“Yeah, friends are pretty great, huh?”
“Oh, yes. But we don’t mean just as a friend, Cheyenne.” R’mahr reached the closed elevator doors first and waited for the rest of them to catch up. “That’s very good for us, of course, but think what this means for the rest of us who made the crossing.”
The troll couple gazed at her expectantly.
Pretend like you know what’s going on. “Just think.” Cheyenne nodded and reached down to take the basket out of Bryl’s arms. “Thanks for taking care of my stuff, kid.”
The girl grinned.
“We knew you were special the first time you came through our front door,” Yadje added wistfully. Cheyenne almost snorted. “But now, seeing you around everyone else down here, the way you dealt with those…those…”
“Scoundrels,” her husband finished.
The troll woman sighed. “There’s still a chance, Cheyenne, that some of the old prophecies from Ambar’ogúl are finally coming true.”
The halfling jerked her head up from where she’d been making faces at Bryl. “Prophecies?”
“Well, they’re all muddled and mixed together, aren’t they?” R’mahr shook his head. “But the big ones, yes.”
The elevator doors let out a groan when they opened, and Cheyenne waited for the troll family to step inside before she followed. “I don’t have a lot of experience with prophecies. What do they say? The big ones.”
The troll man leaned back against the wall of the elevator as the doors closed again. The shiny metal box started its ascent with a little jerk. “Oh, the usual. We’ve all heard them from time to time, passed around in gatherings and ceremonies. Ambar’ogúl split in half, rotting from the inside out. An outsider bonded by blood to take their place within the heart.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Muddled and mixed together is right.”
“It talks about the Crown becoming its own undoing and the savior of a realm all at the same time.” R’mahr’s eyes narrowed. “For so long, Cheyenne, it seemed like the only parts of any prophecy that came true were the ones nobody really wanted to hear.”
“The darkest parts, yes?” Yadje nodded slowly, pulling her daughter closer with an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Drow are not well-known for their altruism, yes? Or heroism. But something about you…” The troll woman’s smile bloomed again. “Something about you makes it seem possible. That this might be it. A drow halfling breaking the cycle of her kind to help heal the rift.”
“The cycle of my kind?” Cheyenne readjusted the leather case under her arm. New cycle of ascendance. That’s what he said. “To be honest, I don’t know enough about my kind to break any cycle, and there’s not a lot of literature floating around for me to brush up on my drow history.”
The trolls just gave her thin, sympathetic smiles.
“So, who wears the O’gúl Crown now?”
“I hate her,” Bryl mumbled.
“Careful, my love.” Her mother pulled her a little closer.
Cheyenne nodded at the girl. “Because she’s the reason you guys had to make the crossing, right?”
Bryl nodded slowly. “She doesn’t—”
“We left that behind when we chose a life here,” R’mahr interrupted, sliding his arm around his wife’s shoulders. The hope hadn’t left their eyes, but they looked a lot more disturbed than a minute ago. “It’s best not to talk about such things. Besides, all this chatter of prophecies is only speculation. Please forget we brought it up.”
Glancing at them, the halfling offered a tiny smile and didn’t push. No way am I forgetting that little nugget.
“Oh.” Yadje rummaged in her giant bag for her illusion ring and her husband’s bracelet. The moment the jewelry slipped on, two adult trolls became blond, blue-eyed humans with matching smiles. R’mahr muttered a quick word and flicked his fingers toward his daughter. Bryl’s illusion shimmered and took over. “I’ll hold that for you if you like.”
“Thanks.” Cheyenne handed over her basket of goodies, then pulled the Heart of Midnight out of her pocket to tie the chain around her neck again. In an instant, the vibrating rush of her drow magic disappeared, snuffed out like a candle under an overturned jar. Worse than holding back a sneeze. The pale, black-haired Goth chick shrugged. “Gotta do what you gotta do, right?”
“It’s the only way to keep going.” Yadje returned the basket and ran a hand over the top of Bryl’s blonde head. “Whatever you have to do, Cheyenne, I believe you’ll succeed.”
“You know, I’m lucky enough to not have had a shortage of that sentiment in my life.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose and smiled at the troll girl. “Still feels good to hear it.”
The elevator came to a clunky, thudding halt, and the doors opened. The magicals disguised as humans and the halfling stepped out of the elevator. Tony stood behind his counter and watched them expressionlessly.
“Have a good one, Tony.” Cheyenne waved as she passed.
“Not likely.” Tony scooped a massive spoonful of bright-pink Fro-Yo up to his mouth and shoveled it all in.
Once they’d stepped outside into the sunny afternoon, R’mahr turned and extended his hand toward the halfling. “An excellent afternoon together, Cheyenne.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She took his hand and chuckled. “Thanks for all the help.”
“We did very little. But you’re welcome.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” Yadje rummaged in her purse again and pulled out a small brown glass jar with an unrecognizable symbol scratched on the lid in pencil. “R’mahr said you were looking for healing salves and whatnot. Take this.”
“Wow. I don’t need the whole thing—”
“I just made a new batch at home.”
Bryl wrinkled her nose. “She keeps them in my room.”
“Well, that’s because your room gets the best sunlight, doesn’t it?” The troll woman blinked at the halfling and gestured at the jar she’d nestled into Cheyenne’s basket. “Don’t eat it, but it works very well with most non-life-threatening wounds.”
“Anything less than a knife wound, pretty much.”
Yadje jabbed her husband in the ribs and glanced quickly at their daughter. “What are you doing talking about knife wounds? When is that a part of daily conversation?”
“It’s just an
