Milo - First Meeting (Patreon)

The flames stretched high into the night, bonfires and torches dotting the beach to stave off the shadows.  Milo walked among them, maneuvering between the walls of heat, eyes cast down towards the ocean waves.  The cages were stacked high tonight, filled with more people than he had seen in a while. He recognized most of them. People that he had danced with in the taverns. Ones he had worked with for a time.  It was easy to tell the newcomers apart from the people who had been here before. Repeat offenders trapped within those bars looked bored. Either because they were planning to escape or because they already had someone lined up to buy their bail. The newcomers, however, they had a stench of fear around them. It was the kind that made the crowd rabid. They became hungry for it, heckling the prisoners as they sat in old wing back chairs, sipping their wine and enjoying their night.

Except for one.

There was one cage that only a few passed by.  The one at the end of the row, nearest to the cave system and at the edge of water. The light didn’t really reach them.  Somehow, it made most circumvent the individual all together. Or maybe something was pulsing through the beach, keeping most away.

Taking a drink of his ale, he tipped his head, looking at the individual within the bars. It was a joke. It had to be a joke of some kind.

The sky had torn open with a bloody rip against his side.  The pain had pulsed through him and the rest of the market as a silent scream rolled through the alleys to reach him.  Milo had expected it. Had been ready for it. What he was not ready for, was the fact that a person was dragged towards the cells. That the Velvet Guard apprehended someone.  When Milo had rushed towards the alley, he expected to find a glowing orb. A broken portion of a lantern.

A rock.

Instead, there was a fully formed person being dragged away, a cowl over their head as they breathed heavily with confusion.

Milo had stood there for a few minutes before going towards the tear, picking up every pebble and stray bit of alley wall. He held the debris in his hand, willing it to be the piece of the market he brought forth.  Because that’s what was supposed to happen. A piece. Just a piece. Something he could keep close, let gather power, and then destroy in order to patch up the sky.  But everything felt flat in his hands. No spark. No trace of magic. Just dust and concrete and mortar.

So Milo went to the beach. Because the only thing he could think of was to go find the one that had been dragged away.  They had to have stolen the piece of the market he needed. They probably had the fucking rock in their pocket.

He watched as they reached through the bars, feeling against the cogs for the lock.  He snorted a bit into his beer as he watched them fumble.  “Holy fuck,” he whispered. They acted as if no one could see them.  They were leaned halfway out of the cage in what they thought was some sort of inconspicuous manner when in reality, it was clear what they were trying to do. Yet, the guards didn’t seem to notice. No one seemed to notice.

Milo looked at them incredulously. “Oh, darlin’,” he whispered. “Come on,” he urged, cheering on the blatant display of rebellion. “Almost there. You got it.” He hissed in sympathy as they flinched, stumbling back as someone passed them.  Losing their confidence momentarily as they stared around the beach in confusion.  Far too much confusion for a Night Market resident.

Downing the rest of his drink, Milo approached. They were a thief. Someone that might be working against him.  Someone had caught a whiff of who he was and what he was doing and they had been there to intervene.  He was just going to go up there. Get that rock and… and they were trying to break out again.

Planting his feet in the sand, he stood right by the cage, leaning against it. “Bold.” They jumped, having not noticed his approach. Okay, maybe not a thief then.  “Breaking out while dozens of people mill about. Not to mention the set of plain clothed guards that are watching you as we speak.”

They looked at him with wide eyes and for a moment, Milo thought he saw the glint of light within them. It was nothing more than a reflection of the flames beyond.

“Didn’t notice them, did you,” he commented, continuing to talk as he looked them over. They had no pockets. There was no way they could have hid something from him. The guard would have patted them down. Confiscated their items. Milo had checked the log though for Prisoner 47b and there was nothing that was on their person.  Maybe whatever it was, was just that small.

“Can you help me get out of here?”

And they spoke. They spoke in a way that curled against him, tugging right beneath his belly button. Milo gripped the cage to keep from tipping forward towards the voice.

What the fuck?

“How’d you wind up here, darlin?”

Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Who the fuck are you?

“Wrong place at the wrong time.”

Milo felt his body vibrate. There was that tug again. The one that sang. It was the same tug he felt when a gate was about to open. The kind of tug he felt when he was lying in pain, screaming into the night and that soothing embrace of the lantern filled sky descended on him to hold him until he calmed.

It was the same tug that he had felt each time he had tried and failed to save the Night Market.

What. The. Fuck.

Oh, he was going to get them out of here. Whether it was him to break the lock or them, he was going to get them out of here. Because they had what he needed. They had to have what he needed. But it was a game. The dance of the market.  Someone who was sussing out the Gatekeeper.

Milo may have been a paranoid fucker.

Or, perhaps he already knew and just couldn’t fathom what that would mean.

Later, as they fled through the tunnels, as they ducked through the guard and into the escape route he had used most of his life, Milo looked at them. Their eyes glowed. He could see it. Twin points of light deep within their gaze.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Milo’s heart dropped.  If they were real, if they were a person, this was not what he had intended to call forward. There had to be a catch. There was something on them. Something they were going to produce. Milo was aware that magic never went the way one expected but the discrepancy of thinking he was going to get a rock, and instead getting, this, was a little too wild. Even for him.

“You– shit. You really don’t know who you are. You just walked down this tunnel with a stranger, hoping I wouldn’t leave you down here to die?”

What the hell was wrong with them? Milo’s heart beat wildly in his chest as he thought about it. No. No no no. They were going to produce whatever he needed. Whoever this person was, they were an innocent bystander. Someone the market had chosen to lead him to the last component of the spell. His dousing rods, if you will. Because the market was not this cruel.  He had called on it for help. Delved into dark magic to talk to the market itself. There was no way the market sent a sentient version of them, for him to kill.  It was cruel and unnecessary and when he looked around the world, he didn’t think that was who the market wanted to me.

No, this person would produce what he needed. They would find it. Milo just had to stick by their side. Make sure this person wasn’t going to get caught up in the fucked up crossfire that was this spell and the market's dark sense of humor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Because he was. This person was innocent. They weren’t meant to get caught up in this game.

As he led them out of the tunnels and towards the market, Milo tried to gather himself in the dark, listening to their footsteps behind him. Poor thing. They didn’t even know what they had gotten themselves into. And fuck the market for bestowing this upon someone so naive.  Milo shook his head. He’d protect them. Or at the very least, keep them out of harms way.  Then, when he found his rock, he’d get them to safety.