrying a stack of books walked past the ladies and nodded his head in a polite greeting.

  “Touché, Zahra. Well, I’d best go catch her so I can make sure she doesn’t get into trouble with your villagers.”

  The headwoman nodded and motioned for Maeve to head on after girlfriend.

  Meanwhile, at the Four Leaf, Dysella, now in a pissier mood, scanned the room. It was full of people laughing and talking, drinking coffee, eating breakfast, and reading.

  When the door opened, and Dysella roared into the cafe, most eyes turned to see the angry half-breed angel. A few hushed whispers traveled through the room. The restaurant wasn’t huge by any means, but it took up the entire bottom floor of a three-story building. Long glass windows filled the walls.

  Square tables with two and four-seat configurations spread from the door to the bar. Seven spinner chairs with checker patterns lined the bar. Each was filled with a different old man today.

  The smells of coffee, bacon, potatoes, pancakes, and fruit filled the restaurant. Outside the windows, residents of Bravehaven walked by, enjoying a slightly cooler summer day.

  Dysella took a deep breath, her belly full of fire. Sitting alone in the corner, looking down at something on the table was one Chloey. She wasn’t dressed in her magician outfit anymore. She was just wearing jeans and a red blouse. Her hair was still wet from showering this morning.

  The half-breed angel started to stomp across the restaurant. Her eyes were locked onto Chloey. Was she going to help the magician? Sure. But not until she unloaded every ounce of anger onto that woman.

  Pressure built behind Dysella’s eyes. The rest of the room blurred as she sank into tunnel vision. Chloey didn’t notice her coming, those boots stomping across the tile floor.

  All Dysella felt was her throbbing arm where vampire fangs had torn her flesh open like the skin of an orange, looking for juices to drain. Every throb just raised her anger that much more. Throb. RAGE. Throb. RAGE. Throb. RAGE.

  Her shoulders hunched tight. Dysella was a coiled rope ready to crack down upon the visitor who’d lied, lured, and lavished her with painful memories.

  “Hey, Chloey!” the angel snapped, finally arriving at the magician’s table. Her fists were balled up. Her stare was pure fire. But Chloey’s stare. . . was broken. By the time she finally raised her eyes, Dysella noticed quiet tears dripping down her cheeks.

  This left the angel stunned for a moment, like she’d been spinning a plate on a stick, a very angry plate, and suddenly, the stick splintered.

  It was at that moment Dysella realized the only two things on Chloey’s table were an untouched cup of coffee and a wrinkled picture of the magician with a four-year-old girl sitting in her lap in front of a Christmas tree. The girl looked just as happy as could be with a wrapped box in her own lap, eyes wide on X-Mas high. The photo was a little damp, with a couple of droplets of water on the left side.

  And at that moment, Dysella felt all the rage inside of her go cold, like an oven set on broil for five hours had been launched into the frigid vacuum of space. Her mouth froze as one more tear dripped off Chloey’s nose.

  The magician seemed to finally realize who’d come to visit her table because she snapped out of it and immediately wiped her eyes with her sleeves.

  “Oh! Um, hey. I was going to stop by and say, uh, about yesterday. I’m sorry that—”

  But Dysella interrupted her with a quiet affirmation.

  “I’ll help you.”

  That only caused Chloey to stammer further.

  “Wha—but. Why? How?”

  Dysella’s voice took on an even softer tone.

  “Because you asked. And because helping people is the job. No matter how hard I fight it or try to run from it,” the angel said.

  Chloey shook her head.

  “I fucked up yesterday, Dysella.”

  “Me too. But as my girlfriend likes to remind me on days when I’m beating the shit out of myself or even feeling downright dysphoric, making mistakes doesn’t preclude you from receiving grace.”

  The magician’s eyes started to water again.

  “I don’t even know where we begin with this, getting my daughter out of Hell,” she said in a half-whimper. “I must be crazy to even think it.”

  About this time, Maeve made it into the restaurant and started to panic, seeing Dysella already at Chloey’s table. But then she took a closer look at their body language and paused.

  Dysella took a deep breath and felt something inside her warming, not rage this time, but a calm virtue, a call to do more than she had been lately. She hadn’t felt this way in seven months.

  Reaching for that feeling and giving it room to expand, Dysella started to glow. It was subtle at first, like the fluorescent lights overhead might be overloading. But eventually, a glorious white light began to fill the restaurant, spreading warmth outward from Dysella.

  “You knew exactly where to start, Chloey. You needed to find an angel. And I’m here this morning to say. . . you found one.”

  Technique: Angelshift [Feathersoft Mode]

  Description: When Dysella is faced with a mortal in emotional crisis and feels inspired to bring them peace, she may call upon her angelic blood to rally their spirit. Bathed in a warm, comforting light, Dysella channels divine magic that soothes the wounded and brings hope to the hopeless. This is a non-combat-related technique that only uses a portion of her abilities as an angelspawn.

  Duration: 2 minutes

  Dysella’s HP: 102/125

  As righteous luminescence bathed Chloey and her table, the magician’s eyes took on a lightened sheen. She let out a small laugh or two of pure joy and relief. Everyone in the restaurant had frozen in their seats, turning to stare at the divine display before them. All were in a state of shock. Except for Maeve, who just wore a proud and knowing grin.

  “You’re really going to help me?” Chloey asked, not with doubt, but with joy, looking for confirmation like a finger on a trigger.

  Dysella, who had yet to smile, merely nodded.

  “You have my word, Chloey. I’ll do my best to help you rescue your daughter from Hell.”

  Maeve strolled over a moment later.

  “And I’ll throw in my assistance as well.”

  Chloey smiled all the wider.

  “But understand this, human. If I catch you lying to my angel again or getting her hurt, I will strap you to a board and use you for target practice. Are we clear?” Maeve warned.

  The magician sobered and nodded.

  “Crystal,” she said.

  As Dysella’s angelic light started to fade, Chloey took a sip of her cold coffee and said, “Soooo. . . what’s our first stop?”

  Placing a hand on Dysella’s shoulder and rubbing it with her thumb, Maeve spoke cautiously, saying, “We need to get her wings back. They’re our ticket out of Hell.”

  Nobody spoke for a moment. Dysella just stared at the picture of Chloey’s girl. And in the tense silence, the magician dared to ask, “Where are they? In storage, I hope?”

  Dysella just shook her head.

  “We need to go visit a demonic scalpel jockey named Ravistus.”

  Now it was Maeve’s turn to ask a question.

  “And where is this Ravistus, dear?”

  Turning to leave, Dysella just muttered, “On the way to Hell.”