They walked in silence for a while, at an unhurried pace. Silas eyed the fine velvet and silk, behind the glass panes. They must have moved to an elite clothing street, if the styles behind the display were any indication. Silas looked at his own green gown, beneath the deep brown cloak. In the rush, he had palmed the curtain rope and tied it around his waist, anything to look a little less like a street beggar. He wrapped the cloak tighter around himself, hiding the green disaster inside. 

Lennox noticed. Of course he did.

Without a word, he veered sharply to the right, entering into one of the stores nearby.

‘What are you doing?’ Silas asked.

‘You need new clothes,’ Lennox replied flatly, eyes scanning the racks. The store manager and the attending ladies stood at attention while Lennox walked across the stop as if he owned it.

Silas started with a thick face, ‘I don’t need -  ’ 

‘Yes, you do.’ Lennox said in a tone that warranted no arguments. His eyes skimmed Silas from head to toe and he tsked.

Silas wanted to ‘tsk’ back but he silenced himself when he saw him picking a tunic off the rack—dark navy with silver thread at the cuff. 

He tossed it at Silas.  ‘This will fit.’ 

‘You didn’t even check the size.’

‘I know your size damn well.’ He muttered under his breath. 

Silas caught it reluctantly, fingers brushing the soft weave. It was easily the nicest thing he’d ever held. 

‘Why are you doing this?’

Lennox did not bother to reply. He turned to the store manager and threw him a bag of coins that Silas was sure would cover a lot more than just the tunic itself. He grabbed a pair of trousers and a scarf as he ducked behind the curtain.

When Silas stepped out, Lennox was nowhere in sight. He glanced around and found the staff still standing on ceremony, backs straight and expressions carved from stone. He must be around then, Silas shrugged.

He walked around the store a bit, his eyes widening in admiration at the fineries that lined the rack. Then, suddenly in his sidevision, he caught something glowing. Distracted, he walked toward it. 

It was a spell - casted by a Nimah no less. 

His eyes darted around the store, wondering if someone had noticed his alarm. Such spells could not be seen by the naked eye. For reasons Silas couldn’t explain, he could—and only Erie had ever noticed. Or cared to.

A hundred thoughts crossed his mind in that instant. Had Erie been here? Was that why Lennox was missing? Had he caught him?!!

Erie had done what he had done but Silas still could not see the boy hurt. He must have his reasons. Erie was many things, Silas believed, but not evil. 

Silas moved further closer to the glowing words. It was a simple spell, used to relay messages. Silas touched it and a silent whisper suddenly overwhelmed all his other thoughts.

‘Run back to the Inn, Silas. They will take you home. I am leading Lennox away.  Spell Weavers are waiting for him. This is how it had to go. I knew he wouldn’t harm you—not truly. Still, I never meant for you to be caught in the middle.

Forgive me.

I am still sorry - Yours Erie’

And Silas ran. 

He ran again, but not to the safety of his home. 

He ran like a moth to the ember.