"Yes."

"Thank you."

He shrugs.

Kastimund considers several things he could say. 'I find being known to the point where you could make a perfect entry for me in the book to be invasive and I have little boundary left that I can even enforce anymore,' or 'You're just going to die anyway and it won't even matter,' or 'I don't sincerely believe anything would help anymore,' or 'Thank you for at least respecting me as a person instead of just ignoring my preferences like most creators.' But he doesn't have to justify himself. He doesn't want to justify himself.

Back to silence.

It's going to be a quiet flight, apparently.

The hours slip by. The sun descends along the edge between Fire and Air, casting a lengthening shadow in front of the swoop. Riale pours memory after memory into the book, filling its pages with things he's seen in his life.

Neat. Kastimund will just leave him to it this time.

He looks at the scenery, at the sun descending from the sky, and he writes. Inscrutably.

As they get closer to Dawnbrook, the architecture starts to become more visible. There's a lot of glass. Every building tall enough to see at this distance has huge windows, often colourful, many depicting scenes of rising suns or clouded skies.

"Ah," says Kastimund, when they're within proper view of the place. "Yes, that is where Ranelin would be."

"Thought so."

"Let's hope your other hunches are as correct."

"We'll see."

"That we will."

He considers the city.

"I believe I'll need to be on the ground to find Ranelin. The view from the sky is dazzling, but the angle's wrong. Ranelin would be looking up at the world, not down upon it."

"All right. I'll find us a place to land."

They're really getting close now. Riale has to slow down a little to search for a good landing spot. Eventually he finds one - there's two swoops tethered there already. Down they go.

Kastimund considers the position of the sun, and how much daylight they have remaining.

"This will be next to impossible in the dark. It'd be easiest at dawn, but we might still have enough time to set a record for waking up the littlest spirit. I don't recall ever managing it on the first day." It's the sort of challenge that he would find fun, if he could find things fun anymore. As it is now, it's just an interesting intellectual exercise. But he's smiling anyway without quite meaning to.

"Sounds like fun," says Riale.

He takes the imperial seal out of his pocket and extracts it from its paper package and puts it on. A bronze cylinder on a steel chain, with the radiant-world-in-silhouette symbol on one end, glittering faintly with magic.

When they land, a tall man wearing a lot of red silk comes out onto the rooftop landing pad to greet them. He seems surprised to see the swoop, much more surprised to see the pilot, and still has some surprise left over to spend when he sees the seal around Riale's neck.

"Welcome to Dawnbrook, ah...?"

"Riale Kazegann. Urgent Imperial business," he says, tapping the seal; its faint glitter brightens to a silver-white glow, then fades as he takes his hand away. "Staying at least one night, maybe more. I assume you have room?"

"Yes, of course. Right this way, my lord."

"I'll come back when I've finished my errands for the day. For now, I just need you to give me a map of the city and show me to the street."

While Riale talks to the tall man, Kastimund floats up into the air to map out possible locations for finding Ranelin. He hums thoughtfully, imagines how the light would filter through the windows at dawn, and narrows down several likely candidates.

"This way," he says, floating to ground level and towards the appropriate direction. He waits for Riale to follow, but not very patiently.

Riale goes that way. Kastimund need not fear him dawdling.

Excellent, they are fighting the clock, and also Kastimund has a challenge to accomplish and he'd be annoyed with Riale if he got in the way of completing that. It's convenient that he's not.

He lands and walks briskly and without a care for the various people on the streets. Several walk through him. He doesn't seem to mind, or even notice. His eyes are towards the sky and the buildings, watching for the light and how it scatters through the glass, and calculating how it would change throughout the day. He stops if Riale seems like he'll fall behind, but otherwise, doesn't slow down. Riale is led to some of the largest, most impressive landmarks first, but Kastimund doesn't lead him inside any of them. In fact, after a quick survey of the streets around them, he makes a disappointed humming sound, and immediately leads away from it. They keep away from the main streets soon enough, through crowded alleyways and forgotten side streets. There's a pattern to the places Kastimund searches - small, overlooked places that get little traffic but are bathed in light from nearby wonders.

After winding through what must be half of the alleys in the city, as the light from the sun begins to redden with the hues of sunset, Kastimund stops. The overgrown courtyard he stops in is badly sized and awkwardly placed, a long ways away from any street that could be called a major one, and found through a confusing network of cramped, darkened alleyways. Still, the place itself is striking. Even as the sun sinks in the sky, light streams down at just the right angle through several nearby buildings, casting dappled multicolored rays throughout the little forgotten garden. The noise of the city is distant, hushed but not absent.

"Here," says Kastimund, with absolute certainty. "This is where the little firefly sleeps."

He looks quite pleased with himself.

Kastimund never has to spare a single moment to wait for Riale.

Their journey through the city is fascinating. He's been to Dawnbrook once or twice before, touring the empire, but he's never seen it from quite this perspective. The way Kastimund looks for his friend, the things he turns toward, turns away from... Riale has no idea what Ranelin even looks like, besides small and bright and blind, but just from watching Kastimund's search, he feels like he knows enough to start a page in the book already.

He doesn't say so. All he says, when Kastimund finds the place at last, is: "Nicely done."

"No trouble at all," he assures. "Now, if you will please keep quiet and watch me work."

He steps into the center of the courtyard, clearing his throat theatrically.

"Ranelin!" he calls, his voice echoing through the small space. He barely raised his voice, but it cuts through the quiet with clarity and distinction. "Little light that outshines every sun. You've slept too long, dearest firefly. Three thousand years is too long for the brightest jewel to hide! Come, join us, illuminate this newest world with your shining heart. Help us create a greater world than this. Wake up."

For a moment there isn't a sound but the lingering echoes of Kastimund's voice. The courtyard is quiet and still, and empty of everyone but Riale and Kastimund.

And then a small, shining spark of light coalesces in the air into a tiny form, not more than nine inches tall. The light that the figure gives off burns white, and then fades. Revealed is a slight creature dressed in a shimmering iridescent raiment that looks white until its wearer moves, and then hints of blue and green and yellow glitter in the fading sun. She - he? it's hard to tell, Ranelin lacks any distinguishing characteristics of either gender - turns, and looks towards the direction of the voice. Though 'looks' isn't the correct word to use - the shackle for the light spirit covers both eyes like a blindfold, a dark stain on the otherwise glittering spirit.

"Kastimund?" says Ranelin, smiling. "How - it's so early! And the world's so old - what year is it-?"

"3645, on the first day of the year." He smiles, and reaches out a hand, nudging his companion gently in the arm with a finger. "Welcome to the waking world, firefly."

"That's the oldest one yet! And you've found me so early! How did you even-?"

Ranelin takes hold of the offered hand, grinning.

"Ah-ah, Ranelin, you've missed the most important detail of all."

He gently leads the little spirit to his shoulder.

"What's that?"

And from the shoulder he gets a very tiny hug. Hug!