ã€ŠDeals With Deities: A Beginner&#x27;s Guideã€‹


 Prologue: Marks

    They say the western edge of Luradia was settled at the end of a pistol. Others say our peace treaty with the Elemancers is what did it. Still more say people were tired. Tired of bloodshed, tired of war, and tired of fear. I disagree though. I know without a doubt the west was settled when the gods decided to intervene, when they created the Deified.

    Let me explain.

    Marks of the gods started to appear on people during the war. Due to their ¡°godly¡± source the people who are graced with a mark, are deemed ¡°the Deified¡±. Some choose to use their marks right away, but others choose to save them for the day they might need a miracle. The Defied are viewed as chosen, higher, and more important than the rest. The gods have graced them with a wish after all.

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    The most important lesson you will learn from me is this. Marks are spells. They grant a one-time access to magic a piece, giving god-like power.

    And they mean not a damn thing about the person who gets one.

    Take me for example. I have twelve marks right now and I¡¯m not a good person. Not at all. I¡¯ve only used one mark in my life, and so help me by whatever god is here to listen, I¡¯ll never use one again.

 Lesson One: Deified Are Terrifying

    ¡°Awe, what¡¯s the matter, Sweet? Don¡¯t feel like sharing?¡± the simpering voice asked.

    I slowly released Lady Beaufoutonte¡¯s wrist one finger at a time. She had reached for my snifter of bourbon seconds before I stopped her. If there¡¯s one thing I hate, its someone thinking they have a right to my hard-earned booze.

    The corner of my lips quirked upward as she rolled her wrist disdainfully. She checked her white glove for dirt from my stained fingers, saw it was clean, and chanced a glance around the tavern. I did my own assessment as well.

    The Swooning Sparrow was busy for a Thursday afternoon, but I liked it better that way. People didn¡¯t care about a lone sharpshooter, like me, minding her own business at the bar when the place was crowded. With my black hair tied loosely back, and tan duster coat over my shoulders, I blended in well. Nobody bothered me. That is, everyone was happy to ignore me except the woman standing to my left who was more satisfied to take my drink rather than wait for her own. I inhaled the scent of the bourbon, the earthy note of oak in the liquid, and sighed before looking back at her.

    ¡°Trust me Myra--¡±

    ¡°Lady Beaufoutonte is the name, sugar,¡± she interrupted, brushing a nonexistent hair out of her eyes. I tipped my chin down, looking at her through the tops of my violet eyes.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that you got to use that title before your mother was six feet under,¡± I replied, pausing in thought as I tried to recall high-society rules, but how little I cared kept me from remembering them. Distracted, I saw Myra had attracted some attention from a large group of people. They looked at her with undue interest. I knew they looked familiar, which was bad news. I usually only recognized criminals.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you, Mother went from ¡®Lady¡¯ to ¡®Matron¡¯ Beaufoutonte after I came out.¡±

    I shook my head, trying to remember what we were talking about.

    ¡°Let me get this straight, after you were put on the marriage market, your mother has to go around with a title that does nothing but remind her of how old she is? Doesn¡¯t seem fair to me.¡±

    I raised a brow at her, brushing actual hair out of my eyes, and looked her up and down. Myra wore a butter-yellow gown with white-laced bows artfully drawn up to the side and a flawless high neckline. It seemed to highlight her crystal-blue eyes. Her auburn hair was curled and pinned atop her head apart from a few long and curled locks sweeping forward over her shoulder.

    ¡°Little Miss Myra, the Beaufoutonte heir. Fate help us all,¡± I uttered.

    ¡°I just told you, it¡¯s Lady--¡±

    ¡°MyraBelle, we¡¯ve known each other since we were children. A fancy title and grown-up girl body doesn¡¯t change that,¡± I said calmly. Her lace-gloved fingers tightened on her parasol. I clenched my jaw as I saw a man in the large group elbow a woman with scars over her eyes, their gazes still on Myra. I knew I recognized that woman, but Myra kept talking. She still didn''t notice the attention she was drawing.

    ¡°I see your drink hasn¡¯t done anything to improve that attitude of yours,¡± Myra muttered stiffly, ¡°After standing me up for your welcome luncheon, one would think you would be willing to share just a little sip.¡±

    I peeled my eyes away from the woman with scars.

    ¡°Oh no! Was that today?¡± I asked with unconvincing distress. Myra gave me a look that would wilt most flowers.

    ¡°It was two hours ago,¡± she said, crossing her arms.

    ¡°Really? I thought it was three. My mistake,¡± I replied dryly, and a muscle feathered in her jaw. I couldn''t help but smile, because I knew her thoughts were anything but that of a delicate society maiden. I took another pull on the snifter, this time emptying it.

    I flagged Zachariah, the barkeep, down. He paused from polishing his glass and immediately prepared a refill for me. His sleeves were pushed up on his muscular arms. His shaggy red hair tied loosely at the back of his head. He had broken up more than a few fights in this establishment. His strong hands were sure as they handled the heavy bottle of bourbon. Myra eyed the amber liquid filling my glass, her eyes calculating. I placed a coin on the bar, which Zachariah swept up.

    Myra¡¯s hand started to lift toward me again.

    ¡°Touch my glass, and your daddy¡¯s gonna have to buy you a new dress,¡± I said, adding a growl to my voice. Myra considered me, then redirected her hand to flag Zachariah.

    ¡°Oh and one for me too, good sir,¡± Myra said to Zachariah. He quirked a brow, smiled, and nodded. His green eyes seemed to laugh as he reached again for the bottle. I leaned back in the stool to stretch before settling my elbows forward on the bar. The liquor was doing its work, warming my bones. I tried looking for the woman with scars again, but the group must have moved away from the door.

    It was a cold day in the Settled West, the name for the progressively growing territories the Elemancers had surrendered to humanity in the treaty. Winter came fast in this landscape and once it decided to come, it did so mercilessly. The door of the tavern did little to keep the chill away, which is why Zachariah spared no expense for firewood in the wide heart at the back of the main room.

    I glanced back at Myra from under my hat.

    ¡°I thought you high-class ladies weren¡¯t supposed to have strong liquor,¡± I said, swirling the glass again. Myra shrugged a lovely shoulder.

    ¡°Your word against mine,¡± she replied as Zachariah set her drink down in front of her. She pulled a coin from a hand purse and placed it on the bar.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be when you¡¯re stumbling drunk all over town.¡± I countered, and Myra lifted a hand to her lips in surprise.

    ¡°Now you listen here Miss Rowena. You should learn ladies are never drunk. Ladies become indisposed,¡± she corrected. I shook my head and adjusted my duster jacket.

    ¡°I hope to heaven I never condescend to care about what word I use for tap-hackled,¡± I said as I searched for a better topic of conversation.

    ¡°How go the preparations for the engagement party?¡± I asked. I knew as far as distraction tactics were, this was an effective one. Myra laughed lightly and sipped her bourbon.

    ¡°Better now. Especially since I finally found my maid of honor,¡± she replied with a sidelong look at me, ¡°The Matron says we are to get fitted for our dresses tonight,¡± she explained.

    I sighed, looking heavenward, and nodded. I didn¡¯t dislike dresses, but the current fashion made my job so much harder, and I avoided it on principle. It was also the thought of talking to Myra¡¯s mother that had me on edge. Just then, though, I saw a flash of blonde hair.

    Sure enough, it was the woman with scars with her group again. She had pushed up her sleeves and I caught sight of a brand. I scowled as a chill went up my spine, because I recognized that brand she and all the others in her group wore. It was the figure of a mountain cat burned right into the skin.

    Motherfucker. The Pumas.

    Let me be clear. Zachariah ran a decent tavern, but it didn¡¯t stop the scum of society from frequenting it. This was not a place where you wanted to catch attention. Unless you were an evening performer. You came, you bought your booze, and you left. End of story.

    I caught their eyes and pulled my duster back to reveal one of my holstered pistols and settled my palm on the polished thunderwood handle. The blonde with scars on her face gave me a calculating look. She stretched muscular arms over her head and I saw other scars peppering her skin. None were more impressive, though, than those over her eyes. It looked like someone had once tried to cut her eyes out, two scars making an ¡°x¡± across each one. However the cuts weren''t deep enough, limited to her brow and cheek. After a long moment, she murmured something to the rest of the group, and they turned away.

    Myra brushed dirt off her skirts.

    ¡°Honestly, you frequent such dirty taverns. Would it kill them to use a broom every season or so?¡± she asked. Zachariah looked up from polishing his glass again and peered at the dirty floor, his brow furrowed.

    I made to reply but the room seemed to fade as my attention was drawn past Zachariah. Myra was talking again, but I didn¡¯t hear her.

    The Pumas were back. The blonde and the others had slowly meandered to a table by the hearth, and they were looking Myra¡¯s way again. They were trying to be more subtle about it now, but I still saw them constantly gazing her way. Their expressions were like that of a rancher at a cattle auction.

    I met the scarred woman¡¯s eyes again, my gaze anything but friendly. Slowly, her lips pulled upward into a smirk. Something about her in particular seemed oddly¡­familiar. Dammit, I knew I had seen her before, but I couldn¡¯t place it.

    Chuckling, she whispered something to the Puma next to her and walked to the other end of the bar. My eyes tracked her the whole way before I glanced back at the table. All the other Pumas were staring straight at me.

    Well shit.

    I¡¯m told female bridal parties in the Three Seas region were more accessories to adore the bride. They were there just to make her look better and serve her every whim. But that¡¯s not what my job was. Not at all. This maid of honor was a bodyguard. I was a bounty hunter by trade and a damned good sharpshooter by reputation. Myra¡¯s father knew I could shoot the wings off a fly and not kill it. He knew I specialized in the most heinous bounties. That was why he hired me. And right now, I was itching for a fight.

    Deep inside my soul, a dark current purred with delight.

    What are you waiting for then, Rowena? It will be so easy to paint the floor with their blood. Come on, its been such a long time. Feed it. Feed your power...

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    No. I''m in control. Fuck off, I growled inwardly at the thought, even as my hand itched for my pistols.

    "Back in a minute,¡± I said as I rose from my seat at the bar. Myra spluttered, but I didn¡¯t pay it any mind. I caught Zachariah¡¯s eye again and flecked my eyes toward her. He nodded and stepped closer, still polishing a glass.

    Remembering to buy Zachariah a drink later, I stared right at the group of Pumas. They met my glare with unapologetic stubbornness. I made my way toward them, adjusting my hat and running my finger along the rancher-style brim. I flecked my gaze at the bar, and swore colorfully as I saw the woman with scars was gone. Shifting my gaze back to the main group, I squared my shoulders.

    ¡°Nice day, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said conversationally as I approached. Now that I was closer, I took count of four men and three women. All looked road-worn and were armed to the teeth.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± one of them asked sharply, an unpleasant looking woman with mouse-brown hair and an unfortunate complexion.

    ¡°A question I was going to ask you,¡± I replied, ¡°You seem to be interested in the young lady over there-¡± I paused, leaning a bit closer, ¡°-and I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    I pushed my duster open again, settling my hands on my pistols. The woman slid her eyes to my pistols, then back to my face, unimpressed.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ you can do about it from where I¡¯m standing,¡± she said, leaning back in her chair. I chuckled inclining my head.

    ¡°First of all, you¡¯re sitting not standing,¡± I replied amiably as my fingers traced the triggers, ¡°And secondly, you got a name there hun?¡±

    ¡°Abig--¡°

    ¡°Actually it¡¯s okay. I remembered I don¡¯t give a damn. Nevermind,¡± I interrupted. She flushed red and some of the men rose to their feet. I saw one¡¯s hand drift toward his jacket.

    With a flourish I drew my pistols, twirling them on my fingers before the handles landed solidly in my palms.

    ¡°Now, then,¡± I said calmly, ¡°You¡¯re fixin¡¯ to let a nasty temper get you in a whole heap of trouble,¡± I glanced at one of the men at the back of the group. He wore a thick black beard and had a shining scar along his neck from ear to collar bone.

    ¡°You, sir, look familiar,¡± I said to him, and he flushed, his scar pulling tight along the muscles of his neck.

    ¡°Might be my mistake but you look pretty similar to a man on a poster I saw in Grimwater. Someone named Finn O¡¯Shaw, wanted for human trafficking,¡± I continued as I leveled my pistols more fully on him, ¡°Wanted dead or alive.¡±

    Now they were all on their feet, all hands on their pistols. O¡¯Shaw, to his credit, was the fastest to draw his weapons. One hand pulled out a single-action handgun while the other unsheathed a broadsword from behind his back. The firelight glinted off the blade as he held it in a defensive stance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re a mad bitch or a stupid bitch, but you picked the wrong fight,¡± he said, beard twitching upward.

    ¡°You gottah ask yourself one question there, sir,¡± I said, still calm, ¡°How many bodies will hit the floor before even one of you gets off a shot?¡±

    O¡¯Shaw laughed out loud now.

    ¡°You only got two shots to put us all out, Bitch¡± he said, but I just shrugged and lifted my pistols a bit higher.

    ¡°Oh, these pistols are a bit of a step up,¡± I said, lacing my fingers through the triggers, ¡°Do you want to be my first kill today?¡±

    ¡°It don¡¯t matter,¡± said the mousy woman again. She flipped a dagger in her hand and used the blade to pick her teeth. ¡°You should clear out and leave us to our business,¡± she flecked her eyes toward where Myra sat, ¡°Before this gets bloody.¡±

    ¡°Again, something I was about to say to you,¡± I said, not altering my aim. O¡¯Shaw narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°You really think you¡¯re gonna beat all of us?¡±

    ¡°Heh,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m very sure. You¡¯re out gunned.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean the pistols,¡± I corrected. He scoffed and spared a glance at his friends, who all looked amused.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see nobody else standing with you, lass,¡± O¡¯Shaw barked, and they all laughed at me. I joined them, throwing my head back as if he¡¯d told a world-class joke.

    ¡°Do you see these?¡± I asked, and tilted my head to the left, exposing my neck from under my bandanna.

    O¡¯Shaw, the mousy woman, and the whole rest of them went pale. All their faces flashed in recognition.

    ¡°Shit,¡± O¡¯Shaw muttered, and I stifled a laugh.

    There, on the lower part of my neck, were my marks. They sat neatly in a couple rows of six right along my collar bone. I could feel them pulling against my rising pulse. Being the country¡¯s best bounty hunter had its perks. Every criminal alive knew who I was by my marks.

    Taking down the most infamous gang boss this side of the Kenshi Ethereal Forest will do that.

    Many had come after me since then. The reasons varied from seeking revenge, being caught amidst their latest scheme, or just looking for prestige. They had come by the pair, the quad, or even the dozens to try to kill me. And I was still here.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± I asked facetiously, ¡°Where¡¯d all your bluster go?¡± I straightened my neck again and the marks became hidden under my bandanna.

    The tavern had gone deathly quiet by now. Everyone¡¯s attention was trained on us, but I kept still. O¡¯Shaw glanced around the crowd, clearly weighing his options, and a large part of me wanted him to try it. He glanced at the door like cornered prey. Then his eyes went back to mine, and his finger went to cock back the trigger.

    The tavern faded away.

    Faster than a blink, I raced forward three steps, and kicked the underside of the table, catching many of the Pumas off guard. It went skyward, and I took satisfaction as it smacked into O-Shaw¡¯s face, breaking his nose. The gun flew from his grip. I stepped into the mousy woman¡¯s attempt to stab me and jumped, putting a boot into the center of her chest. My other boot hit a larger man in the soft spot below his ribs. They both went crashing to the floor as people ran from our position.

    I vaguely registered people screaming as I landed nimbly. I looked up and saw one of the men hit by the table had recovered. I sprang forward and vaulted over the table toward him. He aimed at me, but I was moving too fast. I stepped into him and thrust an elbow under his chin, knocking him out cold. His body went limp and started to slump backwards into the flames of the hearth.

    That''s it! Let him burn! Send him to Death''s far shore, screaming as his skin turns to charcoal! Remember what you are!

    Flashes of blood, fire, and screams filled my head for a split second. My stomach turned cold.

    A dark current within me stoked with every hit, every jab, wanting more. It wanted-

    No, I thought, shoving the images away.

    I growled and caught his shirt, tucking my body under his dead weight. Using all my strength, I flipped him over my shoulder back toward where the rest of the Pumas laid. The man''s body collided with several of them, sending them back to the floor.

    O¡¯Shaw tried to stand but found himself staring down the barrel of one of my pistols. I trained the other on the rest of them.

    All went silent.

    For another moment I saw O¡¯Shaw tighten his fist on his sword, and I suppressed a groan of frustration. I really didn¡¯t want to fire my pistol in Zachariah¡¯s tavern if I had to, knowing he would be annoyed. Even now I felt his eyes boring into me and I could practically hear him say Rowena I just patched up the floor, and That was a new table.

    So, I changed my strategy.

    I cocked the triggers back, the clicks sounding alarmingly loud in the silence. As I did so, I let my heart rate quicken, and felt a scorching heat pulse from my neck to my face. O¡¯Shaw¡¯s attention snapped to me again, and he let out a sharp gasp.

    Radiant blue light trailed from the marks on my neck, along my veins, and to my eyes, lighting up the shadows on my face. My normal violet eyes became a scorching blue as the Marks began to burn. I felt them on my neck like someone was tracing a branding iron on my skin. I looked down at him, giving him the full benefit of my glare.

    ¡°Go on,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m more than happy to burn a mark today. I have plenty.¡±

    For a moment, they just stared at me with the familiar mixture of fear and hatred. Several tense moments passed before O¡¯Shaw and the rest of them raised their hands skyward.

    ¡°Glad we understand each other,¡± I said, motioning for them to stand.

    ¡°Just my luck to run into Rowena McAlister,¡± O¡¯Shaw said as he spat blood on the floor, his voice blunted around his broken nose. I chuckled as the light drained into my marks again.

    ¡°Just your luck to piss off the wrong bounty hunter.¡±

    I kept my pistols trained on the Pumas as Zachariah sent for Sherriff Stone. A few of the remaining patrons looked our way. Zachariah was on his feet again, and Myra¡¯s head appeared from behind the bar, her dress and hair disheveled and covered in dirt. I guessed Zachariah had pulled her behind the bar when the fight started. Myra kept sending him sidelong glazes, clearly less than grateful for her rescue.

    ¡°Back to your drinking, everyone. Nothing to see here but dirt,¡± I said, looking meaningfully at the Pumas. The mousy woman from before stirred at the insult, but I narrowed my gaze at her, my eyes flashing again. She settled down almost immediately.

    ¡°Outside. All of you,¡± I barked. Hands still in the air, the Pumas rose to their feet.

    *******

    Sherriff Stone was waiting for us as we walked out of the Swooning Sparrow. He stood there with some town guards, his graying hair shining in the sunlight. His mustache blended into a freshly shaved face, and his dark eyes took everything in with sharp focus.

    ¡°Well, what do we have here?¡± he asked in his deep baritone, eyes darting toward me. I shrugged.

    ¡°Taking out some garbage from my friend¡¯s tavern, sir. Can you dispose of them?¡± I replied and he nodded, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of room at the jailhouse, but we can make some,¡± he said. The guards, each clothed in polished leather armor branded with the sigil of a flame encased in ice, cuffed the Pumas in irons and worked loudly to load them into the jailhouse wagon.

    ¡°You know-¡± Stone said as he watched them, ¡°-I was mostly expecting to pick up a pile of corpses. What¡¯s the special occasion?¡±

    My veins turned to ice as I shrugged.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in the mood.¡±

    ¡°Three years almost to the day,¡± Stone said quietly, ¡°You disappeared on me. You back now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said as I swallowed.

    An awkward moment passed between us, but then Stone held his hand out to me, and we shook.

    ¡°How are you, Rowena?¡± he asked and I shrugged again.

    ¡°Still breathing Sherriff, still breathin¡¯. How goes being a public servant?¡± I asked and he brushed a hand over his face.

    ¡°The work never ends but it is satisfying,¡± he sighed, sounding a bit tired. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to arrest them for a while now for the disappearances of all those children from the Grimwater orphanage. How did you find them?¡±

    ¡°More of a happy accident,¡± I replied, watching a guard roughly shove a Puma into the wagon. The Puma tried to run, but the guards were on him in an instant, tackling him into the mud.

    ¡°You know they¡¯ve killed the past three bounty hunters with their numbers alone?¡± he asked as he locked the back of the wagon, the door shutting with a rusty clank. I let out a breath slowly.

    ¡°They gave me a bit of trouble, but in the end they decided to go without a shot being fired. The marks helped a bit,¡± I said turning back to Stone. He shook his head.

    ¡°A smart decision honestly. You and your like are terrifying,¡± he said somberly. I allowed myself one moment to clench my jaw. Stone looked at me and patted my shoulder.

    ¡°Still though, seven armed and dangerous bandits all give up without firing a single bullet? I¡¯m proud of you for solving it like that, Rowena,¡± he said. I nodded, still tense.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to replace the table I broke. It would have been easier to have just shot ¡®em,¡± I said thoughtfully, laughing. Stone patted my shoulder again but didn¡¯t laugh in return. Not so much as a chuckle. I looked up and saw he was avoiding my gaze.

    So, you haven¡¯t completely forgiven me then, I thought, Dammit. The silence stretched between us, and I felt the chill settling in through my duster despite the intense sunshine. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me.

    ¡°Listen Stone, are we--¡±

    ¡°How the hell did a tiny thing like you manage to intimidate that many thugs? Marks or no Marks,¡± he interrupted. I felt a prickle of irritation, though, I decided to answer him anyway. Stone had refused to talk to me about it since he released me from jailhouse custody. He kept not letting me apologize. It felt like a wedge between us.

    ¡°Cowards value their lives more than you think. When they think they¡¯re going to die,¡± I said evenly, ¡°They¡¯re not so tough.¡± Stone nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s like my old saying-¡± he said but I cut in.

    ¡°The weakest animal cries the loudest¡­¡± I trailed off, looking at him. The shadow of a smile ghosted his face. He continued the well-worn phrase.

    ¡°But they are the first to run--¡±

    ¡°--Back to the pack,¡± we finished together.

    ¡°I remember everything, sir,¡± I said. Stone let out a chuckle and looked to the sky.

    ¡°Are you claiming the bounty on them then?¡± he asked abruptly.

    ¡°Well, you may be a public servant sir, but not me,¡± I said, smirking. He tipped his hat to me and waved for me to follow him.

    ¡°Well, you know the way. Come collect it.¡±

    We walked around the back of the tavern where the sheriff¡¯s horse, Buck, stood next to a dark painted thoroughbred. The two horses were drinking water from the trough, unperturbed by the action inside the building. As we approached, the thoroughbred raised his head and looked my way, nickering softly.

    ¡°Hey there, Dusk. Let¡¯s get going, sir,¡± I said to him, brushing his nose. I swung up into my saddle and we were off.

 Lesson Two: Deified Donéˆ¥æª› Die

    The jailhouse was quieter than the tavern but smelled almost the same. The wood floor was stained with sweat, and gods knew what else. You could even smell a bit of booze from the drunks that spent the night here after one too many ales.

    Sheriff Stone¡¯s desk was tucked away in a small room with a window looking out on the cells and another one looking onto the street. He laid the bills of Brill of out one by one on the table until the amount for the bounty was counted. I pocketed the money and tipped my hat toward him.

    ¡°Thank you kindly, sir. Pleasure doin¡¯ business with you,¡± I said and turned to leave. Stone raised a hand to stop me.

    ¡°Hang on for a second Rowena, I¡¯ve been actually meaning to talk to you privately,¡± he said, rubbing his dark eyes in fatigue. I kept my feet pointed toward the door but raised a brow at him. He looked up at me for a second, opened his mouth and then gazed down at the desk again. He took another moment before he raised his head once more, looking uneasy.

    This should be good, I thought dryly.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have a bounty, and it involves the deified, but I want you to--¡± Stone began but I was already shaking my head.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t one of your guards, Sheriff and I don¡¯t do the deified any favors. You know that.¡±

    I pulled my hat more firmly over my brow as Stone¡¯s expression hardened.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re going to say to me after everything I¡¯ve done for you? After all the blind eyes I¡¯ve turned? You don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m going to ask,¡± he replied, standing up. He was a tall man and dwarfed me significantly.

    ¡°An easy favor wouldn¡¯t have all the buildup. This must be a tall order-¡± I said as I set my worn duster more evenly on my shoulders, ¡°-And I ain¡¯t serving. Besides it ruins the whole point of our relationship,¡± I finished.

    ¡°A relationship, that would be over were it not for certain allowances I make, little lady,¡± Stone growled.

    A moment passed in tense silence between us. I weighed my words, trying to pick the right ones for him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare pretend you don¡¯t benefit from our little arrangement. I do all your dirty work sheriff, so the ¡®public servant¡¯ keeps his record clean,¡± I said stiffly as I thought I won¡¯t get involved with the deified again on my dying breath.

    ¡°And I allow you to undermine the law when criminals threaten to crawl between the lines like worms in a dead body. I know that. I didn¡¯t sign up to clean your messes though,¡± he said, and I felt the guilt settle in.

    ¡°But I do it anyway. I¡¯ve kept my end of the bargain Rowena. I just thought you might take a moment care for someone other than yourself,¡± he replied, his voice deep and weighted. Each word he said hit the air between us like a stone in calm water. My mind told my feet to walk away, but they felt like boulders on the wood floor.

    ¡°I knew there was a catch when you stuck your neck out for me in Grimwater. You knew you were going to ask this of me, didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked, getting angrier with each word. Stone took a breath, let it out and looked at me with heavy eyes.

    ¡°Did you forget whose pistols you carry? If she had asked you to do it--¡± he said but stopped at my glare. I saw the instant regret on his face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare use her to manipulate me sheriff,¡± I said, my tone sounding like lit gun powder. Stone held up his hands in surrender.

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    ¡°Alright, but consider this. You¡¯ve always walked the line of the law Rowena. I¡¯ve seen your type come and go, and I know for a fact they leave this world one of two ways,¡± he paused, his eyes going distant, ¡°Carried by six, or on the end of a rope after being judged by twelve,¡± he said. He looked at me, not with the eyes of a sheriff, but that of my mentor.

    ¡°And I don¡¯t want to see that happen to you. Believe it or not, I care about you, little lady. Or maybe I¡¯m getting sentimental in my old age, I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, shaking his head.

    My hand was on the door, but my feet remained rooted to the spot. I kept my eyes trained on the scarred wood.

    ¡°Walking the line is where I belong,¡± I said quietly, and Stone shook his head.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t true. Sooner or later, you have to choose a side of the law Rowena. You can¡¯t walk the line forever,¡± he said. I glanced back over my shoulder at him.

    ¡°Sheriff, you of all people should know the law is like one of those balance beams. Lean too much to one side, and you¡¯re going to fall,¡± I said. Stone sighed and shook his head at me again.

    ¡°The deified are dying. They are being murdered, Rowena,¡± he said making me spin on my heel, ¡°That¡¯s the short end of it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± I said, ¡°They can¡¯t. The mark protects them from murderous situations, but--¡±

    ¡°But they lose the mark afterward. Yes, I know that much about marks. But all I can tell you is for the past year, Deified are turning up dead, marks still intact on their skin,¡± Stone said. I stared at him incredulously, but he met my eyes. He was serious.

    ¡°So, I need an expert on marks, who also may be acquainted with a higher-level criminal capable of pulling it off. I¡¯ve tried tracking the murderer down, but I can¡¯t. I need someone more connected somehow. Like it or not, you¡¯re the only one I know who fits that bill.¡±

    My hand made a fist, then relaxed. I let it fall to my side and turned to Stone fully, so he could see the full extent of my impassive stare.

    ¡°So what if they¡¯re dying? The world is getting overcrowded. Those rich pieces of--¡±

    ¡°Those people were chosen by the gods for a reason. They whole world knows that,¡± Stone interrupted. He groaned impatiently and scowled at me. I hated it when he did this, because it reduced me from the badass bounty hunter I knew I was, to the immature little girl I also knew I was.

    ¡°Moreso, Rowena, they are people,¡± Stone continued, waving a hand in the air, ¡°Now I know you hate the deified. All deified. It¡¯s no secret that includes yourself-¡±

    I narrowed my eyes at him, and he paused abruptly. I clenched my jaw, the marks on my neck seeming to burn. I reached up to my rancher-style hat and ran my hand along the brim. I took an extra second to feel a burn hole near the left and front side. Stone met my eye again but softened his tone.

    ¡°When did you stop caring about people in general, Rowena?¡± Stone asked, voice low enough so I had to strain to hear it.

    ¡°I have never stopped caring about good people,¡± I scoffed, offended, pulling my hat further over my brow. I turned away from him as the flush in my face continued to build.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you though? Whenever I see a crime scene involving you, the collateral damage gets more and more intense. Do I need to remind you that in Grimwater we could have built a wall around the town with all the bodies you made?¡± Stone said in response, his tone sharp again.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t entirely my fault, Stone,¡± I said, though I could hear the petulance in my voice. Stone raised his brows at me but didn¡¯t argue the point. He didn¡¯t need to. I let out a shaky sigh.

    ¡°The one time-¡± I began but paused because I could feel the heat behind my eyes, the burning in my nose of tears I refused to shed. I pulled in a steadying breath before continuing, ¡°The one time I got involved with the deified it cost me everything. Why should I do it again?¡± I asked, my voice thick. My gaze dropped to the tortured wood, and I felt Stone¡¯s hand settle on my shoulder, his heavy steps echoing in the office.

    ¡°Stop trying to revenge yourself on something you can¡¯t punch Rowena,¡± Stone¡¯s other hand settled on my other shoulder, ¡°Maybe try to start living for the good of other people. It¡¯s what she would have wanted.¡±

    I twisted my shoulders from his grasp. Pressure built insistently behind my eyes still. It was too much, and I couldn¡¯t think straight. He had never been this insistent before. My mind felt muddled, like trying to see through a fog.

    The dying deified.

    The good of other people.

    What she would have-

    I clenched my jaw again and wrenched the door open.

    ¡°I told you before. I¡¯m not a guard and I¡¯m not interested. Let me know when you have another bounty for me.¡±

    ¡°Rowena-¡±

    The door slammed behind me.

 Lesson Three: Always Say No to a Corset

    Dusk trotted along at an even pace, letting me think. His dark gray coat and black mane caught occasional rays of sun, his powerful muscles rolling beneath his skin. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on lessening the pressure in my head.

    ¡°Dammit Stone,¡± I muttered. I couldn¡¯t shake the mixture of anger and guilt conversations like this caused. He knew what bringing her up did to me, which was probably why he hadn¡¯t done it in years.

    I lifted my gaze heavenward, the sky glowing with beams of light from the sun on the farther half of the sky.

    ¡°I gave you my word, and I¡¯m going to keep it,¡± I whispered to the shifting air. The sky seemed so large and open. The gentle rocking of Dusk¡¯s flank paired with the sound of his horseshoes clacking against the stones soothed my frayed nerves. I reached down and patted his shoulder.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good boy, Dusk,¡± I said, and he nickered softly in reply. I leaned forward on him, seeking the warmth from his neck. It was cold and getting colder by the minute as the sun crept toward the horizon. As usual, I preferred to turn my mind off and let Dusk take me home.

    And as usual that was promptly interrupted.

    ¡°What, so you were just going to leave me at the tavern?¡± A voice came from a single-person buggy. I looked to my side and Myra sat there, hair slightly ruffled. A harassed-looking Zachariah rode behind her on his horse, a white mare he had named Wind.

    ¡°That¡¯s very rude Miss Rowena,¡± Myra went on stiffly. I met eyes with Zachariah over her shoulder before settling my gaze back forward.

    ¡°Well, howdy there Myra. I must say seeing you twice in one day is a fitting way to continue this fine evening,¡± I said, dry as desert air. The sarcasm was not missed by Myra, who narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re about to see me three times. As my maid of honor, we still have to get fitted for our dresses with Mother tonight,¡± she said.

    ¡°And the good news just keeps comin!¡± I groaned, whatever calm I had gotten from the ride steaming away like a railway engine. Myra¡¯s complexion turned pink in the late afternoon light.

    ¡°And I already told you, you¡¯re supposed to call me Lady Beaufoutonte!¡± she said, jabbing her parasol into the bottom of the buggy with each syllable like she wished my face were there.

    ¡°And I already told you, not a chance on this Earth am I going to call you that title,¡± I said calmly as I patted Dusk again. He picked up some speed and we started to pull away from Myra¡¯s buggy.

    Myra cracked her reins and the buggy pulled even with us again.

    ¡°Why is it so much to ask for you to just treat me like an adult?¡± Myra asked. She was twisted in her seat awkwardly and had both hands on her hips. Several fire-colored hairs hung in her face, and she took a moment to blow them away.

    ¡°When you act like one I¡¯ll treat you like one. Besides, I still remember the days you used mud to draw Elemancer tattoos on your face,¡± I replied, making Myra turned a darker shade of pink. She inhaled as if readying to mount another attack, but I cut her off.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I plan to go out of my way to have us interact as little as possible, Myra.¡±

    ¡°Well believe me, this is about as good of a time for me as it is for you,¡± she quipped back and then muttered, ¡°How you and Levi are related by blood is a mystery to me.¡±

    I have a feeling most things are a mystery to you, I thought.

    I started to open my mouth to say exactly that but then settled into the saddle more comfortably.

    ¡°Too easy,¡± I muttered, and I saw Zachariah smirk. I looked back at him more fully and he shot me a questioning look.

    ¡°Is Thumper watching the Sparrow for you?¡± I asked him and he nodded. I nodded in return, knowing Zachariah would want to get back as soon as possible. Thumper was a good bartender, but tended to attract trouble. Many nights he ran the tavern ended in broken stools and tables.

    ¡°You can probably go on back Zachariah. I got it from here,¡± I said. He hesitated, then shook his head. His emerald eyes were catlike under his fiery red locks.

    ¡°I have to confirm the wine and ale orders for the engagement party anyway,¡± he said quietly, his voice cracked from disuse. Zachariah used words like each one cost a pound of gold. Some people even thought he was mute. I looked at him skeptically.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just have Thumper do that?¡± I asked.

    Zachariah looked at Myra¡¯s stiff posture and winced. He shrugged as if to say I have nothing better to do and kept pace behind her. I shot him a grateful look at his willingness to stay. He surprised me by kicking his horse to more speed and pulled up on my other side.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked him, seeing his tense expression. He swallowed, and checked our surroundings and I did the same. I saw only fields of late fall crops, flat lands leading to the mountains, and the main town we had left behind. A tumbleweed blew in the distance.

    Satisfied, he clenched his jaw and met my gaze.

    ¡°Be careful. There was a strange woman who left the bar after you. She was the Puma with scars,¡± he said quietly so only I could hear. I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck at his meaning. I reached out and clapped his shoulder and he did the same to me.

    Myra cleared her throat.

    ¡°Oh no please don¡¯t let me disturb you. I just have an engagement party to prepare for. Far be it from me to interrupt,¡± she said sarcastically. She crossed her arms over her chest and held my gaze.

    A moment passed. Then two. I sighed and looked to the sky.

    ¡°Come on Dusk,¡± I said, patting him, ¡°Looks like its going to be a long night, sir,¡± and I redirected my reins toward the Beaufoutonte family estate.

    ¡­

    ¡°Well, eet eez better late zhan never I suppose,¡± Matron Beaufoutonte said, leveling a glare at me. I stood next to Myra in a burgundy gown as the maids worked tirelessly to adjust it.

    Zachariah had tactfully left for the kitchens after seeing us to the mansion, knowing he was not invited to the dress fitting.

    The lucky bastard.

    Within minutes of us arriving, a pair of maids had appeared and practically torn our clothes off and thrown us into a pair of gowns. Myra stood next to me in a similar gown, though hers was overlaid with cream-colored lace adorning the bodice and up to her neck. Mine was plainer but cinched tight to my waist and torso. Cream- -colored buttons decorated the central front down to the waist. More simple lace was placed at my shoulders. At the same time my black hair was being pulled and tugged into an ornate knot atop my head to trial hairstyles.

    The engagement party was less than a few days away after all.

    ¡°So sorry, but this isn¡¯t high on my list of priorities,¡± I said as yet another piece of my hair was yanked, and I felt a pin prick my skull as it was pushed into place. The Madame turned away from me and set her shoulders.

    ¡°Eet eez like you are actively trying to ruin my daughter¡¯s wedding,¡± she said icily. I yawned, tired of hearing this same exact statement.

    ¡°The fact I¡¯m here Madame Beaufoutonte is proof that I¡¯m not trying to ruin the wedding. You asked me to be here and here I am. What more do you want?¡± I asked. She rounded on me and looked at the lace placement on my shoulders.

    ¡°Add more ¡®ere. You can still see zhe muscle underneazh,¡± she said, addressing the maid working on my dress. I remembered Addie fondly from when I had visited the Beaufoutonte estate growing up, her soft voice and gray hair reminding me of my grandmother. Though she was older, I noticed her hands had lost none of her skill as she worked.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with muscle,¡± I replied, ¡°You¡¯re not alone though. The people I collect my bounties on don¡¯t like my muscles much when I kick their asses.¡±

    ¡°Do not swear! Eet eez unlady-like. You must be more mannered,¡± she barked, and I chuckled.

    ¡°I¡¯m not lady-like-¡±

    ¡°Zhat much eez apparent,¡± she quipped, ¡°But do try to make a show of acting proper,¡± she finished evenly. I tightened my now gloved hands into fists, the fabric straining. Only the thought of draining an entire bottle of bourbon made this tolerable. I knew fighting would only delay that moment, so I stood to my full height and flashed a bright smile.

    ¡°Oh, worry not my dear Madame! I can make quite the show of propriety. After all,¡± I replied in a voice disturbingly like Myra¡¯s, ¡°I pretended to be nice to you all the time without getting sick when I was little.¡±

    Myra slid a scowl at me behind her mother¡¯s back as the Matron¡¯s eyes turned calculating. A breath passed without her replying to me, the room silent except for the pull of fabric as it was stitched. Even Addie seemed to be holding her breath. In that time Myra¡¯s expression changed to a grin.

    Now you¡¯re in for it, she mouthed at me, and I sent her a carefree shrug in reply. Her mother surprised us both by smiling. The Matron approached me, and Addie took a step backward. I held my ground as she walked all the way behind me, and a moment later, I felt her unbutton the back of my dress.

    ¡°What are you-¡± I grunted in pain as I felt my corset get sharply pulled tighter, my ribs creaking. I went to turn, but the old woman tugged again, wringing the breath from my chest like water from a rag. She kept pulling and tugging every single time I tried to talk, the corset stays getting stiffer as she pulled the slack all the way in with surprising strength.

    I batted her hands away and wheezed as the Matron motioned for Addie to continue. The maid briefly laid her hand on my shoulder in sympathy, before I felt the stitching resume. Getting some wind back, I settled for glaring at the old crone in silent mutiny. She gave me a self-satisfied smile, like a fox looking at a hen.

    ¡°Zhat eez better. I encourage you to rein een your wit. I will not ¡®ave my guests being insulted. So long as you do not act like your foul little self,¡± she said as she laced her fingers together and hung her hands near her lap, ¡°Zhen zhe party should be fine.¡±

    I opened my mouth, but paused when Addie patted my shoulder gently.

    ¡°All done now, Miss,¡± she said quietly. I rolled my neck and shoulders, testing the limits of the fabric. The dress was thick, and with the corset on I felt like my torso had been replaced by a tree trunk. Every movement required more effort. I could already feel a sheen of sweat gathering on my skin.

    ¡°Thank you, Addie,¡± I said breathlessly, ¡°Where are my other clothes?¡±

    ¡°Een zhe far guest room, Miss,¡± she said, clasping her hands in front of her respectfully. I managed a smile and swept into a curtsy directed toward her, making her flush.

    ¡°You do not curtsy to zhe--¡± Matron Beaufoutonte began to correct before I interrupted, meeting Addie¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Well, I do. She¡¯s the most useful person in this house,¡± I said calmly as I made my way toward the door.

    ¡°We are not done ¡®ere! Lord Beaufoutonte must approve zhe choices!¡± the Matron said sharply, in the tone of someone used to being obeyed without question. The tone of some one used to money and prestige. The tone of a wife of a Deified.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we though?¡± I shot over my shoulder, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be here for the Lord¡¯s approval,¡± and without any further words I turned and left, shutting the door behind me.

    My leather slippers, the only part of my current outfit I had control over, padded along the lofted hallway which overlooked the grand ballroom area of the house. The colors of the sun beginning to set made its way in through the large windows and reflected off the polished wood floors. Several servants bustled about, cleaning everything in sight and lighting lamps in preparation for the coming night. I caught my reflection in one of floor-to-ceiling windows opposite to the lofted hallway over the ballroom.

    I had to admit, as uncomfortable as it was to wear, the dress did look nice. It was feminine and suited my body in all the right areas. It gave the impression of curves where normally there were plains of muscle. My work as a bounty hunter had made me more athletic than the traditional feminine physique. I wouldn¡¯t change it though. Just as I knew there was nothing wrong with having muscles, I knew there was also nothing wrong with looking good in a dress. And this dress did right by me.

    It just needed a few more alterations.

    I opened the last guest room door. My duster coat, slacks, and shirt were folded neatly on the trunk at the end of the bed. My pistols were laid carefully atop the pile. My boots had been polished and stood below where the pile laid. I smiled at the care taken with my belongings. Say what you want about the Beaufoutonte family, but their hospitality was second to none.

    I retrieved a knife from the pocket of my duster and checked over my shoulder.

    Nobody had noticed me and I quietly closed the door.

    With effort, I unbuttoned the back of my gown, arching to get the buttons free of their loops. I felt around for the bottom knot of my borrowed corset and put the knife next to it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see you tighten it now,¡± I muttered and cut the string. I cut as many as I could reach until I felt my rib cage relax.

    Finally, I was able to wriggle the corset out from beneath the dress. It took me a while to button it again and the buttons strained a bit more at my unrestrained chest, but the dress still fit just fine.

    Settling the ruined corset on the bed, I looked at the heavy skirts around my legs. Each layer was folded and stitched artfully on top of one another. It was almost a shame to ruin it.

    Almost.

    In one of the shadowed areas of the skirt folds high on my hip I made a slit, then a second one on the opposite side. I placed each of my pistols in a thigh holster. I stood and took a few trial steps, but the slits remained hidden from view. The heavy fabric even kept the bulk of the pistols hidden.

    ¡°Good,¡± I muttered. I did one more twirl for good measure, and on a whim, picked up the corset from the bed. Satisfied, I made my way out of the room and down the hallway. I glanced back at Myra¡¯s bedroom where I had left the two of them. The door was still shut. I walked closer, my steps light and muffled on the floor.

    Voices could be heard from the inside of the door. I looked at the plethora of wealth around me as servants continued their work. Still nobody paid me any mind.

    I will not eavesdrop, I thought to myself even as I continued toward the door.

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    I cannot and will not eavesdrop, but my feet didn¡¯t even break stride.

    I am above this, I thought even as I gave myself a skeptical look in my reflection in the windows and shook my head.

    No, I¡¯m not.

    I leaned against the seam where the door met the wall, and closed my eyes, focusing on the voices.

    ¡°-but why do I have to have her in my wedding? She hates high society. You saw her just now! She¡¯ll embarrass us, Mama¡± came Myra¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Because your fazher wanted to keep you safe, my love,¡±

    ¡°But why-¡±

    ¡°Listen little one,¡± a few shuffling noises could be heard, ¡°Nobody will suspect some protection from one of your own bridal party. And if zhey recognize her for her reputation, even better yet. And she eez your future groom¡¯s sister.¡±

    I took a moment to roll my eyes before listening again, but there was nothing but silence for a moment. Then I heard some muffled speech but couldn¡¯t make it out. There were more footprints, and when Myra spoke next, I heard her more clearly. I could picture the pout she was putting on.

    ¡°Mama it¡¯s not too late. I can still get someone else to stand beside me. Papa is too overprotective-¡±

    ¡°Ee eez not being overprotective!¡± a brief pause, ¡°Not everyone of ¡®ees partners eez happy with zhis arrangement.¡±

    ¡°I love Levi!¡± came Myra¡¯s voice again, though more intense now. My eyebrows lifted in surprise before I heard her continue, ¡°And that¡¯s why we are getting married! I want the wedding I¡¯ve dreamed of with the man I love!¡±

    My eyes widened at the conviction in her voice. I listened for a while but heard only some light footsteps in the room. I didn¡¯t hear them approaching the door, so I continued to lean against the wall. Finally, the silence was broken.

    ¡°I am ¡®appy zhat your emotions suite zhe situation, but I did not raise you to be zhis na?ve. Zhis wedding eez to solidify zhe bond between zhe McAlister¡¯s growing success with zhere weapons and your fazher¡¯s metal mines. Zhat eez zhe reason and nozhing else.¡±

    Another pause. When the Matron spoke again, her voice was warmer.

    ¡°But I am ¡®appy zhat you ¡®ave made your peace with zhis¡­¡± Footsteps came toward the door fast, ¡°Now your fazher will be arriving soon. Let us be downstairs to make sure everyzhing eez prepared.¡±

    I was away from the door and halfway down the stairs before I heard it open. As I reached the bottom, I turned on my heel and waited for them, keeping my face impassive.

    The Matron looked at me with penetrating eyes as she descended. She and Myra cut an impressive figure on the decorated stairs. The wood railing was a thick oak, and every inch was carved with ornate patterns. It was supported by a framework of dark steel twisted into the picture of burnished roses. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light down into the ballroom, while smaller lanterns were placed on the stairs to illuminate each step.

    Myra looked¡­stunning. There was simply no better word for it. Normally she dressed in pretty yet simple dresses which were debatably too tight around the bodice. Today she looked like a full lady of high society. The maids had put something around her eyes to make them darker and more dramatic. It wasn¡¯t too much though. Her eyes still shone a clear crystal blue. The dress was beautiful and cut perfectly for her. Her hair was an ornate pile atop her head and the light caught the fiery tones in it.

    Her mother was no less impressive, with a beautiful dark blue dress which covered everything. It was not quite matronly but fitting for a woman who was past her ¡°sexy¡± years and had settled nicely into her role as mistress of her noble house. Her hair was a golden blonde which hid her graying color well.

    ¡°I trust everyzhing was to you satisfaction?¡± the Matron asked, her eyes never leaving my face.

    ¡°Yes except for one thing,¡± I said, holding up the corset and putting on a posh accept, ¡°It¡¯s torn,¡± I set my face in unconvincing sadness, looking at the corset like it was a dead kitten, ¡°How tragic!¡±

    A red hue came to Matron Baeufoutonte¡¯s face and she glanced at Addie.

    ¡°I¡¯ll cut the next one too, my dear Madame Matron,¡± I said, still in my posh accent. She scowled at me, as Myra stared at the corset in open-mouthed horror. Her mother came toward me again, and I was sure she was going to slap me this time, but a sly grin slowly pulled at her lips.

    ¡°No matter, luckily your bust eez small. You can get away wizhout one,¡± she said, looking at my chest in open assessment.

    ¡°How kind of you to notice,¡± I replied sarcastically, handing the cut corset to Addie, who had come up behind me. She nodded, and took the corset upstairs without another word.

    ¡°Eet eez ¡®ard not to,¡± the Matron replied, her eyes finally finding my face, ¡°Did my servants treat your zhings wizh care?¡± she asked, her grin turning triumphant.

    I nodded through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Yes. Everything was perfect. You servants are second to none,¡± I replied quietly, watching her carefully. The Matron had always reminded me of an old fox. Always something going on beneath the surface.

    ¡°Yes and I am sure zhat you ¡®ave ¡®ad many servants to compare?¡± she replied conversationally, though I did not miss the implication. She never missed an opportunity to remind me of my family''s origins.

    ¡°We did have a few servants in my father¡¯s household, and I have never known their equal. In fact we even got to know them as people,¡± I replied, narrowing my eyes at her, ¡°Imagine that.¡±

    ¡°No doubt because zhere were so few,¡± she said, ¡°And yes, Addie eez a favorite of mine. She eez quite considerate. Our servants are many and all ¡®ave zhere talents.¡±

    She held up a finger as if counting.

    ¡°For example, if you wish a wonderfully clean floor which leaves zhe scent of lavender, I can count on Millie,¡± she held up another finger, ¡°Zhen zhere eez Edmund, who arranges zhe garden so beautifully and trims zhe trees. Oh also zhere eez Maybelle who cooks a delicious breakfast as well brews a superb cup of tea,¡± she said, continuing to count them off on her fingers as she spoke, ¡°Need I go on?¡± she asked lightly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve made your point,¡± I muttered dryly. She smiled enigmatically then.

    ¡°You assume much but know little, my girl. Remember zhat,¡±

    "I assume as much about you, as you do about me, Matron," I replied in dangerous softness. The Matron didn''t react. She just plucked an invisible piece of dust off the shoulder of her dress, then looked around the room.

    ¡°Speaking of which, Addie?¡± she called. Addie came from the kitchen door within moments. She swept into a curtsy and then stood in front of her mistress.

    ¡°Yes Matron?¡± she asked, her eyes on the floor.

    ¡°Zhe tavern owner eez ¡®ere? For zhe drink orders?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Ee eez already speaking to Edmund, Matron.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Ee may leave after zhat. See zhat zhe Master comes to zhe main room when ¡®ee arrives, Addie,¡± the Matron commanded, and Addie swept into another curtsy without hesitation, her skirts whispering around the corner as she left. The Matron didn¡¯t watch her go, but instead looked up the stairs again. I followed her eyes, marveling at the beautiful space, with the grand staircase leading to a lofted hallway which held several doors to the guest rooms and other spaces of the house. All of it overlooked the ballroom area where we now stood.

    ¡°I zhink zhere will be some time to greet your guests at zhe engagment party and zhen zhere will be a procession of zhe bridal party down zhe stairs including your father and I. Eet will end wizh your betrothed and yourself, my dear,¡± she said, glancing at Myra who nodded. She sent me a suspicious glance.

    ¡°Are you ready Miss Rowena?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Let the show begin then,¡± I replied, sweeping into another perfect curtsy. Myra and her mother went on to formally decide the order of the procession. I was to be on the arm of the best man, Dash Eastmark. He would arrive in just a few minutes with Levi. I had only a vague recollection of him, having not seen him in years. The only details I could remember about him were big muscles and a bigger personality.

    Well then, he sure does strike an imposing figure. But he does seem nice. He could be useful for all the fights Levi starts, right Rowena?

    The feminine voice was smooth, gentle, and achingly familiar across my mind. My heart stopped at the unrequested memory. It came like a flash of lightning and left me in darkness as soon as her voice stopped. It was like being a starving man who suddenly smelled fresh bread but wasn¡¯t allowed to taste it. I replayed the voice over and over in my mind, drowning nearly everything else out.

    Myra waved a hand in front of my face and looked at me questioningly as her mother continued to talk. I ignored her, not interested in participating. The words in the room were suddenly like a buzzing in my ears.

    All sound and no meaning.

    As I continued to ignore Myra, she shifted her focus back to her mother¡¯s orders. I nodded mechanically from time to time as the noise continued. Luckily neither Myra nor her mother asked me any more questions.

    I was no longer paying attention.

    Lord Beaufoutonte arrived home, accompanied by Levi, Dash and my father. Myra, and myself had been told to wait for them upstairs for the grand reveal, but now the men could be heard talking in the ballroom. Dash''s voice rose above the all, correcting Levi¡¯s posture and neck tie. I had hurried to the guest room at my first opportunity, wanting to get myself under control.

    The voice wasn¡¯t coming back no matter how hard I willed it to.

    Addie offered to bring me tea, but I asked for coffee instead. She brought it within a few minutes, and with some convincing, spiked it with whiskey. I swallowed the whole mixture fast enough to scald my tongue. A few minutes later though, I felt more myself, and more awake.

    I joined Myra in her room, leaning against the wall as she looked at her reflection.

    ¡°I think you missed a spot,¡± I muttered, stretching my arms as much as my dress would allow. Myra checked the mirror before rolling her eyes.

    ¡°I missed a spot about as much as your corset ¡®tore¡¯,¡± she muttered, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

    ¡°Jealous?¡± I teased.

    ¡°Why no,¡± she said, picking an invisible speck off her cheek, ¡°Women who flounce around without a corset are nothing more than harlots,¡± she batted her lashes at me in the mirror. I yawned, rolling my neck and popping the joints.

    ¡°This harlot prefers to be comfortable.¡±

    Myra rolled her eyes again, her silence surly as I turned from her to survey her bedroom. I hadn¡¯t been in Myra¡¯s room in several years, and it had changed from how I remembered it. Yes, there were multiple wardrobes full of beautiful gowns, as well as comfortable rugs and furnishings. There was a large four-poster bed positioned near the window, the silken shades blowing softly in the breeze. A small hearth stood in the corner, flames glowing within. The vanity contained several perfumes and jewels of nearly every shade and scent. However, there was something new, a bookcase that was mostly full. I didn¡¯t remember her liking to read novels while we were growing up. Myra was many things, but bookish was not one of them.

    Curious, I looked at the volumes on the shelves, and couldn¡¯t help lifting a brow in surprise. There were some novels, but also textbooks. Philosophy, an abbreviated guide to Elemancy, a history of the Burland wars, economics, and a volume on basic metal working. There were several journals too, arranged neatly together in their own section. I looked up and saw a separate journal of pale yellow pages open on Myra¡¯s bed, as if she had been writing before I entered. I caught the edge of a curved symbol traced onto the page.

    ¡°That color looks nice with your dark hair,¡± Myra said suddenly, making me jump. She was looking at me warily through the mirror, still primping. I bumped into the bookcase and the Elemancy book hit the floor. I grabbed it, holding it up for her to see.

    ¡°Are these books yours?¡± I asked, ignoring the compliment. Myra gave me a sardonic look, meeting my eyes through the mirror.

    ¡°Yes, books make such a great accessory to my gowns,¡± came the dry reply.

    ¡°Where did you get them?¡± I pressed, opening the book. It contained pictures of the various symbols which comprised the Elemancer¡¯s distinctive tattoos. Beautiful flame markings rendered in curved lines on an arm were pictured. Myra marched across the room before I could see more, and pulled the book away, snapping it shut. I let her, raising my hands defensively.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch things that don¡¯t belong to you,¡± she ordered. I crossed my hands over my chest, waiting.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Myra groaned as she returned to her primping, ¡°Levi gave them to me.¡±

    Were it possible for my brows to lift higher, they would have done so.

    ¡°Levi gave these to you?¡± I repeated.

    ¡°That is what I said, yes,¡± Myra said evasively, adjusting a pin and adding some blush to her cheeks.

    ¡°And you read them?¡± I asked. Myra lifted a shoulder noncommittally.

    ¡°Not every one, but I¡¯m working my way through them. He suggested I educate myself, and lent me his books after finishing school.¡±

    ¡°He suggested it?¡±

    ¡°Are you just going to repeat whatever I say Miss Rowena?¡±

    ¡°But when-¡±

    A knock came from the door, and a moment later Addie¡¯s gentle voice could be heard through it.

    ¡°Ladies, zhey are ready for you. Zhe Matron requests you come downstairs.¡±

    ¡°Right away Addie, thank you,¡± Myra said as she stood and twirled in the mirror. She struck a pose and looked pleased with herself as she pick up the book and placed it back on the shelf exactly where it had been. I watched as she checked her reflection yet again and flashed a dazzling smile at me.

    ¡°I meant what I said, by the way,¡± she said, looking me up and down, ¡°That color really does look nice on you,¡± she walked across the room as she spoke and grasped the handle of the door before some of the familiar scorn returned to her face, ¡°You can almost pass for a Lady.¡±

    And with that, she slipped out without another word.

    The group was already cooing at Myra by the time I followed her downstairs. The words ¡°radiant¡± ¡°beautiful¡± and ¡°lovely¡± repetitively filled the room. Everyone ignored me as I came down the grand staircase, and I was glad for it. The faster everyone came to a consensus, and the fewer problems, the faster I could leave.

    Only Levi glanced at me as I descended the stairs, his mouth quirking.

    My breath caught as I looked at him. He had grown the shadow of a beard since I last saw him and his thick black hair, unruly as ever, tumbled into his eyes. The gangly boy I had left behind all those years ago had matured into a prosperous-looking man. Somehow, he looked even more like our mother as an adult. His eyes were the exact same shade, and carried her quicksilver intelligence. The piercing blue bore into the violet shade of my own gaze.

    ¡°Now here¡¯s a sight I haven¡¯t seen in an age,¡± he said, causing the others to turn.

    ¡°Doing the exact opposite of what I want. How original Levi. Nice to see you too, little brother¡± I replied acidly. I hated the way they were all staring at me now. Levi chuckled and stood taller.

    ¡°No, I was referring to you in a dress. I forgot you were capable of wearing them,¡± Levi said, lacing his fingers through Myra¡¯s hand. Myra still had that facetious look on her face, and she laughed quietly at his comment. Levi glanced at her before shooting me a mischievous grin, but it was interrupted as a bucket-sized hand came down on Levi¡¯s head.

    Dash Eastmark stood a full head taller than Levi, his shoulders as wide as he and Myra put together. Honey-blonde hair was cut short as per the latest style in his home country of Burland. His accent was light and friendly.

    ¡°Is this how you normally talk to women, mate?¡± he asked, ¡°No wonder you haven¡¯t been able to get married until now. How unfortunate for your bride to be.¡± He lifted his hand from my brother¡¯s head, as Levi gave him a sidelong glare. Dash clasped his hands behind his back, meeting his friend¡¯s eye.

    Levi straightened his spine, not breaking his glance. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Lord Beaufoutonte.

    ¡°Miss McAlister, I appreciate you interrupting your adventures to respond to my summons. It is a pleasure to see you again. I do hope your journey back here was without trouble,¡± he said, stepping forward. He reached out and clasped my hand with a small bow. I felt a corner of my mouth lift.

    ¡°I¡¯d be a simpleton to turn down perfectly good coin for something as easy as body guard duty,¡± I replied and a wrinkle formed between the Lord¡¯s eyes. Levi glanced from me to the Lord and then to Dash. He lifted a brow at the big man.

    ¡°Something you wish to say?¡± Dash, Earl of Eastmark, asked him. Levi waved a hand at me.

    ¡°Where¡¯s her lecture about manners?¡± Levi asked. Dash blinked at him.

    ¡°You wish me to lecture your sister?¡± he asked dryly.

    ¡°Believe me, a lecture would likely ¡®ave zhe opposite effect,¡± the Matron said from beside her husband, ¡°Do zhe dress choices agree with you my Lord?¡±

    ¡°Your selections have excellent taste, my love,¡± Lord Beaufoutonte said in a tone which suggested he could not have cared less. Then his gaze went to my father, ¡°Indeed, our time until the day is running short, thank heaven.¡±

    He turned to survey everyone. The Lord was a tall and lean man of brown hair, dressed in an expert suit, and as he stood to his full height, his Deity Mark peeked out from beneath his collar.

    ¡°I appreciate you all taking time out of your busy schedules in order to solidify our plans. Not only for the union for these two young people," he spared a fond glance at Myra and Levi, "but also for the benefit of all of our futures.¡± He addressed the whole room as he spoke, and he seemed to meet everyone''s eyes in turn, ¡°Now, I believe dinner is ready. Please kindly proceed to the dining room everyone.¡±

    After a beat of silence, Levi offered his arm to Myra, and they led everyone else into the next room, where the smell of fresh bread, roasted meat, and soups wafted out of the doorway. My stomach growled loudly as the scent hit me.

    When was the last time I ate?

    As I thought of this, my hand went across my stomach, and I heard it growl even louder. When I looked back up, I noticed everyone had left except one familiar figure.

    He had stayed silent the entire time, but I hadn¡¯t expected anything different. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all, but there he stood. His violet eyes, my eyes, stared impassively at me from beneath black silken hair tied neatly at the base of his neck. His glasses glinted as he lifted his chin.

    ¡°Rowena,¡± he said simply. His deep voice echoed slightly in the now empty room. There wasn¡¯t anything particularly wrong with the tone, nor him saying my name. There was simply no affection there, no familiarity. He might have been greeting a prospective customer for all the warmth in his voice.

    I shook my head to correct my own thoughts. No, he would have been far nicer to a customer. But not me. Never me.

    ¡°Hello sir,¡± I said, shifting my weight from foot to foot. My father, Lord Liam McAlister, remained motionless. He kept that impassive look on his face, his head canted down toward me. A beat of silence went by.

    ¡°You have returned home safely, despite keeping up such a dangerous living.¡±

    Here we go again.

    ¡°You must be thrilled to have me back home, sir,¡± I said quietly, then cursed myself. It was a trait I inherited from the old man. The angrier we became, then quieter we spoke. I had once heard my mother refer to it as the calm before the storm.

    Father blinked at me before responding.

    ¡°You think so?¡± he asked just as quietly.

    ¡°Yes sir, now you have two children to bully,¡± I said, managing a small smile, ¡°How do you contain your excitement?¡±

    ¡°A father does struggle to keep control of his pride,¡± he replied, unmoving, ¡°When the gods bestow him with such unique children.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re dangerously close to flattery,¡± I countered, leaning against the ornate railing.

    ¡°We all make mistakes,¡± Father said, shifting his weight to look to where the others disappeared into the next room, ¡°We will be missed if we delay too much longer.¡±

    ¡°Then why delay at all? What makes now so special?¡± I asked acidly. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

    ¡°I wanted to make clear what your role is in this, Rowena,¡± he said, then opened an eye, as if to be sure I was listening.

    ¡°Get on with it,¡± I said, feigning a yawn, ¡°It¡¯s been a long trip and I¡¯m hungry. We both know you¡¯ll tell me whether I want to hear it or not anyway.¡±

    ¡°Your purpose," he said as if I had not spoken, "is no more or less to ensure MyraBelle Beaufoutonte gets down the aisle to say her vows unharmed. Your purpose is to be quiet and swallow your pride for whatever ridiculous charade is necessary for that to happen,¡± his eyes became hard as stone, ¡°Anything short of that is unacceptable. Unless you wish to fail me yet again.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that practically a tradition at this point? Me failing you?¡± I asked even more quietly.

    ¡°Yes,¡± came the quick reply, ¡°But this time your brother¡¯s future, that girl¡¯s safety, and the pride of both of our families is at stake. This cannot be another misstep. I was against your involvement, but now we are both trapped in this situation. I''m no happier about this than you.¡±

    I shook my head, feeling the pull of the pins. It felt so damn hot in this house, and sweat was rolling down my back. The dress, corset or no corset, felt stifling.

    ¡°Since we¡¯re talking,¡± I said as I played with the carving on the railing, pictures of ancient heroes and kings, and couldn¡¯t help narrowing my eyes at them, ¡°Why are you choosing a marriage of all things to merge-¡±

    ¡°That is not open for discussion,¡± he pushed away from the wall and straightened his tie, ¡°We¡¯ve said what we need to say and now this conversation is over,¡± he said as he left the room. I breathed out as I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

    Some things never change.

 Lesson Four: The Ethereal Forest, Beauty, and the Dead

    We managed to put on a show of civility through dinner. I kept my mouth shut as final decisions were made. Everything had to be ready by the Blue Moon Harvest, which would end with Myra and Levi''s wedding.

    Two weeks. I just had to make it through two weeks of preparations and the big day would come.

    And I would be gone again at first light the following day.

    After dinner I was swiftly forgotten, and I took the opportunity to slip away. I secretly gave Addie several coins to replace the corset, not that the Matron needed to know that.

    With every step I felt the tension leaving my muscles. I¡¯d had enough shit today. I didn''t know how much more I could take. Being near these memories, and having to endure my father¡¯s hard gaze made the dark pool of energy in my soul stir.

    Why deal with it at all, Rowena? it whispered, and I felt the dark spread.

    I thought I told you to fuck off, I growled at it and the feeling slowly ebbed away. But I knew it would come back. It always did.

    Finally, for the first time since arriving back in this town, Dusk and I were alone. It felt good to be out of the dress, and better to be out of that house. The town was still alive as I left it. Lights glowed in windows, and people meandered around the street. The sky glittered with starlight, with touches of deep purple and blue mixed with black oblivion. The smallest amount of light could be seen over the mountains in the distance, but still the constellations were visible above. I counted them.

    There, notable by their shortswords, was Lera the Bane and her twin Lorian the Blade. The angels of Death.

    Then came Perasus, the scholar holding the just weight in his outstretched hands. His judgement forever sorted the innocent from the guilty. It was said that he spoke to the gods during the War of Ages, the war between humanity and the Elemancers. Humanity was on the brink of surrendering and returning to their lives as slaves to the Elemancers. But then, Perasus convinced the gods to begin Marking humans. Legend says that the power shed that day nearly ripped a hole through the fabric of reality.

    But that was just a legend.

    I kept running through those ones and more as I rode toward the Kenshi Ethereal forest. Distantly I could hear the sounds of the town, the music and voices echoing through the open plain leading to the mountains. Dusk knew where I wanted go the moment I directed his reins toward the dark trees. We listened to the sounds of impeding night as we rode away.

    It was said that the thunderwood trees which populated all Ethereal forests, were tougher than any metal. The lightning which struck them only strengthened their fibers, instead of setting them ablaze. Humans avoided the Ethereal Forests, and I couldn¡¯t suppress a grin as I remembered the rumors people spread about them.

    The thunderwood trees feasted upon human flesh rather than sunlight.

    If you took a fallen thunderwood branch, it would sprout roots that burrow under your skin, eventually encircling your heart. Then you would spend the rest of time as the thing¡¯s eternal source of blood.

    Tch, whoever thought of that one had read one too many late-night novels.

    Another rumor said the air in the forest turned your lungs to stone, unless you were an Elemancer. Another lie.

    Yet another said the forest was haunted.

    Well, that one wasn¡¯t exactly wrong.

    I sighed as I heard rowdy laughter, followed by glass breaking, echoing distantly from the Swooning Sparrow tavern. A cheer let out from the patrons after that.

    The first line of trees came to Dusk and I, and suddenly we were in the forest of huge obsidian thunderwood. The trees towered hundreds of feet above our heads.

    The sounds of the town cut off. As if nothing made by humans, not even their voices, was allowed to enter.

    The forest was silent as death, and just as dark. Dusk kept calm in the gloom, his hooves and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees loud in the silence.

    I knew they would come any second.

    I looked up and saw the barest sliver of sunlight on the highest of the mostly barren branches. It thinned, then vanished, and the darkness became complete.

    The forest seemed to take a collective sigh. Dusk kept walking, staying on the path through some other sense. It was so dark, I couldn¡¯t see the back of his head, but I didn¡¯t dare light a torch.

    They would come. They always did.

    As if on cue, two pools of light began to glow on my left. They were a pale blue, tinged with white and purple at the edges.

    I pulled on Dusk''s reigns for him to back away, wanting to see the Raito rise. The pools of light formed into two giant peaked ears, then a horned head, neck, body, legs, feathery wings, and a long flowing tail.

    Raito Kenshi towered to nearly the tops of the trees, his body made entirely of light. He walked out of the solid ground as if climbing a hill, and surveyed the night he illuminated. His steps were silent as shadows, and his body was immaterial. He looked to be a perfect cross between a gray wolf and a snow fox, with the addition of hooked horns and graceful wings. He was more muscular than any fox, but the face was too fair to be a wolf.

    The massive spirit suddenly looked down at Dusk and I, his primordial gaze boring into us. We went entirely still as the slender muzzle came just above Dusk¡¯s head.

    ¡°We mean your woods no harm, Raito Kenshi, Great King of the Forest. We beg only passage through,¡± I said in Kaze, the language of the Elemancers. The Raito laid down until his eyes were level to us for several breaths. He held his wings close to his body, his horns curving inward toward his brow from behind his ears. I felt the waves of energy coming off him, and had to stifle the urge to reach out to touch. I knew the incomparable pain that would follow if I did.

    The only rumor about the Ethereal Forests that carried weight was this one. People who touched a creature of light, an ¡°Other¡± as they were called, became possessed and were later cooked from the inside out.

    And that was just if a regular Other touched you. I remembered a time when a group of lumberjacks had tried to cut a thunderwood tree down. The moment they had penetrated the tree''s metallic bark, the sky had gone black. Then Raito Kenshi had appeared, and the darkness had swallowed the entire group.

    They were never found.

    Every Ethereal Forest had a Raito, otherwise known as the king of the forest. They were the largest creature who ruled over the Other in that particular forest. There were at least seven Raitos, all with forms of their own. If the Raito did not attack a person, none of the Other would. I knew as long as I left the forest in peace, I had Kenshi¡¯s permission to stay. And I had been coming to the Kenshi Ethereal Forest for many, many years.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Without warning, Kenshi rose to his feet and padded away. He walked through the nearest tree and vanished. I let out a breath I didn¡¯t know I was holding. As I urged Dusk to walk again, I saw more of the Other appearing. Some were smaller than seeds, and others were larger than buildings. Some had a defined shape of a bear or stag, but more were a cross between several creatures. They had fangs, wings, claws, feathers, fur, and scales. But all were made of every hue of colorful light.

    Slowly, I drew on my leather gloves, the worn material warming my hands. My callouses caught slightly on the soft lining as I worked my fingers into the tight fit.

    The fabric went over the braided band of silver and iron around my ring finger.

    I pulled my bandana above my nose, and my hat lower on my brow. The air was cooling rapidly so much so that Dusks¡¯ breath came out in clouds of steam. The forest became ever brighter as even more of the Other appeared. They came out of the ground, out of the trees, and even out of the leaves.

    A tiny one jumped on to the brim of my hat and leaned over the edge to peer at my face. It was a miniature sparrow with catlike eyes giving off a pleasant green light. It tilted its head and chirped at me soundlessly.

    ¡°Hello, little one,¡± I whispered, shifting my grip on the reigns. It flexed its wings and shifted upright, though I still saw its little clawed feet gripping the brim.

    ¡°Trying to hitch a ride, are we?¡± I asked and the feet tightened their grip on my hat.

    ¡°Hmm, you¡¯re a lazy thing, aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked, looking up so the creature shifted its weight forward into my vision. It fluttered its wings again and hopped to my saddle horn. It turned once, twice, three times and sat, tucking its beak under a wing.

    ¡°Shameless,¡± I muttered, and settled into the quiet of the glowing trees. We went deeper into the wood, going on a barely distinguished track which weaved through the spaces between the trees. Every now and then, I could swear I saw Kenshi in the corner of my eye. Whenever I turned, though, there was nothing there.

    I jumped as we rounded yet another corner to reveal a stag of flesh and blood, his brilliant rack lifted high above his head. As soon as he saw us, he galloped away, his hooves sounding like thunder. There were physical creatures here and there, but most were nestled in their dens and nests by now. Only the Other stirred at night.

    Finally, we came upon a towering gray stone formed like an arch. Rows of multicolor flower bushes formed an aisle leading to it, with patches of still-green grass forming a thick carpet around the area. Symbols and words were carved into the polished stone of the arch, but some moss had grown on it since the last time I was here.

    Patting Dusk¡¯s neck, I dismounted. The sparrow, still on the horn of the saddle, lifted its head and jumped to its feet. It fluttered its wings at me imperiously.

    ¡°Wait here Dusk. There¡¯s a good boy,¡± I murmured, staring into his dark eyes. Then I looked at the sparrow, ¡°You too.¡±

    As if in answer, Dusk lowered his head and began to graze. The sparrow hopped onto his head, turned, and resumed its nap.

    I walked toward the arch, and without warning, a flower bush moved.

    Each row of bushes leading to the arch formed into a huge bipedal creature made of thorns and branches. They had to be at least twenty feet tall each. They came for me without preamble, every arm-like appendage lengthening into a thorny thunderwood sword. The first swung its sword in a high horizontal arch at my head, and the second swung for my shins. I leapt between the blades and tucked into a ball before landing. I didn''t have time to recover as they rounded on me again. The swords, each as long as my entire body, came down in an overhead chop. I dove to the right as they buried deep into the ground where I had just been. I felt the shockwave shoot through my legs as I landed.

    Nana''s nether regions, why did I pick these guys to guard her?

    "Stop!" I grunted as I skipped backward for some distance. But they came for me still. One retracted the sword into its arm and reformed it into a club the size of a barrel.

    I only had time to flip backwards, and then the hammer came down with an earth-shattering crack. I flipped again as a second hammer came down from the second beast.

    I still didn''t draw my pistols. These creatures were called Toge, and they were formidable. Everybody knew that you didn''t bother to fight a Toge. You just ran, and hoped someone else in your party tripped. The strength of the Toge was why I had planted them here.

    I finally was able to regain my feet long enough to rip my bandanna from my face. I held my hands out to them even as they hefted their hammers high again.

    "Stop! Gods damn you, its me!"

    They came closer, arms lifted higher.

    Shit, they don''t recognize me.

    I prepared to get smashed as they brought the hammers down again. I held my ground, even as the first started its swing. I heard thundering hooves, and I felt Dusk at my side. He reared and grunted, striking the ground and tossing his head. But the Toge stopped for only moments. They considered Dusk, and began to swing once more. I braced for the blow.

    The hammers stopped inches from us.

    Each rough collection of branches making a rudimentary head and face of the Toge regarded something over my shoulder. I looked up, tracking their gazes, and my breath caught.

    Kenshi stood right behind me, unmoving. He had made himself smaller now, but he still dwarfed the Toge. His gaze was on them with unflinching stillness. His wings were held aloft, as if he would take flight any moment, and those primordial eyes blazed bright as stars. The Toge remained rooted to the spot, transfixed on their king. Their arms hung loosely at their sides.

    I took the moment and walked toward the Toge. They both peeled their gazes from Kenshi and looked at me as I approached. I calmed my breathing as I stared upward into each face made of branches and thorns.

    "It''s me," I repeated in a whisper, gazing at each of them in turn.

    Something changed within them, and slowly their hammers retracted and were replaced with gnarled hands. They each stroked my face, all aggression gone.

    "I know. Its been too long. I wouldn''t recognize me either," I said, feeling Dusk come closer to my back. The Toge each dropped their hands to my neck, feeling my pulse. They looked at one another, then strode to each side of the arch again, where they sat down to be bushes once more. Finally, flowers reappeared on their branches, and silence fell again.

    I turned, an apology already forming on my tongue, but Kenshi had disappeared again. Dusk looked at me and nickered quietly, but I calmed him with hushed words. Eventually, he walked over to his patch of grass again and bent down to graze. I saw a dart of green light fly down from a nearby branch and the sparrow landed back on Dusk''s head.

    Looking around, I saw my hat lying at the foot of one of the trees. After picking it up, I went back to the arch.

    Taking out my waterskin, I poured some over the stone and used my knife to gently cut away the moss. First, I saw the carving of an angel, then that of a sword and pistol crossed. When I made my way toward the peak of the arch, my hands began to shake, but I forced them to continue cleaning. When it was done, I went to my knees one at a time, sitting on the heels of my boots as I read her name.

    Fayra Marvella Stone

    1821-1845

    Beloved Daughter, Friend, and Wife

    I forgot everything else around me. The sweet smell of the flowers, the wind gently blowing through the forest, the softness of the grass, and the glow of the Other surrounding me. Everything. Because nothing else mattered. Pain spread from my chest to every part of my being. My hands shook and my eyes burned like a devil.

    A drop landed on the grass below me. Then another. Then another as I squeezed my eyes shut, and took several deep breaths to get myself under control. My attention turned to a thunderwood box at the foot of the arch. I pulled a chain out from under my shirt, lifting the key which hung around my neck. After unlocking the box, I pulled out a bullet shell casing, a tiny note folded inside, and placed it where seven other ones with notes of their own already laid. Fishing into my pocket a bit deeper, I added two more shells.

    For the years I had missed.

    Finally, I tilted my head upward to the sky. There was an opening to it in this part of the forest, with a pretty view of the constellations above. Closing my eyes, I sent a silent hope to the stars that wherever Fayra was, she was happy and safe.

    I refused to pray to the gods, but I would to the stars. So I wasn''t disappointed when there was no answer.

    Taking the hat off, I stood to touch my forehead to her name and breathed in the scent of the forest. Untamed grass, fallen leaves, winter flowers and crisp night air. Her scent.

    ¡°Hi Fay,¡± I whispered, ¡°I brought you something.¡± I ran my hands over the hat and felt the burn hole again and again. Slowly, I set the hat under the arch, settling the brim under the thunderwood box so it wouldn¡¯t blow away.

    Just then, the wind circled around me and pulled my hair from where it was tied. The trees around me whispered with the wind, making me smile.

    ¡°I found him in Grimwater. The bastard still had your hat,¡± I went on quietly as the air ruffled my hair again. Thinking of Grimwater, and the man with a star tattooed on his temple, I gritted my teeth.

    ¡°But he slipped away again.¡±

    The wind went still.

    ¡°I know I¡¯ve said this too often before,¡± I said, voice raw, ¡°But I miss you more than anything. I give you my word, I swear I won¡¯t fail you this time.¡±

    Pulling my sleeve up on my left wrist, my other hand drew my knife.

    I slashed deep and hard, nearly halfway through the bones, and watched my blood drain rapidly over the ground like a small river. I growled as the wound stitched up almost instantly from the inside out. As always, my skin became smooth once more, all blood gone.

    ¡°One day, it will work. I will find a way. Then I will come for you.¡±

    The arch¡¯s reply was only silence.

 Lesson Five: Power is Power

    I awakened with a start the following day, sitting straight up in bed. It took me several moments to remember where I was. I¡¯d had the normal nightmare, but worse. Each time it ended, I found myself back at the beginning. No matter what I tried, it led to the moment where the trigger was pulled.

    Bile was hot and acrid along the back of my throat. Water. I needed water. I reached blindly for the bedside table, and I tipped back the the bottle only to find bourbon gliding down my throat. The bitter taste cut out the memory, and I drank greedily.

    Not that there was much left.

    I sighed, tasting the air around me. Herbs, lavender, and burning cedar wood fill my lungs as I tried to settle down. Sweat covered me despite the chill, and a bead of it rolled down my face.

    I looked around my bedroom. The walls were a natural deep wood. The bay window, complete with loveseat, was next to an old desk with hand-carved symbols of every culture. All of it was familiar, yet distant. Like I had heard a stranger describe it instead of living here myself.

    Sighing, I looked back down at the bed.

    And suppressed a scream.

    I saw a head of reddish-brown curls next to me within the blankets. The chest went up and down evenly with sleep. My heart thundered as I recognized the birthmark on the shoulder. I raised a hand to the figure, my entire body going cold.

    I blinked, and the figure was gone, replaced with a large section of bunched up blanket. My hand traced one of the embroidered lilies on the black fabric.

    I stared at it a moment longer, then reach to the bottle at the nightstand again.

    A prickling pain danced across my wrist, and I looked down.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I muttered. My shadow ward tattoo, the picture of an ornate skull inside a flame, was glowing bright red. I had stumbled into the house at nearly daybreak, but the habit of setting up my shadow wards had kicked in. Now, staring at the glowing image, my mind centered on one thing.

    Someone was on my property.

    I was out of the bed in an instant. I ripped my satchel open and pulled out a small glass bottle. A red liquid floated inside. The cap was a small eyedropper with a small label.

    Hunter¡¯s eye.

    Without hesitation, I pulled it out, and put a single drop in each of my eyes. I hissed as the viscous liquid hit them. It burned like a bitch.

    I traced my tattoo, and the world became a dazzling array of colors. The walls became a cool gray, but anywhere that gave off heat became a varying shade of red, yellow, blue, or orange. Living things showed up white in this spectrum, their bright outlines visible even through walls.

    I looked around, and finally saw the form of a crouched man near the front porch.

    There you are, I thought as I pulled my gun belt on over my hips. I was still in my loose shirt and underwear, but I didn¡¯t want to waste the time getting dressed.

    He wasn¡¯t going to be looking at my body anyway.

    I crept through the house, triggers cocked, and flatted myself against the wall next to the front door. Counting to three, I wrenched the door open and prepared to shoot.

    ¡°Morning,¡± said a male voice dryly, cracking a bit. I paused, knowing that voice.

    ¡°Zachariah?¡± I asked. I looked his way, but could only see the blazing white form of a man, his clothing a scorching red. I traced the lines of my shadow ward tattoo, and the effect went away.

    Sure enough, Zachariah was crouched over the small herb garden next to the porch. His sleeves were pushed up, and he held some shears for trimming the plants. He checked over his shoulder at me, taking in my exposed legs and loose shirt. Then he looked me in the face, a brow raised.

    Rolling my eyes, I holstered my pistols and turned back toward the door.

    ¡°I¡¯m going in to get dressed. And then we are having words,¡± I said, looking over my shoulder at him. He shrugged, returning his attention to the garden, as if to say Whatever you say, so long as you put something on.

    After I cleaned up, Zachariah and I sat down for a late breakfast. He surprised me by producing some eggs and fresh ingredients for biscuits. He cooked the whole thing, permeating the house with the smell of a homemade meal.

    ¡°Zachariah, have you been guarding the house while I was gone?¡± I asked bluntly, gulping coffee down. It was all extremely good. Better than any breakfast at the inns I¡¯d stayed at. I looked around, and saw that the stable and gardens had been well-tended. I had expected some holes in the roof and mice to have moved in by now. But no. The house, and the property it stood on, was exactly as I had left it three years ago.

    Zachariah shrugged as he took another bite.

    ¡°Fayra loved this place. You two were happy here,¡± he said, as if it were the simplest matter in the world.

    I swallowed a lump in my throat.

    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know what to say except¡­well¡­thank you,¡± I said soberly, and stood to pour more coffee into his mug.

    He continued eating in silence for a while.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back,¡± he muttered suddenly, taking me by surprise. Despite the heavy heart, I felt myself smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you too. I missed you,¡± I said. We both looked at the other and, as always with Zachariah, no other words were necessary. I finished my second biscuit as he finished his first.

    ¡°Is your brother still visiting you?¡± I asked, and Zachariah nodded, his eyes going distant.

    ¡°Have you learned--¡±

    A fist hammered on my front door as rapidly as a woodpecker looking for mealworms. Zachariah and I exchanged a look as he reached into his jacket, but I waved him off.

    ¡°I think I know who this is.¡±

    He nodded, and looked out the window. He angled his head, and a moment later, he dashed into the guest bedroom. My guess confirmed, I didn¡¯t need to look to know whose buggy would be parked outside.

    ¡°Myra, if you don¡¯t stop trying to beat my door down, I¡¯ll use your dress as kindling for the fireplace,¡± I called through the door. The hammering paused, and I opened it to reveal a scandalized-looking Myra. Her hands clasped a parasol, which I had no doubt she had been using to make all the racket.

    ¡°Did you just threaten to burn me?!?¡± Myra hissed, her face nearly the same color as her pink and red day dress. I leaned against the doorway, blocking her entry.

    ¡°Who said you¡¯d still be wearing the dress?¡± I said, making her face flush even more before she schooled her features into narrowed-eyed loathing.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± I asked finally as I heard Zachariah close the door to hide himself in the guest bedroom. I didn¡¯t blame him.

    Myra looked at me as if I¡¯d just asked if water was wet.

    ¡°You are my body guard,¡± she said slowly, as if explaining it to a child.

    ¡°Guard. Me.¡±

    ¡°Last time I checked, I had two weeks until I had to give a shit about that,¡± I replied, not moving an inch. I could already feel a headache brewing. Violently.

    Myra rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Father says I¡¯m to be with you for the remainder of time leading up to the ceremony. You can¡¯t guard me from all the way across town.¡±

    I stared at her blankly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make this simple. No.¡±

    Myra blinked at me in surprise.

    ¡°Father didn¡¯t tell you about this?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    The chickenshit didn¡¯t say a damn word, I thought privately. Myra looked unsure, checking over her shoulder at her buggy. I took the moment to start to close the door.

    ¡°And with that, I bid you a good day. Don¡¯t let the door hit you where the gods split you,¡± I said, sarcasm dripping from each word. Myra wedged her shoe in it to stop me.

    ¡°Miss Rowena, if it were up to me, I¡¯d be a thousand miles away from you at all times. But here we are. Can we simply make this easy on one another? For once?¡± she said and reached into her handbag. After a moment of digging, she pulled out a sealed letter with the Beaufoutonte crest on it.

    ¡°Here. Father said if you were difficult to have you read this.¡±

    I stared at her before breaking the seal, thinking of every possible way to skewer Lord Beaufoutonte alive. Then I read:

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Lady Rowena McAlister,

    I would like to first impress upon you my sincere appreciation of you consenting to care for my daughter as her protector.

    Since our previous correspondences, there has been a change in circumstances which I hope you will accommodate.

    Last week, three assassination attempts were made directly upon my family, They killed no less than twenty of my best personal guards. I am sure that Myra would not think to explain this to you, because one of these attempts nearly succeeded. This event has terrified her.

    Moreover, some of my associates have been victim to successful attempts on their lives, and this has spread to their families. We are collecting our efforts to protect one another. However, I fear that MyraBelle¡¯s safest place is away from me for the time being.

    Given your wide talents and abilities, I entrust her safety to you. And I ask, as a loving father, please keep my daughter safe. Give her the protection I cannot in the days to come.

    With Earnest,

    Lord Henry Beaufoutonte

    P.S. I am prepared to double your fee if you consent to this.

    I stared at the paper as if it were snake.

    The wily old bastard. I knew what ploy this was. He had waited to tell me this until Myra showed up at my doorstep. He clearly hoped I would feel awkward and agree.

    I partially crumpled the letter as I finished reading and looked at Myra. Really looked at her. There were shadows beneath her eyes she had made a vain attempt to cover. There were worry lines on her face that hadn¡¯t been there when I left. Here she was, barely twenty-five, and already forming wrinkles from strife. I reread the letter again, focusing on one paragraph.

    Moreover, some of my associates have been victim to successful attempts of their lives, and this has spread to their families¡­

    And then I thought of Stone¡¯s warning about the dying Deified.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I murmured under my breath, putting the paper back in its envelope.

    ¡°What?¡± Myra asked. She reached for the letter, but I held the envelope out of her reach.

    ¡°The word I said was fuck. Get used to it. You will hear it a lot while you stay here. I don¡¯t want to hear a gods damned word of complaint. Go unhitch your horse,¡± I said, and shut the door on Myra. I immediately went to my desk and wrote a quick reply.

    Triple it, and we have a deal,

    Your most esteemed body guard

    I grabbed a McAlister bullet shell casing and pressed it into the melted wax seal as my signature. Then I threw the Lord¡¯s letter into the fire. I watched as the paper curled, and the words faded.

    *******

    Myra did complain as we unloaded her things. Frequently. She had brought several, and I do mean several, trunks full of gods knew what. There was also no shortage of comments about my ¡°humble¡± home and how the guest room was ¡°quaint¡± and ¡°cozy¡±.

    Tch. I knew that was her way of saying my log cabin house was a far cry from the estate she came from.

    Eventually though, Myra had simply fallen silent and unpacked her belongings. It was well into the afternoon by the time we finished.

    The worst part was stabling Myra¡¯s horse. She was a rare breed of mountain mare named Belle. Much like her owner, her coat was a rich auburn with fiery tones of red in the right light.

    Also like her owner, Belle disliked me with a vengeance. She tried to bite me no less than five times as I closed the gate to her stall. She only stopped when I threatened to sell her to the butcher.

    Myra came back onto the porch as I put Dusk¡¯s saddle on him and tightened the strap.

    ¡°We¡¯re going into town. Get on Dusk. Belle is too tired to carry you for now,¡± I called to Myra, swinging myself into Dusk¡¯s saddle. Myra stood on the porch and crossed her arms.

    ¡°But its past lunch time. I need to eat soon!¡± Myra said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

    ¡°Sounds like you should have eaten before you tried to beat my door down,¡± I said as I pulled my gloves on. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and tied it loosely near the ends of the strands.

    ¡°I had assumed there would be a meal when I got here,¡± she said, looking back toward my kitchen. My eyes tracked the motion, then returned to her.

    ¡°Oh no. No,¡± I said quietly, ¡°I know you did not just suggest that I cook for you.¡±

    ¡°Oh my dear goodness!¡± Myra said, giggling, ¡°No my dear Miss Rowena. I suggested someone else cook for the pair of us. Someone tall, rugged, and possibly owns a tavern. Someone who, apparently, has been setting his boots under your bed.¡±

    Despite everything, I smiled.

    ¡°This just keeps getting better. You think Zachariah and I are sleeping together?¡± I asked. She sent me a saucy smile in reply, her fingers drumming on her cheek.

    ¡°Hun, you don¡¯t know how wrong you are. And I don¡¯t have time for this. Get on,¡± I said, chuckling a bit. Myra¡¯s facetious smile vanished, her game cut short. Wordlessly, she turned away from me and walked into the house. A minute later, she emerged, carrying one of Zachariah¡¯s biscuits in a napkin. Finally, she pulled herself on Dusk and sat side-saddle. She took a tiny bite as I urged him forward.

    *******

    The wind was biting along the road. A wind that promised longer nights, hoarfrost, and ice-crusted snow. My ears pricked with the cold before long, and my uncovered hair held little warmth against it. Winter would definitely be in full swing early this year. Myra shivered against my back, but for once she kept quiet. My house was several miles from town. Court Road gave dazzling views of the landscape as we rode.

    Tumblend was a small town settled along the western planes of Luradia. There were a series of side streets leading to overreaching farms of golden wheat, corn, and cattle. Trees were seldom around this area. What few there were had short and thick trunks with far-reaching braches to cast large pools of shade. A few leaves clung to their branches now, the deep red and orange carpeting the ground beneath them.

    Other than the sparse trees, there was largely flat landscape of ranches and farms until you reached the Mirth hills closer to the Yari mountains, but that was over eighty miles west from here.

    Flowing toward town was the Silkendale river, which fed into the Borobelly lake. Even from the road, it glittered in the sunlight. A huge white ferry could be seen belching steam into sky. Its red turnstile wheel at the back rotated lazily in the current. The wheel alone was taller than two men.

    And of course, to the northwest, was the Kenshi Ethereal Forest, which stretched as far as the eye could see. Many people from Tumblend lived and died without seeing the other side, or even stepping within the black thunderwood trees.

    I kept Dusk closer to Court Road, which ran along the river. We were still around a half-mile outside town when we came upon the gallows, which had a large crowd surrounding it today.

    ¡°Miss Rowena, I have a strange question,¡± Myra said abruptly. I looked over my shoulder and raised a brow at her. Myra squirmed a bit under my stare.

    ¡°Erm¡­What¡­What does using a Mark feel like?¡±

    I went still, every muscle in my body feeling like iron. I waited several moments to reply to her.

    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± I asked as I turned back forward to hide my face from her.

    I heard Myra answer, but it was drowned out by the roar of the crowd around the gallows. My attention stolen, I looked more closely at the people as Dusk approached.

    The gallows looked like a large stage with an apparatus hanging three nooses. Three prisoners, their hands bound with chains behind their backs, stood behind each noose. Each prisoner had an unearthly beauty about them. Every hair was perfectly tousled. Their muscular bodies boasted sensuality, even though they were notably dirty from days in jail. The dirt did nothing to detract from their beauty, however. It just made them more rugged. They each had curved horns protruding from their scalps, and large leathery wings extending from their backs, which were chained as well.

    Incubi.

    Sherriff Stone was off to the side with a lever for the trapdoors. A man stood next to Stone, his simple clothing identifying him as working class. Even from the back of the crowd, I could see his eyes were a raw red from tears. The man was thin, but he had thick arms and calloused hands. Those hands were shaking as his head bowed low, his chest heaving a bit more.

    ¡°Oh no. I didn¡¯t know today was the day,¡± Myra said, her voice somber. I felt her lift her hands to her lips.

    ¡°What did those men do?¡± I asked, not taking my eyes from the scene. Stone called for silence, but it had little effect on the excited crowd.

    ¡°They¡¯re the sons of Levira Casanaddi, the owner of the Blue Flame,¡± Myra said. I nodded, recognizing that place. Since the war ended, many of the other races had started to mix with humanity. That is, every race except for the Elemancers. They mostly kept to themselves. Mostly.

    The Blue Flame was the only casino in Tumblend. It was run by Levira Casanaddi, a succubus. Her family helped to run it with her.

    ¡°They went to collect a debt ran up by the butcher¡¯s sons, but ended up killing them. But what¡¯s worse is what they did to the butcher¡¯s daughter.¡±

    My veins turned to ice.

    ¡°They caught the brothers and made them watch while they took turns¡­they¡­¡± Myra¡¯s voice became thick, and I heard her swallow.

    ¡°They raped her. Then they killed her,¡± I finished for her in a deadly quiet. I felt Myra nod against my back.

    ¡°SILENCE!¡± Stone bellowed, his deep voice booming over the crowd. His face was set in a grim mask. This time he managed to calm everyone down, and eventually there was only feint murmurings as people returned their attention to him.

    ¡°Casanaddi brothers, you stand today sentenced to die in retribution for the murders of Liam, Peter, and Simon Tensin. In addition, you stand to die for the rape and murder of Melissa Tensin.¡±

    At this, the crowd stirred up again. Stone plowed on, and they quieted once more.

    ¡°In accordance to standard law, the family of those whom you have wronged may deliver your punishment. Here stands John Tensin, who has stated his desire to do so.¡±

    Stone paused to look at the Incubi calmly.

    ¡°May you rot in Death¡¯s darkest hell for all time.¡±

    I raised a brow because Stone had deviated from the usual script. He was supposed to say "May the Gods have mercy on your souls."

    Well, I supposed after Fay died he felt differently for cases like this. The crowd noticed his breach of conduct too, and murmured more as the man next to Stone stepped forward, his face lifted for the first time. He and Stone glanced at one another, then Stone looked at the brothers. I did as well, and stifled a growl.

    All three of them were smirking. There was no fear or remorse to be seen.

    Ba-dum. My heart thudded in my chest.

    Ba-dum. The black pool inside me stirred again, my hands reaching for my pistols.

    Ba-Dum. I could already see the way I would kill them. I would do it slowly. I wouldn¡¯t stop their torment. Even when they begged for mercy, I would--

    I hissed, and my mind returned to the present.

    I focused on the gallows again. The butcher had noticed the Incubi¡¯s smirks as well, and his expression went dark. He seemed to consider something, then turned back toward Stone.

    ¡°Sherriff, I have a request,¡± he said in a surprisingly strong tone. His voice echoed over the crowd.

    ¡°I would like to kill these men myself. In hand to hand combat rather than hanging. If they kill me, they can go free.¡±

    Shock rippled over the crowd, everyone whispering to one another. They all knew one man stood no chance against a single Incubus. Let alone three. Even the Incubi looked shocked.

    Stone stepped forward, his jaw set, and I could see the ¡°no¡± on his lips already. The butcher turned and whispered something in Stone¡¯s ear.

    Stone went still. His eyes flecked from the butcher, then to the brothers, and back again. Finally, he looked fully at the butcher, who nodded. I was shocked when I saw him step back.

    ¡°So be it. Guards, undo their bonds,¡± Stone said. His eyes found me in the crowd, and then I knew what was about to happen.

    The Casnaddi brothers each rolled their wrists as their chains hit the wooden stage. Just then, I realized how tall each of them were. The butcher looked like a child by comparison. He patiently stood off to the other side of the stage. The brothers regarded one another, chuckling darkly.

    With inhuman speed, two of them pinned the butcher¡¯s arms behind his back. His face twisted with pain as they did it. The third came to stand in front of him and let out that beautiful laugh again.

    ¡°All you humans are the same. Grief makes you stupid,¡± the Incubus said in a melodic voice. Before the butcher could respond, he punched him in the face. He slumped, but the Incubi at his arms hauled him up again. One pulled on his hair to force his face into view.

    ¡°Rowena, I don¡¯t want to see this!¡± Myra hissed at my back. I didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°Just wait,¡± I muttered, my eyes never leaving the butcher.

    The second punch landed, and the Incubi pulled the butcher up again. They yanked his head back once more.

    All three stopped.

    The butcher¡¯s eyes gave off a radiant blue light. Growing brighter by the second, it trailed from a unseen Mark on his neck. The Incubi let go of him as if they had been burned. They looked at one another, and their wings extended to fly. In moments they were over twenty feet in the air.

    The butcher watched them, then jumped.

    In a flash he was back on the stage, pinning the Incubi to it by their wings. The Incubi howled in pain and tried to struggle.

    The butcher, John Tensin, smiled.

    ¡°Myra,¡± I said, looking back at her. She met my eyes, her face a horrified mask.

    ¡°You wanted to know what it¡¯s like to burn a Mark? Well, study closely.¡±

 Lesson Six: Always Say Yes to a Good Drink

    The crowd roared with excitement.

    The Casanaddi brothers watched the butcher with terrified eyes, still pinned to the stage by a single arm. The butcher gradually extended his free hand to their backs. They seemed to realize his intent, and all three of them began to buck and twist, but the butcher held them easily. He smiled grimly the entire time as he reach to one of their wings. He caressed it, running a finger along the leathery membrane and graceful bones.

    Then, slowly, he began to rip it off.

    He went to the next one and repeated the motion. Blood sprayed everywhere, but the butcher only smiled wider. After he was done with their wings, he flipped them over to their backs. He pinned them again and began to pull their toes and fingers off one by one. The Incubi tried to counterattack, but they couldn''t make a single scratch on the butcher.

    The butcher let them escape at one point. He sat up and waved for the brothers to run.

    They tried on their bloody stumps, hobbling pathetically.

    One of the Incubi actually made it off the stage, but the butcher eventually dragged all three back to continue the torment.

    Myra leaned over Dusk''s side and wretched. I just continued to watch.

    With the efficiency that must have been granted by his trade, the butcher systematically moved up each limb. It was clear to me what God had Marked him. This wasn''t an execution. This was revenge. It was a one-sided slaughter. It was what the butcher had asked for, and now he was getting his wish. There was only one God that fit that bill.

    The God of Wrath.

    When the Casanaddi brothers threatened to bleed out, the butcher took time to relieve them of what laid between their legs while they were still conscious.

    The screams which echoed in the air didn¡¯t sound humanoid. They sounded like dying animals. It was hard to tell when they actually died, or what injury killed them.

    It was all over in three minutes. I know because I counted them. One man killed three Incubi effortlessly. Even making sport of them.

    There was a story of a single Incubi killing squads of highly trained soldiers. But to a Deified? No. Three of them were child¡¯s play. I wondered if the butcher would make their wings into trophies later, because he set them aside gently as he continued his revenge.

    When it was done, the guards wandered about the stage with barrels to load the body parts into. The barrels were then set on fire near the river.

    The smell of burned flesh permeated the air like a greasy and sweet perfume.

    I watched the entire time, my eyes never leaving the butcher.

    His clothes were covered in blood. He looked like he had just gutted three pigs for all the pity on his face. Stone stood just behind him, a hand on his shoulder, and tried to speak to him. The butcher didn¡¯t seem to hear as he watched the town guards do their work.

    To my point, he still held the six wings in his hands. As the final barrel turned to ash, the glow in his eyes faded and his Mark became a scar.

    The butcher collapsed, and Stone caught him before he hit the blood-sodden wood.

    I sighed, looking away at last. I didn¡¯t want to know what he had given the God of Wrath in exchange for power like this.

    A part of me was impressed with him for staying conscious this long after killing the Incubi. Using a Mark¡¯s power was a bit like running from a predator at top speed. You didn¡¯t realize how much of a toll it was taking on your body until you stopped.

    I patted Dusk, and he began to walk again. The crowd dispersed gradually, and I caught murmurings of several people talking about what they had seen.

    Now the butcher would be one of the most sought-after men in town. I knew his business would flourish, and likely he would have to expand. Everyone wanted to be associated with a Deified, even if they had already used their Mark.

    Nobody would remember the blood on his hands.

    Nobody would remember the screams of the dying.

    Nobody would remember the smile on his face as he did it.

    Not one.

    *******

    Court Road gradually changed from dirt to cobblestone. Borobelly Lake drew nearer, and people walked the shops and market along Main Street. Couples held hands in the late afternoon as horses and carriages clattered past. Craftsmen called their wares to them, and laughter could be heard amongst the rumble of basic conversation.

    I dropped off my reply to Lord Beaufoutonte¡¯s office, ensuring it went directly to him. Then we went to the general store so I could stock up on ammo and other needs.

    I peered over my shoulder again, but Myra just stared fixedly into her lap, her face still pale.

    ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± I said to her. I didn¡¯t mind the change, but something this drastic didn¡¯t bode well.

    She only shrugged in response.

    I checked ahead of me and saw we were almost at the general store. It¡¯s front, like several on Main Street, was painted largely white with blue and red accent colors. Small pots with flowers sat on either side of the door. A large sign mounted above read ¡°Jose¡¯s Basic Needs¡±.

    A memory came, forcing its way into my brain like an ice pick.

    Fay and I stand in the store. Jose¡¯s daughter, named Camila, is helping Fay sort through different types of ammo orders while I stand next to her. Her eyes keep lingering on Fay, and at one point she trails a finger down her arm. Jose cuffs her on the back of the head as Fay slides her arm around my waist.

    I cleared my throat as Dusk came to a stop.

    ¡°I have to buy some supplies,¡± I said carefully, ¡°Do you want anything?¡±

    Myra shook her head, and her gaze drifted to the butchery next door. Her eyes became glassy, and her lip quivered before she looked down again.

    I hitched Dusk and waited, but Myra just sat there. I knew it was dangerous to leave her, even in a nice part of town. It was just begging for trouble.

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    Slowly, I held out my hand to her. She looked at me for several seconds, her mouth tight, and then dismounted.

    She ignored my hand.

    *******

    Myra didn¡¯t say a damn word on the way back home. At times I swore I heard her sniffle, but I didn¡¯t respond. The road felt far longer on the ride home with Myra¡¯s eyes on my back. Finally, my house came into view.

    About a hundred feet from my cabin, I knelt on the ground. With my shadow ward tattoo hand, I reached into a small shadow cast by the grass. The tattoo glinted as I did, and the shadow reached up to caress my hand like a long-lost pet. I felt a tiny pinprick, and knew it tasted my blood.

    Suddenly, a huge ring of darkness extended around the cabin from where I knelt, matching the image in my mind. Then two more concentric rings formed inside one another, with my cabin in the center. Finally, I saw the image of the ornate skull encased in flames glint on the walls of my cabin and the stable. The shadow wards that I had set the other night would reset the moment I entered the perimeter, but I knew this would make them stronger.

    A second later, they all faded, and everything looked normal again. I looked down at my wrist but wasn¡¯t surprised when the wound from the shadow ward¡¯s payment was already healed.

    As I pulled up to the cabin, Myra swept herself off Dusk without warning and went inside. She slammed the door behind her.

    I eyed the door for a moment as I brushed Dusk¡¯s mane. He looked at me, his dark eyes steady.

    ¡°Any advice?¡± I asked quietly, but he only looked at me and nickered gently.

    After feeding Belle and Dusk, I finally had no choice but to go inside. Myra was sitting at the kitchen table when I entered, her head bowed and elbows resting on the wood. Her hair knot had loosened, but Myra had made no attempt to redo it. Stray strands hung in her eyes as she continued to ignore me.

    I went to the pantry and loaded food and ingredients into it. Then I went to the hearth, coaxing a fire from the blackened coals with fresh wood. I peered over my shoulder at Myra again.

    Still nothing.

    ¡°Myra this isn¡¯t going to work if you just ignore me,¡± I said quietly. Her shoulders stiffened, and a few more moments passed, the crackling flames the only sound. I opened my mouth to continue, but Myra cut me off.

    ¡°How can you act so normal?¡± she asked, her voice thick. I paused, genuinely caught off guard.

    ¡°Their screams¡­I¡¯ll never get that sound out of my head. They were torn limb from limb! And you don¡¯t even care!¡± she continued, her voice steadily getting shriller. She finally looked at me, her face catching the rays of the setting sun coming through the window. Her eyes were swollen, and tears stained her cheeks. We lapsed into silence as I searched for words. I saw the horror in her eyes, and I recognized something I had numbed myself to a long time ago.

    Slowly, I stood from the hearth and walked to a small cabinet stained a dark varnish. It had symbols of the Gods and Goddesses carved on its surface. It had belonged to Fay, and I hadn''t had the heart to throw it out after she died. I traced one of the symbols, a small irregular circle. It was lighter at the edges and grew black near the center. Like a void.

    I opened it and took out a bottle or blood-red wine and two glasses. One had an engraved ¡°F¡± on it. Thinking better of it, I put it back and simply pulled out another bottle of aged red wine. I looked straight at Myra as I approached the table.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen someone die before, have you?¡± I asked quietly. Myra just kept glaring at me as I uncorked the bottles. I took a si[p from mine as I set the other down in front of Myra.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if you got scared, but I only know one way to make it better,¡± I said calmly. I tipped my bottle back again, but Myra just looked at me blankly.

    ¡°Drink. You¡¯ll feel better,¡± I said, pushing Myra''s bottle a bit closer. Her eyes narrowed.

    ¡°What is this? Are you being nice to me, Miss Rowena?¡± Myra asked suspiciously. I just shrugged as I swallowed another mouthful of wine. She looked down at her own bottle and back up at me.

    ¡°Is this your answer to everything? Getting drunk?¡± she asked sarcastically.

    ¡°Indisposed,¡± I replied as I took another sip. A smaller one this time. Myra raised her brow at me.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± she asked, some of the posh returning to her voice.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say ladies are never drunk? They become indisposed,¡± I explained, looking at her  over the tip if the bottle. I gestured toward her glass and lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

    ¡°The wine works best when you empty your glass.¡±

    The corner of Myra¡¯s lips lifted ever-so-slightly as she grasped it and took a sip.

    ¡°My apologies. I wasn¡¯t aware you considered yourself a lady,¡± she said and lifted her glass toward me. I smirked as I mirrored the motion.

    ¡°That¡¯s better.¡±

    Our bottles chimed as we clanked them together.

    We didn¡¯t know what we were toasting to. We only knew it was the first of many.

    *******

    ¡°Miss Rowena, how can you drink so much? You can¡¯t be human,¡± Myra slurred as I carried her to the guest room. I chuckled as I pulled the blankets back and flopped her unceremoniously onto the mattress. Myra had let her hair down as we drank, and now it spread around her like a silky red curtain. She blew some of it out of her eyes.

    ¡°Maybe I was cheating,¡± I replied as I pulled her boots off. I rolled her, undid the back of her dress and corset, then pulled the comforter over her. Myra sighed and wriggled out of her dress from beneath the blankets. She curled into a ball and burrowed into the pillows. A moment later, I heard a soft feminine snore.

    Leaving the door open, I walked back to the hearth. I stoked the flames again. The room became a bit warmer, but it was well into the night now. The chill was persistent.

    Not ready to sleep yet, I settled into a plush armchair near the fire and kicked my feet up on a stool. The fire cast strange shadows on the walls as I looked around. Frost gathered on every window and the wood floor was frigid beneath my feet.

    I was fairly certain Myra would have vicious hangover when she awakened, and I didn¡¯t want her to puke on my floors. I left a bucket by her bed, but I didn¡¯t trust her to use it. I didn¡¯t want to be far when the inevitable happened.

    My body relaxed as the stoked fire steadily brought warmth to my bones. The drinks had helped, but I hadn¡¯t tipped over the edge to full-bore drunk tonight. I peered into her room again, but nothing seemed amiss. I resolved myself to stay awake as she sobered, but the fire was so warm and I was¡­so¡­tired¡­so¡­tired¡­

    *******

    I awakened as pain shot through me. The moon had set in the sky, and the house was dark apart from the feint glow emanating from the coals of the forgotten fire.

    I looked at my wrist. The tattoo was glowing, but not just the feint glow as before. It¡¯s eyes shone like beacons, and the burning was far more intense this time.

    Something told me to keep as still as possible, so I barely moved my head as I glanced toward Myra¡¯s room. My heart pressed against my ribs as I did. Everything in me wanted to run in there, but I kept myself under control.

    Even in the low light, I saw a shadow standing near her window. It was humanoid in shade and tall. The edge of a cloak caught in the breeze as it approach. Silent as death, it started to open the window.

    Gods, why hadn''t I locked the window? Had I really gotten that lazy?

    I slowly reached for my holstered pistols, wanting to catch the figure off guard. With their cloak I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a man or women. I just kept inching my hands toward my pistols, a bead of sweat rolling down my brow.

    The window was open now and the figure stepped into the room soundlessly. I pulled the pistol out and took aim with a steady hand. I took a calming breath.

    Almost¡­there¡­

    The cloaked head pivoted toward where I sat, and in a moment, they vaulted out the window. Their black cloak whispered as it slid out.

    I was on my feet a fraction of a second later and running toward the window. Myra sat up as she heard my pounding steps over the wood, her hair a mess. She rubbed her eyes.

    ¡°Hmm? What¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hide!¡± I barked at her as I jumped out the window. The figure was running away as fast and graceful as the wind. I aimed my pistols and pulled the trigger. Exactly as I did, the cloaked person pivoted out of the way without turning. My bullet struck the ground exactly where they had been, the shot echoing in the night.

    What the hell? They couldn¡¯t possibly have known¡ª

    I saw the cloak streak across the plane toward an abandoned barn off my property.

    I sprinted after them, my leg muscles moving powerfully beneath me. I closed my eyes for a second.

    The bounty hunter opened them.

    I skidded to a stop as I entered the barn. I looked around, but there was nobody to be seen. There was no exit apart from a small window thirty feet above. The barn was crowded with rusty tools and decaying wood. A huge stack of moldy hay was at the back, and the roof was supported by sagging rafters. Starlight could be seen through holes in the tin roof, and bulky objects jutted out of the shadows in awkward shapes.

    It seemed deserted, but I knew they were here. They had led me here on purpose. It was what I would have done if I were being chased. This was no average criminal. They had done this before and planned what to do if they were interrupted. I pivoted in a slow circle, staying close to the dilapidated barn door.

    A rustle sounded in a smaller mound of hay at the back. I centered my pistols on its source and took a step closer.

    A step too many.

    The barn door groaned as it was slammed shut behind me. I fired another shot at the other end, but I heard someone spring away, a low laugh escaping their lips.

    Silence fell as I waited in the darkness. I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I took a fighting stance, my pistols still at the ready.

    Something watched me from the shadows, waiting to strike. I let out a dark chuckle.

    Who¡¯s hunting whom?

 Lesson Seven: Sometimes Hunters are Prey

    After Fay died...

    No. Let me rephrase it more accurately.

    After Fay was murdered, my entire life changed. It was more than just her physical absence. It was the fact that our time together was stolen, and there was no getting it back. If you''ve never seen the love of your life die, it''s hard for you to know how I felt. How I still feel to this day.

    But I''ll try to explain it to you.

    It was like the air had suddenly gotten thinner. The world lost its color, and every attempt to smile or laugh was replaced by the sight of her lying in the street. I could still smell the coppery tang of the puddle of blood, and the stink of rot because her stomach had been ripped open.

    It was like my heart had gone numb to happiness. Most of the time, I either felt nothing at all or seething rage. In the past ten years, that rage had developed a voice which spoke of revenge, blood, and hatred. And that voice, that demon, perked its ears now.

    Fay has gone to the far shore, it said, and she took your humanity with her. Only in death will you be reunited.

    And I wasn''t allowed to die. Trust me, I had tried. And now I was paying for it.

    People think bounty hunters are born with this innate talent for killing and fighting. In Fay''s case, that was true. She was born a fighter. She seemed to master any weapon she picked up. She was calm, confident, intelligent, and strong.

    But not me. I had to train, and Stone was happy to oblige.

    I fought, got my ass beaten, bled, and had gotten my ass beaten some more. Shooting had come easy enough, but that only a fraction of it. I learned how to take a pistol apart, swing a sword, and fight in my own style. Stone put me through drills that made some tortures look like a vacation. It was bitter, grueling, and painful work.

    But the results were well worth it.

    "I''m not going to wait all Gods damned night," I said to the gloom. Someone or something still watched me from the shadows. I kept my back close to the door, the shifting sawdust the only sound in the barn. I kept scanning the space, looking for some sort of movement. I felt eyes on me, but whoever it was didn''t attack.

    "Come on," I said, looking into yet another shadow, "The first move is yours."

    I stood tall, and widened my legs in a defensive stance, my weight in the balls of my feet. I held my pistols aloft and laced my fingers in the triggers.

    Here we are again, Rowena, an all-too-familiar voice whispered across my mind. I felt myself hiss in disgust, but kept my focus as I replied to the demon inside me.

    There''s only enough room for one voice in my head. Now find a chasm and jump in it, I growled inwardly.

    I turned as footsteps echoed in the space to my right. I was a hair too late with my pistols as a towering figure struck my arm. My aim was knocked aside just as I pulled the trigger. Wood splinted apart in the wall as I felt a fist connect with my side. I turned with the momentum of the blow instead of resisting, sinking to my haunches and throwing my leg out in a low blow at the ankles of my attacker. The figure jumped fluidly to avoid the hit, and my leg swung below them harmlessly.

    They let out a low grunt as they did, the voice a clear tenor.

    You''re a man. Good to know, I thought wryly through the pain. His fist had only grazed me, but it felt like I was hit with a sledgehammer. I could already feel my body hurrying to heal. In a moment, the pain would be gone.

    I finished my low spin and brought my other pistol up. I took aim for another shot, but the second before I did, the man stepped to the side to dodge.

    Redirecting my attack, I leveled my weight on my hands and kicked up between his legs. I only succeeded in ruffling the edge of the cloak.

    Ashling''s asshole, I''m getting tired of this.

    I rolled back onto my neck, and kicked back into a standing position. The man had already retreated back into the shadows, his cloak whispering past a barrel. I aimed at it a breath later, but suddenly the man upended it. It went flying toward me. I dove out of the way, rolling with the landing and finished in a crouch. On instinct I fired first one, then two shots. My body moved before my mind caught up. It was the muscle memory built from countless repetitions of drills.

    A male grunt of pain was my reward.

    That same instinct told me to stay low, so I dove behind a decaying wagon and eyed my target between the spokes of the wheels.

    All went silent except for both his and my ragged breathing. My heart hammered in my ears as my lungs burned from the exertion. How was one man proving to be more difficult than a band of bandits? What was wrong with me?

    I heard him take a long and heavy breath. Then I saw him stand. I went to shoot, but then hesitated.

    The aura surrounding him had changed. I noticed a prickling sensation in the air, and my hair stood on end. Something besides the demon pressed on my mind, but I couldn''t place what it was. I saw nothing in the shadow of his hood as it looked around the barn.

    "What now? Are you ready for round two?" I asked breathlessly. The hood snapped in my direction, and I saw him shift to face me more fully.

    With no warning, he began to run at me like a bull.

    I could have gone for the head. I should have, but that blackness was thundering through me. The demon wanted me to kill him. Honestly, it would have been easy to do so with the idiot charging straight toward me. I lifted my aim to the hood in response to the thought.

    Do it.

    No. You''re not getting control again.

    Redirecting my aim, I fired at the man''s shoulder. The bullet met it''s mark and he stumbled, a hand going to the floor before he straightened again.

    He kept coming. In fact, he seemed faster now, and I realized just how tall he was. His momentum built as he batted a support beam aside like it weighed nothing. The wood shattered with a loud crack, splinters going everywhere.

    I felt my eyes widen as I took aim again. This time I hit his right kneecap. I saw the spray of blood and bone as I aimed my other pistol. His left kneecap exploded as well, but I didn''t have time to congratulate myself.

    Because he still kept coming. It was like it didn''t even matter. He even laughed as I began to scramble backwards, holstering my pistols. I climbed up the large pile of moldy hay and reached for the crossbeam of the stall. There was no option but to run. I had no advantage in these close quarters with that thing raging like this. I had to get higher and out of his reach.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The cart I was hiding behind was thrown to the side as if it were a toy. It crashed into another support beam, and the entire barn swayed with the impact. The rafters and wall groaned and began to crack. Somehow I had shifted to the back of the barn. The cloaked man was between me and the door. I only had one option before me.

    The window. But I was going to have to climb to it and jump out before the man tore the barn apart.

    The hay I had climbed was about fifteen feet tall, and I jumped toward the rafters, my legs burning with the effort. Somehow, my hand clasped over the lowest crossbeam and my heart leapt gratefully.

    I yelped as a huge hand closed around my ankle. My leg nearly popped out of the socket as he yanked me down. The barn blurred as I was whirled around. He threw me past the hay to the hardened earth floor. Something in my knee popped as he did, and there was no time to brace.

    I hit the floor with a loud thud.

    The air was forced from my lungs as he lifted me up only to slam me back down with my back flat. My ribs cracked as my back took the brunt of the impact. I felt the shearing agony as a shard of bone went into my lungs. I gasped, and blood trickled out of the corner of my mouth. Every breath tasted like copper as I lifted my head and my stomach dropped. My foot was pointing the wrong way, and my knee was bent a good ways backward.

    So much trouble. And for what? So you can try to hold some shred of humanity? the demon whispered.

    "Shove...off..." I replied as I gagged on more blood. It took me a moment to realized I had spoken aloud. But I felt the demon now. It paced in its cage as it continued to speak from the forgotten pit of my soul.

    After so much time of being such a good little girl, you have another chance, it said. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it, but it pressed forward in my mind.

    Will you stay your hand for this one? You used to love punishing the guilty. Come on! We''ll do it together. For old time''s sake! Or do you want our goddess to punish you again?

    I tried to move, but I was still stunned. It felt like my limbs had been replaced with lead. I could barely make a fist.

    The man dusted himself off. He settled his cloak and hood more neatly before looking my way again. He seemed to be taking his time. Like a cat that had broken a bird''s wings, he knew I had no ability to run.

    I looked around, desperate for my body to heal faster. Even now, I felt the section of my rib slowly moving back into place. My lung repaired itself and the pain dulled. My eyes drifted to the dull light coming through the high window.

    That was the moment I realized it had started to snow. Some of the beautiful flakes were drifting in through the window.

    A black cloak crowded my vision. He stood above me for moment, before he reached his hand toward my neck.

    I realized my leg was still pointing the wrong way, and several of my ribs were still broken. I wasn''t going to heal in time, and this man was going to rip me apart. He didn''t know he wasn''t capable of killing me. Nothing was. I would heal after being at the brink of death. And my debt to the Goddess would grow yet again.

    Sorry Fay, I thought.

    You''ll just have to wait a little longer.

    And that was the moment the demon stepped out of her cage.

    It was like someone had injected ice into every vein of my body. The darkness within me spread to match the darkness surrounding me. The man''s hand was a hair''s breath from my neck as my hand shot out. My fingers pierced his wrist like a knife. He recoiled from the sudden blow and tried to hit me again.

    But my body was no longer there.

    In the moment of his recoil, I twisted to get my good foot back beneath me. I jumped the twenty feet into the rafters and landed like a cat. The barn swayed again with my sudden weight, but by some miracle, it held together. I balanced on my good leg, looking down at him. He looked around for a moment before finally finding me. I heard him grunt in frustration. Then it changed to one of disgust.

    My leg and ankle made a loud crack as the flesh became whole again. The pain along my ribs and back stopped almost immediately. I looked down at him and began to laugh. My voice sounded harsh. Cold. Almost nothing like me.

    Wisely, the cloaked man retreated a step. For some reason, this made me laugh harder as I slowly drew my pistols again.

    "You know what? I''m actually grateful to you," I said in a voice like ice on stone. I jumped from the rafters, landing silently on the earth. He stood still as I strode toward him. Gods this felt so good. Why had I wanted to hold this back? What were these pitiful beings to me? They were nothing but fodder between me and the afterlife.

    All cultures had their own version of heaven. Luradia called it "The Far Shore." In all honestly, that term was my favorite, because I knew my way to the afterlife was only through an ocean of blood.

    I tilted my head back, tasting the air. There were so many souls nearby. All of them were twisted with greed and crime. None of them deserved this world. I already knew how I would start. I would go to the jailhouse and kill them all. No trial. No bail. They all would die, and anyone who stood in my way was nothing more than collateral damage. Petty mortal morality was nothing to me.

    And every breath I drew in this world was yet another breath away from her.

    Cracking my neck and knuckles, I looked back at the man.

    "Thank you, Good Sir, for setting me free after all this time. Please know your death is not for nothing," I said, smiling up into the hood. I then lifted my eyes to the snowfall through the window, even as the man reached for my neck again.

    The snowflakes stopped in midair.

    I looked back to the man. He stood frozen in his attack. His cloak was fanned behind him, and his muscular arm was extended toward me. His face was still hidden in shadow, but I knew it was twisted in a scowl. His hand was less than an inch from my skin, but it might as well as been a mile.

    Time had stopped. I laughed into the absolute silence and stillness.

    Oh yes, I was back. I was back and better than before. Suddenly, my debt didn''t seem so daunting. I looked back to the man who stood motionless as a statue. Part of me wanted to pull the cloak back, but why did I care? He was going to die right now anyway. Shrugging, I pulled out my pistols and placed both under his chin.

    "Farewell," I whispered and pulled the triggers. The pistols worked normally, but the moment the bullets touched his skin, they froze. I stepped back into his outstretched hands for fun.

    Then, I allowed time to speed back up. The top of the man''s head blew off beneath the hood. I smiled as gore splattered all over my face. His body slumped, and then fell forward. I let him fall facedown into the dirt.

    Well, I suppose you couldn''t call him face down anymore. Could you still be facedown if you didn''t have a face? Maybe belly-down was better.

    The blood was thick and sticky, so I walked to the nearby stream. The darkness mercifully numbed me to the cold. The Silkendale has several streams in the plains which watered the crops. This was one of the larger ones, which was why I had chosen to build our house here. I stooped, and washed his blood from my face and tried to get some off my clothes.

    After a few minutes, I returned to the barn to search the body. I sang a small tune under my breath as I walked. It was a grim lullaby about the War of Ages. The war between humanity and the Elemancers.

    Is that your blood, Little One?

    Is that your blood in the water?

    Do some blood get in the river?

    Or is the river made of blood?

    I rounded the corner into the barn as I finished the lullaby, already thinking of saddling Dusk this very night. The jailhouse awaited, and I would kill them all. I looked into the gloom for the body. Finally, I spotted the spray of blood from his head and followed it to the source.

    But the body was gone.

    I only had enough time to see the absent corpse before I heard a shifting behind me. An arm as hard as granite went around my neck. I tried to buck, but the grip was firm under my chin. Another hand snaked its way to the lower part of my neck as I struggled. I drove an elbow into the man''s blood-sodden cloak, but it did nothing.

    I couldn''t stop the hand that went to where my Marks burned on my skin. A single one of his fingers touched one of the scorching Marks, pressing so hard I was sure I would bruise. I closed my eyes and prepared to stop time again.

    I heard a whisper, and had the sense of falling into a dream of deep sleep. I opened my eyes, and gasped at what I saw.

    The forgotten barn was gone. Instead, I was in a room out thousands of floating bookcases in a misty void. The man was gone as well.

    I wasn''t in my bounty hunter clothing anymore. Instead, I stood in a gray robe, my hair falling down my back.

    As I looked around, I saw the gray went on seemingly forever. I felt my heart quicken as I pivoted around and around, looking for the man. Now that I could see more clearly, I recognized this realm. Somehow we had been transported here.

    I had only been here a few times. It was where I had made the worst decision of my life.

    It was the place where all Deified met to negotiate with the Gods in hopes of getting a better future. It was also the place where the Gods cheated them.

    This was not heaven, but it wasn''t hell either. It was the ethereal realm in between. The meeting place of the living and the dead. The place for Gods and mortals alike.

    Purgatory.

    "Fuck."

 Lesson Eight: Purgatory Can Be a Hell

    Son of a succubus, I hate this place.

    Purgatory. I had hoped to never see it again. The shifting mists and gray shadows crawled across the floor. It was recognizable by its stifling stillness and never-ending void. I looked up and saw the gray blend into a black sky peppered with stars.

    Symbols were across it in several colors. The closest ones were: a red flame, a white rose, a purple crescent moon slowly phasing to full, and a barely distinguishable irregular circle that was lighter at the edges and faded to an all-consuming black.

    That sky hadn''t changed, but this wasn''t the same purgatory I had been to before. I remembered a vast Eden of plants in every type, and a girl of unparalleled beauty caring for them. I tried to breathe as I thought of what to do, but my attention felt scattered. Questions swirled in my mind as I turned and turned.

    One of the bookcases drifted overhead as I looked around. If I listened closely enough, I could hear indistinct whispers above the quiet. My nerves hung on a knife''s edge as I tried to spy the man among the floating shelves. Gods, I wished he would just get it over with. I knew he wanted me dead, but I couldn''t figure out the purpose of going after Myra. Furthermore, I couldn''t figure out how I was suddenly in Purgatory of all places.

    Why am I here?

    "You will find out momentarily," a tenor voice echoed through the shelves. I pivoted on my heel, but the voice seemed to come from all directions. I instinctively reached for my pistols, but my hands only closed around the stupid robe.

    "You''re able to read my mind?" I asked, sinking into a defensive stance. Shelf upon shelf obscured my vision in an ever-shifting labyrinth. They were simply everywhere, brimming with leather volumes of every thickness, shape, and length. A light chuckle bounced across them.

    "I''m afraid this fight is not over, My Lady. However, I must admit, your attempts to survive have been valiant."

    I couldn''t hold back a scoff as I continued to circle. This voice matched the grunts of the cloaked man from the barn. I was sure he wouldn''t be so arrogant if he stood in front of me, but he seemed content to hide. I crossed my arms across my chest and examined the nails of one hand.

    "Pardon my lack of fear, but I seem to remember blowing your head off not too long ago," I said remorselessly. "Now, if you don''t mind, I have things to do, and criminals to kill. So kindly send me back to the physical realm or face me like a man."

    The shelves suddenly closed around me in a hexagon. More shelves stacked on top until they formed an endless tower of books on all sides. I frowned up at them. I knew I was being played with.

    "Such a bloodthirsty little vixen! I''ve heard you would do anything but kill a target lately. Why the change of heart?"

    I smirked, looking around for the source of the voice again. He had to be hiding among the books. I experimentally pulled at one of them, but it remained firmly in place.

    "You want to know why I''m more willing to kill now? That''s easy. I was hesitant to feed...certain parts of myself. I got a little gun-shy after paying the first part of my debt," I replied. Gods I wished I had a weapon. The robe felt pathetically thin around me. I knew I could use that ability, but it was too soon. He could still be anywhere, and I hadn''t used it in a long time. I had to keep stalling until he showed himself.

    "But we''re getting off the subject. Why am I here?" I asked, glancing upward into the black. Somehow bleak light bled to where I stood, but the sky remained dark. I took a closer look at the books, and realized they were labeled. The script was a neat cursive, but I recognized names on the spines of the books.

    Maris Lunai, Joseph Para, and Notono Murosaki were some of the names I read before the voice interrupted me.

    "You have unfortunately interrupted my master''s plans, and that cannot be allowed to stand," he said in a sycophantic tone. "I do apologize, but you are not going back to the physical plane."

    "You think you can kill me? Oh darling, I dare you try," I said, genuinely amused. I opened my arms wide in welcome.

    "Believe me, there are ways. When a soul dies in this realm, it is destroyed and banished to the deepest pits for eons of unendurable agony." he explained. His voice seemed to rotate as he spoke. One moment it was behind me, and the next it was above. I knew he was trying to scare me, but I refused to give him what he wanted.

    "I feel it is only fair to warn you. Both of you have earned that much," he continued, but I could hear the sadism in his voice. I lifted a brow in surprise as the meaning of his words hit me.

    "Both of us? Who are you talking to?" I asked as I laughed. His laugh matched my own, bouncing off the walls of volumes.

    "You''re not too observant, Sweet," he corrected. "Look down."

    Rolling my eyes, I did as he asked. I didn''t know what game he was playing, but it was getting boring. However, as I looked at the floor, my breath caught.

    The floor looked like a mirror, but I had two reflections standing back to back. One version wore an aura of pale light. Her eyes had the radiant blue light of a Deified, the veins of light trailing up her neck from a single Mark. She looked up at me anxiously, her eyes pleading.

    The other reflection wore an aura of shadows, and her veins were inky-black. They were two voids with red irises, and even the skin surrounding her eyes had darkened. She grinned at me wickedly. As if nothing made her happier than hunting for a kill.

    "Well," I said as calmly as I could. "That''s hardly fair. You get to be strong and read my mind, and all I get is a split personality."

    I closed my eyes, trying to stop time. I was sick of this game, and I wanted to get out of here.

    Nothing happened.

    What the--

    "I wouldn''t sell yourself short. You also have that neat parlor trick that turned my skull into an ash tray. It makes me wonder what other skills that pretty face is hiding. Your goddess must be so proud. If only this was her territory."

    I struggled to keep my face even, tearing my eyes away from the reflected floor. I knew he was a special type of arrogant if he dared to mention a goddess so casually.

    "She can take a bath in a bonfire for all I care," I said quietly. "Now are you going to face me, or what?"

    There was no reply as my voice joined the quiet whispers in the void. I looked down and saw my darker reflection was staring directly at me. Shadows pulsed from her in every-expanding waves. My brighter self shot her a skeptical glance as her light ebbed. For some reason, I couldn''t stop time here. So that left only one option.

    "Your goddess is weak to tolerate such disrespect. It matters not, however," the man replied as I reached for the shadows again. They caressed my fingers, and seemed to read my intent. I spread my hand wide open, and the shadows shot out like arrows, darting from darkness to darkness and disappearing among the shelves.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A book pulled out from a shelf above, and lowered itself to my height. The cover was the exact color of dried blood; not quite black, but not a healthy red either. It wasn''t especially large, but it was thick with several pages.

    The book levitated, rotating slowly until I saw the front cover reflected the dull light. The script was the exact shade of violet as my eyes. I felt my heart pound as I read the cover.

    Rowena Elizabeth McAlister

    "You know, I rather think this book fits your soul. Not all books do, but my master really seemed to get yours right," the cloaked man said. He materialized from the opposite wall, grabbing my book. The hood of his cloak had fallen away at last to reveal a man''s face. The features kept altering, however, and his reflection did as well. One moment he had light skin, and the next it was the color of charcoal. The eyes went from narrow to wide, and varied a rainbow of colors. His hair changed form, texture, and length by the second. Each style blended smoothly to the next.

    "You''re a shape changer. That explains a lot," I said quietly. He grinned with stunningly white teeth.

    "Correct," he said smugly. He grabbed my book and pulled it to his chest. I kept stalling for time, sending him a smile of my own. I poured my energy into my shadows, but it left me feeling weak. My abilities felt so sluggish here. Even the smallest manipulation felt like lifting a boulder.

    "Do you have any last questions?" he asked as he played with my name spelled in script.

    "I''ll get all the answers I want from you later. I can''t promise it''ll be pleasant for you, though," I replied. He shook his head, still smiling.

    "I regret to be the one to tell you this..." he trailed off as he opened my book to the beginning. He grabbed a page, caressing its end. I swore I felt the same caress along my back. I closed my eyes, feeling my shadows and telling them where to go. They were almost where I wanted them. He laughed darkly as I looked away.

    "But your story has come to an end."

    Grabbing the page between two fingers, he tore it out. As he did, a section of the skin along my back tore off with it. It was a beyond any physical pain I had ever felt. It was like fire and ice replaced that area. I immediately felt sick and I fought to stay standing. I refocused on my shadows.

    Come on. Almost there.

    He tossed the page aside like it was a piece of rotten meat. It hung suspended, and then evaporated into a brief flash of light. The light took the form of a beautiful woman with clever blue eyes. She bent toward a toddler girl with black hair, her face beaming in a smile. The imaged hovered before dissolving into a shower of light. I felt something in my mind shift, and suddenly it was like the image was from someone else''s soul. The memory felt like it had been made up by a talented artist instead of coming straight from head.

    The pain continued to pulse through me as the shifter looked at the sparks of memory, his hand caressing them.

    "Such a pretty image from such a dark mind," he said as he reached for the second page. "Now then, let''s continue."

    I shot my hand out as if grabbing a rope and pulled. There was a hissing sound as shadows curved around his fingers and dug in. My shadows stopped his tearing halfway through the page. This time I felt something burn across my back, but it wasn''t as bad as the first time. I still couldn''t hold back a grimace as I fought to concentrate.

    Tendrils of darkness swirled around his neck, arms, waist, and legs. I saw him struggle, muscles bulging, and he growled as he saw his reflection. It too was bound in darkness. I smiled even as I felt him pull.

    "You know, you were right," I said shakily through the effort.

    "That book does match my soul."

    He grunted again as a shadow pulled tighter around his neck. I tightened my grip everywhere, and forced his fingers apart. The page fell away from his shaking fingers as we held one another in a stand-off. He glared at me as I saw something in the air shift around him. His grimace turned calculating as I saw him grow bigger.

    And bigger.

    And bigger.

    He turned into a type of human I had only seen in rare books. They were a type of mountain people that grew to almost ten feet tall and were bound in muscle. Some thought they were myths meant to scare children to sleep. They were a figure of some story-teller''s overactive imagination.

    A Behemoth.

    Shit on a biscuit.

    My shadows retracted to allow the shifter''s sudden massive size. I put all my energy into the shadows around his fingers and arms, somehow forcing to open more as he finished his transformation. My book dropped from his grasp as I felt sweat build everywhere. The book resumed its hovering, and we both gazed at it.

    The shifter huffed a breath and tried to reach for it. He was so strong that he succeeded in dragging me forward an inch. I ground my heels in and tried to stabilize myself. I threw my weight backward, my strength spread evenly in the tendrils of darkness, but I might as well have tried to stop an avalanche. His hand made contact with the spine again and he started to close his fingers around it.

    An idea came suddenly.

    I saw that the shifter''s legs were still bound, and all his attention was on his arms. His legs had twisted awkwardly as he had grown, and now all of his weight was thrust forward to reach down to my book. My shadows had gone from binding his legs, to partially supporting them.

    I let them dissolve.

    Predictably, he toppled forward from his sudden release. I changed my line of pull on his arms from keeping them apart, to pulling him down. He didn''t have time to react as he fell belly-down onto the hard floor. I raced forward as he recovered, letting his arm tethers dissolve and using my remaining energy to gather more darkness. I stepped on the back of his head and used my other leg to kick my book high into the tower.

    It felt like I had kicked my own ass.

    I landed and propelled myself backward away from the Behemoth, but not before I caught sight of my book sliding back onto a high shelf.

    A fist connected with my stomach, and I only just barely jumped with the momentum of the blow to diminish the damage. I was still propelled high into the air as I coughed up blood. I didn''t think it was possible to bleed in Purgatory, but apparently I had been wrong.

    Oh my damned Gods it hurt, but years upon years of sparring with Stone kicked in. I forced myself to ignore the pain as I started to fall. I twisted and caught a shelf with my fingertips. I brought my legs under me and kicked away from the wall just as a second fist collided with where I just was. However, the shelves were protected by some sort of force. It rippled with the impact before settling into transparency again.

    I flipped in the air and landed behind the Behemoth. Rearing back, I formed my shadows into fine points. It started with one shadow spear. Then it became two, then four, then eight and so on. The Behemoth turned just in time to have me throw over fifty shadow spears into him. He reared with the impacts, and his back collided with the wall. He sank to his knees, the spears still jutting from his body at odd angles.

    He stopped moving.

    I panted, unsure of what to do. I looked around, and suddenly the shelves shifted. The tower broke apart, and they started to drift randomly again.

    I watched them, my eyes going hazy.

    I knew I had overextended myself. My energy was simply gone. Even breathing was too much effort. I simply couldn''t get enough air as the room clouded even more. I tried to move, but my legs buckled. I went to my knees with my hands braced one the floor in front of me. I gagged, and then a fountain of blood came out of my mouth in heaves.

    I heard a wet cough, and managed to stop heaving even as my arms gave away. I collapsed fully onto the floor, and saw the shifter had returned to his original size. He looked at me over a gaping hole in his throat, as well as several matching ones in his chest.

    We met one another''s eyes for several moments before my soul finally gave out, and blackness took me.

    *******

    I became aware of frost on my skin, and dirt caked onto my face. The smell of rotten wood and hay was heavily mixed with cold night air. I came back to myself in fits and starts, and my mind felt muddled.

    I was back in the barn.

    Groaning, I rolled over. Every part of me hurt, and my hands shook as they rubbed my face. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on my breathing as I tried to remember what happened.

    The shifter.

    My eyes flew open. I tucked into a crouch and grasped my pistols. They felt satisfyingly solid in my hands as I looked around. The sky was still dark, but flakes of snow were visible in the plane. None of them had gathered on the ground yet, even though it was cold enough to do so. I realized that our time in Purgatory had seemed like almost fifteen minutes, but only a few had passed in the physical plane.

    I backed out of the barn, my guard up. Nothing moved or attacked. It was perfectly silent. I realized I was alone, and relaxed with a sigh. I saw that the stars held just enough light to show the old wood of the external barn. Part of the light illuminated the wall, and my eyes instantly focused on letters drawn on it in wet blood.

    We''ll settle this another time, Sweet.

    I gritted my teeth, angry at myself for staying asleep long enough for him to get away. I looked at the message as I remembered something else. A pretty something with a damned posh accent.

    "Myra," I muttered as I sprinted back to the house, my entire body aching with each step.

 Lesson Nine: All People Talk, But Few Listen

    It took me several minutes to coax Myra out of her hiding place. She had raced to the barn and hidden in Belle''s stall. She was still heavily intoxicated. Based on the disheveled wood shavings in the bottom, I could see she had tried and failed to mount Belle several times. I found her lying under some spare hay in the corner, a liberal amount of vomit beside her.

    If the shifter felt half as bad as I did it was no wonder he didn''t risk attacking again. Still though, it was a relief that I didn''t have another fight for the moment. I wasn''t sure I could kill a rabbit right now, let alone that thing. I nearly passed out again as I reset my shadow wards, the wave of darkness confirming that we were indeed alone again.

    My memory gets hazy after that.

    *******

    I awakened the next morning feeling oddly...light. The pain had faded during the night as my body restored itself, but I still felt different. It was like I had been wearing a heavy coat for an extremely long time, and now it was off. My mind seemed more clear too. The darkness had receded into the cage I had made in my soul. It was still there, but it was like it had gone to sleep. I hadn''t felt this way since the last time it had taken control and exhausted its power.

    Only this time there wasn''t a pile of bodies to wake up to.

    "Myra, would you like some coffee?" I called from the kitchen. Myra''s low groan from the bedroom came in reply. I finished slicing and toasting bread and took the kettle off the stove. Stepping outside, I poured an ice cold glass of water from a pitcher I had stored there. I carried the glass and a mug of coffee to her bedside table. Myra was curled into a ball of sadness under the covers. She grunted again, and burrowed even further under the blanket. Her voice was barely audible.

    "I''m dying," she muttered with a small sob.

    "You know, after all your tough talk, I thought you would handle your booze a bit better."

    "Go away..." she droned, a hand darting out from under the covers and swiping at me. I side stepped the attack easily, my hands going to my hips. I sighed and shook my head at her. Myra had vomited a few more times since I had awakened, and she had yet to eat or drink anything today.

    She''s worse than I thought.

    I looked out the window at the small garden, considering my options. I had to get Myra well before dealing with the events of last night, but she wasn''t coming out of those blankets anytime soon. Fayra and I always kept medicinal herbs planted there for when she came home from her bounties. I remembered brewing her several powders and concoctions when she came back hurt.

    You need to be careful, you know. You''re not immortal, I had told her.

    She had smirked sarcastically at me then.

    Good advice, Doctor. I''ll be sure to ask my targets to kindly not shoot me next time. I''m sure they''ll be happy to oblige.

    Shaking the memory off, I closed my eyes and tried to remember knowledge from the person I had been before my world shattered. Leaving the mug and glass on the nightstand, I went to the garden. Many of the plants had wilted in the cold, but Zachariah''s tending had preserved some of them. Some shoots could be seen poking out through the dried leaves. I needed to collect these soon and put them on the rack before they turned to mold.

    Nausea, headache, pain, and upset stomach. Those were Myra''s symptoms. So that meant...

    I dug up some turmeric root, mint, parsley, and rosemary. I rubbed the leaves between my fingers, smelling their earthy scent. I snapped the turmeric root and took all of them inside. I blended the herbs into a tea, cooking the turmeric separately. About a half hour later, I carried a mug of fresh tea to Myra. She was the same as I had left her, though I noticed some of the water was gone now.

    "Myra, I want you to drink this," I said bluntly. She tried to swipe at me again, but this time I caught her wrist and yanked to blanket down to see her face.

    "It''s going to help you. I''ll come back in a half hour and if at least half of the tea isn''t gone, I will force you to drink it myself," I said quietly. The look she gave would have frozen an entire lake, but I met her eyes impassively. Eventually, she reached for the mug and took a cautious sip. Her nose wrinkled, but she swallowed it under my watchful stare. I took a breath and tried to soften my tone as she drank some more.

    "When we go into town, I can get you some Behemoth Broth. Its a powerful restorative tinged with magic that should get you back on your feet. For now, this will have to do," I explained as kindly as I could. Myra considered me, and then let out an unladylike belch.

    *******

    Myra began to recover a few hours later, and I was quick to saddle Dusk. She was still unsteady, so she had to ride with me again. The midday sun provided some warmth as we rode, but small patches of snow blew in the breeze. Ice collected at the edge of the Silkendale River, though the familiar steamer boat floated lazily in the current. I knew the owner would likely take it south to Piremore soon in search of warmer waters. Pleasure cruise season was ending in the northwest.

    Myra had predictably wanted to avoid going to town today, but it couldn''t wait. I had to talk to Stone now about the murders, because if that wasn''t who had attacked last night, then I was an Incubus''s consort.

    I kept us along Main Street, a few vendors calling their wares to us, but I pulled Dusk to a stop when I heard a shrill voice.

    ¡°Get out of here!¡±

    I perked up in the saddle, looking around for the voice¡¯s owner, but a second voice joined the first.

    ¡°Yeah kid! Don¡¯t make us get ruff, you filthy thief!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t steal them, I bought them! Give them back!¡± cried a third voice of a young boy.

    I rounded the corner of a side street to see a boy and girl standing over a smaller boy of maybe eleven years old. The others looked like they were in their early teens. All were gathered in the narrow side alley, but were still plainly visible from the street for anyone who cared to notice. Blood came down quickly from a wound on the youngest boy¡¯s brow and one of his eyes was swelling shut. He was reaching toward a sack the teen boy was holding above his head. The girl, dressed in a simple dress and coat, had blood on the knuckles of an upraised fist while the older boy sneered behind her.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The smaller child grabbed the teen boy¡¯s shirt, trying to lift himself higher, but the girl kneed him hard in the stomach. He rolled a few times before colliding with the wall of the alley.

    I gritted my teeth as I saw the hint of a tattoo along his neck. It had the graceful red lines of Elemancy magic. They bent and shifted on his skin like any Elemancer, but the boy lacked their distinctive silver-grey hair, and charcoal complexion. He had thick blonde hair, and ivory skin. He did had their eyes though. They looked like dying coals in a fire.

    I looked around and frowned as I saw several adults passing the alley as if they saw nothing, ignoring the scene.

    The teenagers closed in on the boy as I saw him tighten his small fist, and that tattoo shift on his skin. The teens didn¡¯t notice his eyes turn to catlike slits.

    ¡°Trash like you doesn¡¯t belong in our town! You better get out before we have to do something really-¡±

    ¡°Rowena, what are you doing?¡± Myra whispered, but I was already out of my saddle, ignoring her. A sadistic smiling pulled particularly strong on the girl¡¯s lips as I charged toward them. I had to get to them, and stop this. My paced quickened as the tattoos drained from the small boy¡¯s neck and flowed into his arms, the coals in his eyes turning to roaring flames.

    Shitshitshit!

    Just as the cobblestones started to crack under the child''s hands, I pulled the sack out of the teen boy¡¯s grasp while he was distracted.

    ¡°What¡¯s all this now?¡± I asked breathlessly, holding the sack out of the boy¡¯s reach, ¡°People who steal things from others are the real trash, you know.¡±

    ¡°He stole them first!¡± said the girl, stamping her foot.

    ¡°Is that so? And you put him under citizen''s arrest? They¡¯re making deputies younger and younger nowadays. What are you, fourteen?¡± I said, my eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± said the girl, crossing her skinny arms.

    ¡°I¡¯m fourteen!¡± said the boy. I shifted my focus to him.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± I said sarcastically, and he deflated a bit.

    ¡°Anyway, you say he stole the things in this sack?¡± I asked, holding it up. They both nodded. I looked at the small boy for a moment, and was relieved when I say the tattoo was back on his neck and his eyes had returned to normal. I looked back at the older kids.

    ¡°What proof do you have? Did you see him steal this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, but-¡± said the girl, stubbornness in her tone but I talked over her.

    ¡°Is the sheriff looking for him?¡±

    ¡°No, but-¡±

    ¡°Are the things in this sack yours?¡±

    ¡°NO!!¡± bellowed the girl, ¡°But there¡¯s no way a halfling can buy anything. My mother says they do nothing but steal to survive!¡±

    ¡°She has this on good authority I take it?¡± I asked, scowling at the girl. She looked up into my face defiantly, no remorse to be seen. The boy tucked behind her and set a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°Everyone knows that!¡± she growled, shifting her hands to her bony hips.

    ¡°Well then, why don¡¯t we all go down to Sheriff Stone¡¯s office together? He¡¯s a good friend of mine and I¡¯m sure he¡¯d love to hear this,¡± I said casually, like I was discussing a trip to the tavern. They looked at one another hesitantly, like rabbits caught in a snare. I let them sweat for a moment before speaking again.

    ¡°Must be nice to pick on someone smaller than you, steal their stuff, and call it a good day right?¡± I leaned in on them, ¡°So is it my turn? To pick on someone smaller than me?¡± I said quietly. Too quietly. The teens looked at me and for the first time, I saw fear in their eyes.

    ¡°N-no,¡± the boy stuttered, looking uncertainly at the girl.

    ¡°Y-you wouldn¡¯t dare! We didn¡¯t do anything!¡± she said sternly, but her voice wavered. I smiled, baring all my teeth at her.

    ¡°You have to be careful. You start stealing from others, and then others start stealing from you. It''s a self-feeding cycle,¡± I said, squaring my shoulders. They both flinched, but then I straightened up. I glanced from the sack I held and back to them before replying.

    ¡°But that''s your decision. Whether that cycle breaks or continues is completely up to you. But one''s certain. You''re not getting this sack back.¡±

    The girl froze in a mixture or anger and fear. She bit her lip and looked to the ground before the boy spoke up.

    ¡°Rene, I think we should go,¡± he said hesitantly, and she sent him a sharp look. They considered one another, then me, then walked away. I watched them go, then looked to the small boy. He was still crouched next the wall, his eyes wider than the Screeching Canyons.

    I untied my bandana, the cold air hitting my exposed neck. I slowly knelt before him. I tried to be gentle and soothing with my approach, but he still looked at me with wary eyes.

    I set the sack next to him and reached to wipe the blood from his face. After a moment, he inched closer, a hand holding his swollen eye. I I felt myself frown at the injury. The boy was small and malnourished. The red tattoos were shocking on his pale skin, peeking out from under his shirt with every move. It was no wonder he had gotten beaten. Elemancers were still despised by humans mostly, even half-Elemancers. The wounds of slavery traveled across many generations, but I doubted this boy deserved to be treated this way.

    My bandana was a fraction of an inch from his face when, suddenly, his eyes darted to my neck. He yelped and started to scoot away from me as fast as his tiny arms could manage. I held my hands up and tried to smile encouragingly, but the boy remained focused on my Marks.

    ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s okay, I¡¯m not going to-¡±

    ¡°Dakari! Dakari!¡± he whispered and I recognized that word immediately from Kaze, the Elemancer language.

    Demon.

    I recoiled as if he had slapped me. I set my jaw and sat back on my haunches. The boy collided with the back wall of the alley, tears of terror entering his eyes.

    ¡°Stay away from me! I want nothing to do with you and your tricks!¡± he cried, arms raised at me. His pupils turned to slits again, and I felt the cobblestones vibrate slightly.

    I slowly closed my eyes, and took a breath of resignation. I felt shards of ice pierce my soul. The cold outside and within burned because he had somehow seen me for exactly what I was. A demon who dreamed of being an angel. It didn''t mater that the darkness had receded. I was still cursed with these Marks, and I would take them to my grave. People thought being Deified meant you were a holy person. I had once believed that too. But the truth was we just get used by the Gods and Goddesses for their own purpose. The Deified walked around with this "holier than though" attitude, and the common people reinforced it.

    But one thing was ignored. Not all Gods are good. Some are closer to Devils, and this boy''s Elemancer half knew that instinctually.

    I tossed my bandana toward him as I stood, my arms like lead.

    ¡°Get yourself cleaned up,¡± I murmured softly, ¡°And next time, don¡¯t even think of using Elemancy unless they¡¯re trying to kill you. It¡¯ll only cause more trouble.¡±

    The boy paused, looking hesitant, but his eyes kept that dangerous fiery glow. Giving him one last look, I turned to Dusk standing nearby, Myra still in the saddle.

    ¡°Miss Rowena, are you alright?¡± I heard Myra ask. Her hand brushed some dirt from my coat before I heard her continue, ¡°Good gracious you¡¯re cold as ice. And you look paler than normal.¡±

    I tried to calm myself down and looked at her. Myra¡¯s features were schooled in genuine concern as she sat in front of me. I couldn¡¯t decide if I liked it or not as I saw a wrinkle form on her brow.

    ¡°Why are your eyes so red?¡± she asked. I averted my gaze, taking special interest the nearby perfumery window. I pulled my coat tighter around me, but it did nothing against the damn cold in my chest.

    ¡°I think the wind got the better of me on the ride here,¡± I said as I urged Dusk to walk again. We turned around another corner, and the sherriff''s office came into view. Myra eyed me suspiciously, until she looked forward again.

    She surprised me by turning back around just as we pulled up to the hitching post outside.

    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she said.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, rubbing my eyes again, but I couldn¡¯t keep the waver out of my voice.

    ¡°I knew something was different about you! You lost your hat, didn¡¯t you? The one with the burn hole in it?¡± she asked, ¡°No wonder you¡¯re cold Miss Rowena. Really, are you so much of a drunkard that you forgot it somewhere? Honestly you should just replace it.¡±

    Helping her to dismount, I met her eyes, then looked at the door.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± I said, ¡°I just lost my hat.¡±

 Lesson Ten: Situations in Which Violence is Not the Answer

    I heard tense voices as I approached Stone¡¯s door. Glancing at one another, Myra and I made our way to it on silent feet. I tried to ignore the looks of hatred coming out from the cells we passed. Many of them contained the Pumas that had just been arrested, and were facing charges of human trafficking.

    As we approached the office, the voices became more distinct, One voice had a melodic tenor to it, and the other was definitely Stone¡¯s deep bass.

    ¡°I expect strength and a firm hand from my sheriff. Not excuses,¡± said the tenor.

    ¡°I have not made excuses, Councilman. I''ve simply explained the facts of what has happened. It''s not there for you to like or dislike. The facts are the facts,¡± replied Stone calmly. It was strange hearing him talk so formally.

    ¡°And while you collect your ¡®facts¡¯ more and more people wind up dead. And now you cannot handle even a simple execution,¡± continued the tenor, a councilman apparently. My stomach dropped with dread.

    Each city in Luradia was governed in two parts. One was the sheriff, and the other was a council of twelve with an additional thirteenth as the leader. Those people reported directly to the king, who oversaw all of Luradia. Meaning, these two men were equals in terms of power.

    ¡°I have already explained this. The butcher''s revenge was his right sanctified by the Gods,¡± Stone said. I could picture him standing behind his desk, his arms folded behind his back.

    ¡°It was a circus and you know it! To make matters worse, you allowed it without clearance from the council. Some of those in attendance passed out in horror from the display you endorsed. There were children present!¡± said the councilman, and I heard a floorboard creak under someone¡¯s weight.

    ¡°Do you have so little faith in my judgement? Were you going to be the one to defy a Deified their right? It was you who wanted me to come out of retirement in the first place, I¡¯ll remind you,¡± Stone asked evenly. I had always marveled at his ability to be calm in tense situations. Stone rarely lost his patience. As his former apprentice, I would know. I usually was the reason he lost it.

    ¡°I know that voice,¡± whispered Myra in my ear, ¡°That¡¯s Thirteenth Councilman Terris. Oh this is exciting!¡±

    ¡° Shh, Myra. I can¡¯t hear,¡± I whispered back and leaned closer to the door.

    ¡°- continued insistence on making your own decisions without following the proper protocol,¡± Terris was saying. I heard sharp steps move across the room, and I knew the men were likely standing across from one another.

    ¡°I have done nothing illegal,¡± Stone said, though I didn¡¯t hear him move away, ¡°And I do not need your permission to know how to handle my execution, Councilman.¡±

    ¡°You risked much by allowing that to happen. If it had gone wrong, who would have taken responsibility?¡± the councilman asked.

    ¡°I would,¡± Stone said unflinchingly.

    ¡°Jeremiah, I know how you feel about cases involving rape. It''s no wonder after Fayra--¡± replied Terris but he broke off. I could only imagine the thunderous look on Stone''s face, and was amazed Stone kept his composure. After a moment, we heard the Councilman sigh.

    ¡°The council simply requests you consult us before drastic moves like this. That is all,¡± he said soberly. I heard footsteps and knew he and Stone were now standing inches from one another.

    ¡°Does the council request it?¡± Stone asked, maintaining his even voice, ¡°Or do you?¡±

    ¡°The council is on edge,¡± continued Terris as if Stone had not spoken, ¡°I needn¡¯t remind you that we have a killer on the loose with a flavor for Deified blood. Big moves do not reflect well upon you, Jeremiah. You need help and the council has considerable power which you refuse to allow us to give.¡±

    A long pause, and then another sigh.

    ¡°But we shall have to continue this conversation another time. It is no longer private,¡± said Terris finally.

    ¡°I know,¡± said Stone, sounding exhausted.

    Myra and I looked at each other and stood tall as I heard Stone¡¯s distinctive heavy steps coming closer.

    He opened the door without preamble to reveal a tall man dressed in a gray suite and dress shoes standing next to his desk. Terris was handsome with brown hair, and tawny eyes. The suit did nothing to hide his muscular build. The moment he saw us, he swept into a bow.

    ¡°Good afternoon, ladies. I hope we have not kept you waiting,¡± said Terris as he rose back to his height. Myra responded with a graceful curtsy as I shook Stone¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Good day, Councilman Terris,¡± Myra said, nodding to him and then to Stone, ¡°Sheriff Stone.¡±

    I looked at Terris and realized I recognized him.

    ¡°Councilman Terris¡­wait, Samuel Terris?¡± I asked, and he grinned to reveal white teeth.

    ¡°The very same. How are you, Lady Rowena? Returned from your odyssey?¡± Terris asked with another bow. He looked at Myra, hands clasped behind his back.

    ¡°And now you appear with none other than the Lady Beafoutonte,¡± he commented, and Myra perked slightly at hearing her title.

    ¡°What an unexpected pleasure this is. I do hope that the wedding preparations have proceeded smoothly.¡±

    ¡°They have, Councilman, thank you,¡± Myra lied, ¡°Lady Rowena and I are enjoying time together before the ceremony, but she has business with the sheriff. I hope we have not interrupted you.¡±

    ¡°Think nothing of it, Dear Lady,¡± Terris said, reaching for a coat hung in the corner, as well as a stately cap. He looked back toward Stone evenly before saying, ¡°We may revisit this another time. For now, please do your business.¡±

    He donned his coat and looked back toward me.

    ¡°Good Gods Lady Rowena, you have not aged a day since I saw you last. What has it been, four years?¡±

    ¡°I think so. You¡¯ve certainly changed though,¡± I said, looking him up and down, ¡°You lost weight. A lot of weight. I barely recognized you.¡±

    ¡°Rowena,¡± Stone said, a warning in his tone. Myra cleared her throat.

    ¡°Please excuse her, Councilman,¡± Myra said derisively, ¡°Lady Rowena is not one to mince words.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I am well aware. Fear not, she speaks the truth, Lady Beafoutonte!¡± Terris said, chuckling, ¡°Many a chair met its end under my fat ass when I was growing up. Thankfully, a healthy work life has benefitted both my career, and my physique. I thank you.¡±

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    With that, he put his cap on and made for the door. He paused there and looked at me.

    ¡°Please call upon me soon, Lady Rowena. I have so many questions about your journey and I want to know about every moment. Did you traverse the Yurei canyons like they said? Did you see the the Cimmeron? And what of the Ashlings? And the shade creatures of Mirror Lake? Yes, I want to hear about it all,¡± Terris said, then looked at Myra, ¡°Please know that you are invited as well, Lady Beaufoutonte.¡±

    Myra curtsied again.

    ¡°Thank you, Councilman. That¡¯s very kind,¡± she said deferentially.

    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it, Councilman. Have a good day,¡± I said, closing the door behind him. I waited until he was several steps away before looking at Stone and Myra. They had mirrored expressions of exasperation.

    ¡°And yet again,¡± Myra said, ¡°The bar continues to lower. You can¡¯t even show respect to a councilman?¡±

    ¡°What did I say that was disrespectful?¡± I asked, crossing my arms, and leaning against the wall.

    ¡°You called him fat!¡± Myra and Stone said in unison.

    ¡°No,¡± I corrected, ¡°I called him thinner than he was. That''s a compliment.¡±

    ¡°You insulted him!¡± Myra said, ¡°Saying he lost weight implies he had it to begin with.¡±

    ¡°Well, he did have it to begin with. In abundance actually. He used to be called Sausage Sam,¡± I thought for a moment, Myra¡¯s face going beet red. Stone put his face into his hand as I processed my own words.

    ¡°Then again, maybe that nickname had more than one meaning,¡± I said finally.

    Myra¡¯s face continued to get redder, and Stone still hid behind his hand, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke.

    ¡°It¡¯s a valiant effort, Lady Beaufoutonte,¡± Stone said, sitting on the edge of his desk, ¡°But this one doesn¡¯t admit when she¡¯s wrong. Not ever.¡±

    ¡°Who do you think I learned that from?¡± I asked acidly.

    ¡°Who indeed,¡± Stone said, pinning me with his gaze. I looked away, suddenly not feeling very clever.

    ¡°How in the God¡¯s holiness do you know a councilman?¡± asked Myra, who sat herself in the seat Stone offered her, her back as straight as a knife.

    ¡°He was one of my first patients from when I was apprenticed to be a healer,¡± I explained, and my pistols seem to double in weight.

    ¡°You were an apprentice healer?¡± asked Myra incredulously, skepticism in every word. I took particular interest in my boots.

    ¡°Nearly a graduate¡­until she became my apprentice,¡± Stone cut in, and I could feel his eyes on me now. Myra let out a very unladylike snort.

    ¡°Oh, you poor thing, having to deal with her day after day,¡± she said to Stone, who chuckled. I looked up to see Myra looking up pensively.

    ¡°How did I not hear about this?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really think the news would interest you. There¡¯s not enough lace involved,¡± I replied, baring my teeth in a smile, ¡°Besides you¡¯re not completely innocent. The first time I heard about you and Levi was when your father sent me the letter about the job.¡±

    The corner of Myra¡¯s mouth lifted, and she batted her lashes at me.

    ¡°Why, I didn¡¯t think it would interest you. Not enough bourbon and gun smoke.¡±

    We looked at one another then with so much loathing, I was surprised sparks didn¡¯t crack in the air between us. Stone walked behind his desk, and I heard him sip from a mug. He coughed to get my attention.

    ¡°After our last conversation, I didn¡¯t expect to see you anytime soon, Rowena. How can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I want to talk to you about the dying Deified. Have their families been turning up dead too?¡± I asked. Stone stared at me with skeptical eyes.

    ¡°Are you helping me with the case?¡± Stone asked, his voice hard. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. Gods, I had really forgotten how tall he was. Even seated, he was on eye level with me. Meeting that gaze was like putting your fingers in a candle flame. You could only do it for so long.

    ¡°If I have to,¡± I replied, and his jaw tightened.

    ¡°That''s not a yes, and that information is only for those involved with the investigation. You''ll have to give me more than that,¡± Stone said, his tone unyielding and broaching no argument.

    "I think I met your killer," I said bluntly. That got Stone''s attention. His gaze snapped to mine, and his eyes narrowed.

    "And you waited until now to tell me?" he asked, though there was a note of accusation in his tone.

    "Well it just happened last night," I said the same tone, the room so quiet you could have heard a mouse shed its fur. Stone looked from Myra and then to me. I saw him wrestle with lecturing me and focusing on the problem at hand. The latter won.

    "What did they look like?" he asked, his voice a bit calmer.

    "I don''t know. I can tell you it was a man, but not entirely human. He was tall in the form I saw him in," I paused and Stone''s brow furrowed.

    "The form you saw him in? He had more than one?"

    "He was a shape shifter. He was able to transform into a Behemoth."

    Stone blinked several times before responding. He couldn''t have looked more disturbed if I grew a second head.

    "A shape-shifter. Son of a Succubus," Stone rubbed his face and took a pull on his coffee. I stay silent as he seemed to go through several trains of thought before he spoke again.

    "That still doesn''t explain how they can kill a Deified without burning their Mark," he said, sounding tired. He loosened his tie and tilted his head back to ceiling, staring at it listlessly. He sounded like a man who had caught a stray cat only to find out it was a feral tiger.

    "I think I know how he''s killed the Deified as well," I countered. Stone''s gaze went from the ceiling to me, his gaze unreadable. He waved a hand for me to explain.

    "You assumed that the Deified were dying on this plane of existence. That''s not entirely wrong, but it''s not right either."

    Myra coughed and took a passing glance at Stone''s mug of coffee, her eyes hungry. Looking away, she circled around to face me, her eyes wide.

    "Miss Rowena, what are you talking about?" she asked in a tight voice. I met her eyes evenly before continuing.

    "I think the man who''s been trying to target your family to try to ruin the wedding is the same man who''s been killing the Deified. At first I didn''t think it was possible, but now I see that it is," I said, not looking away. Stone looked pensive and waved for me to continue again.

    I opened my mouth, but was interrupted as Myra squeaked in surprise. I whipped around, my pistols drawn and ready for anything. I paused as I saw the steaming cup in Myra''s outstretched hand.

    "Where did that come from?" I asked Myra, who looked pale. She held the mug at arms length as if it contained acid. Stone surprised us both by chuckling.

    "No, that''s just Kage. She''s an Photofolk who likes to stay invisible most of the time. She''s been acting as a sort of assistant," he explained through his chuckles. He tilted his head back and addressed the room in general.

    "It''s okay Kage, come on out," he said soothingly.

    "Yes Milord," came an echoing and feminine voice.

    After a moment, the ghostlike form of a young woman appeared. She was tragically beautiful in a low-cut dress that as fashionable fifty years ago, and her translucent hair was curled into long and messy curls tumbling down her back. She looked like she could have been a tavern maid in her day, except for the gaping bullet hole in her chest.

    "Charming," I said, trying to remain nonchalant. Photofolk were very rare. They weren''t exactly ghosts, but more the culmination of memories left in the stone and wood of buildings. Sometimes those memories combined into a being resembling the creatures that once inhabited a place long ago. Most of the time they developed an attachment to a person or place who had similar emotions. Apparently, she liked Stone.

    "How long have you had Photofolk around you?" Myra asked, now pulling the mug a bit closer to her. Kage followed her motion anxiously and seemed pleased when Myra took and exploratory sip.

    "Even since I lost my apprentice," Stone said significantly as Kage faded from view. A few awkward moments went by until I felt Kage press a mug of coffee into my hands. I accepted it cautiously, but the brew smelled extremely good. I drank and sighed in contentment. Stone just looked at me expectantly and It took me a moment to remember what we had been talking about.

    Right. How to kill someone by taking them into the Purgatory realm.

    "Thank you Kage. Anyway, when I fought the shifter, he teleported us to Purgatory. He didn''t kill me, but it''s the closest anyone has gotten in a long time."

    I paused, trying to remember the fight clearly.

    "He attacked my soul directly but tears pages out of a book with my name on it. It came from a version of Purgatory that looked like a library," I said finally. Stone considered me for a long time. He seemed to take an extra moment to assess me for injury. I didn''t miss the paternal flicker in his eyes, however brief it was. Finally, he nodded.

    "That would make sense. The Marks protect a Deified''s body, but their soul is fair game...if you can get to it. So it seems like we''ve been asking the wrong questions," he said pensively.

    "The question is not who''s been doing this. It''s who is capable of doing it," I said, finishing the thought. Stone stared at me, weighing me. The silence in the room turned tense and awkward. Myra kept glancing between the two of us, her face tight.

    "I don''t understand you two. What am I missing here?" she asked. Stone and I avoided looking at one another, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Myra eventually let out an irritated sigh.

    "Okay fine! I''ll ask it bluntly," she took in a steadying breath and leaned against Stone''s desk.

    "What type of being is capable of killing a Deified in Purgatory?"

    I rolled my neck, looking at my filthy nails with undue interest as I answered.

    "Well...I can."

 Lesson Eleven: Situations in Which Violence IS the Answer

    I knew I should never have come back to this town. This is the last thing I need right now.

    You see, there is only one type of being that can go to the Purgatory realm at will. They are immortal beings similar to Angels in terms of power. They stand as a link to each God or Godess from the physical realm. Each Deity has a contingent of servants beneath them in the Celestial Realm who do their bidding, but they all have one thing in common.

    They have no access to our world, so they created beings like me. Apparently, there was another one now.

    "It''s called a Chosen," I said heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn''t look at Stone or Myra, so I kept my eyes on the floor. Stone avoided looking at me as well as he maintained his silence. I heard Myra gulp down another sip of coffee.

    "No, that''s not true. You''re a Deified Miss Rowena. You can''t be--" she said, but I cut her off.

    "A Chosen is an ascended version of a Deified, Myra. Gods and Goddesses can give out Marks to several mortals, but the abilities they gain are temporary. A Chosen is extremely rare, and each Deity can only have one. They have to have a certain type of soul, and they get to keep their abilities in exchange for..." I drifted off as my throat got tight. I played with the band on on my ring finger under my glove, feeling Myra''s eyes boring into me. Suddenly I felt cold again and the darkness inside stirred with renewed vigor. Thankfully, it didn''t whisper anything this time.

    "In exchange for what?" Myra asked, her tone sharp. I shook my head, my eyes still on the floor. I felt the weight of grief settle over me and I struggled to maintain my composure. Stone''s chair creaked under his weight as he shifted, but he still said nothing. Myra hissed out an irritated breath when I refused to answer.

    "Fine. How did you become a Chosen then?" Myra asked as she sat beside me. I shook my head again, my temples pounding. A mug seemed to materialize from the air and was pushed into my hands. Transparent fingers squeezed my arm just before they vanished again.

    "It doesn''t matter. All you need to know is there''s another Chosen with shape-shifting abilities in this town somewhere. I don''t know his motive, but we need to find him before he kills again. Currently, I''m your only viable suspect as the only known Chosen in town. I don''t like what that implies," I said as I sighed and rolled my neck. I knew that Stone didn''t suspect me, but if it got out I was a Chosen, there was no telling how the Council would react. I didn''t exactly have the best reputation.

    After a moment, I pushed the thoughts away and felt the warmth of the mug in my hands. I sipped the brew, the coffee burning it''s way down my throat.

    "Thank you Kage," I said to the room in general, and I felt a cold invisible hand squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. I finally lifted my gaze to Stone. He was looking at me from behind his desk. He seemed calm, but I didn''t miss the watery gleam in his eyes. Suddenly, I remembered that this drudged up equally painful memories for him. Myra interrupted my thoughts as she set her mug on the table with a decisive crack.

    "I don''t think so! You''re not getting off that easy, Miss Rowena. I''m tired of waiting for truth. First your became a Deified, then Fayra suddenly gets murdered, and then you stopped talking to pretty much everyone for ten years and disappear for the past three! And now I find out you''re a ''Chosen'', as you call them," she said her voice rising. Her exhausted eyes seemed to get back some of their light as she crossed her arms stubbornly.

    "What exactly am I dealing with here?! You will tell me the full truth, Rowena. Now," she said with the tone of an heiress scolding a servant. I sat taller in my chair, sipping my coffee and standing to my full height. I stared down at her with slitted eyes.

    "My past is not a topic up for discussion," I growled. Myra shot to her feet as well, her face thunderous.

    "I won''t have my life be put at risk so you can keep your precious secrets!" she said, a flush coming to her pale cheeks.

    "Tough bollocks, Princess," I said, all warmth now gone from my tone. Myra leaned into me, her face inches from mine. When had she gotten taller than me?

    "I guessing this secret cost Fayra her life. Is it going to cost me mine?" she asked, a cruel gleam coming to the blue of her eyes. I felt it then, the easy slide of energy coming out as my eyes turned from violet to radiant blue. At the same time, I felt that darkness grow again and my voice changed with my rage. It became a deeper feminine voice that spoke of primordial power.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "You want to find out what out what a Chosen can do? Careful what you wish for--" I said before I could stop myself. I could feel the presence settling on me again like cold claws enclosing my soul. I was going to do it. I was going to--

    "Enough," Stone said. He didn''t say it particularly loud, but the sadness in it was enough to neatly undercut the glaring match between Myra and I. He stood to walk beside the two of us, and his hand settled on my shoulder. Just like that, the feeling was gone, and the rage retreated. The energy drained from my eyes, and I gained control again. Stone stared at me until the light had faded, and then nodded. He refocused on Myra.

    "Rowena has previously made me aware of what a Chosen can do. Forgive her outburst please. It''s a...difficult topic for the both of us. I also suggest that you give Rowena some slack on the matter, because if she''s right, she''s your best bet for safety," he said gently. Myra looked back at me, her gaze still cold. After several moments, something shifted in her eyes and she nodded.

    "Now, we have to focus on the future, and you both need to know more about the murders," he said, going back to his desk and sitting heavily. He gestured to the chairs we had been sitting in as Kage appeared with a tray of food. She offered it to him, placing a small plate in front of him and taking some of the papers off his desk. She filed them as Stone picked up some bread, butter, and cheese from the tray. A second later, Kage reappeared between Myra and I with food for each of us. Stone swallowed his first bite, and looked back at us before he spoke.

    ¡°Ya¡¯ll better get comfortable. We¡¯re going to be here a while.¡±

    *******

    In the end, we found out seven Deified had been murdered. An additional thirteen of their family members were among the dead, with twelve more missing.

    But the prospects of finding them alive were not optimistic. Some of the family members were found completely torn apart to the point where it was difficult to identify them. The Deified were all found intact, as if their souls had simply left their bodies.

    Now I knew personally what happened to them.

    I shivered, thinking out what it must have been like to have the pages ripped out of their books. Just one page had been agonizing, but all of them? I couldn''t even imagine a pain equal to that. This killer was sadistic and seemed to enjoy his task. When he was trying to kill me, he had seemed content to take his time.

    Amidst the more gruesome details, something stood out to me. All the Deified found dead had the same God Mark on them.

    The God of Knowing.

    This made the crimes especially heinous because the God of Knowing seldom bestowed his mark. It was said that those who got the chance to use that mark went on to change the world as we knew it.

    My father was a prime example. When I was little, he had been nothing more than a simple tinkerer. Our family owned a small shop on a nearly deserted side street of Tumblend. He made small gadgetry and fixed pocket watches. However, his real love laid with making guns. All firearms at the time were pretty dangerous to use. Many of them jammed, and some even backfired in the user''s hand. However, their effectiveness when they worked was terrifying. Also, they were so expensive that only the extremely rich or criminals were able to own them. My father wanted to make a safe firearm and a registration system to keep track of their users.

    My mother had made a meager wage as a Sword Maiden for one of the local Deified, but she''d had to stop when my brother and I were born. My father''s progress was extremely slow because he had to provide for his family, but also because gang bosses who owned some firearms constantly stole from us.

    My father was at a fair in the town of Gear¡¯s End when a man had tried to rob our house. It had been raining, the air humid and choking. I still remember the lullaby my mother had sang to send me to sleep that night. When the thief came, my mother had defended us, but not before being shot a couple times.

    Even as she laid bleeding, my mother had managed to cut the thief to ribbons before he got to us. The medics had saved my mother¡¯s life, but we didn¡¯t have enough money to pay the physicians to remove the bullets that had lodged themselves in her body. She fell into a coma as the metal slowly poisoned her.

    My father returned from his travel, saying he had received a mark from the God of Knowing. I begged him to use it to find out how to cure my mother, but as usual, he hadn¡¯t listened. Instead, he had used it to discover the design for countless guns and the way to mass produce them.

    Even if I were to cure her, she would never be the same. She will hate her life if she wakes up. You won''t see it now, but it''s better that she passes to the Far Shore.

    I¡¯ve never forgiven him. And I never will.

    Just like that, the McAlisters went from a forgettable family of tinkerers to the noble family owning a pistol company worth millions. Mother never saw that dream come to life.

    That was the power of the God of Knowing. He could give you access to a secret that made you a cut above the rest. Permanently.

    ¡°What about the missing family members?¡± I asked Stone, shaking the memory away.

    ¡°We''re searching everywhere, but we can''t even be sure that their remains aren''t somewhere among the other dead,¡± explained Stone, now well into his third cup of coffee. He was tired. He tried to hide it, but I knew him, and I saw it in every line of his posture. The ways his eyes half-closed when he spoke, the way his shoulders slumped, and the way he kept rubbing his eyes.

    ¡°Myra, what Mark does you father have?¡± I asked. She looked at me evenly, then down at her parasol. I noticed for the first time it had the Beaufoutonte family crest on it.

    ¡°Right now, he has the God of Love¡¯s Mark,¡± she said hesitantly, her eyes wide, ¡°but he used a Mark of the God of Knowing several years ago.¡±

    ¡°I remember when-¡± Stone began, but his memory would forever go unsaid as we heard heavy bootsteps rush down the hallway. Without any hesitation, the door was wrenched open to reveal a town guard, his young face flushed.

    ¡°Sir,¡± he said, panting, ¡°The Elemancers are here. And there¡¯s¡­there¡¯s fire.¡±

 Lesson Twelve: The Past Hunts You

    To say there was a fire was an understatement. A tower of choking smoke could be seen from across town easily.

    We arrived at the gates within minutes. I hoped that Dusk would forgive my back-braking pace, but I knew it was necessary. Stone rode his horse, Buck, who I would wager was the fastest horse on the continent.

    Next to Dusk of course.

    Even with Dusk''s hooves clacking on the cobblestones, I still heard the the chorus of angry voices long before we arrived. I swung off the saddle as we neared the Western Gate, my boots scraping in the dust.

    "Stay in the saddle. If things go to shit, ride Dusk out of here," I murmured to Myra. She huffed an indignant breath, massaging her temple and glaring at me with dark shadows under her eyes. Her hair was even more of a mess now, and dust caked the bottom of her skirts.

    "Oh? Are you done threatening me then?" she replied, like a mother asking her child if it was done having a temper tantrum. I flinched a bit as I remember my loss of control. I remembered the ice in my veins, and my mouth moving with a different voice coming out as I said the terrible words. Stone''s touch alone had broken that moment of weakness on my part.

    The moment where her essence had taken control.

    Grandpa''s swinging sack, I need a counselor. Or a drink. Preferably both.

    I glanced at Myra, my brows raised. I schooled my features into a mask of sarcasm and unrepentance.

    "I told you before. I don''t make threats, I make promises. And besides, did they teach you it was polite to bring up people''s dead lovers in finishing school?" I asked as casually as I could. Myra avoided my eyes, her chin lifting.

    "With you, I''m not sure there''s a difference between a promise and a threat," she replied darkly, reaching down to caress Dusk''s neck. He was breathing hard from the swift ride across town, and his dark coat was slick with sweat. I patted him as well before I turned toward the crowd of guards.

    Making a mental note to buy a bushel of apples for Dusk, I walked toward the guards at the gate. They wore the typical polished leather armor of the kingdom, each branded with the sigil of the royal family of a flame encased in ice. The all stood in battle stances, staring at the tall stone, steel, iron and wood that made the imposing wall around town. Pikes, rifles, and swords were held at the ready as the air crackled with tension. Everyone was barking orders at everyone, but they were all saying the same thing.

    Be on guard.

    No shit.

    The gates normally were held open for traffic into and out of town, but right now were locked tight. The were as beautiful as they were effective with metal lattice work and glimmering steel atop thick wood. The doors were decorated with the royal sigil as well. They were nearly thirty feet tall, and complete with battlements at the top of watchtowers. Several guards stood on the catwalk with their weapons branished. There a few riflemen on the tops, with their sights pointing downward. All of them were as taught as a bowstring. A fuse about to run out.

    Stone was already halfway up the tower when I heard a familiar voice call out.

    "Gentlemen please! Must we reduce ourselves to the violence of our forefathers?"

    I paused, glancing up to source of the voice. Sure as the sky was blue, Councilman Terris was poised atop the towers, his hands raised. He was silhouetted against the smoke rising from a fire beyond the gate, and he was waving at the guards angrily.

    A few guards grunted at me as I pushed my way up the tower stairs. One tried to stop me at some point, but I simply vaulted over him. I landed easily and continued my ascent, not paying any mind to those who called after me. After one look at the Marks on my neck, they left me alone.

    My mind knew the weather was bastard cold, but the stone to the outer wall was as warm as an oven. Sweat beaded under my duster coat, my toes moving in a slick slide inside my boots. Councilman Terris''s voice echoed into the tower as I approached. He seemed to be calling something to the Elemancers casting their spell.

    "Please have peace and cease your fire! Surely this is a situation that can be solved by means other than fire and brimstone!"

    Reaching the top of the tower, I raced to Stone''s side. A waved of heat was coming up from the outside of the wall, and the light of the flames glowed blue instead of the normal red, yellow, or orange. Stone was busy talking to one of the captains of the guard, his back to Councilman Terris. I recognized the guard he talking to as Captain Leon Lowin, who had the look of a man who had spat Death in the eye on more than one occasion.

    The Councilman did not look pleased that he was being so utterly ignored. He interrupted Stone''s conversation with Leon.

    "I have this well in hand, Sherriff. This is a diplomatic situation," Terris said, squaring his muscular shoulders and flecking his eyes to the other side of the wall. Stone said nothing in reply as his eyes slid to the tower of smoke, the blue light of the flames, the guards ready to pounce, and then back to the Councilman.

    Terris tracked his gaze and flushed. Before he could reply, Stone turned his back on him firmly and refocused on Captain Lowin.

    "Answer me. What happened?" he asked calmly. Captain Lowin gestured to the smoke and then to the gate with a clawed hand. He was one of the werebeast races that once inhabited the plains leading to the Mirth Hills. They could be found from time to time in other parts of the country, but many kept sequestered in the Mirth Hills west of Tumblend in a hidden city. Looking at Lowin, there was no mistaking the Lion Tribe blood in him, with golden catlike eyes, and large fanged teeth.

    "We saw them coming atop their Nightmares from the Kenshi Ethereal Forest, Sir. At that point, I ordered the gates to be closed. The Elemancers continued their approach even after we ordered them to halt. Weapons were drawn, and then, all hells broke loose," he explained in a voice nearly as deep as Stone''s. He pointed a finger over the wall, the razor sharp claw protracting more fully, and frowned. I clenched my jaw as I remembered the power of Nightmares.

    The Elemancers called them "Kakusareta hikari", but many of the mortal races simply knew them as Nightmares. They were made when the Other that inhabited the Ethereal forest chose to inhabit bodies of recently dead animals to protect their spiritual forms from the harsh sun. Depending on the level of decay, they could choose to look like that creature in it''s natural state, or they could turn into a fully fledged creature born from a Devil''s dream. Each one was immortal and boasted speed and strength more than tenfold of normal creatures.

    "The female at the front appears to be the source of the blue flames, Sir. Shall I order her to be put down?" he asked with the trained obedience of a career soldier. Stone considered him, and then shook his head. He pulled his hat over his brow, and approached the outer edge of the wall. I did the same and looked down.

    Much of the field beyond the wall had become blackened earth. It spread between twenty to thirty feet on each side the Elemancer party. I counted eleven of them sitting atop their varied mounts, all Nightmares. Many of them had the shells of horses, but I also saw a bear, a bison, and an elk. All of the mounts had their full Nightmare auras on display, distinctive by the scarlet light each gave off. The light spilled out of any injury the shell had received in life, now displayed in gory glory in death. The blue flames were lapping at the grass outside their ring, but were notably restrained by some force.

    And then, there were the Elemancers. They each wore black leather armor with flowing robes on top. If what I had read of the wars was right, each cloak was made of the fibers of the Thunderwood tree''s leaves. The fibers were inflammable and extremely strong. Each color signified what element that individual specialized in. Every Elemancer could control any of the Elements at will, but they tended to become more proficient in one.

    The colors were in stark contrast to their charcoal skin and silvery-gray hair. Red tattoos of Elemancy magic were everywhere on each of the warriors before us now. Their faces had a fae-like beauty in every cell, and each stared up at us with primordial coldness as they waited for Stone to speak.

    "We don''t want any harm to come to anyone here, but this situation is getting us nowhere," Stone called down to them, focusing on a red-cloaked female standing near the front, "I want all my men and women to get home safely tonight. Dispel the fire, and I will do what is in my power to get you what you want within reason."

    Even from this high up, I saw the female''s silver brows crease. After a moment, a male in a white cloak stepped forward

    "Pretty words mean nothing in the face readied weapons. We ask that you lower you weapons and open your gate to us. We do not seek violence this day, but will not hesitate to defend ourselves from a clear threat," he said in a smooth voice in the common tongue, though the feint accent of Kaze could be heard within the words. I noticed a band of golden braided metal going across his brow then, marking him as a tribal leader.

    Stone played idly with a coin in his hand as he considered the male until Terris stepped forward.

    "I''m afraid--"

    "I will have your word, Sir, that you all will do no harm to any of my people, the property of this town, it''s residents, or the land it stands on," Stone said, cutting Terris off. I felt myself nod at Stone''s words, impressed that he still sounded so Gods damned calm. As far as moves went, this was a smart one. Elemancers were many things, but they valued their pride and honor above all else.

    The white-cloaked male shared a glance with the red-clad female and nodded.

    "Very well. You have my word that we will perform no harm so long as none is given to us, or may the Lady of Life strike my soul where I stand," he said, his eyes the color of dying embers meeting Stone''s penetrating stare. Stone''s mustache twitched for a moment before he spoke to Captain Lowin, all while never looking away from the white-clad male.

    "Stand down and open the gate."

    Captain Lowin hesitated for the smallest of moments before barking out orders to everyone in sight. The gate groaned open in a metallic whine as a team of three men worked the crank system to wrestle each of the double-doors open. I took to a second to check on Myra, who was still sitting near the guards atop Dusk. Terris gave me a pleasant nod in greeting, and stood next to me as clamps were placed on the cranks to prevent the titanic doors from swinging shut again. He maintained a patient silence as he slid a glance toward Stone. Giving the barest shake of his head, he descended the steps of the tower.

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    Stone and Terris stood side by side as the Elemancers entered the gate on their mounts. I swung back into Dusk''s saddle as the dust settled. Terris was the first to step forward to speak when the white-cloaked Elemancer swung down from his elk mount. He walked with the fluid grace of a warrior, and his tattoos bent and flexed with each step. Terris extended a hand for his to shake. They clasped forearms, though Stone didn''t extend his arm. His eyes were locked on the red-cloaked female sitting astride an huge war-horse.

    His gaze said it all.

    She met his stare for a moment longer, then extended her arm back toward the gait. She began to mutter quietly in Kaze, though I was able to catch almost all the words.

    "Anataii non chikata oi kashitei kudasaii" she said, though her voice seemed to cause a ripple to flow through the air.

    Blessed flames, lend your strength to me, I translated silently.

    The guards near the wall scrambled away from the door as fast a they could. I didn''t blame them as a stream of blue fire bent through the air toward the female''s outstretched fingers. As the flames met her skin, they turned into beautiful red lines which wrapped themselves into the familiar tattoos on her arms and body. As the last of it was absorbed, she sent a feral grin to the scare guards.

    "What''s the matter? They don''t bite," she purred facetiously. Her eyes glittered as she saw the fear reflected in their eyes.

    "She must be pretty strong," Myra muttered behind me, but I shook my head.

    "No," I corrected quietly as I remembered an old lesson from Stone, "She must be pretty weak compared to the others. The strong ones never feel the need on put on a show like that. It''s the calmer ones you need to worry about."

    I slid my focus to the male in white. Myra looked at the female for a long moment, before nodding.

    "Oh, I see. She put a big show to make herself seem stronger than she is."

    "Exactly," I muttered back to her. Myra''s eyes took in the elaborate lines seen on the skin of the female''s neck and exposed arms.

    "Still though, I doubt blue fire is anything to be taken lightly," she said hesitantly. I looked back at her, unsure of what to say. However, Myra didn''t seem to want comfort so I didn''t reply. I looked back at the Elemancers, only to find the red-clad female''s eye fixed on me, her gaze none-too-friendly, and I had little doubt as to whether her sharp Elemancer senses had caught me saying she was weak.

    The moment was broken as Terris spoke.

    "We apologize for the ungraceful welcome you have received, but allow me to make up for that with action. What do we owe the Tribal Prince''s visit to today?" Terris said in a business-like tone. The Tribal Prince stood tall, his gaze impassive as her stared at Terris. His eyes flecked once to Stone, and then, for the smallest second, to me.

    "I, Oji Rengey, Prince of the Kenshi Ethereal Tribe, accept your greetings. Though, I''m afraid this visit is not a pleasant one, Councilman."

    At that, I saw Stone''s posture stiffen and everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the Prince to continue.

    "In terms of the treaty, all Ethereal Forests belong to my people to live in peace there. We have abided to the terms of the treaty," he said in a clear, but smooth voice intended for all those gathered to hear.

    "This is what was agreed to after the war. Correct?"

    Terris nodded, looking puzzled. Stone''s gaze locked on the Elemancers, but he kept his silence.

    Oji turned away from both Stone and Terris and pulled something from his saddle bag, patting his elk as he did so.

    Terris and Stone shared a look of confusion. It was Terris who took the lead again.

    "Yes, Prince Oji, that is what was agreed upon," Terris said, waiting for Oji to continue. He turned away from his elk at last to reveal as twisted piece of steel mixed with iron plating. It was bent in on itself as if it had been crushed by a boulder. There several odd symbols on it, but I couldn''t make them out from here.

    Oji''s eyes flashed at the admission as he dropped the steel at Stone and Terris''s feet.

    "Then I would like you to explain to me why this was found with one of my murdered warriors."

    Stone picked the plate up, tracing some of the symbols on it. His strong hands handled the heavy metal easily. As he looked it over, a line formed between his brows.

    "Is it possible it was a simple fight and this was the murder weapon?" he asked, but Oji shook his head.

    "That is not possible. My warrior was found dead, but his tattoos were unused. There were no wounds on his body. It is as if his soul simply left him. And he is not the only one. Others have been found too with these pieces of metal near their bodies," he said, his voice echoing over the courtyard behind the gate. Stone''s eyes shot to Oji, before he slowly glanced my way.

    "Are you saying that Elemancers are being found with their defensive magic unused?" he asked, his gaze going to me again. Oji did not miss the look, and his ember eyes took me in before replying.

    "Yes. And I suspect your Deified are to blame."

    I sat in the saddle dumbly as I took the meaning of his words in. Elemancers were extremely hard to kill. Before the Gods started to Mark humanity, they were poised to win the war. Elemancers, in addition to their magic, had incredibly sharp senses. Trying to sneak up on them, especially in the forest, was liked trying to sneak up on a spider in its web. In addition to that, they were immune to poisons. Their body simply processed it. Iron and steel weakened them, but it wasn''t enough to poison them. To have an Elemancer killed without an obvious wound was unheard of.

    It was impossible as...as...

    As a Deified being murdered without burning their Mark.

    I looked back at Myra, who stared at the steel plate in Stone''s hand like it was a demon. Terris was talking to Oji again, but I didn''t hear it over the roaring in my ears. Stone met my eyes again, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

    Whoever was killing the Deified, had somehow found a way to kill Elemancers to.

    I tilted my head skyward and said the only thing I could think of.

    "Fuck."

    *******

    Oji, Terris, and Stone excused themselves to discuss the murders privately. Stone met my eyes again, and I knew what that look meant.

    Stay here. We will discuss this later.

    The town guards and the remaining Elemancer company stood to wait in the courtyard. Several of them had dismounted from their Nightmares and now stood talking quietly amongst themselves.

    The men had gone inside the nearby town hall about an hour ago while the rest of us simply waited. I thought about going back to the house, but my instincts told me to stay. If nothing else, I always followed that other sense as tangable as any touch.

    It was the same one that had told me to never use my first Mark, and the same one that I had ignored.

    Myra shivered in the saddle and coughed delicately into a handkerchief embroidered with the Beaufoutonte crest. The town guards pretended to not stare at the Elemancers as they set about chores to care for and monitor the wall. Now that the fire had been reabsorbed into the red Elemancer, the wind reminded us that winter drew nearer with each gust.

    I took some time to brush Dusk, trying to settle both his nerves and mine.

    "So, do you have any ideas Miss Rowena? Any secret reasons why the Elemancers are dying too?" Myra asked quietly, a whisper in the wind. A muscle feathered in my jaw as I racked my mind, but nothing came to me. Everything had turned into a Gods damned nightmare since I came back to this town.

    But Elemancers being murdered meant something more. I felt like I was too close to a painting to see the picture, and it irritated me.

    "No," I murmured, the word feeling like a stab in the chest, "But I will find out."

    Myra frowned and went back to massaging her temple.

    "Back in Stone''s office," she whispered again, "I''ve been thinking about it. Your voice...it sounded different. It felt different. That wasn''t you...Was it you or some of your Chosen power?"

    Hated hells, she was sharp.

    "A bit of both," I said quietly, "But Myra, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by n--"

    "Miss Rowena, that Elemancer is staring at you again," Myra interrupted, looking apprehensive. I tracked her gaze to the red-cloaked female, whose mouth spread into a predatory grin as soon as our eyes met. Her teeth were a stunning white against her charcoal skin, and her silver hair was pulled back by two intricate braids along her temples.

    If there was one thing I learned as a bounty hunter, it was to never be the first to look away from a predator''s stare.

    I tilted my head at a jaunty angle, squaring my shoulders to her and giving her the same smile.

    "Do you think she just wants to make friends?" Myra asked dryly, and I couldn''t help but chuckle. I kept my posture relaxed as the female began to walk toward us, her cloak fanning out behind her. Part of me prayed for a gust of wind to blow the cloth in her face, but that prayer went unanswered. She stopped within and arms-reach of me.

    "Those tattoos on your neck are impressive, little human," she drawled, her own tattoos moving up her skin toward her neck. I allowed a humorless laugh to escape me.

    "Around here, we call them Marks. You should know that, since they tend to make your kind need to change their pants," I replied, leaning against Dusk casually.

    "The pants that need changing are the humans who have seen my magic," she said, summoning a small ball of blue flame and holding it up toward my face. I struggled to keep my features unimpressed as the flame neared my skin.

    Ashling''s ass, I wanted to use my shadows to snuff it out, but I had already lost control once today. I feared what tapping into that dark pool would do now. Every time I did, that line between warrior and monster blurred a bit more. It was a line I had outright crossed three years ago, on a day known for blood, screams, and darkness.

    The female''s smile widened, mistaking my silence for fear. She swaggered a bit closer, leaning over me. I realized she was taller than me by several inches. She tossed the small ball of fire from hand to hand like a child''s toy, missing my nose by a fraction each time. I refused to flinch, but there that darkness was again, building and begging to be let loose. The female''s eyes took in my Marks as she kept tossing that ball of fire.

    Finally, as the flames went close enough to singe my hair, I broke the standoff.

    "Is there a point to this little display, or are you just trying to warm me up?" I asked in a bored tone. She stopped her tossing, straightening up and turning the flames to a weaving rope between her fingers.

    "Awe, what''s the matter? Don''t tell me the Blight of Grimwater is scared of my weak little fire," she quipped. It took everything in me to not react as she said the nickname I had earned. I was silent for a moment, choosing my words carefully.

    "Ah! Here it is! The grand reveal!" I said, and I began to clap as if she had just finished a street performance.

    Clap.

    "Congratulations."

    Clap.

    "You know my nickname."

    Clap

    "Do you want a cookie?"

    I finished clapping.

    "But, if you know my name, then you should know not to screw with me," I finished in a dangerous quiet. The female simply kept twining the fire between her fingers.

    "We keep tabs on you mortals, you know. And I''ve heard some impressive things about you. I must say though," she gave me a blatant once-over, "Now that I see you, I don''t believe a word of it."

    A challenge. She wanted a fight, and hells I wanted one too now.

    As if sensing my thoughts, she reached to touch the Marks on my neck. In a flash, I twisted her palm in a submission hold. Or, at least it should have been. Blindingly fast, she twisted away with the fluid grace of a dancer and put the heel of her palm into my stomach. I felt the heat of the fire make short work of my sweater as it melted part of my skin. Yelping, I danced backward, but she was already on top of me. Her boot swung up and connected to where she had just burned me with enough force to lift me off the ground.

    The wind knocked out of me, I sank to my knees as she aimed another kick for my shoulder. Sparks danced across my vision as I was knocked to the side several feet away. And yet, she still kept coming for more, her face pulled in a self-satisfied baring of teeth. I saw that she was getting ready to pin me to the dirt, the fight completely one-sided.

    You can win this fight easily if you stop holding me back, came the hated whisper.

    Snarling, I kicked myself up in my rage. I saw the female''s flicker of surprise just before my boot connected with her face. Blood erupted from her nose, and she was knocked back on her side, momentarily stunned.

    I saw the opening, and I took it.

    I sprang behind her, and snaked my arm around her throat while the other applied pressure to her head to secure the hold. I finish by rolling her on top of me and holding on for dear life. She twisted, but my arms remained firm.

    Take that, you bit--

    Her hand closed on my forearm and fire erupted in it, burning my skin. The pain was blinding and by instinct alone I kicked her off me. I sprang backward for some distance.

    Our eyes met, both of us panting. One of us in pain, and the other to get air into her lungs.

    "I bet...my fire...doesn''t feel... so weak...now," the female breathed out between her gasps, the corner of her mouth lifting.

    Elemancers and their Gods damned pride.

    I smirked as the pain faded, making a line form between her brows.

    "What are you smiling at?" she asked in a big rush of breath, standing to her full height. I checked around the area. The guards had gathered around us in a circle, but the scuffle had lasted less than a few seconds. It was too fast for them to take any action. The Elemancers gazed at us impassively, as if our fight were a pretty cloud that had drifted by and now evaporated. I glanced back at Myra, who still sat on Dusk.

    She was shaking her head at me, not amused.

    I lifted my arm just in time for the female to see the burn wound starting to close. Already it had faded to a light pink instead of an angry red, and she stared at it as if it were a two-headed stag.

    "What''s the matter? Done already?" I asked, opening my arms to welcome her next attack. To my surprise, I heard a few of the guards let out a whoop of appreciation at my comment.

    At least somebody''s having fun, I thought dryly.

    That was the moment the Tribal Prince, followed by Stone and Terris, decided to come out of their meeting.

 Lesson Thirteen: People Can Surprise You

    "Miss Rowena, do you think Sherriff Stone will forgive you?" Myra asked as Addie slid another pin in her hair. Myra''s wizened maid has steady hands as she finished styling her hair. I shrugged in response to the question, playing idly with one of the buttons on my burgundy gown.

    Do you remember when I said I was usually the reason Stone lost his temper? Well, I think you see why now.

    After Prince Oji, Stone, and Councilman Terris came out of the town hall, the meeting with the Elemancers had swiftly ended. I found out the female I had fought was named Renjin. From the look the others and Oji gave her, I gathered that she was the wild child of the Kenshi Tribe. In fact, the Prince seemed more prone to blame her for the altercation than me.

    That opinion, however, did not spread to Stone, who gave me a look that would incinerate lesser people. After the Elemancers left, he had gestured inarticulately toward the road leading to the Sheriff''s station. We had ridden to his office in a silence so thick, I was surprised any of us could breath in it.

    What had followed was a very long, very humiliating, and very loud conversation with the heavy use of "disappointed", "unbelievable", "irresponsible" and "stupidity." I simply stood there and took it, because I knew Stone was right. Renjin may have begged for the fight, but I played right into her hands.

    To put it bluntly, I fucked up. Royally.

    Maybe the Fates had given me some luck after all, because it was damn fortunate that Renjin was the one Elemancer from that group they wouldn''t have taken offense to me fighting. The only consolation was she was likely getting an equally brutal scolding.

    What made matters worse was Myra. She had been oddly nice to me in the past few days. It was unnerving. Either she was thoroughly frightened of me after my loss of control, or she was simply excited for her approaching engagement party. I didn''t know what it was, and I didn''t particularly care. We talked very little over the past few days as we settled into a rhythm.

    I trained several hours of the day, only breaking for meals, as Myra sat at the kitchen table with her journals and books. She had tried to be secretive at first, but seemed to realize that I didn''t really care what she was studying.

    She hadn''t once made a quip about Stone yelling at me like a father to an unruly teenager. She even attempted to cook from time to time, but the results were decidedly unappetizing.

    Zachariah visited a few times, taking time to spar with me and do shooting drills. Zachariah had always been an extremely good fighter. He won as many matches as I did, and we were both often left panting for air in pure exhaustion. I had to numb myself to the pain as this reminded me of another time, where he sparred both me and the beautiful auburn-haired bounty hunter I loved.

    In the old days, he and Fayra basically tore each other apart repeatedly, depending on my healing remedies. We trained until our limbs were ready to fall off, and then trained some more.

    In the past few days, I had caught Zahariah looking at me with that penetrating gaze of his as we took breaks for meals. I knew he was remembering those golden happy times too. But now, we trained to survive instead of for fun.

    All the while, I kept a steady watch for the shape-shifter, but he never came. That was what me worried the most. That darkness inside me built and built in intensity with each passing hour.

    And then, the day for the engagement party arrived.

    I continued to fiddle with a button as I replied to Myra.

    "I think he will. He''s been angrier with me before and still forgiven me," I said evenly. Myra''s lips quirked at that, her eyes twinkling.

    "You know what? I actually believe that," she said contemplatively. Addie smiled, her wrinkled face amused. She stood to her full height and surveyed us both, her hands on her hips.

    "Vell, if I didn''t know, better, I vould say you vere a pair of angels," she said, her expression turning wry.

    "If I didn''t know better," she repeated. She always became more expressive when the Matron wasn''t around, and we both loved her for it. Despite my dark mood over the past few days, I felt my face soften.

    "Thank you, Addie," I said, rising from my chair. Myra laughed and did a twirl, the fiery tones of her hair catching the light attractively. She was in her white lace and burgundy gown again, her hair pinned and curls cascading down her back in glistening waves. She held herself a bit rigid with the tight corset, but it seemed like nothing would dampen her spirits today. Addie had mercifully not made me wear mine, and kept quiet as I armed my pistols in the slits of the dress I had made before. She had even altered the dress so they were more hidden.

    "What do you think Miss Rowena?" Myra asked, doing one more spin as if she were dancing on the ballroom floor. A thousand quips came to my lips, but they died there. Myra looked so happy, and I took a moment to remember that my brother was marrying this woman.

    Even though I wished my father to spend eternity in the hottest hells, I still loved my brother. He had a way of making the best of things. He had spent the better part of his childhood playing peace keeper between my father and I. He had stood beside me on my wedding day in place of my father, and supported my happiness with Fayra. Now, he had found a woman who loved him, and he to her.

    Whatever reservations I had about Myra, I knew she would make a good wife for him.

    "You look beautiful," I found myself saying softly. Surprise flickered across Myra''s face, before she narrowed her eyes at me.

    "No clever comment? You disappoint me, Miss Rowena. I thought you were supposed to keep my ego in check," she said flatly, holding herself to her full height and looking at me through hooded eyes. I lifted a brow at her.

    "I thought I was supposed to be polite for today, or else you mother would have my jaw wired shut," I said dryly. Myra hesitated before nodding gravely.

    "True, but starting tomorrow I expect us to go back to normal. Things just aren''t as exciting without us loathing each other," she said, looking at Addie significantly. Addie nodded and went to the corner of the room, where several packages laid. Wedding presents, I assumed. Addie picked up a broad flat box as well as a smaller but thicker one and carried them over. I blinked in surprise as she handed them to me.

    "However," Myra said, gesturing to the boxes, "In the spirit of being nice to one another, I bought you some presents."

    I glanced down at the boxes, and then back to Myra.

    "When? And Why?" I asked incredulously. I had watched Myra''s every move for the past few days. There was no way she had slipped away to go shopping.

    "I bribed Zachariah to take a message to Addie so she could order them," she explained, and Addie nodded, her face expectant. I glanced down at the boxes again and then back up at Myra, who sighed.

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    "You know, they work best when you empty the boxes," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. I smirked as she mirrored my own words from when we drank wine together. That night felt like a lifetime ago instead of a few days.

    Not sure what to expect, I opened the flat box. The first thing I saw was folded black leather, but my jaw dropped when I lifted it.

    It was a duster coat made with a black leather than matched my raven hair. Dark violet silk lined the inside, making it butter soft. I lifted it fully out of the box, and it unfolded to my mid-thigh, exactly the length I liked. Also, the material was light and moved easily as I turned it. I knew it would allow me to move without restriction in a fight. Myra had put some real thought in picking this out.

    I looked at her, and opened my mouth to give my thanks, but I couldn''t find the proper words. Myra gave me a self-satisfied lift of her shoulder.

    "Yes, I know. It''s amazing. You don''t have to say anything. It took some doing, though. Addie said she had to bully the tailor to make sure it got done sometime before the next millennium," she said with the air of an artist who just finished an immaculate portrait. She gestured to the other box.

    "Speaking of which, go on. Open the second one."

    Setting the beautiful coat down, I reached to the thicker box. I was surprised to find another more ornate box inside this one. It was light and circular, made with a hinge and brass clasps. The main body of it was black leather covering a thin and light wood. I opened it, and stifled a gasp.

    It was a hat almost exactly like Fayra''s.

    Minus the burn hole.

    The style was the same, but it was black like my new coat. Turning it upside down, I saw the inside was also lined with the same violet silk. I couldn''t keep the small shake out of my hands as I placed it on my head.

    It fit perfectly.

    Myra laughed triumphantly, making me look at her just in time to see her hug and press a kiss to Addie''s cheek, saying several endearments to the old woman.

    "Myra...this...I--" I began, but Myra cut me off.

    "I told you. You need a new hat. And since you refuse to buy one for yourself, I decided to. Just...try not to ruin this one," she drawled dismissively.

    "You didn''t have to," I said quietly. Myra shrugged, looking away. Addie stepped forward then, her eyes on Myra.

    "Miss MyraBelle..." she said, in a tone that suggested Myra was holding something back. She cut a glance at Addie, before sighing again.

    "Okay fine. I just thought I should thank you for...well...saving my soul from being ripped apart the other night. I was thinking, and realized that maybe I haven''t been the most grateful."

    She trailed off, looking away. I saw it now, the discomfort. Myra had been right, it was strange being nice to one another. Neither of us knew what to do with the new notion of growing respect for one another. I slowly pulled my hat off, careful not to ruin Addie''s work on my hair, and set it back in it''s box. I folded the duster coat, again marveling at the fine material, and set it on top. Finally, I leveled a sardonic glance at Myra.

    "What else can I expect from a spoiled heiress?"

    Myra''s only reply was a slow smile.

    *******

    Lord Beaufoutonte and the Matron wandered the ballroom, making final preparations for the party. Levi, my father, and Dash Eastmark had finally arrived. They all stood to the side, making idle conversation. Levi beamed at Myra, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Dash leaned forward, making a quip that caused them all, even my father, to laugh. I stayed away, wanting to avoid all contact with my father where it was possible.

    I marveled as every surfaced was polished, every napkin was folded, and the chandelier was lit to cast an attractive glow in the dining room and dance floor. A string quartet warmed up in the corner, and beautiful music filled the space.

    I smiled as I saw a familiar face behind the main bar area.

    Zachariah was in a tailored suit of black, with a matching black undershirt and vest. He had a charcoal gray cravat tied around his neck, and his shaggy red hair was brushed and tied back neatly. He was busy polishing glasses and displaying the various liquors, wine, and beer he had brought to serve for the party. He reached under the bar and produced a glass of my favorite bourbon as I approached, his eyes never looking up. I pulled out a coin and slid it toward him, but he slid it back.

    "On the house," he said quietly, finally looking up.

    "Myra said you helped her in getting my new coat and hat," I said, leaning on the bar.

    He shrugged, some color coming to his cheeks, as he polished yet another glass.

    "Come on, out with it. What did she bribe you with?"

    The cloth he was using slowed its cleaning as he hesitated.

    "She promised to talk to me less."

    I couldn''t help it. I barked out an unladylike laugh that made the maids glance at me amidst their cleaning. Zachariah slitted his eyes at me, unamused.

    "Gods, Zacharaiah. I know why things were tense between she and I, but what did she do to you to make you avoid her so much?" I asked through chuckles, my eyes watering as the bourbon burned down my windpipe.

    A shrug.

    "Nothing. She just talks too much. It''s a lot of work."

    "Oh good. Are we starting early this evening?" came a Burland accent close by. Dash Eastmark came toward us, eyeing the glass in my hand. His large bulk surprised me every time I saw him. If I didn''t know better, I could have sworn he had some Behemoth blood in him. A man so large didn''t seem to belong in a finely tailored suit with a burgundy vest and tie. His honey-blonde hair was cut shirt in a Burlish style today.

    Wordlessly, Zachariah poured him a drink, which he immediately drained.

    "Thank you, sir," Dash said as he set his glass back on the bar, "How fares the Swooning Sparrow?"

    Zachariah blinked in surprise at the man, clearly not expecting such a high-class gentleman to remember the place.

    "Very well," Zachariah replied evenly, pouring him a refill and topping my glass off. Dash swirled his glass, green eyes watching the amber liquid within.

    "I visited it on my first trip here, and I much say it is a fine establishment," he said politely. Zachariah stared at him with penetrating eyes.

    "I think that''s an overstatement," he said quietly, though amusement shone in his eyes. Dash took a sip on his second drink, before a slow smile spread over his lips.

    "Ah. Allow me to correct myself. I won''t say it''s a five-star restaurant, however it is a a pleasant place for quality drink and food as well as a...relaxed atmosphere. My compliments to you sir. You know your audience."

    Zachariah nodded to the nobleman, who then turned to me. He indicated where Levi and Myra were standing.

    "They make a handsome couple, don''t they?" he asked. I looked at them, and saw Levi inclining his head toward Myra as she told some sort of story. They both laughed, joined by Lord Beafoutonte, who beamed at them both.

    I made to reply before I heard the Matron''s raised voice.

    "What do you mean zhey are not ''ere? Zhe guests are arriving soon," she asked sharply, her eyes narrowed at Edmund, the head butler. His skin was a stark red against his black suit with small gray horns growing from his skull. He kept his leathery wings tucked in behind him. I never thought an Incubus could look so refined until I saw Edmund. He gazed at the Matron impassively, clearly used to her ire. Lord Beaufoutonte placed a hand on his wife'' shoulder soothingly. I knew they were likely talking about the hired waiting staff for the party.

    "Peace, my love," he said calmly. She turned her gaze on him, sparks flying in the air between them. Edmund cleared his throat, raising a clawed hand toward a serving table table. A piece of paper with hastily written scrawl levitated into it, which he then handed to the Matron with a bow of his head.

    "A messenger has assured me they will arrive in plenty of time, My Lady."

    After reading the note quickly, the Matron glared first at her husband, and then at Edmund for a moment longer, before walking away with a ruthlessly straight spine.

    "Inform me once zhey arrive, if you please," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen. The Lord winced slightly, and leaned close to Edmund.

    "Do not inform her once they arrive if you value the function of your ears. Inform me instead," he said so quietly, I barely caught it.

    "I see the evening is off to an auspicious start," Dash said dryly, folding a hand behind his back as the other held his drink.

    I looked back at Zachariah, who''s eyes were locked on where she had disappeared, his expression unreadable. Shaking my head, I lifted my glass in a toast to him.

    "Well, here''s a fun evening," I said dryly. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he clinked my glass with one of his own, though it was filled with water.

    "Here''s to hoping," he replied, and Dash mirrored the motion.

    Together we drank, not entirely unaware of the hell that would soon begin.

 Lesson Fourteen: Body Guards are Never Off-Duty

    Myra¡¯s relatives all had a certain fashion of good breeding and inherent snobbery about them. A flock of birds plumed in fine clothing, strong perfumes, and large hats. Everyone congregated in the foyer as I met person...after person...after person.

    Yes, here he is. Lady Rowena, it is your honor to meet the Lord of Posh and White Gloves. His vast wealth is only rivaled by his wrinkles, and several chins. He is followed closely by the immaculate, the immeasurable, and most esteemed Lady of Idle Prattle. Her talents include the ruination of good names and endless hours of talking about absolutely nothing...

    Face. After face. After face.

    Gods. Maybe I had died in Purgatory after all and gone to foulest pit in all the hells.

    Levi and Dash collectively told a joke to the legion of suits and dresses, which was followed by pleasant laughter from everyone. Levi looked like he was in his element, effortlessly handling every person and answering each question with disarming wit. He knew when to listen, when to laugh, and when to tell a story that somehow related to everyone.

    The waiting staff had indeed arrived a whole thirteen minutes before the party started. After a few awkward moments, they drifted through the crowd with food and drink. Nobody would be wanting for anything tonight. The music was on point too, as the band seemed to sense when the crowd needed something calm and innocuous, or if they needed something fast and familiar.

    Music that felt like home. Music that made you feel alive.

    At last, the greetings were done, and I had now managed to go an entire thirty minutes without screwing up. Sighing with relief, I went to toward the side bar, my glass entirely too empty of contents. That sigh turned to a grunt as I saw the people packed around Zachariah, whose hands moved effortlessly as he mixed drink after drink. The showoff seemed keen to entertain the nobles as he flipped bottles in circles only to have their necks land perfectly in his graceful fingers. He juggled glasses with one hand as he poured with the other, all while listening to the people''s orders. He may have refused my coin, but there was no doubt he would be making some tips tonight.

    Looking mournfully at my glass, I thought about finding a corner to observe the crowd until I felt Dash¡¯s presence beside me. He grinned with white teeth as he canted his head, his arms folded behind his back. He indicated Zachariah''s bar.

    ¡°Well then miss Maid of Honor, shall we steal away to see what other spirits are to be had in this house? Since our other option is to wait an eternity for a decent drink?¡± he leaned toward me conspiratorially, ¡°I hear Lord Beaufoutone has a particularly wonderful oak-aged whiskey stashed in the men¡¯s parlor with unparalleled cigars. He has offered them, and a few gents and I are interested in gathering there."

    I gave him a skeptical look.

    ¡°Are you, a well-bred gentleman, inviting an unmarried lady to the men¡¯s parlor? Without a chaperone?¡± I asked. He looked at me evenly, though there was no missing the flicker of challenge in his eyes.

    ¡°Levi has told me stories about you. He said you make any dull affair quite exciting," he offered his arm to me, "Was he wrong?¡±

    I hesitated, looking at Myra and Levi. They were fully engaged in a conversation with a wizened old man in a gray suit. He had several burn marks on his hands and I noticed he was missing an eyebrow. I recognized him as the lead councilman of the city of Gear''s End.

    "I really shouldn''t leave Myra unattended," I said, stepping away from Dash.

    "Surely it will be easier to keep an eye on her from a bird''s-eye view," he countered, making me pause again. He had a point. I shook my head again, retreating another step.

    "I shouldn''t. The Matron would have my head if I was caught alone in a room full of gentlemen."

    ¡°Are you saying you can¡¯t handle us?¡± he asked, a glimmer in his eyes. He didn''t lower offered his arm.

    Gods, I hate being challenged.

    I looked at him for a moment, fully intent on telling a firm no. Then, I looked back over my shoulder at Myra and Levi. They looked happy. Happier than I had ever seen either of them apart. The Gear''s End councilman was fully engrossed in their conversation, and they were surrounded by several others. Suddenly, my father was there. Or, maybe he he had been there all along and I simply didn''t recognize him while wearing a smile. I saw him nod at Levi and then focus solely on Myra. I went still at the look in his eyes. It was something I had never there seen before.

    Pride.

    I took Dash¡¯s arm, which felt like it was made of marble under his suit coat.

    ¡°I¡¯m more concerned you all can¡¯t handle me,¡± I replied to him as we walked up the staircase. He let out a laugh and stood a bit taller.

    ¡°I can only hope so."

    The men¡¯s parlor smelled of lacquered wood and cigar smoke in a way I liked. It was a masculine smell in a dark but comfortably furnished room. It was one of the rooms which could overlook the ballroom area. The walls were paneled with dark wood, and it had a large rug decorating the floor. A billiards table was off to the side and a bar stood sentinel near the door. Dash had been right. I had a perfect view of both the crowd and Myra from here.

    Three men sat in plush chairs, positioned conveniently near a fireplace, as we entered. One grinned openly when he saw us.

    ¡°Ah Monsieure Eastmark, I see you ¡®ave brought a piece of color into our sea of black?¡± asked the smiling one, his face adorned with glistening turquoise scales off his temples. His fingers had a small, yet graceful webbing between them, and his eyes were a deep sea green with blue at the center.

    Like sea water after a storm.

    I also didn''t miss the Three Seas accent as he spoke. He was clearly a Umifolk, a special type of werebeast race from that region. It was said they were as comfortable on land as they were in the water, and fierce warriors to boot.

    He and the two others went to stand upon seeing me with Dash, but I waved them to stay seated. Dash cleared his throat and nodded my way.

    ¡°Gentlemen, this is the good Lady Rowena McAlister, the--¡±

    ¡°Anyone worth their gossip knows who this lady is, Eastmark,¡± one of the them said, cutting Dash off. He had sandy hair and a lean build. He was human, but he held himself like the king of the hells sitting atop his throne as the world burned around him. His immaculate suit was cut loosely, as if he wanted to be ready to shed it at any moment for a lover''s tryst.

    And Holy Gods, even I could see he was handsome. He was a vision of male beauty, right down to his gray eyes flecked with a piercing green.

    I tore my gaze away, looking toward the small bar off to the side with a bottle containing my favorite color of liquid.

    ¡°Good evening, Gentlemen. Don¡¯t mind me. I¡¯m just here for a drink,¡± I said, and they all chuckled.

    ¡°What, our company does not interest you?¡± the sandy-haired man asked. I pointed a single finger at the bar.

    ¡°Not as much as that,¡± I said and the man shook his head in mock disapproval.

    ¡°Oh, such a blow to my pride. However shall I recover?¡± he asked. His posture was relaxed, and his voice had a Burland accent like Dash¡¯s. I showed him my sharpshooter grin.

    ¡°I have a felling that you will somehow,¡± I said dryly.

    I poured my drink as the sweet smell of oak and spice hit me. All three of the men had cigars and I immediately sensed the compliment of the flavor.

    As if answering my thought, Dash held out a cigar for me, and indicated the Umifolk who had spoken before.

    ¡°Miss McAlister, I''d like to introduce Monsieur Noel Trebouche of the Three Seas. His family owns and operates Horizon Sails Trading Company in your southern isles,¡± he said, and Noel responded with a pleasant smile and small lift of his glass in acknowledgement.

    ¡°And Mister Lucien Beecher. He owns Ironwork Railways along with my family in Burland,¡± he explained further, indicating the man with sandy hair. He responded in kind by raising his glass to me.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°And finally, the silent one over here is Wilhelm Steiner, whose family owns most overseas coal production and distribution,¡± Dash finished, indicating the man in the last chair. I felt my brows lift at the man''s size. While I suspected Dash to have some behemoth in him, this man simply had to. The chair could barely hold his significant bulk. Where Lucien was lean and graceful, this man was a mountain. His muscles were simply too large to be allowed. He had precious little neck, and a jawline that look like it could crack a boulder. He didn''t respond to Dash''s introduction, but instead stared at me like a bear looking at a mouse.

    Recovering, I saluted the men with my drink.

    ¡°It would seem I¡¯m in no average company, Gentlemen. After hearing all that, I have but one important question,¡± I said gravely, and Dash raised his brows at me.

    ¡°Vat question eez that?¡± asked Steiner, a frown etching his otherwise impassive face. I smiled at all of them.

    ¡°Is there food in here too?¡±

    Steiner rose then, and approached me. His frown became more severe. The overburdened floorboards creaked with each of his steps. His hands were large enough to crack my skull like an egg, and his cigar was held between his teeth as he glared down at me. Just as my hands itched toward my pistols, he tossed his head back and laughed.

    ¡°Aha yes, I like dis von!¡± he chuckled and opened his coat. He pulled out a personal cigar sealed in a paper with wax.

    ¡°Try this von instead,¡± Steiner said abruptly, ¡°Eez from my country, Fulgary. Eez better.¡±

    I looked at his outstretched hand, and realized the cigar looked like a matchstick in his weathered palm. A palm full of callouses.

    Laughing a bit, I took it gratefully and used a cutter on the bar to begin it. As I looked around I ran the cigar under my nose subtly. I smelled nothing but the flavor. Being in a more dangerous profession had taught me to always be on the lookout for poison if you didn¡¯t know the source of what you were taking in.

    There was nothing. No strong scents to block out a potential toxins, and no abnormal herbs in the bound cigar.

    I looked around for matches and Noel immediately stood and held out his lighter. With a flourish, he ignited it. I began the cigar and puffed out the cloud. My lungs hated it at first, but I refused to cough. Steiner¡¯s eyes didn''t leave me until I nodded at him in approval. Now that the initial robust flavor had worn off, I tasted the smoke cutting the more bitter notes of the whiskey, leaving only a smooth finish.

    Steiner clapped me on the shoulder, and it took all my strength to not be tossed to the other side of the room. After that, things seemed to relax considerably. The men continued their conversation, and I quietly drifted to the doorway. From there, I looked down on the ballroom, and saw Myra and Levi at the center, conversing amiably to the large group around them. From this higher vantage point, I could see the flow of the crowd. I listened to the conversation as the men in the parlor spoke, my eyes never leaving the guests below.

    ¡°¡­promises to be quite the scandal with the McAlister¡¯s and Beaufoutonte¡¯s partnering solely. They are sure to be a large producer of revenue for one another.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Especially with Lord Beaufoutonte buying up all zhe production companies.¡±

    ¡°It would seem that all the upper class in this country shall be armed to the teeth from now on,¡± said Lucien, an edge to his voice, ¡°What is McAlister Pistol Company worth now? One million? Two? Ten?¡±

    ¡°Levi hasn¡¯t told me the recent numbers,¡± Dash said evenly, ¡°But the company promises nothing but growth in the next few years, pending continuation of their momentum of the simplistic designs of the pistol and depending on production costs. They will be cutting into our steel supply though.¡±

    ¡°I am unworried,¡± Lucien said, ¡°This partnership cannot possibly work to the benefit of both companies long term. Sure, it will work shortly, but I give it a year maximum. Beaufoutonte has nothing to gain from this other than marrying his daughter to a new family so they don''t have to pay for her now,¡± he finished, though out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me as if he had forgotten I was there.

    ¡°Meaning no offense to your friend, my lady,¡± he said, pretense dripping from each word.

    ¡°I do not know, my friend. Monopoly of a process allows for further growth of a market if managed correctly. And zhat promises to ¡®appen with zhis marriage and merger. Competing companies both in zhe metal mines and weapon market will feel zhis,¡± Noel remarked, then looked at me evenly.

    ¡°And what of you Madmousielle? What do you zhink of zhis situation? Inquiring minds want to know,¡± he asked, his eyes open and genuine. I took a moment to answer, surprised that he would care about my opinion.

    Lucien let out a derisive snort.

    "Yes, by all means. What does the woman determined to start another war with the Elemancers think about the matter?" he said, picking a piece of dust off his immaculate suit. I stifled the urge to tell his pompous ass right where he could shove his own opinion, and then looked back at Noel to answer.

    ¡°McAlister Pistol Company is worth approximately thirteen million right now with the expansion of their productions based on what I''ve heard,¡± I replied, flecking my eyes at Lucien at the end. My father had always drilled the company¡¯s statistics, and how to calculate them, into me since I was a teenager.

    After all, he had wanted me to be the one to inherit the company. Levi had never held it against me that he was the inheritor by default, but my father had taken it very hard that I was still determined to be a healer.

    Shaking the thought off, I continued my reply.

    ¡°However, our strength is not in selling to the rich, Mister Beecher. I must correct you in that respect. It is actually in selling to the middle class.¡±

    Beecher seemed amused and gave me a sardonic smile which felt slightly patronizing. He didn¡¯t answer, but waved his hand at me to continue. I pulled in a breath to keep myself in check.

    ¡°Our strength lies in our ability to mass produce good quality guns which don¡¯t threaten to blow up in the users hand, and do it at a reasonable price. The ability to protect one''s self should not solely belong to soldiers and the rich--¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend the production is noble, My Lady. Guns cost money. Money that your family benefits from. Let us be frank-¡± cut in Lucien, swirling his glass, ¡°Your father has built an empire of wealth with the common people¡¯s obsession with violence based on his own impatience with his humbling begins as a second-rate tinkering shop.¡±

    He looked at me pointedly.

    ¡°The obsession with violence extends to his daughter, if rumor is to be believed. Your recent," he paused, looking up theatrically as if trying to decide the right word, "interaction with the Elemancer envoy is evidence of this."

    I made to reply, but I couldn''t think of any retort that didn''t sound childish. Lucien sighed and bowed his head mockingly at me.

    "Truly, I must commend your father on his success,¡± he said, every word dripping with venom. Dash and the others shifted uncomfortably.

    ¡°Mate, there is no need for aggression,¡± Dash said softly.

    ¡°No,¡± I cut in, ¡°Let him finish. It¡¯s good to know where we stand.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes,¡± said Lucien, shooting me another patronizing smile, ¡°I knew you had some intelligence. Pretense seldom does us any good, does it?¡±

    He chuckled and took a long pull on his cigar. The smoke came out of his mouth like a dragon when he spoke again, his eyes seeming to glow.

    ¡°Your father has created an admirable system. He produces weapons that the people, rich or poor it seems, use in times of fear. His daughter, meaning you, creates the fear wherever she goes. Then there''s the son who waits in the wings to inherit it all,¡± he reclined in his chair comfortably, ¡°Brilliant.¡±

    Dash shifted in his chair, and glanced my way. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated.

    ¡°Thinking to come to her rescue, are we Eastmark?¡± Lucien asked as he stretched his neck and rested his cheek on his hand. A muscle in Dash''s jaw feathered for a moment before he chuckled.

    Dash stood and went to the bar. He grabbed the bottle, and refilled my glass.

    ¡°Why no, I just noticed Lady Rowena¡¯s glass was getting a bit dry. I¡¯m sure she is quite capable of putting your arrogant ass in it¡¯s place by herself,¡± he put the bottle back and glanced at Lucien, imitating his slightly higher tenor voice, ¡°If rumor is to be believed.¡±

    Dash turned his back to Lucien, catching my gaze. He grinned and waved his hand for me to continue. I sipped again, enjoying the warmth of the drink, then gave Lucian my best sharpshooter stare.

    ¡°Believe what you wish, Mister Beecher. I don¡¯t need to explain myself to a man whose company is kept afloat solely by his friend''s financial support, and only specializes in pissing contests,¡± I said, dragging on the cigar again. I tilted my head back and blew out a perfect smoke circle.

    Dash clapped my shoulder. I looked at him and saw he was grinning even wider now. Noel was smiling as well and Steiner seemed thoughtful.

    ¡°Charming,¡± Lucien said, chuckling, ¡°I must say, you Westerners do have a habit of simply doing things with no regard for the consequences to rest of the market,¡± he continued, tapping ash into a tray. I lifted a brow at him.

    Dash cleared his throat.

    ¡°Forgive Lucien, Lady Rowena¡± said Dash, his calm and friendly tone neatly undermining any tension, ¡°He was raised in one of the oldest dukedoms in Burland. They were quite offended by the economic success in the Settled West. You have hit the nail on the head, my lady.¡±

    Lucien shrugged and breathed out another cloud of smoke.

    ¡°Old blood and habits, I¡¯m afraid,¡± he said, a small smile curling his lips. Something flickered in his gaze then. I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to call it, but my thoughts were interrupted as Dash clapped his hands together in a motion of finality.

    ¡°Billiards anyone? Can any of you beat our dear Lucien? Or will the devil win again?¡± Dash asked and Noel rose to his feet with Steiner. Lucien shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you my trick. I calculate the angle of the shot, along with the technique of striking the ball-¡± he began to explain but Noel cut across him.

    ¡°Your strain your brain far too much for a game which is meant to ''elp a man relax,¡± he said as he grabbed a cue and chalk.

    I took a moment to check back downstairs as they set up the game. My eyes drifted to the dance floor, which was starting to be in full swing. It looked like everyone had finally arrived. The Matron and Lord Beaufoutonte would be starting toasts and their procession soon. Waiting staff, dressed in starched white shirts and ties with aprons, wandered in the crowd with trays loaded with another course of drinks and food.

    Then something caught my attention.

    Addie stood in the corner, holding a tea tray. As I looked further, I saw her posture was stiff and nervous. Her tray was shaking under the tea mugs.

    I left the room while the men were distracted, placing my glass and cigar back on the bar. I made my way down the stairs and walked straight toward Addie.

    She met my eyes and shook her head at me.

    I stopped, confused. I kept my eyes on hers, and saw they were wide with fear. As I continued to look at her, a waiter passed. Addie looked from me, then to the waiter, and then back to me. Her eyes grew wider.

    Following the silent cue, I looked more closely at the waiter. Upon closer inspection, I saw his hair was tousled unevenly. There was a thin layer of dust at his neck and on his shirt. I walked the room so as to appear casual, but saw Addie¡¯s eyes never left me.

    Slowly, she adjusted her arms under the tray she was holding and touched a finger to her forearm. Still a bit confused, I looked back at the waiter and focused on his arms. He turned to serve a guest and lowered the tray. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing surprisingly muscular forearms. I saw his exposed skin, and my heart stopped yet again.

    A mountain cat brand was burned into his skin.

    Now that I knew where to look, I glanced at the other waiters and saw that each one had an identical mark. Several of the maids had it too. Cold dread spread from my stomach and out to my fingertips, which were now itching for my pistols more than ever.

    The Pumas were here.

 Bonus Content: Heres A Song to the Memories *Spoilers!*

    The Autumn air carried the scent of late blooming flowers, summer-dried grass, and fallen leaves. Baskets of fruit and bails of wheat were stacked in the market places of towns and at farms. As night fell, the Other could be seen walking in the trees of the Ethereal forest through brief flashes of light. Sunset cast a heavenly glow over the plain. The Yari mountains were silhouetted in the distance, and lights gradually came on in shopkeeper windows in Tumblend.

    I had to keep reminding myself that I lived on this land now. I was out of the McAlister estate. Forever. The walls I stood in were now mine. And tonight, Fayra and I we were going to formalize what we already knew.

    That we would be together until time had no meaning.

    Until the world was dust.

    We would live life in this harsh world until the Far Shore called, where we would board our ship on the Eversea and sail to that promised harbor.

    But for tonight, everything was perfect. Fayra and Sherriff Stone would arrive soon. Zachariah''s brother, Oji Rengey, was helping to finish the setup outside along with Dash Eastmark. Oji''s Elemancer eyes easily saw to every last detail in the fading light, and the big man from Burland would keep everyone entertained as we waited to begin.

    Oji was here in secret tonight. Nobody would ever know that Zachariah had Elemancer blood in him, much less royal blood. Being a bastard and an outcast will do that. Yet Oji had still come, defying the order to shun Zachariah as they shunned all half-breeds.

    My father, however, was still not here.

    "I was hoping to be wrong," I murmured, tugging at the sleeve of my dress awkwardly. It fit perfectly, and there was nothing itchy or irritating about the fabric, but I simply couldn''t get comfortable. It was like I had put my skin on wrong this morning. Every part of me felt flushed, as if the heat of a thousand campfires coursed through my veins. Was the neckline supposed to be this low? Were the sleeves too tight on my arms? Was my hair normally this fluffy?

    Zachariah stood up from the wall he was leaning against as Levi chuckled.

    "Mark the occasion, Zachariah. Rowena just used the words "I" and "wrong" in the same sentence," he said, using my mirror to check his reflection. He adjusted his charcoal-colored tie, his blue eyes standing out against the dark colors he wore.

    He hissed as my elbow met his gut, and took a few steps out of my range. A smart decision.

    I finished pinning my hair, checking the mirror one last time. My simple white dress hung closely to my waist and chest. The laced sleeves came to my forearms and the skirt hung just short of the floor. The light color made my skin seem to glow, and the darker makeup around my violet eyes made them glimmer in the last rays of the sun. Levi''s face appeared next to my reflection.

    "Well? What do you think?" he asked, "I''ve heard most brides are bubbling over with happiness on their wedding day, but your face indicates otherwise."

    I sighed through my nose, crossing my arms across my chest. My heart was trying to leap out of my throat, and something was crawling in my stomach.

    "I think I''m going to be sick and ruin my dress," I said, groaning. Levi quirked a brow at me, his blue eyes smiling.

    "Well that would be a real pity. We both know that you rarely look this good--"

    He dodged my second elbow, but he didn''t escape my slitted eyes. He held his hands up defensively, still laughing.

    "Come on, Rowena. You managed to snag Fayra, who sets a new standard of beauty on every level. She stood by you through all your trouble so far. Do you really think she''ll leave you now?" he asked. I considered him and relaxed.

    No. Fayra would never abandon me. She might cuff me me on the back of my head and call me a herb-headed moron, but she would never abandon me.

    I nodded, but my I couldn''t help casting an anxious glance out the window again. Levi tracked my glance, his jaw tightening.

    "Don''t worry, Rowena. He''ll come. Strained as things are, he wouldn''t miss your wedding day," Levi said, though I didn''t miss the note of misleading optimism in his voice. I looked at him again, seeing so much of our mother in his face. After a moment, I shook my head, my hand caressing the window sill. A gentle breeze wafted through it, carrying the scent of the harvest and cool night air. The worst of the summer heat had passed, and now nights were the perfect balance between hot and cold. The smell settled my nerves even as a shard of sadness pierced my stomach.

    "I don''t get it. I never expected him to come, so why am I still disappointed?" I murmured, already feeling the numb anger replacing my melancholy. I wasn''t angry at my father though. I was angry at myself for feeling this way. I knew what he was. He hadn''t changed a bit since I was child waiting at her sick mother''s bedside.

    A mother that would never awaken. A mother that would quake with fever, fear, fatigue, and pain. So much pain, and so little my untrained hands could do about it. My mother had laid in a coma, drenched in sweat and horrid nightmares, until the darkness claimed her.

    Levi''s hands settled gently on my arms and he turned me around to face him.

    "Don''t be disappointed yet. Say what you want about Father, but he always keeps his word. He said he would come."

    I shook my head again, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.

    "He said he would think about coming," I said flatly, "We both know what that means."

    The corner of his lip quirked in challenge as he held a hand out for me to shake.

    "I''ll bet you a silver Brill that he comes," he said in a crisp business tone. Despite everything, I felt myself smile, enjoying Levi''s indominable stubbornness to see the best in people. Even when they didn''t deserve it. Many people thought Levi was soft in the mind when it came to business because of it, but nothing could be further from the truth.

    The company would be in good hands with him.

    "Make it three," I said, reaching to clasp his forearm. He squeezed gently before he let go.

    "I''ll hold you to it," he replied, straightening again, "But Gods know you both deserve something more extravagant. You didn''t even spring for a Soul Mark."

    I scoffed, looking at him through tired eyes.

    "Soul Marks require money, Levi. Something Fay and I don''t a lot of. You forget that the McAlisters have a fortune, but I don''t. Every Brill we have has been put into this land. Besides, they''re not necessary to make the marriage legal."

    But they are nice, I finished in my head. Yes, Soul Marks had become very popular since the Deified appeared. They were seeds of the Ghost Flower, which glowed a bright white during the new moon each month. Legend says that they absorbed the energy of the dead plants and animals around them, and their souls followed the trail of glowing flowers to the afterlife.

    The Far Shore.

    Their seeds, when held at the same time by two people, bestowed a Mark which embodied the other''s soul onto their partner. It was said that each Mark was unique to the person, and newlyweds used them to lay claim to one another. That Mark only became visible when it''s mate was nearby.

    They also happened to be extremely expensive. Even if it was complete romanticized bullshit, I still wanted to try it. However, that wasn''t in the cards for us.

    Suddenly, I felt a calloused hand on my shoulder. I turned, and saw Zachariah motioning back toward the window. I turned, and saw several horses now coming onto the property. In the lead was Stone on Buck, and right behind him was Fayra, a matching white dress billowing behind her as she rode. I watched as she dismounted her mare named Dawn. She was a beautiful animal with a coat the color of the sky at daybreak, and a white mane.

    Zachariah nodded, a wry smiling teasing at his normally impassive features.

    "I''ll check to make sure everything is ready," he said, and left the room.

    A awkward beat of silence went by before Levi cleared his throat. He fishied in a pocket for a moment before removing it, his fist now clenched around something.

    "I''m told that you''re supposed to have something old, yet made anew. Keep it secret though. Father would eviscerate me. I''m not joking," he said before he opened his palm.

    I gasped as I saw what he held. I began to stutter, a prickling heat building behind my eyes.

    "L-Levi, how d-did you get it?" I asked but he waved the question away, his face a bit pale.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "Don''t ask. You don''t want to know the scheming that was involved. All I''ll say is that I had to buy several roosters, a lot of glue, and an entire cart of cabbages. Oh! And it involved angering Levira Casanaddi beyond redemption," he said, avoiding my eyes. I snorted, my throat tight as I reached into his palm.

    I picked up a small pocket dagger with a chain lacing through the pommel to make it a necklace. The blade was currently an inch long, but I knew a few whispered words would have it lengthen into a full short sword. My mother had often worn this around her neck. In fact, this is what she had used to defend us that fateful night. I had nearly lost my mind when this was stolen in later days by the same gang as the thief who had claimed her life.

    The Pumas. Gods, I wished them to rot in the foulest pits for all of time. Every last one of them. They had stolen a lot of our family''s things, but this time my father had taken us to Gear''s end with him to establish his business. We had returned to a house that had been raided for anything valuable. The magic dagger of my mother''s had been amongst the stolen.

    But here it was. Levi must have paid a fortune for it on the black market.

    The tiny pommel held a glowing ruby which radiated power. At the cross guard were my mother''s initials.

    E. T. D.

    Elizabeth Tierney Dubran. I carried her middle name as the first-born. I frowned as I saw that there were more initials added to the tiny handle.

    R.E.M.

    My initials. They had been added to the sword in burnished silver. I turned to Levi, who seemed to be thinking.

    "Let''s see," he said, counting off on his fingers as he spoke Luradia''s wedding tradition rhyme.

    "A trinket of olde made anew,

    A treasure of luck truest of true,

    A symbol of love in darkest night to get you through,

    And a stone gilded in red-flamed hue."

    He finished the poem, and gave the diminutive magic sword a self-satisfied smile.

    "Well?" he asked, a touch of anxiety in his eyes. I clasped the chain around my neck and took a moment to tuck the magic dagger under my neckline. Then, I flung myself unceremoniously at Levi and hugged him with all my strength.

    "You nailed it, little brother," I murmured into his shirt. He returned the hug for a moment before pushing me to arm''s length.

    "All right. That''s enough. You''ll ruin the paint on your face," he said dismissively, but he was still grinning.

    Levi and I stood in silence for a moment longer before a knock came at the door. I opened it and was immediately on eye level with a man''s abdomen dressed in a button-down shirt. I didn''t need to see the face to know it was Dash.

    He ducked into the room, and bowed slightly to Levi and I in greeting.

    "Good evening. I wanted to--" Dash cut himself off as he looked at me more fully. His teeth flashed in a grin.

    "Good Gods. You look lovely, my lady," he said politely, bowing his head again. I stared at him flatly in return.

    "You mean I don''t look like I''m about to vomit all over this dress?" I asked sardonically. Dash shook his head, his eyes amused.

    "Not in the slightest. If Miss Fayra were wearing socks, they would be knocked off entirely," he said and cleared his throat before continuing his original thought, "But I wanted to inform you both that I believe we will be ready to begin soon. And I must warn you that Zachariah and his brother are planning something. Be prepared for a surprise."

    "But--"

    "Just be prepared, and have fun," he said before turning to leave.

    *******

    The back field was alight with thousands of stars, more visible without the light of the moon. Several lanterns were set up to cast a pleasant glow without impeding the view of the stars. Someone had flattened the grass to make an aisle leading to a large arc wreathed in stone at the end of it.

    Dash, Prince Oji, and Zachariah sat in wait for everyone. I stood on one side of the the back of the house, knowing Fayra was on the other side with her father, Sheriff Stone. Levi stood next to me, looking around as a scowl spread over his face. We had planned it so the ceremony would begin when I walked down the aisle. Everyone was in position, except for one man.

    Ignoring the pit in my stomach, I held my hand out to Levi, palm up. Making an effort to keep my voice steady, I smiled and elbowed him a bit.

    "Pay up. He''s not here."

    Levi''s scowl deepened as he glanced around again, but there was nobody else to be seen on the entire property. He waited a moment, as if there would be some dramatic entrance by my father, but only a rustle of the wind greeted him. There was no steam engine roaring, or clacking of hooves to hint of someone approaching.

    Only silence.

    He sighed, a muscle feathering in his jaw, and dug into his pocket. Three silver Brill glimmered as they were pressed into my palm. I tucked them into the bodice of my dress, the metal cool on my skin. I gestured to the remaining chairs and squared my shoulders.

    "Go ahead and sit down. I don''t want to wait any--"

    Levi was suddenly at my side, his arm lacing through mine.

    "I''ll walk you down," he said, winking at me, "Someone has to give the bride away if we are adhering to tradition."

    I looked at him through the tops of my eyes.

    "I think this wedding is anything but traditional," I said, but I didn''t pull away. He surprised me by stooping to pick up a small bouquet of lilies, lavender, and daisies, and then pressed it into my other hand.

    "Humor me," he said, his voice gentle. Then he looked straight at Zachariah.

    "Are we ready?" he called. Zachariah straightened and nodded at Oji.

    The two of them stood and walked to the head of the aisle. Oji reached onto his arm and pulled on one of his Elemancer tattoos. Zachariah produced a polished, yet beaten-to-hell, cello. He sat down to play. As he did, Oji whispered in Kaze as the wind responded to his magic. Even though the language was still new to me, I did recognize one word.

    "Utei," he said.

    Sing.

    The wind directed itself into the heart of the cello, the strings seeming to glow in time with Zachariah''s bow.

    As the first notes hit the open air, a stronger living wind came from Oji''s palm and danced along the strings. Zachariah, unsurprised by the breeze, played with the grace of a world-class musician. As if he had been born to do nothing else. However, as those sweet sounds mixed with Oji''s magic I couldn''t help but gasp.

    Oji''s wind turned Zachariah''s one cello into an entire orchestra. The sound was sweet and calming. It sang of fair seas, laughter, and good weather. Of good fortune, family, and love. It was nothing less than the most beautiful sound I had heard in my entire life. I understood then that this was Zachariah''s gift. He had asked his brother come to help him for this one moment as a testament to our friendship.

    Let me explain. Elemancers considered their magic to be holy. Everything they did was supposed to reflect the only Goddess they served. She was called the Lady of Life in the common tongue. For Oji to use his magic like this could technically be considered blasphemy.

    But he and Zachariah were doing it anyway.  That favor meant more than any monetary value.

    Levi gave a gentle tug on my arm, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

    "I think that''s our cue, Wen," he said, using his old nickname for me. I stood there for a moment longer, mouth agape, before I tightened my grip on his arm.

    "Levi, you''re the best Gods-damned brother I could--"

    "Don''t curse. It''s your wedding day. It''s a sacred ceremony," he said, looking at me like a nagging nanny. We were silent for a moment before we both burst out laughing.

    "Just get me down that aisle, and don''t let me fall on my ass," I said through chuckles as Levi started to steer us forward. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

    "But seeing you fall on your ass seems far more entertaining," he said, his tone thoughtful before a look of sheer horror came over him.

    "No. On second thought, Fayra would kill me. Nevermind."

    The music swelled as we came to the end of the aisle. Levi gave me a one-armed hug before standing to the side. I didn''t miss Dash''s "Well done, mate," toward him as he leaned forward in his chair. I rolled my eyes and turned to make a quip, the music swelling yet again as I did.

    And that was when I saw her.

    She was wearing her hair exactly the way I loved it most, the long curls cascading down her back in glimmering waves. The auburn color was like a beacon in the otherwise dark night. Her dress hung tightly to her generous frame, the sleeves and style similar to mine. Her eyes were like a lioness''s, a golden color that changed to green in the right light. Her skin was tanned from countless bounty-hunter missions. Her lips were a deep natural red, and they smiled wryly at me as they approached. She walked down the aisle with Stone, who was beaming.

    Gods, I had never seen the man smile this much. If he didn''t stop soon, I was certain he would pull a muscle.

    The music faded to a whisper as Stone took my hand and guided it to Fayra''s. Our fingers laced together as he did, the motion as natural as two halves becoming a whole. Stone then stood under the arch as he motioned for everyone to listen, his deep voice easily heard in time with the music. He began to speak. He said the formal words of love, unity and loyalty. He spoke of how beautiful a union could be. He did not go overly long, but I didn''t really hear the words as I looked at Fayra.

    She was now, and would always be, the most important thing to me. After all, I saw the same reflected in her eyes.

    We were distracted as Stone cleared his throat and eyed us in a way that told me he knew we hadn''t really been listening.

    "Alright you two. Here, in front of these witnesses, state your vows," he said as he took a step backward. Fayra and I locked both hands now, our eyes only for one another. We spoke in unison.

    "Light and Dark,

    Life and Death,

    New and Olde,

    These things are not separate,

    But two halves of a whole.

    As rain is to sun,

    And rock is to air,

    So we shall be,

    A true balance pair.

    Servant to the all the God''s will

    We are now one

    Until time stands still."

    Stone placed a hand on Fay''s shoulder followed by mine.

    "Well? What are you waiting for? Kiss your bride."

    Laughing, I turned back toward Fay and leaned in to give the promised kiss.

    Only she wasn''t there. None of them were anymore.

    The beautiful back field was now replaced by a deserted dirt-covered street. A man sat in the shadows of a store, his feet kicked up on a table when Fayra''s hat sat. Slowly, the man put his cigar out on the brim of her hat, burning a hole through it. A whisp of smoke curled in the air, framing his crooked smile. He gestured to the street with a knarled hand, spitting on the ground.

    "Well? What are you waiting for? Go on and take a look at whats left of her."

    A voice told me not to listen, but I looked down anyway, bile rising in my throat.

    A broken body laid in the street.

    Fayra''s shirt was open to reveal long and ragged cuts across her skin. Matching wounds could be seen up and down her legs, along with fresh bruises.

    She didn''t have any pants on.

    Blood was matted in her auburn hair and leaked onto her swollen face.  Unseeing eyes stared at the heartless sky, tear tracks cutting through the dried blood.

    I had just enough time to process the image before I heard the laughing.

    The man, along with several more of the Pumas, were chorteling with reckless abandon.

    I just stood there as the leader stood, placing her burned hat on one of his gang member''s head.

    He approached me in lazy strides, drawing a gleaming sword with runic marks glowing along the blade. In the other hand he held a pistol which he leveled at my abdomen.

    "Im going to enjoy the fuck out of this," he said.

    And then he pulled the trigger.

    *******

    I startled awake as always, the nightmare ending the same.

    But the worst part was waking up alone.

 Lesson Fifteen: People Will Disappoint You

    Several foul words played through my mind as I ran through my options. Damn it anyway. Of course, of course the Pumas were here. It was definitely my luck to be landed in a situation like this. No wonder the waiting staff were late. Or were they in on it from the beginning? Were they bought off? All questions for later. It took physical effort to keep my face calm as I formed a tentative plan in my mind.

    I turned on my heel and walked back up the stairs to the men¡¯s parlor. My drink was still on the end table where I left it. The others were fully engrossed in their billiards game, but Dash looked at me as I entered the masculine room.

    ¡°Ah, Lady Rowena, joining us again?¡± he asked. Forcing a sly smile, I walked to him, taking out a cue and applying chalk. Dash sank into a chair to await his next turn as Lucien lined up his shot. I leaned toward him and laid my hand on his forearm.

    ¡°The Pumas are here,¡± I said in a whisper, maintaining my smile. Dash¡¯s head snapped to attention, looking my way with a small bit of confusion.

    "They''re a gang of murderers," I breathed into his ear, seeing Dash''s jaw tighten as he began to look around at each passing person.

    ¡°Be casual. They¡¯re disguised as the waiting staff,¡± I said even more quietly. Dash looked serious for a moment, before chuckling as if I¡¯d said something funny. He sat up straighter and patted my forearm. Just then a waiter entered the room with a tray of hors d''oeuvres. I didn''t miss how his eyes scanned everyone, but thankfully his gaze didn''t linger on us. Dash swirled his glass, still acting natural as he kept his voice low.

    ¡°Bollocks, that¡¯s bad. Who else knows?¡± he whispered through a broad smile. Apart from the words, he was the picture of a man enjoying himself. I chuckled in reply, and leaned on the cue. I canted my head toward him as if consulting his advice for a shot, considering the spread of the balls. They looked like blurs of color as Lucien cracked another ball in, and immediately swore as he scratched.

    "Myself and one of the maids are all that know so far. I¡¯m going to handle this but,¡± I met his eyes, ¡°When all hells break loose, get my brother out of here.¡±

    His gaze turned calculating, his posture stiff. I saw the logic and chivalry fighting in his eyes as he watched me. Finally, he shook his head.

    ¡°No, I shall assist you-¡±

    ¡°No," I said firmly, digging my fingers into the muscles of his arm. A flicker of annoyance crossed Dash''s features before he gestured a to a random ball on the table and leaned closer to me as if explaining a complex shot.

    ¡°That is utterly ridiculous. Nobody could handle this alone. Allow me to help,¡± Dash said in a tone that broached no argument.

    ¡°I appreciate it, but trust me,¡± I pulled the slit in me dress aside, revealing the handle of my pistol only to Dash''s eyes, ¡°You want to let me handle this. Just get my brother out. Put those muscles to use.¡±

    Dash surprised me by grabbing my hand and pulling it to his lips in a gentleman''s kiss. I tried to pull away, but his iron grip guided my hand to his coat, where I felt the unmistakable shape of another pistol.

    "A true gentleman never leaves home without his weapon. Besides, what type of friend would I be if I didn''t give the McAlister''s my patronage?" he said, winking. I hesitated, flecking my eyes at the people below. There was at least twenty hired staff tonight, all at various parts of the house. Even now, I saw their eyes darting from person to person, as if selecting the best targets.

    They must be waiting for some sort of signal. We didn''t have a lot of time.

    Finally, I sighed through my nose, sending Dash another smile. A woman enjoying a man''s company.

    "Alright. Get my brother out first, and then come back to help me. Fair enough?" I asked and Dash pressed another kiss to the back of my hand.

    "A fair compromise, my lady," he said, standing and straightening his coat. I handed him the cue and chalk, leaning close one more time.

    "Make sure he''s in my guest room as soon as possible. He''ll need to check on his bride to be," I said in a breath. Dash just smiled at me as he adjusted his cravat and reached to his own glass, draining it in one gulp.

    "I suppose Levi was right. You do have a way of making any dull affair exciting. Now go," he said as he strode across the room to the others, the much-abused seams of his coat seeming to tighten with the muscles of his back.

    As if preparing for battle.

    *******

    I picked up my drink, looking mournfully at the excellent vintage. Dipping my finger into the glass, I smeared an ample amount onto my pulse points as if it were a perfume.

    Such a waste.

    I started to totter on my feet and made a show of stumbling into the guest room where my clothes were. A few of the ladies tittered at me, the lonely spinster who couldn''t hold her liquor. I paid them no mind as I shut the door. The second I was inside, I set my glass on a table, grabbed my knife, and started to tear the sheets of the bed. Within a few minutes I had them tied together and secured to the bedpost. I pooled the fabric below the window, eyeballing how far the climb would be. I finished by tucking my knife into my thigh holster.

    Satisfied, I picked my drink back up and went back to the ballroom.

    Myra and Levi were talking to Lord Beaufoutonte when I stumbled toward them. The lord¡¯s brow furrowed as he saw me walk, his lip curling in distaste at my apparent inebriation.

    ¡°Miss Rowena, we were just-¡± but he stopped short as I stumbled into Myra, tumbling the rest of my drink onto her dress.

    Myra¡¯s mouth made a perfect ¡°O¡± for a moment before she sent a furious glare my way. She looked like a cat who had been dipped in ice water, her arms held aloft and some locks of hair pulling free from her coiffeur. Serious as the situation was, I will never forget Myra''s face as the whiskey soaked into the fabric of her bodice. Not for the rest of my life.

    ¡°Oh no,¡± I slurred, as I swayed on my feet again. I began to reach toward Myra''s front, acting as if I was going to brush the whiskey off her. She pushed my arms away, her face going a shade of red. She seemed to struggled for words.

    ¡°Get off me! My¡­My dress!¡± she hissed as her father stopped to assess the stain spreading through the cream lace. I stood to my full height then, looking around. Sure enough, one of the maids had taken notice. My stomach clenched as I saw the all-too-familiar mark peeking out from under her uniform.

    ¡°You,¡± I said, addressing her, ¡°Would you be a lamb and help us get cleaned up?¡± I ordered. For the barest moment, her eyes narrowed, but then she gave a small bow.

    Maids curtsy, not bow. Idiot, I thought as she approached. Myra didn¡¯t notice, still looking at her dress.

    ¡°Come on,¡± I said, grasping her wrist in an iron grip, ¡°Let¡¯s get you cleaned up.¡±

    Before she could argue, I began to haul her towards the stairs. I heard Levi chuckle, and I suppressed the urge to hit him, though I felt him and Lord Beaufoutonte watch us as we walked away. I wanted to invite him to come with us, but couldn''t do so without raising too much suspicion. My first priority was to get Myra as safe as possible, and then Levi. I felt some relief as I saw Dash approach them, saying some sort of quip to make everyone smile and return to the merrymaking of the party.

    Quietly, the maid, Myra ,and I went upstairs. I lead the charge toward my guest room, Myra following me and the fake maid bringing up the rear. I felt Myra¡¯s livid eyes boring into my back the whole time. I knew she was thinking of returning my new coat and hat as we reached the door to my guest room.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I opened the door and waved them inside. Closing it behind me, I turned to face the pair.

    Then I dove.

    The fake maid had already pulled out a knife and was trying to stab Myra, who was dabbing a handkerchief on her generous front. The blade missed her exposed back by a hair¡¯s breadth as my arms wrapped around the maid¡¯s mouth and shoulders. The maid grunted in surprise as we toppled to the floor together, though I did my best to soften the noise of the landing.

    ¡°Don¡¯t scream,¡± I murmured to Myra, who already had her mouth open. I shoved my forearm into the maid''s mouth as a makeshift gag, feeling her try to yell something. We were a tangle of limbs and fabric as we rolled over the floor, colliding with the footboard of the bed before rolling back toward the wall. Though she wasn''t particularly big, she was deceptively strong. She clearly had some experience fighting. Finally, I was able to stay on top, my knees pinning her arms to the floor as I drew my knife. The Puma paused her struggle as she saw the weapon.

    ¡°One more move, and you¡¯re done,¡± I huffed in a low voice.

    She went still as a statue, but her eyes burned with hatred.

    ¡°That¡¯s better. Now-¡±

    ¡°Why are you wrestling my maid!?¡± Myra asked emphatically. She went to pull me off the woman, but I shrugged her away.

    ¡°She¡¯s not-¡± I started, but the Puma took advantage of my momentary distraction, trying to buck me off. Rolling my eyes, I freed one of my hands to drive my elbow into woman¡¯s stomach. She coughed to suck in air as I prodded the knife below her chin. Breathing a bit more heavily, I didn''t take my eyes off the captive as I replied to Myra.

    ¡°She¡¯s not a maid. She¡¯s a God''s damned Puma," I grunted. The woman''s eyes narrowed with recognition as I settled more of my weight on her chest.

    ¡°Why is a bandit at my engagement party?!¡± Myra asked, her voice barely restrained in a whisper. Her hands went to her mouth in horror, the stained dress forgotten.

    ¡°You know what? That¡¯s a very good question,¡± I replied, looking the Puma in the eyes, ¡°Why are you here?¡±

    The Puma smirked at me, revealing browning teeth from too much tobacco.

    ¡°The Pumas are going to eat you alive¡± she said, ¡°Blight of Grimwater.¡±

    I felt a muscle feather in my jaw as ice fell into my stomach. Somewhere deeper, the dark current stirred. It flowed farther and faster, roaring through my veins. A beast that licked it''s chops.

    ¡°Do I know you?¡± I asked, and the woman¡¯s smile widened, her blood smearing on her teeth.

    ¡°No,¡± she croaked, ¡°but we know you. Done hiding yet?¡±

    I gave her my best sadistic smile.

    ¡°Ask your friends. They''re currently getting cozy in the jailhouse. I imagine they''ll hang sometime soon. Stone doesn''t like human traffickers much,¡± I murmured, "But we''re getting off topic. Why. Are. You. Here?"

    Her eyes hardened at that, before she leaned closer to me.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You and your rich friends are dead,¡± she threatened. I let out an amused snort.

    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from someone I have pinned to the floor,¡± I replied, pressing my forearm into her neck, ¡°What are you after?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t scare me, Bli-¡± she began, but cut off as I put the tip of my knife under her chin. I felt that darkness rising closer and closer to the surface, and I was having trouble knowing what thoughts were mine, and which ones belonged to the demon.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t my name,¡± I growled.

    ¡°Oh, but a little bird told us it is,¡± she sing-songed until I jabbed her throat. Slowly, I burned a mark, my eyes blazing in that radiant light yet again, but the Puma chuckled through a croak.

    ¡°All you Deified are the same,¡± she said, ¡°You burn your marks and the world is supposed to-¡±

    She gasped in pain as I reached down, and in a small movement broke her trigger finger cleanly. I didn''t have time for the this. I needed answers to get a better idea how bad the situation was. Even so, I struggled to hide my own surprise. I had done it before thinking, and I felt no remorse as I gazed at the digit pointing the wrong way. I felt nothing at all. After a moment, I resettled my gaze on the woman.

    ¡°I''ll take you calling me a bitch. I understand why you''d call me a monster, a demon, or a murderer. Hells, I''ve earned those names a hundred times over. But if you call me a Deified again,¡± I said too quietly, "I¡¯ll break them all. Then, we can continue this beautiful conversation and see where the night takes us. Do you understand me?¡± I said in a voice like water turning to ice.

    My forearm still wedged between her teeth, she gave the barest nod. I didn''t miss the line of silver in her eyes now. Whether it was from pain or fear, I didn''t know. Or care.

    ¡°Good. Now what do you have planned? What are you degenerates after¡± I asked as I removed my arm from her mouth. Infuriatingly, she shook her head.

    I was considering what to do next when the woman cocked her head back and spat right into my face.

    "Everyone here is going to die. Starting with your pretty little bitch," she said, letting her head fall back as she glanced at Myra, who took a step backward, her eyes darting from the woman to me. The Puma laughed as she saw Myra''s fear, then looked back at me.

    "So go on and kill me, Blight. I''ll watch the slaughter from the Far Shore. There isn''t shit you can do about it. We''ll kill you all. Just like we killed your other little whore. What was her name? Fayra?"

    I went still as she spoke, her words hitting me like bullets. Deep in my soul, that sleeping demon in the obsidian river opened an eye. Something in me snapped. It spread and spread loving it''s freedom. I knew I should stop it. I should put it back in it''s cage. I knew it would take control again.

    But somehow, in this moment, I didn''t care. In fact, that blissful numbness and rage sounding like a damn paradise.

    For the first time in three years, I stopped fighting and embraced that darkness. The cage I had so carefully crafted tore open, and the lock shattered.

    Rowena McAlister closed her eyes, and the demon opened them.

    It felt like someone had kicked me in the chest. I gasped as I felt it; that dark current of energy expand. It radiated from my core, and I allowed the slide of something unholy through me. The sensation spread to every inch of my being until we were one and the same.

    That icy blackness became more than a metaphor as it spread along my veins, eventually turning the skin along my eyes black.

    The Puma gasped as she beheld my face, her own going deathly white. Much of my hair had pulled free in our scuffle and it framed my face from Myra¡¯s view, but the Puma received the full force of the darkness. The radiant blue light turned to a glowing crimson as the transition took full effect.

    Distantly, I knew I should be horrified, but all I could do was bare my teeth in a predatory grin.

    I slowly wiped my face clean on the back of my fist, the room an ominous quiet apart from the Puma''s ragged breathing. The glow in my eyes became brighter, my heartrate going lightning-fast. My voice sounded like stone on ice as I opened my mouth.

    ¡°I dare you to do that again,¡± I said with an unnatural calm, ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll wait.¡±

    ¡°Oh sugar, I think that was a mistake,¡± Myra said to the Puma, a slight quiver to her voice. The Puma¡¯s eyes were saucers as I leaned closer to her. She shrank further into the wood floor, and I felt her begin to shake beneath me.

    ¡°I thought not,¡± my roughened voice said. The darkness was in full swing through me now, and I was relishing the feeling. It was like a vice had been taken off my chest.

    Powerful.

    Cold.

    And hungry.

    All this had only taken place a few seconds, but it might as well have been a lifetime. I canted my head at the woman, considering my next move.

    ¡°Give me your handkerchief, Myra,¡± I ordered and held out a hand to her. Myra crossed her arms.

    ¡°It¡¯s dirty thanks to a certain drunken maid of honor spilling Father¡¯s whiskey all over it,¡± she said shortly.

    ¡°Even better,¡± I said, not moving my outstretched hand, ¡°Now hand it over.¡±

    After a beat of silence, I felt Myra press the fabric into my palm. I used it to finish wiping my face, before shoving it into the Puma¡¯s mouth. Myra squeaked, but couldn¡¯t stop me as I broke the miserable woman¡¯s collar bones.

    First the right, then the left.

    She bucked again, but not enough to escape my grasp. It was a movement purely motivated by pain. Her muffled scream strained against the wadded fabric, and went higher as I pressed into one of the broken edges of her collar bone, grinding it into the tissue. I could smell Myra¡¯s vomit as I heard her retch in the corner, but nothing in me cared.

    ¡°Congratulations, my lady,¡± I said mockingly, "You were right. You found the Blight of Grimwater."

    I waited patiently for the woman¡¯s screams to quiet. I could have sworn I felt a warm wetness between her legs, sweat now soaking her skin. I kept my gaze on her until she calmed.

    ¡°Now, I was going to keep you alive. I was going to try to see your motive. But you know what? There''s plenty of you here. I don''t think I need you anymore," I said into the quiet. And with that, I drove my knife into the Puma''s throat.

    Her body spasmed, and her face went paler. The woman continued to cough and chuckle all the way to the moment she went still. As the life left her eyes, I felt a prickle of pain across my back, but ignored it.

    I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think, but that was impossible over all the noise a certain society maiden was making.

    ¡°Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my-¡± Myra was keening, looking at the body, ¡°You k-killed her! S-she¡¯s d-dead!¡±

    ¡°Myra, quiet!¡± I said as I shot to my feet. I tried to go to her, but she shrank back from my grip. Realizing my face was still in my demonic form, I took a deep breath and felt my skin and eyes return to normal.

    As if on cue, Levi opened the door, Dash close on his heels. They both paused, and Levi opened his mouth, his livid gaze going to me. I held a hand up as he started to speak, cutting him off.

    "The Puma''s are here to kill everyone," I said in a quick explanation, "We have to get you two out of here."

    My back still stinging, I went to the window and grabbed my makeshift rope, giving it another test tug. It held strong. I waved Myra over to me and handed the fabric to her.

    ¡°What? We''re just going to leave everyone here to die?¡± Levi asked, hesitating as he held Myra in a firm hug. Dash''s eyes met mine, quiet judgement there. Refusing to feel guilty, I pulled my pistols from my thigh holsters and checked my bullets.

    ¡°No. I''m going to kill all those miserable bastards. I just need you two safe first,¡± I said gesturing to the window and rope, "Stay here until the shooting starts. Then use the rope to get out of here and hide."

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Levi asked, his eyes wavy as his grip tightened on Myra, who was still shaking in his arms. I turned away from them as I picked my knife up, cleaning it on the dead maid''s dress. At the thought of killing the Puma''s, I couldn''t suppress a small smile on my face.

    ¡°Something terrible.¡±

 Lesson Sixteen: Sometimes Your Demons are Your Friends

    I was going to kill the Pumas. One by one. I had to keep myself in check, however. I knew that any wrong move could result in everyone here being killed. But Gods, it was all I could do to stop myself from tearing these miserable excuses for humans limb from limb.

    Soon, I promised myself as I scanned everyone around me.

    Considering Myra and Levi were the guests honor, I was surprised how little they were missed.

    In fact, few people noticed that they had disappeared at all. The music, drink, and refreshments lulled everyone into a sense of timeless happiness. Dash and I stood shoulder to shoulder, scanning the crowd as we stood outside the guest bedroom. The sun was well set and the moon hovered high in the sky, visible through the windows. Men dressed in black peppered the women dressed in colors of ever shade. Every person was a captain of industry, art, and business. The room hummed with the pressure each of them gave off.

    And they were all completely unaware of what danger lurked among them. In servant''s attire no less.

    I noticed all the staff were handing out champagne glasses to everyone in attendance. Even Zachariah was enlisted to pour glass after glass to fill the silver trays. Everything in me wanted to go to him and explain what was happening, but I knew I couldn''t. It would be too obvious, and I didn''t know how the Pumas would react.

    The party drummed on, everyone waiting patiently with their drinks. As I gazed over the crowd, I felt like I was watching a storm of fire coming over the plain, and there was nothing I could do about it except meet it head on. That begged a more a important question.

    What were the Pumas waiting for?

    Why not just storm in guns-a-blazing? To them, this was just a party with a bunch of pigeons ripe for slaughter. Why all the covert methods?

    A glass was pressed into my hand, the sparkling crystal glimmering in the light of the chandelier. I turned to where it had come from, only to find Matron Beaufoutonte looking at me with narrowed eyes.

    "Vhere eez my daughter and her betrothed?" she asked without preamble, her spine as straight as an arrow and a hand going to her hip. Not in the mood for her usual bitchiness, I mirrored the posture.

    "Well hello there, Matron Beaufoutonte. Yes, I am having a good evening. The music is lovely. Thank you for asking," I said with undue brightness. Oh, if looks could kill I would have been mince meat. Alas. Thankfully, Dash came to the rescue.

    "Good evening, Madame. I believe Miss Beaufoutonte is in one of the guest rooms addressing a," his eyes slid to the drink in my hand, "problem with her dress. Master McAlister is assisting her with the matter. She was rather distraught," he said smoothly. Not quite a lie, but the Matron was having none of it. Several waiters and maids sent us sidelong glances, clearly listening.

    "Ve are going to begin zhe toast! Zhey must be ''ere," she said, more of a command than a statement. Dash only shrugged his massive shoulders, his face calm.

    "By all means, go fetch them, my lady. However, I must respectfully question the wisdom of disturbing a couple at a party when they have found some alone time together."

    A significant lift of his eyebrows.

    "Gods only know what you''ll be interrupting."

    At this, a flush crept into the Matrons cheeks. She paused, glaring at Dash for entirely too long.

    "I do not care. Get zhem out here, and in proper attire," she said tartly. And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

    "Bollocks," Dash utter once she as out of earshot.

    "I prefer to say fuck. I find it''s more succinct," I replied in the same tone, to which Dash snorted.

    "In Burland, they mean essentially the same thing in this context," he explained, glancing sidelong at me.

    "What now?"

    I sighed, swirling the bubbling liquid in my hands as I spied yet another maid taking undue interest in us. So much for keeping Myra and Levi sequestered in a safe room.

    "We do the best we can, and ready ourselves for anything."

    *******

    "Ladies and gentlemen," Lord Beaufoutonte called over the crowd, holding his glass aloft. He stood on the grand staircase, surrounded by the bridal party. Myra and Levi clung tightly to one another, and Dash stood sentry behind them. I kept at the back of them all, trying to appear relaxed. I struggled to not look at the line of waiters and maids at the back of the room too often. Even so, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Addie, face pale, standing among them. How the old maid had managed to keep the Pumas from killing her, I didn''t know. Maybe the Gods kept watch over some people after all.

    The rest of the party attendees were spread in the balconied second floor and lower ballroom. All attention was trained on the lord of the manor.

    "In the past several years, the world has know much darkness. War, sickness, and fear. So much fear," a significant pause to let the words settle in, "And that is why it is essential to celebrate any amount of light and happiness."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    He turned, his eyes lingering on his still-beautiful wife, before settling on Myra and Levi. His expression was jubilant, his eyes dancing as he beheld them.

    "The union of two young people, and the combining of two powerful families. That is why we are gathered here tonight. All of you here are essential in that process. To have such an event witnessed by so many Deified and people of influence is a blessing to which I cannot express my gratitude for. Furthermore, I am honored to be uniting with the McAlister family permanently."

    A nod to my father, who nodded back. My father''s customer-service smile was painted on his face as he motioned for the lord to continue.

    Lord Beaufoutonte''s last statement caught my attention, and a wrinkle formed on my brow. How many Deified were here tonight? Gods knew I was introduced to them all, but it hadn''t occurred to me until now. Silently, I reviewed each person''s history in my mind.

    Shit.

    Every Deified in the town was here tonight. Together, they made a veritable treasure-trove of people whom human traffickers would love to have. Human traffickers like the Pumas.

    A shiver went up my spine, gooseflesh crawling over my skin. I looked at Addie, whose face was white with fear. She did it then, even with a waiter''s hand tight on her arm in silent threat.

    She gave barest shake of her head as her eyes lingered on the champagne.

    My eyes refocused on Lord Beaufoutonte as he turned back to his audience.

    "So I will ask everyone here tonight to raise their glasses as we salute a prosperous future for these two, and for the town of Tumblend," he said as he glanced back at Myra and Levi. Ignoring everything else around me, I inhaled the scent from my glass. An unusual tingling spread through my nose. It wasn''t like the normal tingling from champagne. This was more subtle, like mist settling on your skin.

    I knew that sensation.

    Looking down, I noticed something else as I peered into the liquid. Years of study as a healer flew back to me as I saw a slight shimmering. Like a spider''s web on water.

    Magic. Poison magic specifically.

    That final piece of the puzzle snapped into place at the exact time I heard Lord Beaufoutonte finish his toast.

    "From here to Far Shore, may your paths be blessed forever and more," he said and before I could do anything, he tipped his glass back.

    "Forever and more!" cried the crowd as they too drained their glasses.

    *******

    This was a nightmare. A Gods-damned nightmare.

    I lunged forward, knocking Myra''s glass from her hands as I used the other to send Dash''s and Levi''s flying. Dash''s glass was a fraction of an inch from his lips before I batted it away.

    The effect was immediate for everyone else. Body after body hit the floor. Myra''s mother was the last to succumb to the magic''s effects as she slumped over the railing. The lord wasn''t so lucky, as he tumbled limply down the stairs.

    "Run! Poison!" I yelled as I pulled my pistols out. Levi and Myra hesitated for the barest of seconds before turning and making for the guest room, Levi''s arm tucked protectively over his bride-to-be.

    That darkness... No. My darkness coursed through me, making my senses sharper. I felt it crawl under my skin again, darkening my eyes. I rounded back to the Puma''s, who were already charging toward the steps. I heard a click as Dash cocked the trigger back on his gun.

    "Protect them," I muttered to him, not taking my eyes off the approaching Pumas. He nodded, and ran up the stairs to follow Levi and Myra.

    "Now then!" I called over the Pumas, giving them the full benefit of my demonic glare. A few of them were wise enough to stop, and one even took a step backwards. I stood between them and their goal, and they knew it. They recognize me though, and I was prepared to use that to its full advantage.

    "Who''s first?" I called to them, letting tendrils of darkness expand around me. Gods, why did I ever hold back before? This felt so good! Nineteen of the people I hated most stared at me, various weapons drawn from hidden pockets and slits.

    Let the slaughter begin, I thought, a sadistic smile pulling on my lips.

    Four of them leveled their guns at me, pulling their triggers as the others began to charge up the stairs. I sent a spear of shadow through each shooter''s hearts, and they dropped like stones.

    Four slashes of pain went across my back in answer.

    More of them still came toward me and I whirled, sending a wave of shadow at them. They hit it like a battering ram, throwing them down the stairs again. I didn''t follow them instead allowing myself to recover. Already the magic was draining me. I had to pace myself. It was like trying to use a muscle that hadn''t exercised in several years.

    After a moment, I descend the stairs to give myself a bit more room, but no further. This was a fight for territory. If I let even one of them past me, I knew the others would die.

    I had to hold my ground.

    I was still panting when one of the Pumas reached me, a viscous pair of glowing daggers in his hands. I wasted no time, and redirected the shadows to pull him closer. It coursed around him like a snake, binding his arms and legs in a tight grip. I met his eyes, savoring the fright he gave of as I slowly pressed a knife of shadow into the soft skin under his chin, and slowly into his brain.

    Needless to say my dress was now ruined. Thoroughly.

    A few more of the Pumas paused in shock in horror as I let the body drop. It still convulsed with spams as their gazes went from it, to my blood-covered face and torso. Another bolt of pain went across my back again, but I ignored it. Part of me knew I should be horrified, but the demon reveled in the blood. She was driving my body, and I was along for the ride. A willing passenger. The morality of it was like a person screaming underwater. Distant and indistinct.

    "I''m not holding back tonight!" I cried to the rest them as they recovered. They raced toward me again, bullets already flying. My shadows formed a shield around me, but a few managed to get through. I flinched as one met my left shoulder, another grazing my side. The pain was blinding, and I felt myself sway on my feet before I raised my pistol again, and fired three quick shots.

    One.

    Two.

    Three.

    A body fell with each shot, a hole now between his or her eyes. I didn''t take the time to look at them, even as that quick pain went across my back with each death.

    My Chosen power radiated inside me at full strength now, stitching the wounds together. They were getting closer, and I retreated a few precious steps, sending more spears of shadows. My vision was getting hazy at the edges, and my aim was off. The spears missed the vital spots, but it was enough to hold them off.

    Just as I raised a pistol again, another Puma fired his gun at me, a cunning smile on his lips.

    His shot hit it''s mark. Not my head. Not my heart.

    The bullet hit the cylinder of my pistol, and it exploded in my hand.

 Lesson Seventeen: What it Means to Disobey Your Goddess

    When I was training to become a healer, I asked what the most painful injury a human being could sustain was.

    Well...without dying, that is.

    My master, Aarn McMurdah, had disapproved of my morbid curiosity, but answered anyway.

    It varies from person to person, but my bet would be anything involving the hand, he had said, applying another bandage to a patient, There''s a lot of nerves, and the victims can often feel the pain long after it is healed.

    That memory and more came to me as my pistol...No. Fayra''s pistol, exploded in my hand.

    I had studied to be a healer since the moment I could walk to the library by myself. As I paged through the heavy volumes for medicine, I realized that there was surprising amount of complexity to healing. I quickly found out that inflicting injuries was a hell of a lot easier than repairing them. Even though I had a deep love for the endless hours amongst the books and notes, many times the task of memorization and comprehension seem dauntless.

    However, when the labyrinth of anatomy and physiology had tempted to be too much, I thought of my mother lying in bed.

    I thought of the stink of human waste and soiled sheets from unwashed skin. I thought of how she had writhed unconsciously as festering wounds rotted from the inside out, causing her fever to spike and the pain to double.

    All things no child should have to witness.

    That was enough to keep me going. It was what made me scrub the sleep from my eyes, and keep reading. Keep learning. But eventually, the knowledge from our small library in Tumblend had become limited. Redundant.

    I was laughed at when I had stalked into the Physician''s Enclave in Gear''s End at the ripe old age of fourteen, demanding to be taught their ways.

    I remember the imposing white-walled building. It was modeled after the Church of Moradin, otherwise known as the Church of Mysteries. It boasted white spires reaching into the sky. Libraries housing more books than any person could read in ten lifetimes dotted the spires, while the main halls contained dormitories for prospective healers. There was even a crypt in the basement, where people learned about human anatomy by taking apart the forgotten dead. That information had earned the pale walls another name.

    The Church of Bones.

    Yes, I was laughed at. People did not get admitted to the physician''s enclave until thy were in their twenties at the very least. My skinny adolescent ass could not have been more out of place amongst their High Counsel''s patronizing stares. I thank the stars that McMurdah had suggested that I be allowed to be tested.

    If you are so certain she will fail, then you have nothing to fear from her being tested, he had said on my behalf.

    Oh, how the pretentious looks had turned to astonishment when I had taken my entrance exam, and gotten every single question correct.

    Paying for my education was another challenge entirely, since my father had refused to acknowledge my chosen path. But that''s a story for another time.

    Life has a funny way of taking your life goals and putting them through a meat grinder, doesn''t it?

    *******

    The Puma''s bullet hit the chamber, and blasted apart on impact, taking much of my hand with it.

    Now, in this moment, I knew Aarn McMurdah had been right. This hurt like a bitch. Spots danced across my vision as I fell back, sprawling on the stairs. The pain was so bad that I wanted someone to chop my arm off. Just so I didn''t have to feel it anymore.

    The edge of the stairs dug into my back. My head struck the railing of the grand staircase, lights going off in my skull. I was vaguely aware of feet thundering up the wood, but had no time to react. My vision cleared just in time to see nine of them right on top of me. Some of them were wore victorious smiles, while more had vengeful snarls on their faces.

    I summoned as much of my remaining energy as I could.

    A wall of spikes made from shadow expanded around me, hitting several of them back down the stairs. Two were able to brace against the blow, arms protecting their faces as the shadow passed. My stupid legs were still unable to stand as they recovered.

    Smirking, they each aimed a pistol between my eyes.

    The side of one''s head blasted apart as a bullet went through it, ear to ear. Before I could process what happened, a boot slammed into the other''s face, sending him careening down the stairs. He flopped pathetically, before finally landing on top of poor Lord Beaufoutonte''s body. The other Pumas stood slowly, gashes marring their skin. However, all the wounds were too shallow.

    Agile as a cat, Zachariah landed in front of me, a pistol in his hand. Two more Pumas laid dead at the top of the stairs, apparently having tried to race ahead.

    "Need some help?" I heard him say over the ringing in my ears. He held a hand out, and then I was being hauled to my feet. My head swam as I stumbled up a few stairs, but Zachariah steadied me with a sure arm around my shoulders. I held up my ruined hand, redirecting my focus and energy into healing.

    We heard a low laugh from the bottom of the stairs, the raspy sound loud in the room.

    I looked up, and saw the man who had shot Fayra''s pistol staring at my bloody stumps for fingers. Cold rage settled in my core at his smug face. He laid on his stomach, a hand clenched on a shallow wound in his shoulder.

    I surprised him by rolling my eyes and waving my arm in a gesture of impatience.

    "Son of a bitch! I hate it when that happens!" I cried, cradling the gory appendage. The bleeding had already stopped, and bones reformed from thin air.

    Zachariah''s lips twitched in a half smile as I healed. The bones, muscles, and skin knitted together in front of my eyes, faster now that I was focusing on it. I struggled to stay on my feet, my energy down to the dregs. The other Pumas slowly regained their feet, moaning with various injuries. I leaned toward Zachariah, making my voice low as my hand finally became whole.

    "We have to leave one of them alive," I murmured stepping to where I had dropped my left pistol.

    The one that wasn''t ruined.

    As I did, I spied the handle of the one that had exploded. The chamber was nearly unrecognizable, and metal was twisted apart. The barrel had blasted off, and only the thunderwood handle was intact. Dammit, I was going to have to hunt for the missing parts. These pistols were the best part of what I had left of Fayra.

    And now one was destroyed.

    Growling, I turned back to the smirking Puma, showing off my now unblemished hand. His face paled as he saw me wriggle my fingers smoothly. I used my middle finger to point directly at him, his friends just now getting to their feet unsteadily.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    "That one," I said to Zachariah, "I want that one alive."

    And when I get you alone, I''ll make good on my promise to do something terrible, I thought privately.

    Zachariah didn''t have time to respond as the Puma''s mounted their next assault. He flashed his pistol and fired a shot. A body fell as his bullet hit home. I raised my left hand and fired two more shots.

    Two more bodies hit the floor, and two more flashes of pain went across my back. The Puma''s were moving slower now, and it was like shooting fish in a barrel from our vantage point on the stairs. I refused to feel sorry for them, a manic laugh escaping me.

    I took aim at my next victim, back to back with Zachariah, who had fired three more shots. I knew he was counting and would hold it over me if his body count was higher. Pausing to reload, I eyed my next targets before we heard a scream.

    "STOP!" one of them bellowed over the tumult.

    I spared a glance at the Puma at the bottom of the stairs, a large man with black hair and an unfortunately weak chin. He held Lord Beaufoutonte''s limp form by his hair, a knife at his throat. The other Pumas paused as well, their eyes going between us like they were watching a sparring match. I immediately redirected my aim toward the dark-haired Puma, as did Zachariah.

    "I SAID STOP!" the man yelled, gesturing with the knife. Despite everything, part of me breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn''t known if the magic poison was for sleeping or killing. At least I now knew all the guests were alive. He wouldn''t be threatening to kill a dead man.

    A dot of blood appeared at the Lord''s throat

    Considering my options, I held my hands up with my barrel pointed toward the sky. The dark-haired Puma''s face twisted in a gnarled smile.

    "Drop your weapons! You two will drink the potion. NOW!" he ordered as he dragged his prospective victim backward. At his words, a few of his men retrieved vials of translucent liquid from their vests and began to stride toward us. My mind whirring, I gently lowered Fay''s pistol to the floor. After a breath, I took a cautious step toward him, my hands still raised.

    "You know, you don''t have to yell. We can hear you quite fine," I said, my voice as soft as I could manage. I reach inwardly for the shadows, but nothing answered. Gods be damned, why was I so much weaker than I was in Grimwater? I had one more trick up my sleeve, but I needed just three or four more precious seconds. I counted them silently as I stalled.

    One.

    Zachariah shifted behind me, his pistol clacking against the steps. The Puma narrowed his eyes at us, putting the knife higher on the Lord''s throat. Taking the silent cue, Zachariah and I paused.

    "We''ll do what you say," Zachariah lied smoothly, his voice dead calm.

    Two.

    "We can work something out," I said like I was speaking to a panicking horse. The Puma began to look everywhere, his eyes darting from his men to the door. as if deciding his next move.

    Seeing his distraction, I took another step. Unfortunately, he noticed immediately.

    "I TOLD YOU TO STAY THERE!" the dark haired man yelled, flashing the knife. The dot of blood on Lord Beaufoutonte''s throat became a line.

    Three.

    "Why are you still yelling? You''ll lose a lot of money if you kill him, you know."

    "SHUT THE FUCK UP! I SAID STOP, SO STOP!"

    Four.

    I managed a smile as I did as he asked. I met his eyes, my heart rate rising as I prepared my final trump card.

    "You''re right. You did say to stop. And you know what? I think that''s a fantastic idea," I said as I let the ice overtake me.

    *******

    "Dumb bitc--" was all he could get out before his mouth froze in mid-air.

    Limbs as heavy as lead, an overwhelming urge to sleep hit as I finished stopping time.

    It became deathly quiet. I looked to my left, and saw a Puma with a vial looming there. Zachariah was glaring at the Puma next to him, his face as lethal as his weapon.

    Even though time had stopped, I knew I didn''t have a lot of it. I felt her nearby. Many people didn''t know this, but using powerful a spell thinned the veil between the material realm and all the others. It tendied to attract unwanted attention, and left the weilder of that magic vulnerable. Casting a spell like this was like opening a door, and you had no control of what decided to walk through it.

    Even now, I felt primordial eyes watching me. I had to move quickly, not knowing how long I could maintain the spell. More importantly, I didn''t know how long I could hold her back. She drew nearer and nearer with each passing moment, sensing my weakness.

    Shaking off my fatigue with a growl, I refilled the chamber of my pistol, and snapped it shut.

    I went to each of them, the frozen Pumas, and did the same kill shot for each. True to my word, I left the one who had destroyed Fayra''s gun alive, instead putting a bullet through each of his kneecaps.

    Without warning, my Marks burned like an unending fire, making me scream. They throbbed against my skin as if invisible fingers were pulling them toward something. Or someone.

    My surroundings faded for a fraction of a second, the veil thinning to the barest thread. A female form of unearthly beauty stood next to me, her arm stretched toward my neck. Her hateful eyes seemed to be everywhere I looked. Red corneas with black slits for pupils took in every detail of the mansion before settling on me. A pulse radiated from her gaze and then the pulling doubled.

    My feet scraped on the floor as I was drawn toward her by my Marks. A noose made of purest fire wrapped itself around my neck as she tugged and tugged. She was being insistent now. More insistent than she had every been in ten years.

    My Marks dragged me closer to her by the skin of my neck, her beckoning finger controlling every inch. I struggled, but it was useless.

    I was her Chosen, after all.

    Soft fingers grazed my Marks. It was gentle touch. Almost motherly. It wasn''t violent or rushed in any way, and yet it was more than enough to hold me captive.

    Everything shattered.

    One moment, I was in the Beaufoutonte mansion, and the next I was in a beautiful garden, plants as far as the eye could see. I was laying on my back in my same clothes, but my body suddenly felt light. The pain and fatigue vanished abruptly, making me wonder if they had ever been there at all. I ran a finger along my Marks, but they had gone silent. My fingers felt nothing but smooth skin.

    Rising to my feet, I looked around. I shouldn''t have bothered, though. I knew exactly where I was.

    An endless field of grass flowed before me. Vibrant flowers, herbs, and trees of every type dotted the landscape. I stood at the base of an ancient tree with plump fruit hanging from every branch. This tree, the largest of all the others, seemed to be the center of the garden. Every surrounding plant glowed in a soft phosphorescent light in the otherwise still night. The sky was an endless blackness, with symbols of all the other gods spread throughout it.

    Every God had it''s own version of Purgatory, and this was the first one I had come to know. This was where I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

    Ten years ago, a na?ve young healer had come to this part of Purgatory, seeking a Goddess''s help to save the love of her life. Taken by the peace and beauty of her surroundings, she believed every word the Goddess had told her. How could a being who lived in such a beautiful place possibly lead her wrong? The young healer was told that all Deified had to pay a boon for gifts from the Gods. So, the young woman had paid...and paid...and paid.

    And I was still paying.

    "Fuck," I murmured, my voice echoing in the plain. Beautiful laughter was my answer. Her voice was deep and powerful, causing a ripple in the air.

    "Is that your favorite word, dearest?"

    I spun around to reveal a woman of dark beauty. Her hair was long and obsidian, flowing in it''s own graceful wind. She looked young, perhaps nineteen or twenty. Her body was clad in a simple misty dress that bent and shift perfectly over her frame. Her face was innocent. Welcoming. Kind.

    And not fooling me in the least anymore.

    I didn''t answer her, instead settling for a glare. The young woman stared at me, her face a vision of absolute perfection apart from her red and black eyes. She blinked at me, canting her head as she rested it on her smooth chin. After a moment of silence, she smiled, showing all of her teeth.

    "Oh, what''s the matter? You don''t like this form?" she asked, her face in mock confusion before she gazed upward, as if trying to recall a distant memory.

    "Well, I suppose I can''t blame you. The last time you saw this one...Well...That didn''t end so well, did it?"

    I couldn''t help it. I took a step backward as if she had slapped me. She only let out another musical laugh.

    "Let''s try some of my other forms then."

    The Goddess''s eyes never left mine as she shifted. First, she reformed into a woman in her prime. Her figure became robust and shoots of gray went through her hair. The landscape changed with her, the plants growing as if time had passed in their life cycle. She kept aging until she resembled an old woman, back bent and hair completely white. The plants lost leaves and began to wilt as much as her spine.

    "Stop," I murmured too quietly. She ignored me.

    The hair dropped from her skull, the skin turning to leather. She looked like a old person seconds from breathing their last. The plants died one by one around me until the once-beautiful landscape became barren and lifeless.

    Dead.

    Only the Goddess''s eyes remained unchanged. They pierced me as I remained silent, my heart pressing against my ribs. I took another step back as the dying body came toward me. I swallowed, my throat as dry as the ground had become.

    As everything flattened, I could see farther into the landscape. My breath caught as I saw an ocean resembling the night sky stretching to a tiny dot of land on the horizon. Tears came to my eyes, hot and insistent, as I realized what that was.

    The Far Shore.

    Fayra was there. She was right there. I could get to her if I just--

    "So distracted today. Is this any way to treat your host?" that beautiful voice interrupted my thoughts as my Marks flared with pain again. I cried out as they dragged my gaze back to the walking corpse and the barren land around me.

    Those red eyes considered me for yet another moment before she reclined on a boulder. Black silken hair shot from the skull, and the skin became smooth again as the grass grew back and the flowers bloomed anew. She looked at me, perfect teeth glinting once more in a devastating grin as she finished donning her younger form. She lifted her brows expectantly.

    Fighting against the pain, I took a deep breath as I forced myself to stare directly into those crimson orbs. Her black slits for pupils dilated with delight as I cough up blood onto some white roses nearby.

    "Hello Death," I said, my voice rough, "What do you want?"

    Her grin became predatory.

    "Hello my dearest little Chosen," she said, cupping my chin before I could wipe the blood away.

    "We need to talk."

 Lesson Eighteen: Orders are Orders

    Death held me as easily as a web holds a fly.

    "What''s the matter?" Death asked, the red of her eyes glinting with amusement, "Not happy to see me?"

    The flowing mist of her dress danced in its own wind as the Goddess beheld me. Smirking, she allowed me to tear my face free of her grasp and retreat several paces. Some of my blood smeared on her fingers as I gained my distance. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, watching the red spread across her pale skin.

    "No," I replied flatly as I circled the white roses. She didn''t let any distance open between us, following my path. Her strides were long, fluid, and unhurried. She was the hunter and I felt like a fox run to ground. The scent of the flowers wafted in my nose, but I sensed the coppery tang of my blood as well. I remembered all too well the pain she could inflict with half a thought. The same pain she had just inflicted just moments ago. Gods, every second in this place felt like hours.

    As I continued to move, my eyes strayed to the blood sprayed over the pale flowers. My blood. The red laid in stark contrast to their ivory beauty. Why was it so much to ask that I be allowed to live a quiet life and collect my bounties in peace? Why couldn''t she just leave me alone? I never asked for all this shit with Gods and demons and magic. Hissing a breath through my teeth, I turned back toward where Death stalked me.

    She wasn''t there.

    Startled, I retreated several steps as I searched for her. Damn it, her laugh sounded from every leaf and petal as I swiveled again.

    My back collided with soft breasts. Silken hands encircled my neck as a kiss was pressed to my cheek. The touch was an icy burn, like a ghost would get if you walked over their grave.

    Death tutted at me, waving a finger in my direction as soon as I rounded on her.

    "Oh, come now," she said, her crimson gaze glowing in the low light, "You know you missed me. What has it been? Nine years? Ten?"

    I ran the back of my hand across my cheek as if to wipe her kiss away.

    "You said you wanted to talk, Death. I doubt you just wanted to exchange pleasantries. What do you want?" I countered, sinking into a fighting stance. Death laughed, examining her nails.

    In the time of a blink, she stood right before me, a blur of motion.

    Her fingertip traced my Marks in leisurely slowness. Phantom pain radiated from where she touched, and I stilled. The moment she touched me, invisible hands locked my limbs in place. I couldn''t have moved an inch if I tried.

    "Careful, pet," she said, her tone light. Her finger trailed up my neck, and lifted my chin to force me to meet her eyes. The slits of her pupils constricted, the only sign of her irritation.

    "Just look at all that hatred boiling in your soul. Are you still blaming little ol'' me for all your problems?"

    I couldn''t help a sardonic lift of my lips as I heard one of the most feared beings in any realm call herself "little ol'' me".

    I narrowed my gaze right back at her. Let her punish me all she liked. She was just going to do what she wanted anyway.

    "You took everything from me. It''s hard to let that go," I said too quietly. The corner of her mouth lifted in a malicious smile.

    "Oh yes? And your own decisions have nothing to do with your present circumstances? Nothing at all?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. My jaw tightened as the blow hit home.

    Satisfied, Death turned from me and stalked back to her tree in the center of the garden. The tree reshaped into a magnificent throne as she walked, trunk splitting into a seat and the branches fanning into intricate patterns behind her.

    "I suppose you''re right, however," she drawled as she reclined. She towered over me from where I stood, crossing her long legs as she resettled her gaze upon me.

    "As much as I would love to catch up, we do have a serious matter to discuss."

    She waved me closer, and the ground shifted beneath my feet until I was at the foot of the throne.

    "You''ve taken a particular interest in the dying Deified lately. That''s rather unlike you, isn''t it? To care about these pretentious mortals?" she said bluntly, plucking a low-hanging fruit from a branch.

    "What do you know about it?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice even. Death simply laughed, taking a large bite. She took time to lick the juice from her chin.

    "Grimwater aside, you have been relatively silent all these years. Now, all of a sudden, you deign to care about these beings. The people that represent your biggest failure."

    My mouth went dry as paper, but Death simply continued on.

    "After all, these are the same people who chose to hold onto their precious miracles, instead of helping the Bounty Hunter''s Guild when they needed it most."

    She tutted her tongue again.

    "Such a shame. So many lives."

    Each word hit my mind like a hammer on an anvil.

    "So why all the compassion all of a sudden?"

    Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I fought to keep my voice even as I spoke.

    "I need to keep a Deified''s daughter alive for a job. That''s it."

    Death quirked a knowing brow.

    "Is it?"

    I ground my jaw, feeling naked before her eyes.

    "Yes," I replied through clenched teeth. Death kept still, her expression never changing. Finally, she loosed a small laugh.

    "I have tried subtlety with you before. With little success," she said, sitting forward on her throne, "So, I shall be brief and to the point."

    She tossed the remainder of her fruit over her shoulder. A tree immediately grew from where it landed.

    "I have an offer for you. If these people are so worthless to you, if you truly are the heartless bounty hunter you wish to be, then it will be easy for you to accept."

    Red eyes cast a crimson glow on her face.

    "And I highly encourage you to accept."

    An order. A nicely wrapped order, but an order nonetheless. Death reclined again, her hair flowing around her in an ebony river. Dark and beautiful.

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    "What happens after this moment is entirely up to you."

    An enigmatic smile. I waited for her to finish, curling my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

    "I want you to allow these murders to occur. Leave the Deified to their fate. Do not interfere with the assassin sent to kill them in any way."

    I stood still, rooted to the spot. My heart thundered in my chest as a flash of auburn hair with a posh accent sprinted across my mind.

    Myra.

    "The killer is after a charge of mine, Death," I paused before I said my next piece, my tongue choking on the words, "Please, I can''t--"

    I was sent to my knees again as pain spread through my neck and into my chest. My head. My very soul itself.

    "Perhaps I am not being clear," Death said quietly, her gaze as thick as blood as she started to age. The skin turned to leather on her bones, and the plants died one by one again. All of them, that is, apart from her throne.

    I struggled not to scream as I writhed on the grass. My limbs were being ripped from my body. My skin was being flayed from my bones by a burning blade. I couldn''t breathe. Couldn''t think.

    Please just let me die. Please just let me-

    And then the pain was gone.

    Grass regrew under my cheek as I pulled in deep and heaving breaths. Slowly, I managed to look at Death again, rising to my knees. She had phased into the mature woman now, her face contemplative.

    "Alright. I shall offer a compromise. An incentive, if you will. Let it be known to you that I am not without mercy," she murmured. The tone was so kind, so gentle. Utter contrast to the pain I had just felt.

    Death stood and circled me, tracing the planes of muscle on my back.

    "Including today, you have managed to collect nine hundred and fifty-seven souls so far," she continued, striding around me on silent feet. She ran her other hand along the twelve Marks on my neck.

    "That makes around eleven thousand to go," she said and trailed off for a second, considering.

    "If you obey this command, then your charge will be spared until your task is complete. After that, she is fair game."

    My heart rang in my ears as I was held frozen to the spot, my Marks threatening to flare again if I spoke.

    "And, as a reward, I will reduce your debt to me by five Marks. Five thousand fewer souls to bring to me, and less time trapped in the material plane. Less time away from your Fayra."

    She looked at the black sky above, as if seeing something far away.

    "Believe me, Chosen. This is a fight that you cannot win. Their fates are sealed, regardless of what you choose."

    I swallowed, my mind reeling. My debt could be nearly cut in half. But one question escaped my lips.

    "I''m just supposed to let these people die? To let their souls get ripped apart and sent to the abyss?"

    Death''s eyes suddenly went an unholy black.

    "This is a command from your Goddess, Chosen," she said in a primordial growl that shook the air. Her eyes strayed to where the Far Shore was, so close and distant, before she stared calmly at me again.

    "And I don''t think I need to explain to you, of all people, what the cost can be."

    *******

    The Beaufoutonte mansion came into view again.

    Blood and gore were everywhere as head after head exploded. Every single kill shot was mine. Only the Puma I had shot in the knees remained alive. The one who had destroyed Fayra''s pistol.

    As I returned to the physical realm, my head pounding, time resumed on its own. The shots I had fired met their Marks, and I felt the blazes across my back as each of them died. The bodies fell to the floor as I swayed on my feet.

    All my energy was gone. I was an empty vessel. A shell. A lifetime had passed in the few minutes of my meeting with Death.

    Zachariah was next to me in an instant as my vision blurred. The world tilted, and suddenly he was holding my limp form in his arms. I had nothing left to give as my eyes met his. A wrinkle formed between his brows.

    "What happened to your eyes?" he asked, but I had no time to answer him. I knew what he saw, though. It wasn''t mine, but Death''s gaze that greeted him. Black and red with catlike slits for pupils had replaced my violet orbs temporarily.

    That was all I knew before the world went dark.

    *******

    "What do you mean, Rowena?"

    Stone''s voice barely contained his confusion as Kage refilled his cup of coffee. I stared at my own cup, the liquid warming my frigid fingers. Myra sat next to me, but I did my best not to look at her.

    "He''s your witness to interrogate. We wouldn''t have him without you. What do you mean you won''t?"

    I sighed through my nose, finally lifting my eyes to meet Stone''s.

    "I told you I can''t. I don''t want to explain. I ''m only here to warn you."

    Stone sat heavily into his chair behind his desk. Kage showed herself then, her face looking between us anxiously. Myra, mercifully, stayed silent as we spoke.

    "Warn me about what?" Stone asked stiffly, "That a killer with high-level magic is prowling in my town? I already know that."

    "Stone," I said, sipping my coffee, "If the killer attacks again, there''s nothing I can do about it. And I won''t do anything to help you catch him. I can''t."

    Stone''s eyes hardened.

    "Can''t? Or won''t, Rowena?"

    I bowed my head, massaging my temple.

    "It''s a bit of both."

    The room went as silent as a grave. I felt his eyes on me, heavy as a boulder. I braced myself for his argument and for the yelling to begin. I just wanted to drown myself in a bottle of bourbon. This conversation needed to be over.

    Stone stood suddenly, nodding at his Photofolk before handing her his mug.

    "Thank you Kage," he murmured before going to the window. He stood there, staring out at the street. A fine coat of frost and snow blew through the road. The wind had come in from the north this morning, and winter had sailed in on it. Large stacks of chimney smoke rose into the blue sky. Nobody walked on the road anymore in fear of the cold. Even carriages seldom passed as if the town had decided to hibernate.

    Long seconds passed before he spoke again.

    "Alright,"

    I blinked once. Twice.

    "Excuse me?''

    Stone turned back to Myra and I, his face even.

    "You''ve already given me more information in one week than I have been able to find in months. For that, I''m grateful."

    His tone was cool. Polite. It somehow broke my heart more than any amount of yelling he had ever done.

    "Stone--" I began, but he cut me off.

    "If you''re not concerned about murders happening in your home town, and knowing a Chosen is what we face doesn''t convince you, then nothing I say will change that. You''ve made your decision."

    He walked to his door and opened it, motioning for us to leave. He stared at me as if I were a stranger.

    "I''ve tried convincing myself for years that you''re the same person my daughter fell in love with. Someone that became like a second daughter to me."

    A shake of his head.

    "But I think that part of you died the same day she did. I know that now."

    I flinched as if he had punched me. Even Myra gasped at the ice in his voice. I waited for him to speak again, my eyes growing hot, but he simply motioned to the door again.

    "Please Stone, I--"

    "You are dismissed. I will notify you if I have another bounty."

    Cautiously, I stood. Stone''s expression change as Myra and I walked into the frigid day.

    *******

    I couldn''t bare to look at the woman who rode behind me. My brother''s future bride. The bride who was slated for slaughter. The bride who was determined to try to cheer me up.

    "Well, Miss Rowena? Where to? I think we should get your famous pistol fixed. I''m sure Levi knows an excellent weapon''s smith or two around here," she said leaning forward to catch my eye.

    I pressed my fingers into my eyes, a headache growing like a demon. I couldn''t stand it. A tear escaped and ran down my cheek as I fought to keep my chin from wobbling.

    Myra jabbed a finger into my back.

    "Are we just going to sit here on Dusk all day? Come on, take us to the gun smith--"

    "It doesn''t matter," I muttered, my voice sounding more harsh than I had intended. Myra paused, then tried again.

    "You arrogant thing you," she drawled, "Do you really think you can use a broken pistol? I know you think you''re good, Miss Rowena, but nobody''s that good."

    The broken parts to Fayra''s pistol grew as heavy as the mountains themselves as a sudden numbness spread through me. My eyes dried as I spared a glance at the beautiful woman behind me. I urged Dusk forward and directed him farther into town instead of toward home.

    "It doesn''t matter. I don''t think I''ll be using it much in the coming week."

    Myra lifted a sculpted eyebrow.

    "Then where are we going?"

    "The Blue Flame," I said, looking forward again. I pulled my new hat farther over my eyes against the bright sun. Myra had guessed my size correctly, down to every last seam of my hat and coat. It''s obsidian color now matched every part of my damned soul.

    "I think I need to pay Levira Casanaddi a visit."

 Lesson Nineteen: The Parts of You That Die.

    The fragments of Fayra''s pistol weighed heavily in my satchel.

    I felt every single step Dusk took. Every clack of his hooves was alarmingly loud as the wind chilled my exposed neck. My skin pebbled, and I welcomed it. The frigid air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath and puffed out a cloud of vapor. The road was still deserted apart from precious few marauders. Nobody stopped us. I spared a glance at the window of the Sherriff''s office, but Stone wasn''t there.

    Myra had stopped trying to talk to me after I simply remained silent. How could I ever speak normally with her again? I couldn''t even look at her without the truth threatening to come out. And that truth would change nothing. It would only cause her undue pain before what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. She didn''t need to know what awaited her.

    That the future she so looked forward to with Levi was now gone. Her days were numbered, along with every other Deified.

    Everything had gone to hell so fast. Was this my fault? Was this punishment for believing, even for the smallest of moments, that I played a role in this world that was actually worth a damn? For so long I had wandered aimlessly. I had wrestled with my deal with Death. Training to be a bounty hunter was easy by comparison. The days after Fayra''s murder were a blur of rage and tears, followed by the all-consuming need to get stronger. I kept telling myself that as soon as I finished training, I would make a real plan. I had a debt to pay, and all of eternity to pay it.

    Simple...Right?

    That was before every part of me missed her. She had taken a piece of my soul. Stone had been right. Part of me, the best part, had died with her. I needed to see her again, but many faceless strangers stood in my way.

    Twelve thousand people to be exact. I had to kill twelve thousand people, and then I would be allowed to board my ship to the Far Shore. Send them to Death with not so much as a farewell. Well...to be more accurate, that had originally been eleven thousand people before I had messed up again. Then, I had tried focusing on my revenge before the massacre. Before Grimwater.

    Gods, what was Death up to? Why did all the Deified and their families have to die all-of-a-sudden? What could be so important that she would reduce my debt by nearly half? Fate was officially on my shit list for making me care about literally any of them.

    The twelve Marks were still on my neck, so I had to keep up my end of Death''s offer. I knew she hadn''t lied about it. That was the only comfort about meeting with the Gods. There were unable to tell any falsehoods. If they said something, it was true...in some some way or another. When they made a vow, it was as binding as iron.

    "Why aren''t we going to the Sparrow, Miss Rowena?" Myra asked suddenly. I peered back at her for the first time in several minutes. Her eyes had taken on a new and penetrating value. She knew something was wrong, and would not stop trying to wrestle it out of me. The thought sent a hand fisting around my chest, making it hard to breathe. My voice was rough when I replied.

    "I don''t want to be around people that ask questions. And I want a stiff drink," I replied flatly. Myra sent a gaze to the sky above, the sun still young in it.

    "It''s barely mid-morning--"

    "That''s funny. I don''t recall asking your opinion."

    Myra recoiled, her frown deepening. She hadn''t bothered with her cosmetics today. The dark circles under her eyes had become more prominent. Fatigue weighed heavily on her. Her hair had lost its healthy sheen, and her shoulders curled in on themselves ever since the attack at the engagement party. Gods, was that really only last night?

    Something struck me then.

    Yes, Myra was slated to die soon.

    Yes, I had decided to keep her oblivious to that fact.

    However...

    She was going to die soon. Regardless of our past, she deserved better than to spend her last days worrying about me or anybody else. She deserved to spend it in blissful ignorance. Maybe I did have one more thing to give her. Maybe I could provide a small bit of comfort and distraction before the assassin came to collect.

    Before I had to step aside and let him take her.

    Loosing a breath skyward, I turned ahead again.

    "Have you ever been to the Blue Flame?" I asked, disciplining my voice to keep it conversational. I heard Myra grumble something irritably under her breath before answering.

    "Do I look like someone that would go there?"

    I smirked, shrugging my shoulder as Dusk took another turn. I redirected him back to the road leading to the infamous casino and club.

    "You''d be surprised at who goes there."

    Myra leaned forward to catch my eye, here own eyes wide.

    "Miss Rowena, even you have to admit that the most vile things go on there. Let''s count," she paused as she named each item off on a finger, "There are drugs, drinks spiked with magic, incubi, succubuses, gambling, and-"

    A sharp intake of breath.

    "Harlots," she said in a strained whisper. As if one would stroll up to her from the nearest alley and tear her clothes off just for uttering the word. I managed to lift a brow at her.

    "Sounds like a fun day. You''ll probably like it," I said dryly. Myra let out an unladylike grunt.

    "I hope you''re lying."

    I chuckled, sending her a predatory grin.

    "Oh, come on. You know you''re at least a little curious. Any who knows? You might actually have a little fun."

    Dusk grunted as the road came to an end. There were a few hundred feet of a stone path winding through the open plain. It lead to a small wooden building, almost like the entrance to a forgotten mine. It had magic lanterns, know as "everlights", spellbound to cast a pleasant red glow on each side of the ten-foot door. The wood paneling was carved in classy arching patterns, with symbols of representing all the world''s races. Finally, wreathed in luminescent blue paint, the silhouette of a well-endowed woman was pictured at the head of the entrance. She moved over the wood in slow circles, and eventually laid on her side, her head supported on an arm. Other than the small entrance building, nothing else could be seen.

    I glanced back at Myra, who looked puzzled.

    "Is this it?" she asked, giving the small building a skeptical once-over. I laughed softly again as I swung off Dusk and began to walk him forward to the door by his reins.

    He stopped.

    My arm was pulled back roughly as Dusk refused to move forward. I turned around to face him, meeting his dark eyes. They reflected the sunlight as he grunted again. I hushed him, stroking his chin and trying to urge him forward. Suddenly, he wrapped his head over my shoulder and squeezed me in what was undeniably a hug. I knew what he was worried about. I knew he could smell the sins that went on behind that door.

    After all, we had been here a few times before. None of those times had ended well, but right now I didn''t care.

    "See? Even Dusk knows this is a terrible idea," Myra said, pulling her riding habit tighter around her shoulders as a gust went through the plain.

    "Come on, Rowena. We should go fix your pistol and then to the Sparrow. I''m sure that cute bartender would love to see us."

    I stilled.

    Zachariah. He, of all people, definitely would be able to guess what was wrong. Gods, that was a conversation I was definitely not ready for.

    Dusk pawed at the ground as if in answer. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed.

    "This time will be different, buddy. I promise. I just need..." I trailed off as I murmured to him. I wasn''t sure what I was looking for here, but I needed to just not be Rowena McAlister for a few minutes. I needed to forget I was a Chosen. To forget everything.

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    Dusk squeezed for another moment before he slowly began to walk forward again, comforted by my words. I could swear he still sent anxious glances my way. Myra hesitantly walked behind us as I finally made it to the door. The silhouette of the painted female directed her attention to us as we did and beckoned forward.

    "First round''s on me," I said before I lifted a gloved fist and knocked.

    *******

    The Blue Flame had been around since Tumblend''s founding. Many people talked about it in hushed tones, and never in polite company. I always found that hypocritical because nearly all Deified and high-society people eventually came to enjoy its pleasures. The same succubus, Levira Casanaddi, had owned the place for the past five hundred and fifty years or so. People speculated that Levira was no normal succubus, as the race''s lifespan was usually limited to a few hundred years.

    If they weren''t murdered due to their shenanigan''s first.

    Nobody knew the secret to Levira''s long life or success, and often went green with jealously as they beheld her beauty. Levira''s appearance changed with every person she focused her attention on. She was...mesmerizing.

    Lust incarnate.

    She was everything you could every want, regardless of your background. She was the mistress of her business, and ran the Blue Flame with a charisma that kept people coming back again and again.

    A large Incubus stood sentry at the door, the male sliding an easy smile at Myra. She blushed, removing her coat with obvious hesitation. She only had enough time to rub her eyes in the sudden dimness before her jaw dropped.

    Every single surface dripped with magic. It was like a different world altogether. The small building was the top of the Blue Flame. The tip to an iceberg which extended deep into the underground. A ramp lead to a stable which boasted attendants to keep all mounts well-cared for. The ceiling was enchanted to resemble a vast sky at twilight. Everlights were strategically placed everywhere to create a low hue just enough for human eyes to see by.

    Beyond the stable laid a large platform with crystal glowing in it. Other platforms could be seen ascending and descending the columns of the pit. The rest of the space was like a large cylinder with several interconnecting alcoves for meetings of all types. Steam drifted up from the floor hundreds of feet below, where hot baths were. Shadows of intertwining bodies could barely be seen in the mist.

    In the alcoves, people were taking pleasures of all types. Some were laying catatonic on large cushions. Other alcoves had people playing poker, novice or professional. Across the cylinder was a vast bar overlooking it all. Music danced on the air, which circulated with a pleasant draft.

    The Incubus at the door wordlessly reached for Dusks reins, but I held them out of reach. I burned a Mark, making that familiar radiant glow come to my eyes.

    "If so much as a hair is out of place in his mane when I come back," I growled to the impossibly handsome face, "I''ll rip you apart."

    The Incubus had the good sense to look wary as I pressed Dusk''s reins into his waiting palm. Giving Dusk one last hug, I walked with Myra to the platform.

    Another Incubus with large muscles stood there, his face carrying no nonsense. He took the time to remind of the house rules. To be fair, there were only three basic ones to follow.

    One: If weapons were drawn, the punishment would be immediate and severe.

    Two: Violence of any type was strictly forbidden.

    Three: Keep your hands to yourself unless consented to do otherwise.

    Myra went scarlet at the last rule, her eyes drifting to the embracing forms in the bottom floors and baths. Then they went to the adjoining rooms where other couples doubtlessly performed every act she was thinking of.

    Without further delay, the Incubus ferried us across the vast space to the bar. Myra was so close, she could have been my shadow. All around us were were-beasts, Umifolk, humans, and even some demons. I knew some Deified would be here too if they hadn''t been at the party last night. Stools moved themselves toward us as we went to the bar. Myra bit her lip.

    "Miss Rowena I really would prefer to go to the Sparrow," she said in a half-whisper.

    I sat heavily on a stool as I flagged the barmaid, a succubus with red skin and horns peeking out from brunette curled locks. I motioned to the menu, holding up two fingers. She nodded in understanding, considering first me and then Myra before she turned on her heel and reached under the bar.

    "That''s a pity," I said as I waved for her to sit, "Since I''ve already ordered your drink."

    Myra hesitated, looking around. Thankfully, everyone here was minding their own business, laughter echoing every now an then from gatherings of friends.

    "Come on," I said, nudging her a bit, "Consider this a pre-wedding party to make up for last night. You need to relax."

    I need it too, I added silently. I kept calm, hoping she would just go along with this. A moment passed. Two.

    Finally, Myra sighed as a glass slid smoothly into her palm.

    "Fine, one drink. Then we leave. Are we clear?"

    "We''ll leave when you''re ready," I said, lifting my own glass to my lips. It was a purple liquid which glistened with the feint aura of magic to enhance relaxation. The mixture was know simply as "Oblivion Dew." I sighed in pleasure at the choice Nesira had made. Yes, I needed a bit of Oblivion right now. Nesira, the barmaid, was famous for knowing what you wanted without being asked. I had no idea how she did it, but she had never gotten an order wrong to date. She was one of the legends of the Blue Flame.

    Oblivion Dew simply created a sort of euphoria and eased pain, making your problems simply seem far away. Every person experienced something different. For me, it was like soaking in a hot pool of water one a snowy night. It slid down my throat pleasantly as I glanced at Myra again.

    I knew I was being selfish by bringing her here. Part of me knew I needed to apologize, both for what I had done and what was to come. I couldn''t delay it forever, but maybe I could broach it little by little. The Oblivion Dew hit my stomach, immediately warming my insides.

    Myra had sipped from hers as well, her eyes going distant as it took effect. My Chosen body fought off all poisons and drugs, making me need to drink at least ten times that of a normal woman my size, but Myra had no such curse. I saw her shoulders drop, and the subtle tilt of her head as the brew did it''s work. Eventually she glanced my way again, and there was no trace of the hesitation she''d had before.

    "Even you can be right sometimes, Miss Rowena," she said with a grin somewhat wicked, "This place is fun."

    I gave her a serious look.

    "Do not get any other types of drinks. Do you understand? Otherwise you''ll have the worst hangover of your life," I warned as I gazed at the menu. I hadn''t been here in a very long time. Oblivion Dew was the only drink I recognized. I was still reading the considerable list, when someone whispered in my ear.

    "Now that''s a face I haven''t seen in an age."

    The voice carried a light accent to it, the vowels prowling and stretching like a cat ready to pounce.

    A perfect female body clad in a black dress slid onto the stool beside me. Nesira, not even looking up from organizing a bottle, handed her a glass containing a dark red liquid. Even in my periphery, I could see Levira''s hair changing from black to a deep auburn. The eyes which looked at me became a glittering gold. Like a lioness. Like Fayra''s. The face remained different, though. Different enough.

    I took a long pull on my drink before I turned to the impossibly perfect face next to me.

    "I''ve been away, Levira."

    Levira Casanaddi canted her head, her golden eyes glinting in the low light. Red lips bowed upward in a sly smile.

    "Oh, I''m well aware. Word gets around, I''m afraid. It is nice to see a familiar face, however."

    She drank from her glass, glancing at Myra in open lazy assessment.

    "The company you keep has changed. I hadn''t expected you to bring her here."

    A glance at my drink and then my face, which no doubt looked haggard.

    "But I suppose even body guards need a break every now and again. Is it a special type of companionship you want? I''m sure I could find many who are willing to oblige," her eyes flecked to a red-headed beauty in a nearby alcove. The woman looked my way, and began to slink toward me.

    I motioned for her to stop, pointing to my wedding band. She paused, pouting her lip before turning to a man nearby. She wasn''t wanting for long.

    "That''s not what I''m here for," I murmured to Levira, the drink starting to take a harder effect. It felt like oil sliding into all my joints. My muscles relaxed in places I hadn''t known were tense.

    Levira lifted her eyes to the barmaid, setting her empty glass in front of her. It was refilled in less than a second.

    "Thank you, Nesira," Levira purred before looking at me again.

    Myra shifted next to me, her drink taking full effect. She looked like someone in that pleasant zone right before they fall asleep. I could see her eyeing the shelves for another. A carefree smile pulled on her lips, anxiety completely forgotten as a woman next to her struck up a conversation. Something about Myra''s hair being the height of the latest fashion. Myra reciprocated the conversation, the woman making her chuckle. It wasn''t long before she forgot I was there.

    "Still clinging to the past, are we? You still intend for Fayra to be your only?" Levira asked, pulling my gaze back to her. She glanced at the band on my finger, and Fayra''s remaining pistol at my hip.

    I rotated my wedding ring.

    "Always."

    Levira hummed, a pleasant and deep sound coming from the back of her throat.

    "Well, if you''re not looking for companionship and release, then what do I owe this visit to?"

    I laced my fingres together, flinching as Death''s grinning face danced before my eyes. Despite the drink, pain radiated in every fiber of my being for a brief moment. I closed my eyes trying to clear my mind before I answered Levira.

    "I want to be nobody for a little while," I murmured, hating the fragile notes in my tone.

    Levira made that deep sound again, waving the barmaid over once more.

    "Well then, you''ve come to right place all the same."

    Another glass was placed in front of me.

    "On the house," Levira said as she clicked her glass against mine.

    I managed to keep a steady eye of Myra as I settled on my stool next to Levira.

    And that''s where I stayed for the following hour... And the next...And the next.

 Lesson Twenty: Never Forget What the Underworld Teaches

    It was easy to forget how old Levira was.

    If someone didn''t know her, they would never guess she had seen the birth and death of six centuries. There were many mysteries surrounding the succubus, and Levira seemed content to keep it that way. In fact, she was as close-lipped as a clam about her origins. Every time I thought I would find out more, I found us talking about something entirely different.

    Danger in this world comes in many types, and many would look at her think she was an easy mark, but nothing could be further from the truth.

    Levira dealt in secrets, and was as efficient with them as any sword, spell, or firearm. It was the highest of ironies that she owned an establishment famous for ensuring no violence between its walls. Then again, opening your door to bloodthirsty criminals and Deified alike made that a very good idea. It was a simple concept that was strictly enforced. Keep your business outside the walls, or punishment would come for you.

    "I''m surprised to see you working," I said, downing my fifth Oblivion Dew. Levira smiled enigmatically, resting a high cheekbone on her hand.

    "Oh? Should I not be?" she asked in a purr. I offered her a skeptical glance.

    "Your sons were just torn apart. Literally," I said, stretching my neck as I sent Myra another look. She was well into her conversation with the blonde next to her. Despite everything, I was glad she was at least having a little bit of fun. This was the only place within a hundred miles that served drinks laced with magic. Don''t get me wrong, I had come here with purely selfish intentions to try and forget Death''s order, but this was a nice perk.

    Levira surprised me by smirking.

    "Oh, that''s right. Wasn''t their execution around...a week ago? Am I right?" she asked, and I nodded in confirmation. Her expression didn''t change. Not even in the slightest.

    "Such a pity I had to miss it," she said disingenuously. I offered her only a raise of a single brow, keeping my mouth shut. Levira chuckled, shaking her head as she ordered yet another round. She played idly with a fingernail as the bartender immediately placed another few bottles in front of us.

    "Sweeting, the thought is appreciated, but am I supposed to waste time mourning rapists and murderers?" she asked, this time pouring her own glass. I did the same.

    "They were your sons," I said simply, eyeing her in my periphery. She snorted, somehow managing to make even that look beautiful.

    "I am quite old, and I have had several children over the centuries. Trust me, I''m well aware that not all of them are winners," she said, swirling her glass. The red liquid within glittered and changed to a deep black as parts of it met the air. I wondered what she was drinking, but knew better than to ask. All I knew was that no drink on the menu was red and black. Yet another mystery.

    "I was actually surprised to see you, of all people, daring to show her face here," she said, looking at me through the tops of her eyes. I met her gaze, not daring to flinch.

    "Am I not welcome?" I asked, a shard of dread penetrating the cloak of relaxation that had come over me.

    "As far I''m concerned, my lovely, you are always welcome within this establishment," she said, her eyes straying to the patrons around us, "However, many of the others know at least one person, you have murdered, arrested, or terrorized."

    Her voice lifted as she spoke, attracting the attention of others around us. I narrowed my gaze at her and every face that was now locked on me.

    "Then it''s a good thing there''s no violence allowed within your walls," I said, returning my full attention to her, "And I told you I wanted to forget who I was for a while."

    "Darling, I have given you time to forget, and now that time is at an end," she said in the tone one would use with a child throwing a tantrum. I started, but she held up a manicured hand, small claws peeking out from the fingers.

    "And, for the record, I disagree with you. You didn''t come here to forget. You came here to remember what drives you,"

    "You''re in an oddly talkative mood," I said tersely, rolling my eyes. Levira''s own eyes suddenly carried the weight of centuries, her posture unmoving.

    "All of us who taste immortality need it from time to time. And right now, I see that need in your eyes. I would be a poor friend indeed if I failed to remind you that, though time has passed, the underworld of Luradia has not forgotten you."

    She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, even as her eyes looked over my shoulder to a figure I felt coming.

    "And no matter where you go, no matter how fast you run--"

    "I''m not running--"

    "You will never outpace your sins."

    A significant look at the Marks on my neck.

    "As long as you live."

    I ground my jaw, setting my glass on the bar with too much force. Levira gave me a wry smile as she tracked someone over my shoulder.

    "And maybe that underworld, that past, is closer than you would like to think."

    A meaty hand landed hard on my shoulder in a crushing grip.

    "You. What''s your name?" came a man''s growl from behind my back. I took a moment to shake my head disapprovingly at Levira, whose eyes were dancing.

    Damn. She meant that last part literally.

    I shrugged the hand off before replying to him, turning in my stool as I did so.

    "I''ve been called many names, right Levira?"

    Levira reclined in her stool.

    "Oh yes. They include bitch...whore.."

    I opened my hands in an "oh well" gesture to the dark-haired man who glared down at me with black eyes. He had the brand of a hawk on his muscular forearm. The Sky Sharks. Not on par with the Pumas, but a formidable gang nonetheless.

    "A lot of my names are inappropriate for polite company," I said as Levira continued to recite the various insults I had endured over the years.

    "...harpy...banshee..."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The man''s face twisted in a wide grin, revealing cracked bricks for teeth.

    "There''s a heavy price on your head," he said, curling and uncurling his fingers.

    I stood as the man reached for me again, side stepping him easily with my hands in my pockets. He narrowly avoided crashing into Levira, who hadn''t so much as paused in her listing.

    "...carrion crone... shadow slut..."

    I faced him fully as he rounded on me again. He had the look of a man who knew he had errored, but now the die was cast.

    "Trust me friend," I said gravely as more and more people noticed the disturbance. I kept my posture nonthreatening, my hands still shoved in my pockets.

    "...horse hag...cu--"

    "This isn''t the place to settle old scores," I said. Levira was cut off as the man kicked a stool at me.

    I''ll never know what he would have done next.

    Before I could blink, an Incubus had caught the stool before it collided with anyone. An additional Incubus had the Sky Shark pinned to the floor at Levira''s feet in a blur of swearing and limbs. The man writhed, but the Incubus held him with startling efficiency. Thankfully, the man redirected his ire at Levira and his captor.

    "You''ll regret this! You don''t know who you''re messing with! We were just talking!" he yelled. It was a testament to the discipline of the Incubi that they waited for Levira''s order. The ancient Succubus looked at the man like a wolf would look at a gnat.

    "Oh? You think so, Samuel?" she asked, amusement in her voice. The man, Samuel apparently, went still at his name. Levira took a long pull on her drink, eyeing the liquid ebbing and flowing within as she continued.

    "Samuel Bloodless. A desperate and lonely boy that fled to the first gang that was willing to take you without asking too many questions."

    A quiet laugh escaped from Levira even as my ears perked with interest. Bloodless? That was the name given to all bastard-born children in Luradia. Interesting.

    Levira, with the mastery of a lead actress on a stage, allowed her words to take effect as everyone in proximity listened attentively.

    "I will exercise patience since you apparently are new. After all, every young pup thinks they''re invincible once they join a gang."

    She inclined her head, her eyes two pieces of golden flame.

    "Here''s your first lesson about the underworld, pup. Within these walls, I am the sole law and authority," she said, tapping her left index finger against her jaw, the claws retracting.

    "But in case you''re tempted to forget..." she trailed off, her eye''s flecking to the incubus holding him. In a blur of metal, a blade appeared in his hand. Samuel didn''t have time to process what happened before his left trigger finger was detached in a bloody spray.

    His dismembered digit rolled away, oozing blood onto the polished wood floor. He watched it, mouth open in a silent scream and his face paler than snow. Without further prompting, the Incubi hauled the man out of the Blue Flame, a finger short.

    Gradually everyone went back to their business, drinks being ordered from every direction. Myra glanced my way, her companion still nearby.

    "Well then," I said, trying to calm my racing heart, "I guess he won''t be giving any high-fives anytime soon, will he?"

    Levira let out a low laugh as Myra sputtered in indignation.

    "What?" I asked, as a muscle feathered in Myra''s jaw, "Too soon?"

    A few more chuckles went out around the bar as people settled down. I meandered back to my stool, my thoughts already moving back to Oblivion Dew, when I heard a pretty female voice humming a small song. She wasn''t humming it loud at all, as if she intended it only for my ears. A familiar song. A sad song.

    A song that stopped me in my tracks.

    Do you wish to speak,

    of the unspoken night?

    of voices made silent,

    of eyes robbed of light,

    a nameless fear named

    We call her the Blight,

    I closed my eyes as I listened, rooted to the spot. I had heard the song before. It was sung in all seedy taverns as a warning, and to let everyone who lurked in the underbelly of society what had happened three years ago. A song about the night a certain person had murdered nine hundred people in Grimwater. The melody was eerie, but not histrionic. Without the words, it could almost have been a lullaby.

    Come all ye sinners,

    Don''t bother to hide,

    Death''s reaper has come,

    You''ve had your last rights,

    What is that claims your life?

    We call her the Blight,

    I located the source of the voice. Myra''s companion turned, feeling my eyes on her back. The floor seemed to slid out from under me as she faced me.

    Scars like an "X" were over each of her eyes, as if someone had once tried to cut them out, but had been too shallow to do any real damage.

    Gods, the Puma from the Swooning Sparrow all those days ago had found us here. She stopped singing abruptly as a she smiled. Myra looked from her and then to me, her expression puzzled. The blonde went straight toward me, her body relaxed. The terrible scars seemed to glow in the low light as I watched her warily. We were silent for a moment before she spoke.

    "Do you recognize me now?" she asked in a rough voice, her head canting to the side. She sounded as if she had just been screaming far too loud, and her vocal cords would snap at any word. It was strange to think that she was able to produce such a pretty sound from that voice.

    Gods, she looked familiar, but I still couldn''t place her. As if reading my thoughts, she nodded in understanding.

    "It''s alright. I look a bit different now," she said casually, gesturing to the scars. I furrowed my brow, trying to picture her without them.

    And then it hit me.

    "You were there that night," I said, my voice little more than a whisper, "The guard outside the Puma stronghold."

    She nodded, laughing humorlessly.

    "I''ll remember what you said to me for the rest of my life. Do you remember it?" she asked, but my tongue wouldn''t work properly to form a reply.

    Yes, I remembered her now. The memory was like watching a stranger. I had snuck up on a lonely guard on the terrace of the Puma hideout in Grimwater. I had been so certain that this would be yet another dead end. Seven years of training and tracking Fayra''s killer had yielded one disappointment after another. I was one with my shadows, climbing the building as easy as taking a breath. I had surprised a pretty young woman with blonde hair and frightened eyes.

    Every Puma I had met thus far had spared no time in trying to kill me. Hells, I had wanted them to succeed. However, that didn''t stop me from being pissed when it happened. But this one? She was so young. I had seen the attempt to be strong masking the terror. She had just stared at me, as if I were a devil here to drag her to the fiery pits, making no move to fight. That alone is what had given me pause.

    Listen, my problem''s not with you, I had said, curling darkness around my fingers as I gripped her throat.

    You are replaceable to every person in that building. Are they really worth dying for? I had growled, tightening my grip.

    So this is my one and only offer. Take. The. Night. Off.

    And she had. I hadn''t though of her again, but apparently she had been one of the only Pumas to survive that night. The night of hundreds and hundreds of dead bodies.

    I swallowed hard as I saw the Puma from all those years ago take a deep breath,

    Levira had been right. The past wasn''t far behind.

    "Rowena McAlister, Blight of Grimwater," she said, pausing at my given title, "My name is Ash Durveran. I owe you a blood debt, and now that the Gods have reunited us, I''ve come to deliver on it."

    That was when I saw a man walk from the other side of the bar, red hair glowing like a beacon. I barely managed to keep my eyes in my skull as I recognized Zachariah. How he had managed to escape my notice until now was a great mystery of the world. The blonde with scars looked back at him as he approached, a significant look crossing between them. He then looked at me in that long and unflinching way, and I knew what he was thinking without him needing to say it.

    Listen to her.

    I collapsed into a stool, ordering yet another bottle of Oblivion Dew even though I had barely touched the other. I had a feeling that I was going to need it.

    *******

    The sun rose on another day in Luradia, colder than the last. Myra rubbed bleary eyes in the dawn, followed by Ash and Zachariah. My ears still rung with the words Ash had spoken. We had gathered in a small parlor for the better part of the night.

    Though I hadn''t slept in over a day, my mind felt clearer somehow. I lead Dusk out into the sun as the others trailed behind. I leaned down, patting Dusks shoulder as he shook in the sudden transition from warmth to cold.

    "Come on Dusk," I murmured to him as Myra sat behind me, "Take us to the McAlsiter Gun Shop. I have a pistol that needs fixed."

 Lesson Twenty-One: When Peace Grows Ill. End of Part One.

    "What happens after this moment is entirely up to you," Death had said.

    What complete and utter bullshit. Death could go straddle a spire and rot there. Damn her for doing this to me, and damn me for...Well, just damn me in general.

    Ash''s words rang in my ears as loud as the bells in the Church of Bones. How strange it was to be derailed from protective-righteousness, to utter hopelessness, and round right back to bone-chilling fear. Could it really be true? If it was, I was a real horse''s ass for sitting in the Blue Flame feeling sorry for myself while that was going on.

    Zachariah had remained silent all of last night as Ash told her story, his face hewn from granite. He had brought Ash to me, somehow knowing exactly where I would go even without knowing what was wrong. Gods, was I that predicable? It didn''t matter.

    That was how it had always been while we were growing up. Some friends were only good for partying and having a good time. Others were only good for idle amusements and banter. There was nothing wrong with friends like that, but I never had any patience for that type of stuff.

    But Zachariah? He was always different from the rest. He, Fayra and I had been our own little family. If Fayra was best at getting us into trouble, then he was the best at getting us out of it. To put it simply, he showed up. I knew that had something to do with the circumstances of his birth. He''d had to struggle for every meal, every clean glass of water, and every night under a roof. He was never treated with any amount of dignity or respect. A reject. A cast-off.

    Being a Half-Elemancer will do that to you. It made you hated by many and accepted by almost no one. Maybe that was why we became friends in the first place.

    The sounds of hooves clacking in the early morning echoed in the chilled air, the horse''s breath fogging every now and again. We pushed our pace, leaning forward in the saddle. On impulse, I looked at Myra, who looked back at me with weary eyes. I still didn''t know what do about the assassin coming for her and all the Deified of this town, but I had to take things one at a time.

    She winced as we rounded around corner, rubbing her back. She was still riding side-saddle despite us going everywhere on Dusk. I realized for the first time how sore she must be from enduring the awkward position for so many miles. Women like her were use to riding in buggies and carriages.

    "You know you''re allowed to ride astride while you''re with me, right?" I asked, reaching for the normal snark between us. Despite her fatigue, Myra looked appalled.

    "That is outrageous! Mother would incinerate me on the spot if she saw me do such a thing!" she said, some life coming back to her voice. I gave her my best sharpshooter grin.

    "She''s not here," I said simply. Myra slitted her eyes and glanced around as if expecting the Matron peek from behind every corner.

    "She''ll know. Believe me. And besides, my dress will ride up!"

    I mirrored her appalled look from before.

    "You''re right! Your calves will show! How scandalous! Deified are dying, an assassin has come for you already, and Elemancers are being hunted. But no, sacrificing your spine for the sake of hiding your legs is definitely the priority," I said in a mockery of posh, sarcasm dripping from each word.

    "Are you just trying to get me to show a little skin?" she replied, batting her lashes at me. I saw Zachariah and Ash exchange a look behind us, the latter looking a bit confused at our banter. Zachariah waved a dismissive hand at Myra and I as if to say, Don''t worry, this is normal for them.

    I pulled my hat lower on my brow, suppressing a laugh.

    "Suite yourself. It''s not my back that will suffer," I said, silently making a note to have Myra ride in her buggy with Belle next time we went out.

    We turned onto Main Street, the market clean of sidewalk vendors. Store chimneys belched hearth smoke into the air. Frost gathered on the glass of their front windows. It must have snowed last night, as small mounds of it were gathered against the sides of the street and at the bases of walls. Finally, Dusk trotted to a larger building off to the right. I could smell the forges as we approached, barrels of gunpowder piled high outside. A small storefront stood in front or the workshop, and it was by far the busiest. Several carriages were parked outside even in the early morning, people eager to stock up on the latest models, have their firearms repaired, or simply browsing.

    McAlister Pistol Company. I hadn''t set foot in one of our stores since my latest falling out with my father. Even so, I had practically grown into an adult amongst the various shop workers.

    We avoided the storefront, instead going straight to the back door which lead to the workshop. Heat radiated from the door as the forges melded metal into the skeletons of guns. Nobody bothered us as we entered, the gunsmiths too absorbed in their work. A spacious warehouse opened before us, lines of tables extending with assembly lines for rifles, pistols, and shotguns. Offices dotted the walls of the various designers of the guns, always innovating and improving. The air carried the scent of gunpoweder, laquered wood, and molten metal.

    It only took asking a few of the assembly workers to find my favorite gunsmith.

    "Yared!" I called in greeting, feeling genuine warmth come to my chest. Yared had worked for my father''s shop since before we had franchised. The man was an old veteran from the War of Ages, and had been using guns and artillary through the turn of the century. Despite the violence of his past, or maybe because of it, he was one of the most gentle people I had ever known. As I turned from toddler, to child, and then to a teenager, Yared''s office had been the one safe place to wait while my father was doing business.

    A shock of gray hair peeked out from the small door, dark skin a stark contrast below it. Thick glasses covered a large portion of his face. He was still wearing his apron, his fingers stained black. I realized with a small twist of my heart that he had aged since I had last seen him. His back had bent, and there were deep lines in his face now.

    Struggling up from a generously-padded chair, Yared smiled at me, his warm brown eyes dancing.

    "Hello, Little One," he said in a weathered voice that had breathed too much powder and smoke. Smiling at his well-worn nickname for me, I waved for him to sit. He ignored the gesture, holding out his hands out to give me a fragile hug. After a moment, he pulled away and gazed at me with appraising eyes.

    "Not so little anymore, I suppose," he said, giving my hand a subtle squeeze, "How many years has it been?"

    "At least ten. It''s good to see you," I said, feeling the weight he put through my hands. Spying the cane he had ignored, I helped him into his chair again. I did my best to ignore the bustle of the other workers, giving him my full attention. Yared folded his hands in his lap, appraising me again.

    "What brings you here?" he asked, the smile never leaving his face. I hesitated before answering, choosing my words carefully.

    "I need your help with some repairs. And I have some questions."

    A corner of his mouth lifted.

    "You always have questions. It is what I liked about you," he said as Myra, Zachariah, and Ash filed into the office at last. His eyes shifted to them kindly before returning to me.

    "I will answer your questions if I am able," he said hesitantly, "but I''m afraid that I will be less than useful for the repairs."

    I sighed through my nose, clasping his hand again.

    "Look, I know my father forbade any service to me, but--"

    "No, Little One, it''s not that," he said quietly, coughing into a handkerchief.

    It came away bloody.

    Eyes wide, I looked at the garment as if it were a snake. Yared dotted the blood from his lips and chin, his throat bobbing. Our eyes met as he tucked the hankerchief back into his coat pocket, folding it neatly as he did so.

    "The years have not been kind to this old man," he said, and I saw the slight quiver to his worn hands now.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    A symptom of poisoning, my inner healer reminded me.

    The workers had recently begun to protect their faces and hands with gloves and masks in recent years, but Yared came from a generation of war. There was no time to worry about your health sixty years down the road when you might not live to see the next day if you didn''t stock up on your bullets.

    "I am preparing for retirement," Yared continued, cutting my thoughts off, " And before you ask, Yes. I have been seen by the physicians. No. There is nothing they can do. No potions, no magic, and no medicine will change what is to come."

    I furrowed my brow, forgetting the others in the room as I knelt down in front of his chair.

    "Are you being taken care of?" I asked as evenly as I could. He smiled, patting my hand.

    "Your father has set me up with plentiful funds to keep me comfortable as a reward for my years of service," he murmured. I lifted a brow.

    "Have the hells frozen over?" I asked dryly, making Yared chuckle. His back bent again with another violent cough, making me wince. He waved away my attempts to help, and I saw the stubborn pride gleaming in his face.

    "He''s not all bad. You know that, right?" he asked once he recovered. I leaned back, sitting on my heels.

    "Agree to disagree," I said, making Yared smile sadly.

    "But enough about me. As far as your repairs go, I will have my apprentice assist you. I''m sure your father would understand if you are using it to protect Lady Beaufoutonte."

    Gods, he missed nothing.

    Yared inclined his head toward Myra, who curtsied in return despite her rumpled dress.

    As if on cue, a young man entered the office, his face entirely obscured by a stack of books teetering precariously on gun components. He was muttering to himself, clearly oblivious to everyone around him. He went straight to a small desk in the corner of the room in a well-worn path. As if he had already walked it a thousand times this morning. The items collapsed onto the desk just as he got to it. Still ignoring us, he collapsed into a simple chair and began to work.

    Yared cleared his throat, and the young man immediately looked up, blinking in surprise at our presence even though he had walked straight past us.

    "Otta," Yared began in a voice one would use to a frenzied horse, "This a Rowena McAlister accompanied by her friends-"

    A slight huff came from Myra which I did my best to ignore.

    "Miss McAlister needs you to--"

    "MCALISTER?!" Otta exclaimed in a high-pitched yelp that barely passed as masculine. Making his chair and most of the items on the desk crash to the floor, he leapt to his feet. Otta rushed toward me, but tripped on a gun part and joined the rest of the items of the floor. Yared put a hand to his face, sighing.

    "Otta is young, but I assure you that he is a prodigy. He is responsible for several of our fresh models."

    That got my attention as Zachariah and Ash helped Otta to his feet. He looked at me like an acolyte would look at a goddess. The boy was maybe eighteen or nineteen, with every part of him twitching with energy. His hands went to his face, to his hips, and then to his heart in a never-ending cycle.

    "Gods! Are you a McAlister? Really? I get to work on a gun used by an actual McAlister?! This is a dream! An absolute dream! I--" he said in a barely restrained scream. Otta continued to babble about how much he loved the way my family had revolutionized firearm production. He went on...and on...and on.

    "This is going to be a long day," Yared muttered dryly, massaging his eyes.

    *******

    Eventually, we calmed Otta down enough to actually look at Fayra''s pistol remnants. The news wasn''t good.

    "All the Gods and their nannies! What in the hells happened to this poor baby?" Otta asked, as he held up the ruined thunderwood handle like a baby bird with a broken wing. He pulled out a set of smith''s glasses from his back pocket. Each of the eyes had a set of twelve lenses that could be dropped down to increase the magnification. Otta wasted no time in waiting for us to answer, dropping seven lenses in front of one eye and squeezing the other shut. A reply to his question did seem necessary as he started to mutter with words that were entirely beyond my comprehension.

    "Can you repair it?" Yared asked, his voice straining around another cough.

    Otta didn''t answer at first, dropping the remaining lenses in front of his eye.

    "Maybe. The amalgamation of the sentry fibers of the thunderwood and reignition of the semi-automatic mechanism--"

    "The short version please, dear boy," Yared interrupted, though I saw a hint of fondness wander into his eyes. Otta peered at the rest of us, blinking again as if to remind himself that we existed. He seemed to do that whenever he was interrupted.

    "There is no short version," he said simply. Yared supressed a sigh as he looked at the boy.

    "The shortest version you can manage, then," Yared urged with the patience of a saint. Otta looked at all of us, then hesitated, clearly biting back a long-winged explanation.

    "It will take a long time," he said finally, his eyes looking at the fragments of Fayra''s pistol as if they were a piece of art. It was clear that he was rather looking forward to the project.

    "Alright, then we have some questions," I said around the sharp pang of disappointment, drawing Otta''s attention before he became too absorbed. I glanced at Ash, who stepped forward with the grace of a cat, her eyes piercing.

    "We know you guys have been working on a special type of weapon. One that absorbs and shoots the elements?" Ash began shifting her gaze to the corner of the room. Her eyes lingered on a peculiar shotgun with strange symbols carved into it. I knew I had seen them before on a twisted of metal. The metal that the Elemancers had found near their murdered warriors.

    Otta grinned, looking like a child who was asked about his favorite toy. He even clapped his hands a little. Yared''s brows knitted, eyeing Ash warily.

    "How did you know about--" Yared began, but Otta cut him off as he warmed up for another excited ramble.

    "Yes! I invented them!" Otta said, looking proud of himself. Without further explanation, he sprinted to the corer of the room and grabbed the shotgun we had seen earlier. He placed it on Yared''s desk for all of us to see. It seemed about the size of a basice twelve-gauge, except with four rotating barrels. Interlaid in the metal of each of the barrels was an odd sort of crystal with more strange symbols.

    In any other circumstance, I would have been fascinated by the gun. However, all of I could think of was the Elemancers who were being hunted. The ones who were being killed like the Deified. I thought of Renjin and Oji visiting the town to report the morbid news, and the fire they had brought with them.

    "How does it work?" Myra surprised me by asking, looking at the gun with a keen eye. She trailed the symbols on the barrels, her lips pursed in thought.

    "Why are there Kaze symbols all over the barrels?" she asked further, pointing to the first barrel.

    "Fire," she said, indicating a symbol of neatly curved lines. Now that I was looking for it, I could see the resemblence to a flame.

    "Water...Earth...Air," she continued, indicating the other barrels and their crystals. Otta, unable to hold back any longer, seized the shotgun and sprinted to the nearest lantern giving a feeble light at the back of the dark office.

    "Watch this! This is so cool!" he said, holding the flame crystal to the small spit of fire inside the lantern.

    "Anataii non chikata oi kashitei kudasaii!" he cried, and we all flinched as the crystal glowed a sudden red light. I watched, amazed, as the the flame flowed onto the gleaming metal. It transformed into a red marking high on the barrel.

    "It could absorb an entire wildfire, but this will be enough to show you," Otta said, picking up the shotgun and pointing it at the wall of the office. He didn''t seem to realize the amount of gun power and explosives in the room in his excitement. We watched in horror as his finger curled around the trigger.

    "All you have to do is--"

    "STOP!"

    Zachariah, Myra, Ash, and I all screamed the word in unison, but it was Yared who surprisingly screamed the loudest. The old man had shot to his feet, but the motion cost him dearly. His back rounded into a series of bone-rattling coughs. The sound was horrid and wet as his hankercheif became soaked in blood.

    Otta, as if coming back to himself, immediately set the gun on the floor and sank to his knees next to the old man. The boy''s face twisted in concern, but I didn''t care as I pushed him aside roughly, his back colliding with the wall.

    I patted Yared''s back in soothing circles as the coughing subsided, the trembling in his hands now worse than ever. He let Zachariah and I lift him back into the cushions of his chair. All went silent for a moment as I picked the shotgun up, examining it.

    "Otta," I began in as patient a tone I could manage, "Who gave you the crystals?"

    "I-I don''t know. Mr. McAlister gave them to me one day and told me what they could do. He said this was to be my most important project, and to follow Yared''s guidance," Otta said hesitantly. He looked liked he wanted nothing more than to grab the gun and work on it. I sent him a dangerous look, keeping him from tearing it from my hands.

    "How many have you made?" Zachariah asked, speaking for the first time. He still knelt in front of Yared, pressing his own hankerchief into the old man''s hand. Otta hesitated again, his eyes going to Yared. Taking Zachariah''s hankerchief with a grateful murmur, he nodded consent for Otta to reply.

    "I have around fifty crystals or so, but this is the only sucessful shotgun I''ve made so far. We already have a few orders, though. One for a dozen to be delivered in Grimwater."

    My eyes went to Ash. So she had spoken the whole truth. She had told me what the payment was meant to be for the Pumas attacking the Deified at the engagement party.

    A dozen guns which could use Elemancy magic.

    "Who placed the order?" Myra asked, beating me to the question.

    "There was no name on it. It was paid in full, with orders to be delivered to an address in Grimwater," Yared said, his voice the barest whisper.

    All went silent again. I could feel my head spinning, trying to put the pieces together. I felt like I was standing to close to a painting, then whole picture eluding me. Massaging my temple I focused on Otta and Yared again.

    "What was the other order?" I asked. Yared looked at me a long moment before replying, his eyes guarded all of a sudden.

    "It came directly from the court of King Lorimor and Queen Aricella," Yared said, naming the king and queen of Luradia. I felt like someone had just dropped a boulder into my stomoch.

    I ran my tongue over dry lips, not really wanting the answer to my next question.

    "How many?"

    Yared swallowed hard.

    "The order was simple. As many as we can make. Enough to equip the officers of his army at the very least."

    A mass order. Enough for an army. One part of the puzzle suddenly made sense. I now knew why Father was so eager to make the deal with the Beaufoutonte family steel industry. He would need all the steel he could get if he was making an order this big, and he needed easy access to it. Easy access that only a marrige could provide. I looked sidelong at Myra, and knew she had made that same exact connection.

    Everyone in the room stared at the shotgun again, the red flame marking still gleaming on the fire barrel. I knew what we were all thinking, even though none of us wanted to say it out loud. If King Lorimor and Queen Aricella were mass ordering weapons for their armies, then that could only mean one thing.

    Luradia was preparing for war.

 Part Two: The Lesson Which is Never Learned *Bonus Content*

    In the rise of the McAlister empire for firearm manufacturing, and in the despair of my mother''s death, I found myself at Yared''s desk with increasing frequency. In the noisy and ever-growing workshop, his office had always seemed to hold a quiet to it. A calm that made reading my many library books easy. The first time I found myself there, I was looking for a calm place to read. My father had told me to stay in the shop, or I would be in trouble. At Yared''s office, I had seen a man with graying hair and steady eyes looking back at me.

    "Hello little one," he had said, looking up from his work. Seeing the book in my hand, he had stood and offered me his chair, saying he preferred to stand for the moment.

    He stood for the rest of the day.

    When I had returned the following day, I found the door open. A small bench with a blanket and lantern were just inside the threshold. That was the way Yared had always been. At times, I would come to visit and he would show me the mechanics of a pistol. Other times, he would educate me on how gunpowder worked. He had tolerated my endless questions without any sign of irritation. It was such a contrast to the way my father had treated Levi and I growing up. My mother had always warned me to not bother my father while he was working. The consequences when I hadn''t heeded her advice had always been steep.

    But then there was Yared.

    As I had grown, our conversations had grown in complexity. I could talk about almost anything with him.

    My growing interest in healing.

    My hatred for my father.

    My frustration with the way Zachariah was treated, along with all halflings.

    Those thoughts and more were all safe in Yared''s walls. He had a singular talent for being a sounding board. He had never judged my thoughts. Not once.

    Until one day.

    "Yared, aren''t you scared the McAlisters will go out of business?" I had asked, my small hand turning a page. I sat curled on my bench, a blanket wrapped around my legs. I was already planning on meeting Zachariah and Fayra in the Ethereal forest that evening by the time the words left my lips. My mind always seemed to bounce from topic to topic in an endless cycles. The Etheral forest trip had been Fayra''s idea, of course. She had told me of the giant fox-like creature made entirely of light which roamed it. My heart had pressed against my ribs at the thought of the forbidden adventure.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "Why would you think that, little one?" Yared''s voice came, redirecting my thoughts to my question. I sat up, looking at him blankly until I remembered what I had asked.

    "Well," I began hesitantly, toying with the spine of my book, "The war is over. Why do we still need weapons? People don''t have to kill each other anymore."

    An innocent question. A child''s question.

    Yared''s hands stilled in their work, his back straightening for the first time in hours. A prickle went up my spine in his stillness, sensing I had errored in some way. I prepared for the yelling to start, still used to my father''s tempers. The seconds crawled by like hours as Yared sat as still as a statue.

    He extended a hand to a small picture frame on his desk, taking a clean cloth and wiping stray powder off the surface. I could see a younger Yared standing next to a beautiful young woman with ebony skin and hair. A young babe laid in her arms with tight and curly locks gathered over bright eyes.

    Yared stroked the picture for long moments as he took a deep breath.

    "Did I ever tell you that I fought in the war during it''s twilight years?" Yared asked quietly, brushing a stained thumb alongside the woman and child''s faces. I looked at the picture and then back to Yared, closing my book and gathering the blanket more tightly around myself.

    "Yeah! You were a Lieutenant, right?" I asked warily, feeling a cold settle in my bones. Yared''s face went blank as he nodded, eyes still locked on the picture. Eventually, he set it back on his desk, wiping the last of the dust off the frame.

    "Yes, little one. I left my family to fight for a better world for them. A better life with freedom as the prize," he paused, his voice going thick. He coughed once into a handkerchief. Twice. When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal.

    "When the war ended, it took me nearly four months to return home from across the country. That''s where the last of the fighting was. I came home to find that some bandits had robbed my family days before I arrived. They..." he paused again, swallowing hard, "They robbed me of everything."

    Another look at the picture.

    "Everything."

    Yared looked at me then, his eyes shining.

    "No, little one. People will never stop needing weapons, because people will never stop fighting amongst themselves. Not until they reach the Far Shore."

    Yared stood and enclosed my small hands in his. I sat, looking at him with wide eyes as I struggled to fully understand what he was talking about. An old wound reopened inside me as the meaning of his words hit, wearing at my soul. Yared''s hands tightened slightly as my eyes began to burn.

    "But you have to remember one thing as you grow and live your life, little one. There are good humans and bad humans. Good Elemancers, and bad ones. Whether a war is waging or not, that fact does not change."

    Another sigh.

    "Violence, and it''s consequences. That is the lesson we never seem to learn."

 Lesson Twenty-Two: When Death Knocks at the Door, Do not Answer

    The cold air hit my sweaty skin, but I didn''t have the time to feel it. I had bigger concerns.

    I sank into a crouch, narrowly avoiding Zachariah''s fist. I tried to spin out of range, but Zachariah was faster. He brought his leg around in a wide arc and connected with my shoulder with stunning force. I was thrown a body''s length to the side. Instead of trying to land, I tucked into a ball, and rolled away to get some distance. I stopped spinning and righted myself, swinging my foot along the ground. I guessed right this time. Zachariah followed my landing in a relentless attack, pressing his advantage.

    Sparring with Zachariah was a bit like playing chess. I always had to anticipate his next two or three moves in order to stand a chance. Zachariah grew up fighting for everything in his life, which made him very difficult to beat. He always seemed to be ten steps ahead in a fight, having been in countless brawls over the course of twenty-five years.

    I sighed gratefully as my leg tripped him up, causing him to land hard. I took the moment to regain my feet and lunged toward him, my fist aimed at the vulnerable spot between his shoulder blades. Faster than a viper, Zachariah pivoted on the ground and rose to a half-kneel position.

    Damn, he was waiting for the attack.

    Surprised, I didn''t have time to dodge. His fist flew past my guard and hit my lower abdomen hard enough to shake the air around us. My forward momentum, combined with his counter, would have put most people out cold. It was a strike that was the perfect combination of relentless violence and flawless precision. A fight-ending strike.

    Or at least, it should have been.

    My new armor took the brunt of the force.

    Confused? Let me page you back to yesterday.

    *******

    "Your revolver won''t be done for a long..." Otta said, looking at Fayra''s ruined gun again, "...Long...Long time."

    "We have discussed that at length, my boy. Tell her your recommendation," said Yared from over Otta''s shoulder. The old man stood with his hands braced on his desk, his eyes flashing from Otta to me, and then back to the twisted metal heaped onto his desk.

    Otta did that sudden look around that I was swiftly becoming familiar with. I did my best to be patient while he considered the gun, leaning against the wall of the office. My heart leapt as I saw a small stool with a blanket folded on top still in the corner of Yared''s office. The stool I had spent so many hours on. The old man had kept it all these years.

    "Well...I would suggest new equipment in the mean time while I''m fixing it..." Otta said distantly, looking to Yared for confirmation. The old man nodded, a small smile on his lips. A smile of pride.

    Otta nodded in silent reply to Yared, urged on by his confirmation. The boy looked around the office, his eyes calculating.

    "However, I''m not sure I have something that equals the caliber of a 0.357 Thunderwood Storm Breaker with reinforced steel barrel and--"

    I''ll spare you the rest of Fayra''s gun statistics. I''ll have you know something, though. Otta''s description of it could cure the most persistent case of insomnia.

    "My boy," Yared said after several minutes of babble, "You''re drifting. Back to the point."

    "Oh," said Otta, "Well I guess I just don''t have anything that''s on the same level."

    A corner of my mouth lifted as I gestured to Otta''s Elemancer gun. The gun that could absorb the four elements and possibly end the world.

    "How about that one?"

    Yared''s face darkened.

    "That one is not fit for sale," he said in a tone the broached no argument. In answer, I took out my money pouch and placed it   on the table in front of him.

    "I need a weapon Yared--"

    "That''s fortuitous. We have plenty here--"

    "None of them are like that. Not one."

    Yared stood to his full height suddenly, running a hand throughout his hair. Otta looked between use like he was watching two fighters spar.

    "He''s right, you know. It''s a bit of a prototype for now. I haven''t tested it to it''s full ability," Otta said hesitantly, looking as if he wanted to melt into the floor. Yared nodded in agreement, setting a hand on the boy''s shoulder. I kept my gaze on the two of them, unperturbed.

    "That''s a risk I''m willing to take," I said firmly, which elicited a snort from Myra. She, Ash, and Zachariah still stood to the side.

    "Rowena taking a ridiculous risk? There''s a surprise," the heiress muttered dryly.

    "To be fair," Ash murmured in reply, "If she doesn''t buy it, I will."

    Myra laughed lightly, laying a delicate hand on her chest.

    "With what money? I sincerely doubt they take vocal talent as currency here," Myra said, batting her lashes at Ash. A slow smile spread over the blonde''s face as Zachariah groaned quietly. After a moment, Ash produced an intricately designed money purse. Myra''s eyes widened in sudden rage as she recognized it, peering into her lightened handbag.

    "Why you little--"

    "Anyway," I cut in as I saw Myra mount for a lengthy argument, "I can pay for it. Name your price."

    I opened my purse, allowing Otta to see the gold within. I hadn''t missed the boy''s threadbare clothes when he first appeared. I also didn''t miss the flash of hunger dance across his face as he saw the gold coins inside my purse laying next to a thick wad of paper Brill. It was a chunk of the veritable fortune I made while bounty hunting. I tended to accumulate money quickly since I didn''t really have anyone or anything to spend it on.

    Otta continued to stare at the money as I took out a coin and let it roll over my knuckles.

    Yared reached out, grabbed the coin, and closed the bag. A scowl pulled at his lined face.

    "This is a dangerous game, little one," he said evenly, "Your father would not approve."

    My grin widened.

    "Yared, I already told you I want it. You don''t need to give me more reasons to buy it."

    I looked at Otta again, who was still looking at my money bag. Sighing, I looked back at Yared. The old man just gazed from me to Otta warily. His expression softened when he looked at the boy genius with clothes that likely hadn''t fit him in years. A boy that was too thin. A boy that loved science and being an apprentice more than feeding himself.

    I wanted to give him and Yared all of my earnings so they didn''t have to work for my damn father anymore. Hells, I already would have done so by now if the old man would swallow his pride and take it. As if in answer to my thoughts, Yared let out another bone-rattling cough. Finally, I strode to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

    "I love you Yared. You know I do, but I need a good weapon. A weapon that will protect me and give me an edge. This is the one that fits the bill," I said gently. Yared''s shaking hand came up and gathering mine in his.

    "I want you to have it, but I cannot allow a prototype like this to wander around indefinitely," he said just as gently, his eyes apologetic.

    An idea occurred to me.

    "Alright. How about I rent it until Otta fixes my gun? I''ll return it when he''s finished."

    I paused, considering my next move. Finally, I pulled out Fayra''s other gun. The lonely twin for now. I looked at it for long moments, my palms sweating as I set it on the desk next to my money pouch.

    "You can take this as collateral," I said quietly. Zachariah stirred then, a warning in his eyes. He knew what those weapons meant.

    "It feels like a crime to only use one," I muttered in explanation. After a beat of silence, he settled back against the wall in silent agreement. I nodded before turning back to the boy and Yared. The old man didn''t miss the exchange, his eyes calculating.

    "So? Do we have a deal?" I asked into the silence. Otta stirred and looked at his mentor, his master, in silent question. Yared''s expression didn''t change.

    "It''s you invention, my boy. This is your decision," Yared said gently, wiping some blood from his chin. Otta followed the movement before looking back at me.

    "We split the profits, but it will cost a lot," Otta said. I could tell he was trying to be confident, but he sounded like a mouse trying to tell a lion what to do. I bit back a smile as I gestured to my very full money bag again.

    "Is that enough?" I asked. Otta dropped the gun part he had been holding. After a moment of shock, he recovered and shot to his feet.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    "Y-Yes! But I have another recommendation," he said, looking at the twin weapons laying on his desk, "If you''re not dual weilding anymore, you should have some armor. We have some Runic Armor in the back that should be around your, eh, size."

    He gestured at my muscular physique awkwardly, averting his eyes as he began to mutter some numbers to calculate pricing. I saw Myra lean toward Yared, her eyes trained on Otta.

    "He doesn''t have many friends, does he?" she asked dryly. Yared shook his head in reply, making Myra utter a sympathetic sound. Rolling my eyes, I interrupted Otta''s calculating,

    "Otta, that''s okay. I don''t really need armor. I''ve never had it before."

    It was true. In all my time as a bounty hunter, I had never thought to protect myself from being shot. Being a damned immortal with unparalleled healing abilities made that a small concern.

    A wrinkle formed on Otta''s young brow.

    "So...you like taking damage and being in pain during a fight?" he asked in genuine confusion.

    The retort I had died on my lips as Zachariah smirked. He shrugged as if to say He''s got a point.

    And to that, I could not argue.

    *******

    A day later, Zachariah and I were already putting the armor through it''s paces as we trained. The torso piece bent and flexed with runic marks, spreading the shock from Zachariah''s fight-ending strike. Don''t get me wrong. It hurt like the hells, but at least I stayed conscious. I rotated in the air, curling my legs behind me as I braced my hands on his shoulders. Time seemed to slow as I saw the feintest hint of surprise cross his face.

    I flipped up and over Zachariah, taking a quarter turn and gripping his shoulders to not allow too much distance to open up. Landing lightly on the balls of my feet, I wrapped an arm around his neck in a choke-hold. My other hand snaked behind his head to secured the hold as I use my body weight to do the work. Zachariah''s hands gripped my forearms, but my new bracers prevented his fingers from digging in. However, it wasn''t enough to knock him off his guard. Zachariah used his grip on my arms to lift us both up. He growled as he pivoted his torso sharply, making a perfect throw.

    Suddenly, I found myself being flipped over his shoulder before he landed on top of me. The frozen patch of ground we had cleared cracked loudly as I landed flat on the earth.

    Though I barely felt it, my arms loosened the barest fraction. It was all Zachariah needed. He wrestled free of the chocked hold and kick-flipped onto his feet, turning to strike me with another well-timed punch.

    Only I wasn''t there. I rotated behind him again, unhindered by the shock of the throw. I jumped, wrapping my arms around Zachariah in another choke hold as I used my legs to pin his arms to his sides. We struggled for several more moments, Zachariah twisting violently to break free. But I wasn''t letting go this time around. Despite the cold, sweat rolled down my brow as I held and held, waiting.

    Finally, Zachariah tapped out.

    I was off him in a second, checking to make sure I hadn''t actually hurt him. My entire body ached with fatigue from our sparring match, but already the ache was fading as I healed. Zachariah massaged his neck, rolling his head to stretch the constricted muscles. He eyed my new armor, letting out a low whistle.

    "Well then," I said, as he coughed, "Do you think the armor was worth it?"

    Zachariah''s jaw tightened as he shrugged, rolling his shoulders.

    I chuckled, brushing some dirt off my own shoulder. I didn''t know why I bothered, though. The armor was immaculate. It was a flexible black leather that included a fitted torso with studded metal, bracers, leg greaves and tassets, and a helmet. I removed the helmet, shaking my hair out. I hissed as the cold air hit my my dampened locks.

    "Yeah. Otta was right. The only reason I won was because I was able to endure your attacks," I admitted, cracking my neck, Zachariah nodded, looking back toward my house. Wordlessly, he started toward it.

    We both sat on the porch steps, letting ourselves recover in silent companionship. I wanted to do another two or three matches just to see if the armor had any weak points. I had expected it to feel bulky, but it wasn''t. It seemed to move with me at every turn. It even blended in under my duster coat. Nodding appreciatively at the craftsmanship, I stood and stretched again. I was still sweating from our match and knew I needed to be careful about hydrating. Especially in cold and dry weather like this.

    "Zachariah, do you want some wat--"

    I stopped myself as I saw where Zachariah was looking. His eyes were fixed on the Ethereal forest, seeing the trees sway in the frigid wind. Snow was a stark contrast to the obsidian bark. All the leaves were gone now and a thin layer of snow covered the ground leading to the trees.

    In those trees was the Kenshi Elemancer Tribe.

    Zachariah didn''t respond to my question, his gaze contemplative. I knew what he was thinking about. I had been trying to distract myself from it the whole day.

    He was looking at the place of his birth. The place he was shunned from because he was a halfling. A bastard.

    I felt myself shake my head. If there was ever a person that didn''t deserve the title "bastard", it was definitely Zachariah. Life had a twisted sense of humor for making him have to fight this hard to survive.

    Sighing, I sat beside him again, my shoulder touching his.

    "You want to warn them about the Royal family preparing for war," I said soberly. Zachariah nodded, his eyes still trained on the trees.

    Death''s voice drifted across my mind.

    And I don''t think I need to explain to you, of all people, what the cost can be.

    I didn''t know what Death''s "cost" would be this time, but I had to be careful. In terms of power, I knew Death was in the upper tier amongst the Gods and Goddess of Luradia. I also knew she rivaled the God of Wrath in terms of dealing out punishment. I knew this was all connected to the Chosen who was murdering the Deified in some way. I knew it in the very pit of my being, even if I didn''t have all the pieces of the puzzle.

    Death had made it clear she didn''t want me meddling, and if I disobeyed there would be a reckoning from her. I still felt the ghost of the pain she had sent through my soul, making gooseflesh rise on my neck.

    But I had decided something from the moment I heard about Luradia preparing for war. Maybe I would see Fayra again someday. Maybe I wouldn''t. But would she really be happy to see me if I just stood by while innocent people died? The answer was easy.

    No.

    She wouldn''t be happy to see me at all. It was one thing to make an ocean of blood from the countless bounties in Luradia to fulfill my debt. It was another thing entirely to take the easy way out, and allow what ever this Chosen wanted to come to fruition.

    There was just one problem. How in the hells was I supposed to do it without incurring Death''s punish?

    I still had no answer to that question.

    "We will, but not yet," I said after a beat of silence. Zachariah looked at me in confusion, waiting for me to elaborate.

    "We''re not even supposed to know about it, Zachariah. The information just fell into our laps. And besides," I said, glancing through the window. I could see Myra sitting at my table, books and notebooks spread before her.

    "I have a job to do."

    Zachariah''s eyes slitted, and his muscles went hard as steel. I felt the weight of his eyes on me as I tried to explain.

    "Someone is after Myra and her family, Zachariah. That someone happens to be a Chosen with insane abilities! I need to figure out how to stop him. I still hate the Deified, but I''ll choose them over a race that tortured and enslaved humans for thousands of years."

    "A race," Zachariah murmured, "That I, my mother, and my brother belong to."

    "You mean the mother that ignored your existence for twenty years?"

    Zachariah growled, looking back to the forest. We settled into silence again, but I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. The wind blew then. It was softer breeze, and surprisingly warm.

    He can''t understand unless you tell him the full truth, Row.

    My body went colder than the ice surrounding us.

    Row. That was what Fayra used to call me when we were alone. I went still as the words drifted across my mind in the voice I longed to hear again. I was momentarily distracted, looking around in vain to find her. But of course there was nothing there. Nothing but a ghost.

    "Zachariah," I began, pulling cold air into my abused lungs, "There''s something I should have told you a long time ago."

    He looked at me, his brow still creased in frustration. I caught the subtle hint of the betrayal he felt in his eyes. Even as I prepared to tell him, my body rebelled against the images they conjured.

    A body with lines burned into it by a sadist''s blade.

    Her eyes already starting to cloud over, and tear stains dried on her cheeks.

    A cigar burning a hole into her hat.

    Pleading for help from the Town Counsel, all Deified, only to have them turn us away.

    The smirk on the face of a rat who had betrayed Fayra from within the Bounty Hunter''s Guild.

    I wasn''t aware of retching until I was doubled over, my hands shaking. I wasn''t at the house anymore as I was pulled into my nightmare. The one I saw every night.

    It is ten years ago, and I am a healer on the verge of getting everything I had ever dreamed of. But Fayra has gone out for a bounty, and not come back. She is two days overdue to come home. I keep pacing, hoping and praying the next set of hooves I hear will be Fayra''s horse, Dawn.

    But they never come.

    I busy myself with patients, but know in my soul that something is wrong. It is an unendurable pain that penetrates my blood, beating through every vein. It isn''t uncommon for Fayra two run late on a job, but two days? My hands keep returning to the new Mark on my neck.

    The Mark that could save her.

    Gods, I am so fucking helpless. There is nothing I can do.

    The Mark pulses over my collar bone, begging to be used.

    Night comes and Fayra still isn''t home. And yet, that Mark still beckons. On impulse, I begin to pray to the Gods. I demand to be heard!

    And then I am standing before a women of primordial beauty as she tends to a wide-spread garden.

    Zachariah''s hand settled on my back, returning me to reality. Fresh sweat covered my clammy skin as I panted. I didn''t know if seconds or minutes had passed, but hated myself for this weakness. Memories shouldn''t have this much control over me. I hated this insane illness inside me. I should have gotten over it by now, but no. In fact, it was getting worse.

    Zachariah just kept his hand on my back, calm and controlled.

    We were interrupted as the door opened, Myra standing there with a blanket wrapped around herself.

    "Are you two done sparring yet?" she asked as she brushed an auburn hair out of her eyes.

    I uttered "Yes" at the same time Zachariah shook his head for no.

    Myra glanced between us in the ensuing silence, sensing the tension. She took in my breathlessness and then looked at Zachariah. Whatever she saw there made her clear her throat. She stood ramrod straight as she stepped back inside.

    "Well then," she said, closing the door, "I''ll just let you two finish. I need to talk to you when you get the chance, though!"

    And with that, the door closed with a deafening click.

    I managed to recover, finally standing up on willowy legs. Zachariah stood too, keeping that steady hand on my back.

    "I have to tell you something about what happened to Fayra, and about what happened to me," I said haltingly through my panting. Zachariah waited patiently, listening to every word. His brow creased again as he did.

    "It''s hard to explain, but--" I stopped, nausea rolling through me again. Gods damn it! I just needed to say a few words! How hard could that be?

    Get your shit together, I ordered myself as I took a final deep breath.

    "I sold my soul to Death. She owns me until I pay my debt...Until I can see Fayra again."

    I paused, but Zachariah seemed to understand, something dark crossing his face.

    "She told me to stay away from the murders happening to the Deified. I''m pretty sure this is all connected somehow because the Elemancers are dying the same way the Deified are dying. And then this weapons shows up that has their abilities."

    Another deep breath.

    "I haven''t figure out a way around the order yet," I said, turning away from him as my throat tightened.

    "I''m sorry I haven''t told you until now."

    He didn''t respond. After a few moments, I turned back to him. I expected him to be furious, but instead I found his face carefully blank. His throat bobbed as he met my eyes intently.

    "So you want to help them, but you have to make sure Death doesn''t punish you?"

    I snorted.

    "She''s already taken everything from me. The love of my life, my soul, and all my hopes all lay in her damned hands," I paused to chuckle darkly, "I''m more worried about what she would do to the souls she already has. She at least offered to lessen my debt if I obey, though."

    Zachariah resumed his silence, his eyes going distant again. After a long and slow blink he seemed to come to some sort of resignation.

    "Alright," he said, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt and revealing a muscular neck under his shock of red hair.

    The world seemed to freeze as I saw what laid on his skin. Right above his collar bone.

    A Mark.

    From Death.

    "Maybe I could ask the Gods for help."

 Lesson Twenty-Three: Gods and Devils

    Believe it or not, Stone was a very good teacher. He was strict, but fair. He punished my mistakes as often as her complimented my victories. He never held back in our lessons. Not even once. He knew what to teach and when to teach it. I took comfort in the many sessions where I exercised until I tasted blood. There were many days where I could barely get into Dusk''s saddle from being so sore. However, as grueling as my training was, I never begrudged it. I had asked for it, after all.

    Pain. That was what I wanted.

    A large portion of me wanted some sort of punishment for what happened to Fayra. It was my fault that she was dead. I felt that in every fiber of my being. I wanted to be put on trial and found guilty for her murder. I wanted to be put in a jail cell and rot there for a millennium or two. I wanted to swing from the gallows until Death took pity on me. Just so I could see her again.

    But no.

    The world moved on without her. Barely anyone noticed she was gone, or had even been here to begin with. No retribution came for me. There was only the occasional bounty seeker looking to collect the price on my head for killing their gang boss, but it was never enough. So I took every punch, every kick, and every bruise gladly. All the while, I cursed the Gods and the Deified for ignoring the Bounty Hunter''s Guild plea for help. I tracked down the rat who had sold Fayra out. All the while, I just wanted to die.

    And then there was Death. I hated her as much as I hated myself. She was the one capitalizing on my grief. It was only after our deal was struck that I figured out something about her and the rest of the Gods. They didn''t give a single solitary damn about humans.

    And now Zachariah was Marked. By Death.

    A Mark that was now glowing with a familiar radiant blue.

    "Don''t!" I bellowed at the top of my voice, lunging toward him with my hands raised in warning. On instinct more than anything else, Zachariah dodged with fluid grace. He moved as if we hadn''t just finished sparring.

    I growled, taking a moment to flip in the air before he could mount an attack. I felt my foot connect solidly with muscle between his neck and shoulder. Zachariah didn''t flinch, absorbing my attack to push me off balance. I had to reach to the floor to keep my face from connecting with it.

    Zachariah''s iron fingers enclosed my ankle in an unforgiving grip.

    He pivoted on his heel, throwing me out into the snow and grass. I rolled with my landing, ending on my heels to redirect back to him. Red swirled in the corners of my vision at the thought of him asking Death for help. I had to stop him before he made the same mistake that I did. I charged up to him as he sank into a fighting stance. We were done sparring now. This was a fight.

    Zachariah held his ground until I was nearly to the door. He then stepped out of the way in the span of a millisecond.

    It was at that moment that Myra opened the door again.

    "Are you two--Ah!" Myra cried, ducking just before my fist made contact with her face. Lost in my momentum, I flew through the threshold, colliding with Myra in a tangled heap.

    "Ow! Get off of me!" Myra ordered as I rounded back to Zachariah, who still had glowing eyes. My breath came in ragged bursts, my hands shaking. I watched Zachariah with wary eyes, waiting for him to run.

    Instead, he held his hand out with his palm raised in an unmistakable sign to stop. Sanity returned to me in that moment. What in the Hells was I doing? We stood there for several seconds, both of us breathing hard. His eyes met mine, demanding an explanation. Taking a final deep breath, I swallowed as I tried to find the right words.

    "That Mark is Death''s, Zachariah. She has no interest in helping you. Trust me," I murmured. A wrinkled formed on his brow as he considered me, though the glow in his eyes did not lessen. I saw the gears turning in his mind as we continued to stare at one another. His gaze went to the rows of Marks on my neck as he touched his own.

    "A Mark From Death? The same one who has you bound?" he asked quietly.

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    "What''s all this talk about Death? What does she have to do with anything?" Myra asked, brushing herself off as she got back to her feet. Her hair was an absolute mess, and dust covered her from head to foot now.

    "I''m Death''s Chosen, Zachariah. It was...It was a mistake. I''d give anything to take it back," I explained, looking at my hand. I traced that spot where a scar should had been across my wrist. The spot I had cut as I made my promise to come for Fayra in the afterlife. Finally, I looked back to Zachariah, who still waited patiently.

    "There''s no winning in a deal with Death, Zachariah. She got Fayra, and she has me. Don''t let her get you too."

    His jaw hardened in a tight line as he stared and stared at me. My heart sank as I saw something shift in his eyes. Resolution.

    It all happened in a second.

    The glow trailing from his neck to his eyes faded for the slightest moment, before blazing with a new life. His eyes widened, going distant. I knew what that meant.

    Oh no you don''t! I thought as I burned a Mark of my own, going willingly to Death''s purgatory. Again.

    *******

    A phantom wind played with my hair, spreading the smell of all the flowers. The same landscape of greenery flowed before me, seemingly endless. I didn''t give myself time to take it in. I ran through the night-garden, my dress whipping around me as I charged through the growth.

    Come on, where are you?

    He had to be here. I had to stop him before he did something stupid and noble and--

    "Back so soon? My goodness! You''re smothering me," came the primordial voice. It rippled through the air as the plants matured. The figure of a woman in her prime came into view at the base of a vast oak tree, black hair flowing with the air currents. A myriad of other plants grew around it''s gnarled roots.

    Death didn''t even spare me a glance, instead looking fixedly at one of the plants. Her crimson eyes held no warmth as she reached toward a purple grouping of flowers. It was a small lavender patch, a seed dropping to the ground in a small pod.

    "Well, would you look at that? It would seem that another child was born in the material plane. Life must be very busy lately," she said, caressing the seed. It rolled in her palm until she closed her fist around it in a firm grip.

    "I wonder how long you''ll last before you become mine," she murmured almost to herself, a humorless smile pulling at her lips before she let the seed drop to the ground again.

    Steeling myself, I approached Death. It was hard to appreciate how tall the Goddess was until I was close to her. She towered over me even as she was bent toward the fragrant ground, reminding me of how small I truly was.

    "Is there something you want? Out with it, my dearest Chosen," Death said, standing to her full height.

    "Where is he?'' I asked as evenly as I could. Death''s smile widened.

    "He who?" she asked playfully, taking a moment to pluck a leaf from the oak tree. She played with it until it turned brown in her hands.

    I didn''t respond, crossing my arms over my chest. Death chuckled darkly at my insolence, maintaining her innocent expression for a few more moments before shaking her head.

    "Oh all right. Not in the mood for games are we?" Death asked, plucking another leaf from the tree. It also turned brown.

    "He was already here. You missed him," she said simply, closing the leaf in her fist and letting the fragments blow in the wind. They danced in the air, going over the red ocean in the distance, and then to the small island across it. The Far Shore.

    I stifled a breath.

    "I was less than a second behind him! How could he not be here anymore?" I asked, looking for him in vain again.

    "Time is subjective in Purgatory," Death said in explanation before striding down a small path. I struggled to keep up with her, even as I tried to push down my panic.

    "What have you done to him?" I asked acidly, jogging to catch up to Death''s long-legged steps. She surprised me by stopping, her red eyes flashing in warning.

    "Careful, pet. You''re dangerously close to disrespect," she said as pain trickled through me. It wasn''t enough to make me cry out, but instead served as a reminder of what she could do to my soul. She let the sensation continue for a moment before she turned her gaze to the path once more.

    "But you can settle those feathers of yours. We couldn''t come to an agreement, so I sent him back," she said lightly, reaching down to pluck a white rose.

    "What do you mean?" I asked warily, my stomach in knots. Death turned her eyes on me again, hair beginning to turn gray. The rose withered in her hand as well, the petals falling from the central bud. They too were carried across that red ocean to the Far Shore.

    "He asked for something. Something I was not willing to part with. So I told him to ask for something else," she said, her skin withering away on her bones, "But he said that he didn''t want anything else."

    I saw it then. Death''s pupils turned to red-rimmed slits, glowing in the low light. But, as suddenly as it happened, her eyes returned to normal. So fast that I could have imagined it.Her voice was even and calm when she spoke again, a final tickle of pain going through me.

    "So he gave his Mark back."

 Lesson Twenty-Four: Friends and Enemies

    From the warmth of an eternal night-garden, to the unforgiving cold of the material plane. This time the cold hit like I had jumped into a frozen lake. Even the wind sounded different. The night-garden had a softness to it''s wind, but the frozen plane''s wind was unrelenting. How was it that two settings that were so different existed at the same time?

    Pulling the frigid air into my lungs, I looked at the reason I had gone to the night-garden.

    Zachariah stood close to me, his brows knitted. His skin was clammy and his breathing was rapid, as if he had just sprinted from here to Purgatory and back. As our eyes met, I saw it then. The resolve mixed with something else I couldn''t quite place. What was it? Fear? Anxiety? Disbelief at his own damned stupidity?

    Even though I heard it straight from Death''s mouth, I couldn''t help but look at his neck for his Mark, or the scar a used Mark usually left.

    The skin was clean and unmarred.

    I looked back up at his face. Reading my thoughts as usual, he nodded. It was true. Zachariah may have been the only Deified in history to return his Mark. The full gravity of what he had just done hit in waves as the silence stretched and stretched between us. I couldn''t decide if it was for the best, or if Zachariah had just made things a thousand times worse.

    It was one thing to throw a flippant comment at a God every now and again. It was another thing entirely to spurn the gift of a God. To throw it right back into their face and say you didn''t want it. They were beings of Olde.

    Not just old, but Olde.

    It was an insult of the highest order to refuse a gift from a one of Olde. I didn''t want to know what that meant, especially given Death''s loss of her usual impassive mask. And now, looking at Zachariah, I could see he was thinking the same exact thing.

    Despite all that, I found myself shaking my head at him again. The corner of my mouth lifted in a shit-eating grin. It was the grin you wore when you played high-stakes poker, and the game was on its last hand. There was no folding, and the next hand decided if you took the pot or walked home with empty pockets. The only thing you could do was waiter for the dealer to lay them down, and hope to the Far Shore that you counted your cards right.

    "I thought pissing off the Gods was my thing," I said in mock accusation. The corner of Zachariah''s mouth lifted in a subtle smile as if to say, I can''t let you have all the fun.

    "Can one of you explain yourselves before I start yelling at someone?" came the familiar posh voice. Myra was on her feet now, clapping dust from her skirts. She focused on a particularly smudged section of the fine blue fabric.

    "Just look at this! This dress is made of silk I''ll have you know! You''re supposed to be sparring with each other, not me."

    As if that''s the most pressing concern.

    "Fuck, I forgot you were here, Myra. It was kind of nice," I shot back as I looked at her. She scowled openly now as she pushed an auburn lock out of her eyes.

    "And I''ve had a whole hour without hearing you talk or use vulgar language. It was definitely nice!" she countered, though I saw a small smirk pulling at her lips. In response, I busied myself looking around animatedly for several seconds.

    "Miss Rowena, what are you doing? Have you finally lost what little sanity you have?" Myra asked, crossing her arms over a generous chest. Zachariah leaned against the wall, sighing as we resumed our normal banter.

    "I''m looking for a fuck to give," I said, sighing tragically, "And I''m not finding one."

    Laughing, Myra began to clap slowly and mockingly.

    "Well done. You must have been waiting a long time to use that one. I''m happy for you," Myra replied acidly as her hands settled on her hips, "Now can we please go inside? While the two of you have been wrestling in the dirt, some of us have been getting important things done."

    Zachariah and I exchanged looks before following her inside.

    *******

    "This gun makes no sense," Myra said, waving at the imposing weapon. It sat on the table with a dark and metallic gleam. Myra had several notes and books spread on the table in neat piles. There were even sketches of Elemancer tattoos on curled sheets of paper.

    "Myra, what is all of this?" I asked hesitantly. I knew Levi had loaned Myra his school books, but the information here far exceeded what I would expect in a normal education. Myra had even made little annotations in the margins of the books, and were those spectacles I saw folded at the far corner of the table?.

    "I told you I was working my way through Levi''s books," she said evasively, glancing at one of her notes. I walked to where one of the books laid and picked it up. The pages were riddled with symbols and Kaze markings far more complex than I had ever seen. Turning the book gently, I glanced at the cover title, Advanced Elemancy Magic As of the Turn of The Century.

    "I doubt they teach Advanced Runic Kaze at Levi''s finishing school, Myra," I said dryly. Before I could blink, Myra snatched the book from my hand, snapping it shut and tucking it under her arm.

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    "Careful with that! Your hands are filthy," Myra barked, opening it again at a bookmark, scanning the page, and then tracing a specific marking on the Elemancy gun. I put my hand over the barrel where she was tracing it. Myra stilled, avoiding my gaze.

    "These books are yours, aren''t they?" I asked, stooping so Myra''s eyes met my own.

    "Why does that matter?" Myra asked with a sharper edge to her voice. In that moment, I looked at Zachariah, who lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. At that point, I decided to let the matter drop since Myra clearly didn''t want to talk about it. Loosing a breath through my nose, I gestured to the gun.

    "What doesn''t make sense?" I asked. Rolling her eyes, she looked back at the crystal on the flame part of the gun.

    "Elemancers control the magic by absorbing the energy of that element! If crystals could do the same exact thing, then humans would have used them a long time ago. Why now?" Myra asked. Zachariah and I looked at one another over her shoulder, surprised. She had a point.

    "What are you trying to say, Myra?" I asked as a shiver crawled up my spine. Zachariah walked to the table then, leaning forward to graze the Kaze markings on the dark metal.

    "I''m saying, that these ''crystals'' aren''t crystals. They can''t be. This is what sets Elemancers apart from the rest of the world. How could some naturally occurring ''crystal'' do what they could do. That confused me, so I did some investigating," Myra explained picking up the gun in a sudden flourish. On instinct, Zachariah and I ducked at the barrel pointed to each of us in turn.

    "Watch it!" I growled, using the back of my hand to redirect the barrel skyward. Myra paused, rolling her eyes.

    "Come on. It''s not on the Fire setting. It can''t hurt you right no--"

    "Rule one of guns, Myra. Always treat a firearm like it is loaded and ready to shoot," I said quietly, remembering that first lesson with Sheriff Stone all too well. With a one-armed shrug, Myra pointed to one of the crystals. Following the silent command, with my arm continuing to shove the barrel firmly upward, I leaned in and looked at the supposed crystal.

    On it''s surface were several smaller markings curved intricately across the small sphere.

    "See those?" Myra asked, using her glasses to magnify the markings, "Those markings aren''t Kaze. They''re not Elemancy magic. It''s something different."

    Zachariah leaned closer, calmly assessing the tiny scrawl.

    "What are they?" he asked quietly, his voice rough. His hand kept returning to the place where his Mark had been on his neck.

    "I don''t know! That''s what I''m saying. I think something about this weapon is...Well, it seems evil for lack of a better word."

    Myra lowered the weapon back to the table, though I saw she was careful to not point the barrel at any of us again. She surprised me by pointing suddenly to the kitchen, where Ash stood at the counter. The scarred woman was busy cooking. She hadn''t left us since meeting us the Blue Flame, and seemed hesitant to go back to the Pumas. I couldn''t blame her. What she did could honestly be considered a betrayal to the hated gang.

    "And that one isn''t helping at all!" Myra continued, scowling at the blonde newcomer. Ash looked over her shoulder at Myra, a brow lifted.

    "Do I need to remind you," she said in her rough speaking voice, "That I''m the reason that you know about the gun''s existence to begin with?"

    Myra grumbled something under her breath, but sat back down with ramrod posture.

    "Anyway, I think we need to know what those symbols are before you use this gun, Miss Rowena. Something about it seems vile. We need to go to the library or somewhere--"

    "No need," I said too quietly as I continued to look at the crystal. I hadn''t been able to tear my eyes away from it since I saw the the subtle symbols written all over it. The floor seemed to slide from beneath me as I recognized them

    I pointed to the crystal again, my voice barely above a whisper.

    "I already know. Those are soul bind runes."

    I reached toward my back then, rubbing the well-worn skin there. Then skin I always tried to keep covered. It took me a moment to realize that everyone was staring at me, waiting for an explanation.

    In answer, I lifted the back part of my armor away so everyone could see the backside of my shoulder. Zachariah hissed as he saw what was there. The same exact markings, nine-hundred and fifty-seven to be exact, laid there in line after line.

    Myra, of course, was the first to say something.

    "Why are those on your back?"

    I closed my eyes for a moment before looking to Zachariah, who own eyes were two pieces of green flame.

    "A little ''gift'' from Death. For every person I kill, their soul gets bound to mine. It shows up as a Mark on my back," I murmured, pulling my armor to cover the markings again, "She said it was so I could keep track of my kills."

    The room was quiet as this settled in. Myra shook her head, retreating a step from me as she did.

    "That''s...That''s..."

    "Fucked up?" Ash offered gravely.

    "Exactly."

    "Anyway," I said, turning to them all in turn before locking gazes with Myra, "You were right. They aren''t crystals."

    A deep breath.

    "This gun is powered by Elemancer souls."

    *******

    Yared''s office door was still open when we arrived. He and Otta were bent over gun components, murmuring quietly to one another. Otta''s hands moved with the skill of an artist as he put the pieces together, frowned, and then put them together another way. Yared was the first to look up as we approached, a quiet smile on his face as he saw me.

    "Hello little one. Do you need a different size of armor?" he asked, his voice wet. I looked to his desk, and saw not one, but three handkerchiefs full of blood laying on them.

    Grinding my jaw, I looked back at his pale complexion. I knew his condition must be progressing.

    "No Yared, I''m here to ask a favor," I said, pulling a cloth from my duster coat and offering it to him. In my periphery, I saw Zachariah lay another one on the old man''s desk, his face grim. Yared lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting.

    "A favor?" he asked simply, though I could see him holding down another cough.

    "I need you to find out two things. First is who placed the order for the guns, and the second is where my father got the crystals. Please--" I said, holding a hand to wave away Yared''s interruption, "It''s really important. Lives are probably on the line. I know it''s--"

    "Consider it done," Yared cut in. His face went stoic as he looked at me. I leaned on my heels, all attempts to convince him dying on my lips.

    "Thank you," I said, pulling him into a hug. He returned it, before holding me at arms length. As I looked at him again, gone was the old man. I could see the soldier he had been.

    "If you say lives are on the line, little one, then it will be done," he said, pausing to give a close-lipped cough. Before I could say anything else, he smiled again, patting first me, then Zachariah on the shoulder.

    "Keep one another safe while I see what I can do."

 Lesson Twenty-Five: Strong Warnings are Kind Dares

    Yared''s spine was straight as he ascended the steps to my father''s office. The old man didn''t look like an employee preparing to speak to his boss. Instead, he looked like a soldier going to war. I couldn''t blame him. It was my father he was speaking to after all. As if sensing my gaze, he looked back just as the door opened for him. With a nod and a gentle smile, he stepped inside.

    I stood rooted to the spot, the plethora of gunsmiths walking this way and that around me. To be perfectly honest, I wasn''t quite sure what to do next. Was I going to confront my father? You could bet the Hells I was, but I needed to allow Yared to try to speak to him first. Before his guard was up. I knew a conversation between those two would be infinitely more civil if I wasn''t present.

    The distinctive sound of heavy boots crept up behind me. Turning, I saw it was Captain Lowin, Stone''s second in command in the city guard. His catlike eyes glimmered as he took in the hustle of the warehouse. A clawed hand tightened on the hilt of a sword at his hip. The stock of a rifle peeked out from under his cloak. As usual, the cloak of a captain of his rank was a deep violet embroidered with the flame encased in ice.

    "Pardon my intrusion, Miss McAlister. I''ve been looking for you most of the morning and was told you were sighted here. The sheriff needs to speak to you," he said in his deep voice, fanged teeth catching the light as he spoke. I glanced at Zachariah, then back to him.

    "Yes, because the last time we spoke went so well," I muttered dryly, though I knew the Captain''s werebeast hearing heard me easily. A slow blink was his only reaction. Sighing, I cracked my neck and pulled my duster coat tighter over my shoulders.

    "Thank you, Captain. Lead the way."

    *******

    Stone wasn''t alone when we arrived. I heard the familiar melodic tenor of Councilman Terris speaking in low tones to Stone as we approached the door. The Captain nodded to us before leaving without any fanfare, his task completed.

    Stone was at his desk like normal. Kage was invisible, but I could see a feather duster floating around the office creating little clouds on the small bookcase in the corner. Even as I watched, it disappeared. A moment later, invisible hands tossed a log onto the fire in the wide hearth behind Stone. He sat with his weight braced on his elbows as Councilman Terris stood nearby. The two men were bent over a small envelope under Stone''s palm, which was sealed with a scarlet wax. The tension between those two was as palpable as the heat from the fire.

    Stone and the councilman looked at me as if I were a descending plague as I entered. Stone''s hand tightened on the envelope. After several moments of awkward silence, he cleared his throat.

    "Councilman, will you please excuse us?" Stone asked calmly, though his tone broached no refusal. Terris glanced from him to me, his tawny eyes carefully blank. His large frame was silhouetted against the window as he stood to his full height. I was grateful that Ash had decided to not come with us, wanting to avoid any awkward run-ins with the Sheriff. Even though she was choosing to be helpful now, I doubted she had a clean record with the law.

    "Lady Rowena! Lady Beafoutonte! It is good to see you again. I had hoped to host you both for lunch or tea before now," he said, ignoring Stone''s request. He swept into a small bow before I could react. Thankfully, Myra was quick to sink into a graceful curtsy. Zachariah and I stood awkwardly to the side, taking special interest in the boards of the wall as Myra pushed her way forward. This was a moment the society heiress had been raised for, and she didn''t miss it.

    "My dear Councilman! Our deepest apologies. I unfortunately monopolized Miss Rowena and Mr. Zachariah''s time with preparations for the wedding. I hope you will pardon us," she said as she ascended from her curtsy. The councilman chuckled amiably before his face turned grave.

    "Of course. Such a shame your party was interrupted by that vicious gang. I heard it was quite the scene," Terris said, folding his arms behind his back. Her turned his gaze on Zachariah for the first time.

    "I also hear your efforts, along with our esteemed bounty huntress, were nothing short of heroic. My compliments to you," he said evenly. He inclined his head to Zachariah, who returned the gesture wordlessly. The councilman''s brows rose a fraction at his silence before he returned his attention to Myra.

    "I do hope that those Pumas were put to justice. Magic poison can be a nasty thing to recover from. The Gods only know what could have happened," he said conversationally. Wood creaked as Stone stood from his desk, his face impassive.

    "I''d like to suggest you have this conversation later, Councilman. Rowena and I have something to discuss," he said firmly, that envelope still clasped in his hand. Terris looked back at Stone, tense seconds passing before he responded.

    "Very well, Sheriff. I''ll ask that you keep me informed as always," he said as he donned his hat and coat. He nodded to the rest of us with a polite smile that didn''t reach his eyes. Returning his gaze to Stone, he paused in the doorway. His knuckles were white on the doorknob.

    "I do hope that your pride doesn''t get in the way of you learning the truth," he said calmly. Stone didn''t respond, waiting for him to leave at last. Terris gave a final disappointed shake of his head.

    "Good day to you all," he said quietly before closing the door.

    Stone groaned, massaging his eyes after the handle clicked into place. He sat heavily at the edge of his desk with the expression of a man who had lived a thousand lifetimes.

    "What does he mean by that, Sheriff Stone?" Myra asked hesitantly as she adjusted the lace gloves on her hands. She had donned a fresh day-gown before we went into town, the fabric pristine since she had ridden in her buggy drawn by Belle. She tilted head head at a ditsy angle, some stray hairs falling into her eyes. Even her tone suggested an empty-headedness that I had been quick to believe before. But now I kept thinking about all those books and her apparent knowledge of Elemancy. I couldn''t figure out why she pretended to be this way when she was capable of so much more.

    But those were questions for another time.

    "Nothing, Lady Beaufoutonte. He and I just disagree on what our course of action should be regarding the Deified murders. He suggested that I should...Well, that Rowena--" he said, cutting himself off as he looked at me. I saw the barest flash of guilt before he cleared his throat. My stomach sank as the words hit me, my armor suddenly feeling too tight.

    "Stone, I--"

    "Nevermind. I asked you here because of this," he interrupted, holding up the envelope. I wanted to force him to finish, but one look at his face told me it was pointless. Stone''s mind was a malleable as his namesake when his eyes slanted like that. I refocused on the envelope, which Stone now held between two fingers toward me.

    "It was on my desk before I arrived this morning," he explained as I took it. I was surprised by how thick the paper felt in my hands as I looked it over. There was no insignia on the seal. Finally, I looked at front, and hardened my jaw as I saw the elegant cursive written in large letters. The ink was red. At least, I hoped it was ink.

    To My Lady Chosen.

    I glanced at Stone, who regarded the letter like a mound of black powder lying next to a campfire.

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    Despite this, a strange question came to mind.

    "Why would the letter be delivered here if he knows who I am?" I asked, fingering the seal. Despite everything, a corner a Stone''s mouth lifted in a grim smile.

    "You always did ask the right questions," he said in a soft voice, shifting his weight on the desk. Shocked by the compliment, I waited for him to explain. Stone stood and walked toward us, eyes on the letter.

    "I think its safe to assume this is a message from our murderer. You must have made an impression on him in your fight," he said, rolling his eyes heavenward, "Based on the ways the bodies have been discovered, this is a murderer that likes spectacle. A narcissist."

    "Hmm, another thing you two have in mind," Myra said, her lips curving. I glanced sidelong at her, unamused.

    "I would argue, but you''re an expert on the subject, Miss bride-to-be," I replied. Crossing her arms, Myra slanted her eyes but offered no retort. Satisfied, I looked down at the letter again. Just then, the smell of old copper wafted from the page to me, and I knew the red wasn''t ink.

    A chill crawled over my skin at Stone''s explanation. I remembered all too well my fight with the cloaked Chosen, and how close my soul had come to being ripped apart. If that had happened, there would be no Far Shore for me. I would have gone to the abyss.

    I also remembered how much pleasure the cloaked figure had taken as he held the book with my name on it and torn out a page.

    "So for him," I said quietly, "This is all a game?"

    Stone shook his head.

    "More like a show. Seeing the method and time between murders, he wants people to be afraid of him. And now," Stone said, tapping the letter with a calloused finger, "He has a rival to challenge him. Delivering the letter here is all part of his fun."

    Come and get me, bastard.

    Loosing a breath, I hooked a finger under the seal.

    "Well then," I said, breaking the scarlet wax, "Let''s see what he wants with me."

    Without any further delay, I looked at the note written in the same red lettering.

    You ask questions best left unanswered. Come to the place the Lover was laid.

    My vision tunneled on those words. The message was short, but it was enough to make ice run through my veins. That pool of black inside me rippled like someone has just tossed a boulder inside it. Even though I tried to rein it in, the demon inside growled in rage as I realized what the words meant.

    He knew where Fayra''s grave was. And he was waiting for me.

    Myra gasped, taking a step backward. Even Stone grunted.

    "Miss Rowena, your shadow!" Myra said, retreating another step backward. I lowered the letter with shaking hands, looking down. Myra was right. My shadow had tripled in size, and it was pulsing with energy. Tendrils of it curled and uncurled themselves on the floor like hungry vines. The veins in my hands looked like they been injected with ink, and the surrounding skin had gone deathly white.

    A hand came down on my shoulder, warm and firm. A second later, another hand settled on my other shoulder. Looking up, I saw that Zachariah and Stone had both reached out, unafraid of my demonic form. Zachariah inclined his head, reading the letter. His pupils narrowed with rage as he saw the words.

    My voice was a primordial growl when I at last trusted myself to speak.

    "He has invited me to meet him," I said too quietly, handing the letter to Stone for he and Myra to read.

    "And I intend to accept."

    *******

    The ride to the Kenshi Ethereal Forest was an eternity. Dusk''s breath came out in clouds of steam as he galloped. I barely registered the others following us. Even Stone had dropped everything and mounted Buck without delay.

    Dusk and I outpaced the others as we flew across the plane, racing the setting sun.

    Nothing mattered except getting to her grave. Not the icy wind piercing my armor, or even the numbness spreading through my fingers as they held their vice grip on the reins. The sun was not fully below the horizon as we crossed the first line of trees.

    Kenshi had already risen, his titanic form visible through the thunderwood. Seeing us approach, the Raito turned and sprinted through the trees. My heart sank as I saw what he was running toward.

    Dusk needed no direction as he followed the shallow path. Several of the Other appeared as we passed through the tall trunks. They darted about, far more active than I had ever seen them. A familiar green light fluttered toward me on silent wings. The tiny sparrow with catlike eyes flew a few circles around Dusk''s head before landing on the saddle horn. It hopped in front of me, fanning its wings in warning. Grinding my jaw, I leaned forward in the saddle.

    "Faster now, Dusk," I murmured. Dusk immediately hurdled a log, nearly making me lose my balance backward. His hooves pounded on the path as his breath came in faster bursts. The smell of churned earth hit my nose as we neared the end of the trail. I was already swinging down from the saddle as I saw the Toge.

    Or at least, what was left of them.

    The two Toge bushes I had planted all those years ago laid in pieces across the small patch of grass. The Thunderwood branches which made their bodies was spread everywhere along with the flowers they normally wore. Deep gashes in the ground were everywhere from the fight that must have ensued. The branches didn''t so much as twitch when my boots hit the ground. I wasn''t looking at the Toge, however.

    Fayra''s arch was gone.

    Sections of the polished stone laid in ruin where it had once been. The Thunderwood box with my letters to her was gone as well. Kenshi sat next to the sight, his color shifting from blue to purple to red.

    Rage was a gentle word for what I was feeling.

    I turned in place, searching for the hooded figure with balled fists. Spears of shadow were already forming around me, poised the strike. My face framed itself in an animal snarl, my teeth bared as my hair came loose from where is was tied. The raven length tumbled around my shoulders, catching in the small breeze. I kept curling and uncurling my fingers, hungry for flesh to tear. There would be no mercy for the cloaked Chosen. There would be only pain, darkness, and blood. Normally some small moral part of me counseled mercy and logic to my demon at times like this. I called that voice "the healer".

    She was silent now.

    "Show youself," I said in a lethal quiet.

    Nobody answered.

    Myra, Zachariah, and Stone caught up, pausing at the scene of wreckage. I felt Kenshi''s gaze on me as wind swept through the clearing. Ignoring them, I kept approaching where the arch had been in slow predatory circles. I pleaded silently for the cloaked Chosen to come through the trees, but still nothing happened.

    "Highest Heavens, what happened here?" Myra asked in a strained whisper. Stone shushed her with an order to stay near him. I kept circling, changing my angle and keeping my shadows at the ready, already warming up to stop time. If this bastard wanted a fight, I would give him a fight worthy of a ballad.

    Paper crunched under the heel of my boot.

    Looking down, I saw another envelope weighed down with a section of the arch. I couldn''t suppress another growl when I saw what section it was.

    Fayra Marvella Stone.

    The letter was addressed the same as the first with identical red lettering. The others surrounded me as I broke the second wax seal.

    Hello, My Lady Chosen. Consider this a warning. Leave those destined to die to their Fate. Until next time, Sweet.

    Shadows moved in my hand until the paper was shredded. The fragments drifted lazily to the ground as I looked to where the arch once stood. My voice shook when I spoke next.

    "You just signed your death warrant," I said too quietly. Looking up, I saw Stone''s face mirrored my own, his hand settling on the revolver at his hip.

    Without warning, Zachariah walked to the base of the arch and knelt on the ground. He rolled up his sleeves, closing his eyes as he laid his hand flat on the ground. He began to murmur in Kaze, my mind translating the words automatically.

    "Mother of Earth, solid and strong, give form to my will."

    The ground beneath his palm turned to sand, and red Elemancr tattoos flowed up his arm in strong and severe lines. They flowed all the way to his face, encircling his eyes in red markings. Zachariah opened his eyes, the green fading to the color of dying coals in a fire.

    My breath caught as Zachiah shifted his stance and laid his hand on the remnants of the base, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Despite the chill, sweat gathered on his brow as his irises glowed like twin lanterns. The lines flowed down his arm to where he touched a piece of the polished stone. Kenshi continued to sit at the edge of the clearing, his attention fully on Zachariah.

    The ground rumbled.

    Section by section, the arch reformed as if it had never been broken. Heat gathered behind my eyes as the last piece, the piece with her name on it, flew from my hand and settled into place. The tiny green Other sparrow flew and sat itself on the apex just as the fracture lines faded. Folding its wings neatly, it did three circles and laid there with watchful eyes on the forest.

    Zachariah knelt again after the arch was fully repaired, not caring that he was being watched. He laid his palm on the ground that had become sand, murmuring in Kaze again. The energy flowed from his arm, reforming the soil from the sand it had become.

    Wordlessly, Zachariah strode past us back to his horse, Wind. He stopped only to rest his hand on my shoulder for the smallest moment before squaring his shoulders. I was the only one who saw the full blaze of rage in his eyes as he swept into the saddle. Looking at Myra and Stone, I walked to Dusk and saddled myself next to Zachariah and Wind.

    Kenshi moved as the others got back in the saddle, his face as unreadable as always. He strode to the remains of the Toge and stooped his head, touching his nose to their corpses.

    From the knarled roots sprang a rose made of light.

 Lesson Twenty-Six: Dont Make Sparks Unless You Want a Fire

    The next morning brought the coldest day this year had to offer yet. The sun hid behind thick clouds sweeping over the plane. It was a gray day that seemed to leech the world of all color and sense of time. Thick flakes of snow came down in icy sheets, soaking your boots and clothes until it seeped into your bones.

    Fighting the chill with a shiver, I threw another log onto the fire, watching it toss fireflies into the air. I looked out the window and saw farmers fighting the snow in their fields. Large baskets were being loaded in heaping stacks with the last of their crops. Cattle plowed through the white carpet, nibbling at the last of the plants.

    Everyone was preparing for the Blue Moon Harvest.

    It started tonight, and would go on for a total of three nights. The grand finale on the third night would be Myra and Levi''s wedding.

    Sunshine, sleet, or snow, everything had to be ready. At this very moment, I knew the town was preparing the bonfires in the square. Blue steel braziers were strategically placed in a path to the Borobelly lake. Flags were being hung in shop windows and on doors. Dried Ghost Thistle was being gathered into bundles by the thousands for the party every town in every corner of Luradia looked forward to each year.

    Staring into the rippling flames, I let the heat wash over me, my thoughts far away. Finally, I went to the stove and grabbed the pot of water off it, pouring a generous amount into a wash basin.

    I sighed gratefully as I washed my face with a wet rag, savoring the warmth.

    My reflection stared at me from the window. Dark circles stood in stark contrast to my pale skin, my Marks peeking out from my collar. Last night, while the house slept, I stared at the skyline and wondered what was staring back. Disturbingly, I couldn''t find Lera and her twin Lorian among the constellations last night. The angels of Death were apparently busy.

    "Has it ever been this cold for the Blue Moon Harvest?" Myra asked from the bedroom door, her nightgown still on. Her hair tumbled around her in red waves that caught the firelight.

    "It had better warm up soon. The wedding is in just a few days!" she went on with an anxious glance toward the falling flakes.

    "And not a day too soon," I muttered, making her scowl. Wordlessly, I dipped the rag back into the basin of still steaming water and rang it out. I tossed it at Myra and she managed to catch it, squeaking with surprise as she felt the relief of the warmth.

    "Please tell me all the dress fittings are done. I don''t like enduring a lecture from the Matron right now," I said, sinking back onto the fireside chair. Myra let out a light chuckle as she poured herself some coffee.

    "And let you ruin another corset? I''d sooner hug a python," she replied with a sidelong glare. She came to the fire and sank into a chair beside it, tucking her feet under herself.

    "Are we still talking about your mother?" I shot back, reaching for my own coffee mug. My fourth one this morning. Myra scowled again, reaching to pick up a discarded blanket from the floor.

    "Miss Rowena, is it too much to ask that you just get along for the wedding? Then you two can go back to you usual mutual hatred," she asked, looking at me over the rim of her mug.

    "Just tell her to keep her forked tongue away from me, and I''m happy to let her slither around as she likes," I replied evenly, leaning down to blow onto the fire. It blazed brightly as the wind from my lungs hit it, sending renewed waves of heat.

    Rolling her eyes heavenward, Myra pulled the old wool blanket around her shoulders and stared at the flames with me. For a moment, there was only the sound of crackling flame and the creeping whisper of ice forming on the window.

    "Have you heard anything from Yared yet?" she asked abruptly, breaking the silence.

    I nodded, wiping sleep from my eyes. Otta had arrived earlier this morning with a note from Yared. It was vague, only saying he found what I had asked for, and that he looked forward to seeing me at the festival tonight. His letter was still on my desk.

    What had followed was Otta''s long, and I do mean long, description of how the repairs for Fayra''s twin guns were coming along. Apparently, he was able to salvage much of the original design and planned to reforge it. Otta''s other news didn''t bode well.

    The royal family had sent word from the capital. They wanted a demonstration of the Elemancy gun''s power as soon as the final design was set. Otta was to travel there as soon as that was finished. I told him I wanted Fay''s guns back first, and he relented, promising to prioritize them.

    Gods, I needed to know where those "crystals" were coming from. Tonight couldn''t come too soon.

    Tightening my grip on my mug, I glanced sidelong at Myra.

    "So," I said conversationally, "Are you finally going to tell me why you''ve been secretly studying Elemancy all these years?"

    A mask settled over Myra''s face.

    "I told you I borrowed--"

    "Cut the horse shit, Myrabelle" I interrupted irritably, setting my mug on the table with a sharp crack. Myra flinched, but didn''t offer anything in reply. I rolled my eyes and prodded the fire with the poker, sending more sparks floating up the chimney.

    "Gods damn you. Why are you so determined to act like your brain doesn''t exist?" I demanded, swiveling in my seat to stare at her fully. Seconds ticked by as our eyes met.

    Finally, Myra huffed a sigh.

    "Did you know," Myra began cautiously. "That Lucien Beecher is trying to make a locomotive engine that runs off alchemical magic?"

    I blinked at her.

    "What--"

    "Did you know," she interrupted, taking a long sip from her mug, "The Clarhaven Pistol Company, the one your family surpassed as the largest firearms dealer in Luradia, hinted that they are seeking out ''lower'' clients to sell their weapons to?"

    She paused significantly, a wry smile lifting the corner of her mouth. She looked at me with raised brows, seeming to want an answer.

    "No. I didn''t," I replied honestly, lacing my fingers together. How had I missed such important things?

    "Of course you didn''t. Why would they talk about things like that in front of a woman like you?" Myra said, her smiling turning victorious. I nodded, finally comprehending what she implied.

    "They wouldn''t because they know I''ll listen to things like that,"

    "But people loosen their tongues when they think they''re talking in front of someone who doesn''t understand," Myra concluded, her eyes dancing.

    I blinked at her again.

    "Holy shit. That''s brilliant, Myra."

    She lifted a single shoulder in a delicate shrug, brushing some curls over her shoulder.

    "Trust me, I know," she said in a superior tone. Chuckling, I gestured to the Elemancy gun, which still sat on the kitchen table.

    "But that doesn''t answer my question, Princess. Why are you focusing so much on Elemancy?" I asked bluntly. Myra''s face darkened, the smile disappearing like the sun behind a cloud.

    "That''s private. I''m not at liberty to discuss it," she replied stiffly, shifting her weight in the seat.

    "Don''t make me regret saving your pampered ass. Out with it," I growled, growing tired of the secrets. Myra held out for all of two seconds, before folding under my glare.

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    "Fine," she said with a huff, "It has to do with something my father told me. Something that he found out from the God of Knowing,"

    "He was Marked by him originally," I recalled quietly.

    "Are you going to let me tell the story, Miss Nosy?"

    I put a hand to my chest in mock repentance, donning my posh accent.

    "Oh my dearest goodness! Will you please pardon me, Lady Myrabelle?"

    Myra slitted her eyes at me, unamused.

    "As I was saying, when my Father used his Mark from the God of knowing, he was granted three questions."

    Myra paused, using the bellows to stoke the fire again. Wind howled outside as she drew her knees against her chest.

    "For his first question, he asked what an Elemancer''s weakness was. He was told that steel weakened their spells, and that''s why he invested in the iron mines and steel production mills."

    Another gulp.

    "He then asked if there was a way humans could gain magic. He was told no, unless they were Marked by the Gods."

    She phased into silence, a line forming between her eyes.

    "He then asked if there was a way to protect ourselves from magic."

    Myra''s gaze snapped into focus, her expression suddenly serious.

    "And the God of Knowing told him that humans used to be immune to magic, but that ability was stolen from us by the Elemancers," Myra said heavily. It took me several seconds to reply.

    "And the God didn''t say how humanity could get that ability back?"

    "No," Myra said in a near-whisper, her chin coming down to rest on her knees..

    "He only had three questions."

    *******

    The Blue Moon Festival. Say what you wanted about this town, but it knew how to throw an epic party. City guards were out in force tonight, ready to control any brawls or inevitable drunken displays. The booze had been flowing freely since the early afternoon, and some people were already passed out in alleyways.

    Zachariah was busy at the Sparrow, knowing he would make more money tonight than he did in a month if he manned the bar right. Ash had opted to stay away from the festivities, still staying at my cabin. So, that left myself and Myra, both dressed in warm gowns at Myra''s insistence, to attend the festival.

    Huge bonfires burned brightly with blue flames, throwing off generous heat in the square. A band had struck up a bawdy tune, and music swelled in the street as people broke out in groups dancing. Street vendors cooked plate after plate of roasted meats and vegetables, belching steam into the starry sky. Swarms of children buzzed about, high on the sugary sweets at every booth.

    "There they are!" Levi called through the crowd, Dash''s considerable bulk trailing behind. Levi''s blue eyes lit up as he saw Myra, and I couldn''t blame him. She had chosen a simple braid to style her hair tonight, and a deep blue winter gown complimented her ivory skin well. Myra laughed as Levi pressed a kiss to her hand.

    Dash shook my hand, his skin surprisingly warm.

    "I see you''ve managed to protect Myra without ripping her to shreds. I''m impressed, my Lady," he said smoothly, blonde hair rippling in the light of the blue flames.

    "It was a close call," I said gravely, taking the wine skin he offered, "Three nights and two days left."

    Dash stepped back in mock reproach.

    "Lady Rowena, contain your excitement. It''s unseemly," he said, ending with a broad grin. Chuckling, I looked at Myra and Levi, who were already twirling with the other dancing couples.

    "Excitement isn''t what I would call it, sir," I muttered, trying to keep watch over them. It suddenly struck me that this festival would likely be much less fun when I was stuck playing body guard in a group of people this large.

    A cheer went up from a section of the crown near a vendor, and I looked up to see Councilman Terris striding toward us. Most of the other council members drifted behind him. They dispersed into the crowd, each carrying armfuls of Ghost Thistle. Dash swept into a small bow before shaking Terris''s offered hand, and then took the thistle the councilman offered

    "Good evening! I hope you are both enjoying the festivities! It is good to meet you again Mr. Eastmark. Lady Rowena, you look lovely this evening," Terris said jubilantly, extended a Ghost Thistle bundle to me as well. I accepted it as I muttered a greeting, marveling at the white flowers. They each gave off a soft glow in their paper wrapping.

    "Are you going to give your speech for the Gazing Ceremony soon, Councilman?" Dash asked as he pulled a small white flower from his bundle. After a moment of thought, he tucked it into his lapel. Terris nodded, standing a fraction taller. I realized then that he was nearly Dash''s height.

    "Yes, we must remember our traditions before we devolve into utter drunkenness," Terris said, shifting the bundles in his arms. He shook his head, remembering he had a task to do.

    "But I''m afraid I cannot delay any longer. There are still many more thistle bundles to hand out before the moon reaches its zenith. Enjoy the festival," he said, turning away after a quick bow.

    The band struck up another merry tune as Terris walked away, handing out bundles of thistle to everyone in attendance. The music quickened, and another roar went up in the crowd as they recognized the song. I leaned this way and that until I caught sight of Myra and Levi, still dancing. They were in the middle of two circling rows of people with their arms linked. The two rows crossed and intersected, forming knots of increasing complexity that the dancers took delight in coming out of.

    Not in the mood to dance I went to one of the benches near the roaring blue bonfire. I was pleasantly surprised when Dash joined me, liking the big nobleman more with each meeting.

    Before long, a woman came up to us. She pulled at Dash to join the dance, but he refused politely. Sending him a sour look, she melted back into the crowd. Taking a sip from my wine skin, I raised a brow at him.

    "You should have danced with her. She was pretty,'' I said, tilting the skin at the woman. She was already being swept around by another man, so I didn''t feel too bad for her.

    Dash surprised me by chuckling.

    "You''re right. She was very pretty," Dash said, suddenly pointing at a stocky man plowing his way through the crowd toward her, "And I''m sure her husband thinks she''s pretty too."

    The man reached her, and they were yelling at one another before long. The city guard was on it in moments, ushering them off to the side. The crowd only slowed for a second before they were dancing again, the small drama forgotten. I laughed, finding Myra and Levi in the crowd again before I took another sip.

    "Well then," I said, holding my wine skin up in salute, "Happy Blue Moon."

    *******

    As the moon climbed in the sky, the four of us meandered down the street to the Borobelly lake with the rest of the crowd. The Blue Moon was ten times the size of a normal one, casting pale blue light on the world. People gathered around the frozen shore of the lake, its surface reflecting as well as any mirror. In the heat cast by the blue bonfires, the lake had thawed into a shifting current of black.

    All were waiting for the Gazing Ceremony. Beyond the other side, snow covered the plain, occasional swells of it kicking up in the wind. The moonlight reflected off it, making them look like spirits sprinting across the wintery fields.

    Just before the moon was directly over the water, Councilman Terris climbed the large stone bridge spanning the lake''s considerable diameter. He held his hands up, and the crowd quieted to feint whispers.

    "Ladies and gentlemen! This year in Tumblend has brought us great joy and several blessings. The Gods have give us a bountiful harvest, and our town has seen the expansion of captains of industry. All of us, all of you, have done excellent work this year. Not just for Tumblend, but for Luradia!"

    A cheer went up from the crowd, only settling down when Terris waved for quiet.

    "And yet no year, despite its successes, comes without loss. As we take our pleasure in our festival, I invite you to raise at least one toast to those who have boarded their ship to the Far Shore. Think of them, and think of us all as you gaze into the water tonight."

    Terris raised his hands to the starry sky again, the Blue Moon now directly over the water. He had timed his speech well. As his voice faded, the moon reached its highest point over the lake, beams of it concentrating into the water. The lake began to glow with blue light of its own, a perfect reflection of the moon in it''s center.

    "In this spirit," Terris went on, the water reflecting up into his face perfectly. His eyes seemed to glow as he held up a bundle of Ghost Thistle, pulling out a tiny flower and dropping it into the water.

    "I invite you now to gaze into the water as generations before us have done. Present your offering, and see what Fate says to you under the light of the night sky!"

    Applause erupted from the crowd around me as I played with my bundle idly.

    The Blue Moon had another name. The Fate Moon. Over two hundred years ago, people discovered its most treasured secret. When you offered a Ghost Thisle to the water under the light of the Blue Moon, it was said that your reflection would change. Fate would give you a gift to carry into the next year.

    A glimpse into the past.

    Or the present.

    Or the future.

    A glimpse into your destiny.

    As I twirled the bundle in my hands, I couldn''t decide if I even wanted to see what the water would hold. Even now, Myra and Levi were already walking to the shore. I watch as they each dropped a flower into the water, holding hands as they gazed within. I stood back, glancing around yet again, and my chest tightened with worry.

    I still hadn''t seen Yared.

    That wasn''t the only reason I stood apart. In the past ten years I had never taken part in the Gazing Ceremony. I wasn''t sure if I wanted to know what Fate had to show me. If anything at all.

    People in the crowd dispersed, all going to private sections of the shore. They hurried to get a spot in the precious few minutes the light lasted, murmuring in hushed excitement. And yet, I still stood back, turning the flowers in my hands over and over again. I just stared at the glowing water, seeing people look into its glossy surface.

    Some people looked happy. On the far shore, I saw a couple embrace, the man stooping to kiss the woman''s belly. It was a small wonder what they saw, as others leaned over to congratulate them.

    Other people weren''t so lucky, turning away from the water with grim faces.

    A bitter laugh escaped me as I also turned away, resettling my grip on the Ghost Thistle. Heat gathered at the back of my eyes as a single word rang in my head over and over again.

    Coward.

    I crushed the flowers in my hand, growling quietly. Why was it so hard for me to look into a pool of power I didn''t believe in?

    Just then, I felt something odd in my hand as it squeezed tighter on the bundle.

    A piece of paper was wrapped skillfully around the stem of a Ghost Thistle, tied with red silk.

    I pulled the paper out with shaking hands, realizing it was a letter. A letter that had the same distinctive red ink on the page.

    Hello again, my Lady. Sending old men to do your work, are we? You disappoint me.

    Curled inside the letter was a picture. The picture I had seen of a younger Yared with his family. The picture he kept on his desk.

    "Yared," I murmured quietly.

    And then I started running.

 Lesson Twenty-Seven: Wishes are Rarely Reality

    "MOVE!" I bellowed into the crowd as I ran, my voice sounding inhuman. I didn''t bother to keep the demon caged tonight. In fact, I practically threw open the door to her cage and escorted her out. The dark ink spread through my veins again, the skin around my eyes turning obsidian. Shadows curled around my clenched fists, vipers ready to strike. People froze as they saw my face as if they were unsure of what to make of me.

    I didn''t care. There were too many people around me, all getting in my way.

    Not Yared. Please not Yared. How could I be so fucking stupid?

    No matter how fast I ran, it didn''t seem fast enough. My brain shut down. All logical thought was replaced by the all-consuming need to get to him. To protect him. The cold didn''t matter. The ice crystals forming in my hair didn''t matter. The skirts bunching around my legs were nothing more than a nuisance. None of it mattered. I just had to find him.

    So I could eviscerate this Chosen bastard. I would skin him alive. I would rip his throat out with my bare hands. He would know the pain of a thousand deaths before I was finished.

    But Yared came first.

    Councilman Terris called to me as I sprinted by. I was only half-aware of shoving him out of my way as I vaulted into Dusk''s saddle with half a thought. With a turn of the reins, we were off. The sound of Dusk''s hooves on the cobblestones were loud as we got further from din of the festival.

    Even in this desperate rush I refused to pray. The Gods had never bothered to answer me. Why would they start now?

    The door to the workhouse was locked when I arrived. Taking several steps backward, I threw myself into it. It held firm. I paused as I rubbed my bruised shoulder, taking a moment to actually think. I then summoned a shadow, forced it into the lock, and shattered it from the inside out.

    Everything was dark in the workshop. That is, everywhere except Yared''s office. A small sob escaped my lips as I saw the silhouette of a figure sitting in the chair. I sprinted for it, my shadows flowing around me like wings. My breath came in sharp gasps, my lungs burning with every step. Stone would have hollered at me for not stopping to check my surrounds. I didn''t know who else was in this warehouse. This could be anything. A trap? An ambush? Both?

    I could only hope so.

    Let them come, I thought as I threw Yared''s door open, the glass shattering as it collided with the opposing wall.

    He was bloody, and his head was slumped forward. His arms and chest were bound with twine, cutting into his skin. Blood dripped from methodical cuts on his face. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, dangling off the chair.

    A growl escaped my lips as I saw the knife buried in his abdomen, it''s serrated edge gleaming.

    Numbness spread through me as I reach lift his face toward me, my hands as gentle as I could manage. I braced myself for the sight of his clouded eyes and the stiffness of rigor mortis. The stiffness of the newly dead.

    A low moan escaped his lips.

    "Yared!" I murmured in a half-sob. His eyes guttered for moment, focusing on me. Both my hands cupped his face now as I tried to awaken him. One eye was swollen shut, but the other eventually opened.

    "Little...One...run...Gears...Gears..." he whispered in a barely audible croak. Before I could respond, he fell into unconsciousness again. I tried to rouse him, but he didn''t move. I tried to calm myself, realizing Yared didn''t need a bounty hunter right now.

    He needed a healer.

    Through the seething rage, I reached for that distant past self. The one I had left behind on the day Fayra died. It had been years, but somehow it came to me. Slowly, but it did come. It was like reading an old favorite book. At first I couldn''t remember the story, but it wasn''t long until I found myself citing it word for word. Panic wouldn''t help him now. Neither would rage. The shadows faded, flowing down my limbs like water, and dripping back into the dark corners of the room.

    Pulling in a deep breath, I settled into an absolute calm. My mind sharpened, and I distanced myself from the situation. This wasn''t Yared. He was a patient. I looked around, assessing what tools I had. Several knives and tools were on the desk, and a small wash basin was in the corner. There was a bottle of whiskey on a shelf sitting on the back of his desk as well. After a quick run to the back room, where they constructed armor, I found a needle and thread.

    I cut Yared''s bonds and laid him flat on the floor. Using the whiskey to sanitize my hands, I soaked several rags in the alcohol to ready for my procedure. It was pointless to pull the knife out. It would only accelerate his bleeding. He would need me to stitch him together from the inside and out. I needed make sure I was as clean as possible before I touched his wound. Infection wouldn''t be far behind if I wasn''t careful. Even if I was careful, it might come all the same. And, as I found out with my mother, death by infection was a slow and horrible end.

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    After preparing my tools, my hands began their work.

    "Don''t worry," I murmured to Yared''s unconscious form, "He didn''t hit anything vital. You''re going to be okay."

    Time faded as I focused on my task. My surrounds did as well. It was like we were in our own realm of life and death, and I was Yared''s only shield. I continued to murmur to him as I worked. About his wound. About what he needed to do to care for it after. About anything at all. I had always done that as I performed small surgeries as an apprentice physician. I found that it kept my focus sharp on what I was doing.

    A footstep echoed behind me as I finished the last stitch, blood pooling around me.

    "I''m afraid you''ve wasted your time, My Lady Chosen ," came a familiar voice. My hands were still busy finishing their work, but I whirled around just in time to see a hand fly toward my neck, another going to Yared.

    I heard a low laugh as I felt the pull of Mark Magic, the same radiant blue glow lighting up an indistinct face under a hooded cloak.

    "Everything is working out perfectly," said the Chosen.

    And then the material plane fell away.

    *******

    I felt the air shift to the utter stillness of the Purgatory realm. I turned about, summoning my shadows immediately. Bookshelves were everywhere again, the same eerie sky open above. As before, the cloaked figure was nowhere to be seen.

    Miserable coward.

    I growled, sending my shadows out like hunting dogs to track him down. He wasn''t getting Yared. I wouldn''t allow it. I would send him to the abyss before I let that happen. Even as I kept scanning, I saw a book pull free from a shelf, before flying behind another floating bookcase. I lost track of it after that.

    "Little one."

    I whipped around to see Yared standing behind me. He looked extremely fatigued, but otherwise whole. He even seemed younger. He looked like the man in his prime from the photo with his family. My heart leapt, happy to see him whole despite his physical torture. I reached him in a few steps, pulling him into a hug. He returned it for a moment before pushing me back, his face concerned.

    "No, listen to me. You need to go to--"

    He was cut off as his face twisted in agony, going to his knees. The tearing of paper was the only sound as Yared''s form rippled. A piece of golden light tore from him as he screamed, his arms wrapping around his chest.

    The light turned into the image of a baby in a young Yared''s arms, his face all joy.

    And then it exploded into a shower of sparks.

    They had only started to dispense as Yared screamed again, another piece of light tearing from him.

    "I''ll have you know," came the chosen''s voice from the shelves, "You could have prevented this, My Lady."

    Another tear. Another agonized scream.

    I tried to stop time, but it wasn''t working in this realm for some reason. I only had my shadows.

    "How many more will you send to the gallows?"

    I knelt and folded my arms around Yared''s shaking form, redoubling my shadow''s efforts.

    "This is coming from the little bitch who''s too scared to face me head-on!" I growled, trying to sooth Yared. I squeezed my eyes shut. My shadows kept searching, bouncing from shelf to shelf. I knew he would be hiding nearby, wanting to witness our pain.

    "I have no fear of you," came a reply, though I heard an edge to his voice now, "I simply have grown tired of waiting for you to find me."

    Yared''s soul ripped again, and his entire form spasmed under my arms, his back bowing under the pain.

    "You''re scared shitless of me," I countered as my shadows continued their search.

    There! They sensed a blur of motion on my left.

    I redirected all of them to box him in. Yared screamed yet again, and I fought to stay calm.

    "I almost killed you last time, and you know I would succeed this time if the terms were equal. You''re not a real Chosen," I called to the shelves squeezing my arms tighter around Yared as if I could hold him together by sheer will.

    "Oh? And what am I then? Do tell," said the Chosen, his voice very close.

    Yet another section pulled free from Yared''s soul. A huge section this time. The Chosen must have torn out several pages from his book.

    Keeping my eyes closed, I could see through my shadows. They bent and flowed through the shelves until I finally, finally saw him. He sat like a gargoyle on the highest level of floating bookcases, looking down on us, his hands gripping Yared''s book tightly.

    "You," I said in a deadly quiet, "Are pathetic."

    My shadows struck. I carefully avoided damaging Yared''s book any further. I aimed for the head, wanting to incapacitate him quickly.

    But, as before, the hood spun toward my shadows. He bent away from the strike, but not before a shard of shadow impaled his arm.

    My mind. He had read my mind.

    Another blur of motion, and I lost track of him again.

    Yared''s yell reached a new tenor as his soul fragmented, another section flaking away.

    "Stop this. Come out and face me, or I swear I''ll make you regret having a soul," I said in a deadly quiet, though it echoed everywhere. My shadows continued their desperate search for him again. All the while, I folded my body over Yared, murmuring over and over to him.

    "I''m here...I''m with you..."

    "You know what? You''re right," came the voice again, though it soundly oddly emotionless.

    "It''s time to bring this to an end. He''s suffered enough."

    And before I could say or do anything, I heard the unmistakable sound of a book being torn in half.

    Yared went rigid under my arms, his head lifting to meet my eyes.

    "This isn''t your faul--"

    His voice was cut off as his soul shattered beneath my hands.

    The fragments floated and drifted apart, image after image showing themselves in golden light.

    And then, one by one, they disappeared.

 Lesson Twenty-Eight: Embrace Your Demons

    I was very young when I realized what death meant.

    On the night the thief came to rob us, my mother told me to hide under the bed and protect Levi, my infant brother. Steel clanged as gunshots rang out. Cries of pain from both my mother and the thief echoed in our tiny home for what seemed like hours.

    And then all was quiet.

    I came out of hiding to find my mother lying in a pool of her own blood. The thief laid nearby, sightless eyes gazing at nothing.

    She had been pale, her hands pushing against a gunshot wound. My young hands didn''t know what to do to help her, so I began to cry. Even wounded, she still found a way to comfort me.

    "Hush, my Curadh," she had whispered, using her other hand to wipe away my tears. A small lilt came back to her voice whenever she reverted to her family''s native tongue from Turanah, an island of green flowing hills and monoliths of ancient stone. She always called me curadh. I would find out many years later that it meant angel.

    My mother''s eyes drooped as I used my small body to cover her. She ran her hand over my hair in an easy rhythm, each stroke slower than the last. Even as a neighbor sent for an apothecary, I begged her and begged her not to go. I told her I couldn''t survive without her. That I would break without her. She couldn''t go the Far Shore. Not yet.

    "Souls are never broken, Curadh" she had murmured as she fought to stay awake, "Only lost for a little while."

    Those were her last words to me before she succumbed to her injuries. And then the fever took her.

    Souls are never broken. Only lost for a little while. That phrase had carried me through every hard moment of my life. Every fight. Every kill. Every funeral. I just kept repeating those words to myself over and over. I deluded myself into believing them because, if I didn''t, then there was nothing left. I had to believe that at some point in my existence there would be some place that I would find the people I cared about again. Our bonds weren''t broken. We were only ships drifting aimlessly on a vast ocean. One day we would find ourselves again on that distant shore.

    Souls are never broken. Only lost for a little while.

    But now, as I saw Yared''s soul dissolve into fractals of light, I realized one thing.

    My mother was wrong.

    *******

    The cloaked Chosen chuckled as I watched the last shard of Yared''s soul fade into nothing. It bounced off the shelves in an endless circle, filling my mind. I couldn''t help it. I reached for the last fragment, my fingers closing around empty air.

    "Do you know what the true tragedy is?" came the voice as I sank to my knees, the hard floor showing my reflection. My lighter self was gone this time. Only that woman cloaked in shadow stared back at me.

    "You chose this. You chose to send him to gather information instead of finding me yourself. How unfortunate for him."

    My shoulders curled, and my hands clenched at my chest. Everything in me went numb.

    "Did you know that he had a visit from his doctor recently? Good news! His condition is improving!"

    A snort.

    "Well, it was improving until recent events. He could have lived on for several more years if it weren''t for you."

    I closed my eyes, surprised that they were dry. I fled into the darkness behind them even as the Chosen went on and on.

    "What''s this silence, My Lady? Grief? Regret?"

    I took refuge behind my closed lids, seeking that blackness. My world was too loud. Too painful. I wanted the quiet and the void.

    You let me out, Rowena, the demon whispered, But you haven''t taken that last step yet. You are the source of your darkness. It is in you. It is of you.

    Another chuckle came from the shelves.

    "All out of fight, are we? Well don''t worry."

    Pain ripped across me, fresh and strong as any whip, as I heard the familiar sound of a tearing page. I felt phantom hands on me as the Chosen shifted my book in his grasp.

    "You won''t be in pain for much longer."

    It is in you and of you.

    I kept my eyes shut as I felt the world fading around me. Something nagged at the edge of the numbness, demanding to be heard. The Chosen was talking again, but I couldn''t hear him. I felt them now. The dark places between all things called to me. Each one was a small oasis of quiet and calm. Time, pain, and fear no longer had meaning within them. The veil between myself and those small voids became thinner and thinner. There was only the edgeless dark, the sound of my tortured heart, and my ragged breathing.

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    It is in you and of you.

    Prickles of pain pierced the void. My soul was tearing. Everything was falling apart. My book was being ripped in half, and yet I still clung to those voids. And that was when I gave myself over to that void entirely.

    I screamed, the air rippling around me as I called to them.

    And they answered.

    I felt something drip onto my outstretched palm. Then came another on my arm. Then another. And then another. I opened my eyes and grinned. Raindrops of shadow came from everywhere. Between the shelves. From under the books. From the fathomless sky itself.

    The Chosen began to scream.

    The drops of darkness gathered on my skin, turning it the shade of the starless sky. I realized I was growing taller, my arms reaching impossibly far. My eyes were rimmed in radiant light as my other features faded into blackness. I was flying, my body weightless. I was no longer a person. I was the void, and the void was me. The nothingness that came after the light faded. The place dreamers went to when the dreaming was done.

    A monster. A humanoid phantom made of shadow and loathing.

    An inhuman growl crawled up my throat as I recognized what fueled me now. Rage. Pure unadulterated hatred.

    I clenched my fists, calling the shadows on the shelves. They came crashing to the floor, cracking as books scattered everywhere.

    I turned to the Chosen. His screams had reached a new tenor. He laid in a pool of blackness, slowly sinking into its depths. Large gashes were everywhere on his soul, blood running in rivers to the floor. A book, my book, laid just beyond his grasp.

    He yelped as I approached, but the shadows only clawed at him more, holding him in place. He began to transform into several different shapes. A man. A goliath. A bird. Even a spider. It didn''t matter. The shadows held him tight.

    He transformed back into a goliath as I approached, muscles bulging as they tried to pull free.

    I canted my head to the side, coming within inches of his face.

    "There is only one person in my life who would have counseled mercy for you," I whispered, my hair flowing in a phantom wind around me.

    A flick of the wrist, and a sword of shadow appeared. The Chosen howled, his face contorted in rage.

    "But thanks to you," I went on as I trailed the blade around his face, "he isn''t here."

    The Chosen smiled suddenly, his form shrinking into something smaller.

    Something feminine.

    Until Fayra stared out at me from my shadows.

    "And it''s thank to you," she said in a voice filled with pain, "That I''ll never see the light of another da--"

    A tendril of darkness wrapped itself around her throat as I growled again.

    "Cheap tricks will not save you. You have just made your last mistake," I murmured as I held my blade aloft, aiming to plunge it into the Chosen''s chest. This was it. My victory. My revenge. And it only cost me my last shred of hope. But I couldn''t wait long. I had pushed through some hidden barrier of my power, but I could feel it now.

    The bottom of the well was approaching.

    The shadows faded in and out of my control. The edge of my new form bent and shifted. My focus was slipping. If I didn''t stop soon, I was going to rip myself apart. Book or no book. It didn''t matter though. This form just had to hold out long enough for me to deal with my prey. My eyes glinted as I refocused on him. On it. This pathetic creature in front of me was my plaything. I would-

    "Stop, my sister."

    The voice wasn''t particularly loud. It didn''t even carry any real emotion. Nonetheless, the entire realm shook with it''s power.

    One moment we were alone. The next, a man stepped out from behind a shelf I had just toppled. He was not muscular, but lithe and thin. His face was angular, and his eyes were narrow. Skin as pale as snow seemed to glow under black hair. He wore a black suit with no tie, bare feet padding on the floor with the grace of a cat. His eyes were an expressionless gold surrounding dilated pupils.

    He stopped short of us, gazing from his Chosen, to me, and then back again.

    The God of Knowing sighed.

    "You," he said calmly, shifting his gaze back to me, "Are not Death."

    "Give it time," I said too quietly, tightening the chord of shadow around the shifter''s neck. He let out a bleat of pain as he shifted to the form of a panther, paws clawing at me. One of the managed to reach me, scratching a deep line in my check. The shadow melded around it even as I bled. The panther sprung from his prison of shadows, sprinting from me before rounding back. I ran after him, reaching for his shadow and pulling. The panther roared as it was forced to halt. As I ran toward him, he shifted to the form of a griffin, a clawed wing catching me off guard with a sharp stab to my abdomen.

    We both readied another attack before the Chosen sank to his knees, reeling in absolute agony.

    "I said to stop."

    Turning back, I saw the God of Knowing glaring at his Chosen, his eyes glowing a like gold in a forge. After several moments, he blinked. The Chosen''s screams of pain faded and he slowly regained his feet. All went silent as I looked to him. Ignoring me, the God clasped his hands behind him, all emotion leeching from his face as the shelves slowly stood back up of their own accord. The scattered books returned to their places one by one, and the bookcases began to float again.

    "I sensed my sister''s power wreaking havoc in my realm, only to find her Chosen here. It seems that we must have words soon," he said almost to himself as he faded from sight. Before I could react, he appeared next to me, his hand resting on my arm. Primordial power radiated from him and into me like having coals from a fire set on my skin. I hissed from the pain, stepping back from him. As I did, the shadows retreated from me, and I resumed my normal form.

    I rounded on the God, pulling spears of shadow from nearby. They felt pathetic compared to the monster I had just been.

    "He''s mine to kill. He chose this fight," I said, clenching my fists and calling more shadows as my rage flared again. Three more shelves came crashing to the floor. The God watched them with unblinking eyes before he looked at his chosen. Faster that lightning, he touched a finger to the crown of his head, frowning. The shifter shrunk several inches as his God stared at him, his jaw clenching.

    Finally, the God of Knowing met my eyes again.

    "I see," he said simply, "I know it is your right, but I cannot allow it."

    Pain beat through me as I felt the shred of control slip again. Everything in me wanted to attack, but even I wasn''t that foolish. Instead, I decided to try to reason with him. He was the God of Knowing, after all.

    "Do you know that''s he''s been killing your own Marked? Killing their families? Sending them to the abyss? How can you allow him to get away with it?" I asked, my voice rising with each word. The God didn''t react besides a slow blink. Nothing could have prepared me for what he said next.

    "Of course I will. I ordered him to do so."

 Lesson Twenty-Nine: What is Given is Just as Easily Taken

    I expected a broad range of replies from the God of Knowing, but that was not among them.

    "You''re killing your own Deified?" I asked quietly, fighting off the exhaustion weighing down my bones. That surge of power was just like before in Grimwater. Blinding rage paired with soul-shattering grief. There was nothing else to do but allow the demon to take over and just be along for the ride.

    The high was euphoric. Addictive.

    However, now that it was over, it was an effort to stay on my feet. No. I couldn''t fall into unconsciousness. I needed answers. I had to stay here in this moment. I pulled in a breath, using precious energy to stand to my full height.

    The God took in my unsteadiness with a single lift of his brow, the gold of his eyes glowing for a second.

    "Was I unclear?" he asked, his face blank. It was impossible to know if he meant the question literally or if he was being sarcastic.

    "No, I understood," I said, rolling a tendril of shadow between my fingers, "I meant to ask why you''re killing them. What evil have they done?"

    A long and slow blink.

    "I do not need to justify the will of the Gods to a human," he said simply. There was no malice in the words, but he said it as if it was a simple fact. The sun dawned each day, grass was green, and the Gods ruled over it all without facing any consequences for their actions. It had been that way since time immemorial. It would still be that way long after we were all dust in a forgotten galaxy.

    My stomach churned under his assessment, confirming what I already knew. The Gods had no love for humanity. We were nothing more than tools to be used and disposed of as they saw fit. He had no remorse about killing people whom he himself had blessed.

    None at all.

    "There are no Gods. Only monsters," I murmured too quietly. My eyes bore into first him, and then his Chosen. Finally, I let my gaze drop to the mirrored floor. The shadow being I had just been stared back at me with glowing eyes of radiant blue. Her hair moved in a phantom wind around a featureless face, the shape ever-changing. I should have been terrified of the dark creature staring back at me, but I found myself yearning to don that form again. To sink into her power and rage.

    The creature looked away from me to another approaching reflection. I looked up to see the God of Knowing standing less than an arm''s length from me. He gazed at my dark reflection and then at me. He took in every inch of my soul, his eyes missing nothing. At the same time I felt him prowling at the edge of my mind, reading my thoughts.

    "A dark mind containing a darker power. You do indeed remind me of my sister. It seems that Death has selected her Chosen well."

    The shadow between my fingers vanished.

    "We all have our faults," I replied, walking on shaking legs to where my book still laid on the floor. I picked it up, wishing I could take my book with me. It felt anything but safe in this realm. My eyes strayed to the Chosen, who looked at me warily. He was much more restrained in the presence of his God. I sent him a humorless smirk, thinking he looked like a dog on a leash. Fucking hells, he was only a few feet away. Maybe I could shred him apart before--

    "That would be most unwise in my presence, Shadow Chosen," said the God, interrupting my thoughts. My book was suddenly ripped from my hands as it flew to the God of Knowing''s outstretched palm. He considered the binding before lifting it toward the sky. It drifted to a high shelf and put itself back into place seamlessly.

    "Or what? You''ll kill me?" I asked, opening my arms wide. The God canted his head to the side, but otherwise said nothing.

    "Go for it. You''d be doing me a favor," I went on, striding toward them. To my satisfaction, his Chosen retreated a step backward. His God didn''t share his fear, allowing me to go nose to nose with him. I realized then that he carried the scent of freshly cut paper, night air, and ink. A oddly comforting scent.

    "Yes, I know you do not value your life," the God replied evenly, crossing his arm behind him again, "It is your afterlife that you value."

    At his words, an image of Fayra and I appeared out of thin air, both of us smiling on our wedding day. As soon as it appeared, it melted into a female body rotting in the street. I hardened my jaw, sparing the illusion only the slightest glance. Even so, a wave of nausea rolled through me at the memory. My mind felt muddled, the memory piercing me deeper than having my book torn apart.

    I sighed through my nose, needing to calm down. Finally, I felt some shred of strength return to me.

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    "The next one to try something like that again will cease to exist. I don''t care if they''re a demon, angel..."

    I glared at the shape shifter.

    "Chosen."

    I returned my gaze to the golden-eyed male in front of me.

    "God, Goddess, or even Fate itself. Do not. Try that. Again."

    His eyes began to blaze like molten metal, his pupils fathomless pools of primordial power. He clearly did not appreciate being ordered around in his own realm.

    "Threats lose their impact when you have no capacity to carry them out, Shadow Chosen," he said quietly, though the air began to waver around him like the sun on sand. I gave him my best shit-eating grin.

    "Then why bother to answer me?"

    Oh yes. I felt his power radiating off him now, making the air thick and hard to breath. I knew threatening a God in his own realm made me a special type of imbecile, but I didn''t care. What more could he take from me? This bastard was the real reason Yared was dead.

    No. Not dead. Worse than dead. His soul was destroyed. He was in the abyss. He would never find the family who had been stolen from mortal realm too soon.

    This God was going to answer for it.

    I pointed to his Chosen without looking at the shifter.

    "Let me kill him. Find another Chosen. That cowardly fucker can''t possibly be what you want. Yared wasn''t even a Deified and he chose to kill him anyway. I thought even you Gods had rules--"

    The God''s hand closed around my arm again. I tried to stay standing. I really did. The power coursing through me was like magma being poured into my skull. It was an agony second only to Death''s punishments. It sent me to my knees nonetheless, a scream tearing out of me at the last second.

    I didn''t miss the grunt of pain that came from him as well. A small viper made of shadow twirled its way back up my arm, disappearing beneath the collar of my robe.

    Sighing, the God of Knowing reached into his lapel and pulled out a small piece of shimmering fabric. He used it to wipe his hand clean from where he had touched me. I took savage satisfaction as I saw the smallest trickle of golden blood that came from a small cut on his palm. It was trivial. Already closing.

    But it made me smile all the same.

    That was for you, Yared.

    "This conversation has become unproductive," said the God as he returned the cloth to his suit. He looked at me like a wolf would look at a whimpering puppy, wound forgotten. He considered me for a long moment before clasping his hands behind his back again. The floor shifted beneath me until I was on my feet again and I staggered, my legs shaking from the echoes of the pain.

    "However, your words do carry some truth to them. Your Yared was not slated to die, nor did he deserve it. The Laws of Origin demand a boon, and I will grant it."

    He walked toward a few shelves which shifted and bent until they formed a throne. Knowing sat down, staring at us impassively.

    "You asked why I am ordering the demise of my Deified. You asked what evil they have committed, but you lack the necessary context," he explained, reclining in his chair. He paused a moment, lifting a hand disinterestedly. A book came flying into his palm, opening gracefully to a specific page.

    "It is not what they have done," he said evenly, his eyes never leaving mine, "It is what they may do."

    He held up the book, displaying its cover. My breath caught as I saw the name there.

    Henry Beaufoutonte

    "A Deified claimed his Mark not too many years ago," said Knowing, lowering the book again and reading the page.

    "He asked for three questions to be answered. I agreed to these terms, not having Fate''s gift for knowing what the result would be."

    For the first time, I saw real anger spread over the God''s face, his black hair falling into his eyes. His pupils dilated until they only had a feint ring of blistering gold around them.

    "The answers to those questions are now being used to cause a genocide of an entire race."

    Myra''s voice drifted across my mind as two pieces of the puzzle clicked together.

    "...He was granted three questions..."

    "...He then asked if there was a way to protect ourselves from magic..."

    "...The God of Knowing told him that humans used to be immune to magic, but that ability was stolen from us by the Elemancers..."

    The God stood suddenly, snapping Lord Beaufoutonte''s book shut.

    "And so, for the great sin of using knowledge to cause chaos in your world, I will take it back. What was easily given will be just as easily taken."

    His words echoed in the realm, taking several seconds to fade. Knowing glared down at me, his eyes lighting the shadows of his face. I stood still as a statue, not knowing what to say. The God''s lips pressed into a thin line as he went on.

    "All those whom have heard the secrets of the past will fade to nothing."

    I dared a step toward him, curling my last shadow around my finger.

    "What about your other Deified? It''s not possible they could have all learned that secret," I asked in a deadly quiet. He strode toward me, growing taller with each step.

    "The Beaufoutonte Lord has reach out to his fellow Deified. He shared what he knows and has asked them to use their Mark, my power, to obtain what was stolen from humanity thousands of years ago. I will not risk it."

    Hands balled into fists, I pressed him stubbornly.

    "Then why all the dramatics? Why not just burn their books and be done with it?" I growled, glancing at the drifting shelves. Knowing began to shrink suddenly until he was his original size.

    "And here I thought you were clever," murmured the Chosen. He went still when when I slitted my eyes at him. Tense seconds passed before I looked at his God again. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to answer.

    "A book," he began in a long-suffering tone, "Cannot be destroyed unless it''s corresponding soul is in my Purgatory. It keeps me from straying into Wrath''s duties."

    I felt my face go slack, a thousand retorts dying on my lips. To be fair, I felt like a fool for not figuring that out myself, but I fought to hide it.

    Knowing took a deep breath before I could respond, straightening his coat as he glanced at his Chosen. Something shifted in his eyes before they became expressionless again.

    "Now then, the boon has been satisfied. I wish to speak to my Chosen privately before sending him back to your world."

    I blinked, and he was beside me, arm extended toward my Marks.

    "As for you, I will allow you to live this once as recompense for the attempt on you life," he drawled, touching a single finger to one of my Marks, a small smile curling his lips.

    "Now get out of my library. And stay out."

 Lesson Thirty: There are Always Graves to Dig

    Stone walked in a careful circle around the office, the coppery scent of blood soaking the air. His hat was clutched to his chest, and his face was framed in a scowl as he surveyed the scene.

    "How," Stone said calmly as he stooped over the puddle of crimson in the middle of the floor. It wasn''t a question. It was an order.

    "How do you think?" I murmured, my eyes never leaving Yared''s body. His face was pale in death, and his expression was relaxed. He could have been sleeping if I didn''t know better.

    Stone''s jaw hardenedas he followed my gaze, his eyes unreadable. He produced a blanket and gently pulled it over Yared''s head. I heard him sigh distantly, but I couldn''t summon the energy to look away from the man I had failed so utterly.

    I still hadn''t cried. I didn''t know why.

    Everything felt so far away, and yet familiar. Mechanically, I knew there were people to notify. Affairs to arrange. But I was too Gods-damned tired. I had been here twice before.

    Mother.

    Fayra.

    Now Yared.

    "Rowena!" Stone barked, snapping my attention to him. I realized that he had called my name several times.

    "I need you to stay focused. That murderer is still on the loose. That is what your attention should be centered on," he said, waving a hand over the body.

    "There is nothing more you can do for this man," he said, his voice low and calming.

    He stood, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. It''s warmth penetrated my dress I still wore from the Blue Moon Festival. I swayed with the contact, feeling weak.

    "Listen to me," Stone said, "He is on the Far Shore now. He--"

    "No. He isn''t," I snarled, tearing free from his reassuring hands. He let me, his eyes pitying. I didn''t care, even as he looked confused at my words.

    He shook his head and let the matter drop, not bothering with false words of reassurance or kindness. We were past that and he knew it. He saw the rage in my eyes.

    Stone had already asked me if I got a view of the shifter''s face, but I hadn''t. My soul was spent by the time the God of Knowing cast me out of his realm. Just like before, I hadn''t been able to stay conscious long enough to see what face laid beneath that hood. By the time I had awakened, he was gone again.

    But if I saw his face, did it really matter? The man was a shape shifter. He could be anyone. The only way to catch him was to kill him. I had failed in doing that in the worst way, and Yared paid the price.

    "You''re right though," I said softly, finally meeting his eyes, "There''s nothing I can do for him now."

    Stone was silent for several moments, his boots making heavy steps on the floor. He reached for the broken picture frame on Yared''s desk. Slowly, he pulled out the photo of the dead man''s family and considered it. I had given it to him as soon as he arrived, along with the note from the Chosen. Heat built behind my eyes as he replaced the picture in its frame, pulling out the shattered fragments of glass.

    "You have two choices, Rowena," he said quietly, setting the frame on the desk with a feint tap.

    "You can choose to drown in your grief while you hate yourself and all of your shortcomings..."

    He came to stand right in front of me, stooping to meet my eyes.

    "Or you can do something about it."

    The heat behind my eyes intensified. I kept seeing Yared''s soul dissolve, the pure golden light dazzling. Then, something occurred to me. How many people like Yared had the Chosen murdered? Sent to the Abyss.

    How many people were now missing fathers, mothers, sisters, or brothers? And for what? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For being Marked by a God who felt betrayed.

    I thought about Myra and Levi. The life that would be stolen from them if I failed. I had spent so many years not caring about anyone and wishing the world would burn. But now, their futures mattered to me. I didn''t have time to grieve. I had to do something.

    "So," said Stone, "What''s it gonna be, Little Lady?''

    The corner of my mouth lifted in a grim smile as my mind formed a tentative plan. Yared''s voice range in my head,

    Gears...Gears...

    "Stone," I said as I reached for Fayra''s lone pistol sitting on the workbench. I twirled it on my finger and pointed it skyward.

    "I''m going to need you to turn a blind eye for the next few days," I said with a glint in my eyes, "In the meantime, can you prepare his body for burial? Also I need you to ask Zachariah to protect Myra for tonight. I''ll be back in the morning."

    Stone nodded, matching my smile.

    "What are you planning?" he asked, but I was already turning, heading out the door. I paused at the threshold, looking at him over my shoulder.

    "I owe Death a debt. It''s time to make some progress in paying it."

    *******

    Gear''s End. It had been a few years, but the city was as busy as ever. Even in the middle of the night, people still crowded the streets. Everlights stood atop posts lining the cobble stone roads. Carriages run by steam rattled up and down the road, paired with horses and mounts from distant lands of sand and snow alike. The buildings had an organized chaos to them, with large industrial buildings towering over older ones from the original town. Gear''s End was a city that continuously grew layer upon layer of complexity with each passing era.

    I swept off the saddle in my riding tights, runic armor, and black duster coat. My hat was pulled low over my brow and my hair was unbound, catching in the cool breeze. The moon was setting on the horizon by the time I had made the long journey. Well over five hours of hard riding.

    "Good boy, Dusk," I murmured, setting a bag of apples in from of his stall of the temporary stable, "Now take a well-earned rest."

    He grunted and lowered his head, nearly devouring his first apple whole. Patting him and tipping the stable boy, I began to walk in the city of inventors and innovation. I rolled a stone from the Elemancy gun in my palm as I glanced around.

    Yared may be dead, but maybe it wasn''t in vain. He had been able to tell me a clue as to where the soul crystals were being made. His words could only have meant to go to Gear''s End.

    My energy had steadily returned on the ride here, the purpose keeping my fatigue at bay. Hands tucked into my pockets, I looked up and grinned as I say the sign for the bar I was looking for.

    The Tipsy Fulcrum.

    It was a small bar with a door made of steel and rusted iron bolts. Grease and dirt caked the inner windows. Bars and shops never really closed in Gear''s End because of the odd hours it''s inhabitants kept. Feeble light bled through the glass next to the door as I pushed it open.

    There were only a few people in the bar. Some were passed out on tables, hands still clutching their tankards. The bartender was one of the tallest women I had ever seen. She had bulging muscles to suit her generous frame. Her hair was cropped short on one side of her head, while the other was braided intricately to extend down her back. She looked up at me as I entered, squinting in the low light.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    In answer to her scowl, I pulled my bandanna free from my neck, allowing all of my Marks to show. My violet eyes met her black ones as I began to burn a Mark.

    She held up two hands defensively, a hoarse laugh escaping her lips.

    "Well I''ll be a God''s fat arse. Is that Rowena McAlister I see? I guess no hour is too early for you to have a drink," she said, reaching for a bottle under the oiled wood of the bar top. It was patterned intricately with glossy steel lines. I laughed, sliding onto a bar stool as she slid me a glass containing my favorite color of liquid.

    "Too late or too early. That all depends if you''ve gone to bed yet," I said, swirling the snifter, "How are you, Gwen?"

    She smiled, a few hairs pulling free of her braid as she stifled a yawn and leaned on the bar in front of me.

    "I broke a couple stools in a fight the other day, so I''m stuck working the night shift until I can afford new ones," she answered with a grimace.

    "What brings you out of whatever hole you''ve been hiding in?" she asked, pouring a drink for herself. She checked over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed, before taking a long sip.

    "I''m looking for the Crucible," I said bluntly, making her choke on her drink.

    "Why in Fate''s fucked design would you want to seek him out?" she asked, jamming a burly fist into her chest as she coughed. I leaned in, not wanting to waste time.

    "Where can I find him?" I pressed, even as Gwen''s eyes trailed over my shoulder. I heard distinct footprints behind me as a man leaned on the bar next to me.

    Every town in Luradia had two sides to it. First was the law-abiding citizens. Then, there was the seedy underbelly. Every city had a king or queen on that side. Every thief and vagabond feared them above all else.

    The king of Gear''s End was known as the Crucible.

    "My, My," he said in a sycophantic voice, the barely-leashed insanity just below the surface, "There are rumors of Deified being murdered, the Elemancers retreat to their forests, businesses play a deadly game for control of the economy, and now The Blight of Grimwater makes an appearance in my city."

    Turning to him, I placed a hand on my pistol.

    "What exciting times we live in."

    He grinned at me with sharp teeth. The Crucible had risen to power around twenty years ago in Gear''s End, but nobody really knew what his real name was. He was known only as a beast-kind with wolf-like traits. His eyes were brownish-yellow, and his skin was tinged with gray. His ears were angular, and lifted with interest as he stared at me.

    "News travels fast, I see," I said, giving him a lopsided grin. He chuckled, looking to the door.

    "It does when you have eyes everywhere," he replied amiably, looking at the door. A few people stood outside the bar, nodding to the Crucible. He bowed his head to them, and their attention returned to the street.

    "What breed of insanity has made you think it was alright to come back?" he asked, hopping and sitting on the edge of the bar top. Gwen grumbled, sliding a drink made of a thick dark liquid toward him wordlessly.

    "Still licking your wounds after I toppled your jewelry store front? What did it cost you? Two-hundred thousand Brill? Three?" I asked, pulling a few coins out of my pocket and sliding them to Gwen without touching my drink. They disappeared with a flash of her fist.

    "Oh please, don''t flatter yourself," said the Crucible with fangs descending past his bottom lip, "It was one-hundred thousand at most."

    He drained his glass in a single gulp, smacking his lips.

    "We both know you want something from me, Blight. What can I do for you to get you the hells out of my city as expediently as possible?" he asked, grinning as Gwen refilled his glass. Normally, the use of my dark title made me instantly angry, but for some reason it didn''t feel like a jibe coming from the Crucible. He seemed to say it with a modest amount of respect.

    I pulled out the soul crystal, sliding it toward him. He took it with a clawed hand, whistling in appreciation.

    "Oh, a Perdita Stone. Where did you get this pretty thing?" he asked, holding it up to an Everlight lamp for inspection.

    So that''s what they''re calling them, I thought.

    "The real question is where they''re being made. Any ideas?" I asked reaching to take it from him. He held it away, a chuckle escaping his lips.

    "That is costly information, Blight. What''s your offer?" he asked, dancing away from me as I stood.

    I pullied the shadows from the far corners of the room. The Everlights were cloaked in darkness, and the bar was robbed of all light.

    His vision obscured, the Crucible chuckled as he sank into a fighting stance. He let out a whoop as if this were a game. I shook my head in my shelter of shadows, glad he had not changed at all.

    I used my shadows to glide toward him on silent feet, but he sensed me anyway. I managed to clamp tendril of black around his fist clenching the Perdita Stone, taking a swipe of his claws to my chest. My runic armor absorbed the impact, making this seem almost too easy.

    Ota had been right.

    "How about we flip for it?" I asked, turning and pulling his outstretched arm into a reverse hold. Using my shadows and body weight as leverage, I flipped him over my shoulder, slamming him bodily to the floor.

    He began to roar with laughter, both hands going to his belly as I prepared more shadows to pull the Perdita Stone from his grasp. In the time of a blink, he was on his feet and I registered his fist flying toward my face.

    He stopped it right before it met it''s target.

    We stood, frozen in mid attack for several heartbeats, both grinning at one another. The Crucible was the first to speak, still laughing madly.

    "Flip for it! That''s a good one! I didn''t know you made puns, Blight!" he said, relaxing his stance as I recalled the shadows away from the light. He extended his fist toward me, dropping the Perdita Stone into my hand.

    "There''s a warehouse by the Silkendale Docks with a new gang of self-important shits playing at war. They call themselves ''Black Pegasus'' and all wear Master Smith rings with a winged horse carved into them. No imagination at all," he explained, sitting on the bar again. He crossed his legs as he helped himself to another foul-looking drink.

    "Exterminate them for me, and I''ll consider this little nugget of information free. You can do that, can''t you Blight?" he asked, grinning with black-stained teeth.

    "Oh, you''ll owe me more than that. But we can discuss my fee later. Thank you Crucible," I said, wavering goodbye as I tucked the Perdita Stone back into my pocket.

    "Always a pleasure to see the backside of you, Blight," he called as I shut the door.

    *******

    "Bastard! He''s late picking up his order. He was supposed to be here hours ago," said a gruff female voice. She rested her cheek on a smudged hand, ring glinting in the predawn light as she held up an unmarked Perdita Stone. The shape was the exact same as the one I had in my pocket, but it''s surface was smooth. I breathed a sigh of relief that it didn''t have a soul in it yet.

    Good to know that the Chosen has to be the one that fills them. But why make these guns at all?

    "Patience," counseled a deep male voice from a place in the warehouse I couldn''t see, "We still need him, and he''s been late before. Hopefully he will no longer be necessary once we do more research."

    In the back, moans came from an Elemancer as he was prodded with a hot poker, his skin hissing. He was chained to the wall, and iron spikes were driven through his limbs and into the wall behind him. His dark skin was drained of all tattoos. In their place were deep cuts looking like the soul bind mark.

    "We are running out of components," called another voice from further in the building. Boxes and boxes stood just inside the door, and I had a pretty good idea of what was in them. I took another peek inside, seeing the tables of glass tubes, powders, and a thick gelatinous substance that glowed with its own white light.

    From what I had gathered so far, there were at least thirty of the Master Smiths in the building, but they weren''t warriors. Most of them were hard at work producing the Perdita Stones with alchemical genius. Finding the warehouse had been a bit of a trick. It wasn''t where the eye normally looked, and it looked run down from the outside. But then again, I''m sure that was the point.

    Burly guards were posted at nearly every corner both inside and out, all with guns and swords of various brands. I kept to the shadows, using them to cover my presence. Now I stood poised behind the door, making sure I had the right place. Slowly, I pulled out my pistol and cocked the trigger.

    "Yes, but if he makes a mistake, we won''t get our coin!" came the female voice again as she shot to her feet.

    "Oh, I wouldn''t worry about that," I said, striding through the door, my pistol held aloft.

    "You won''t be getting your coin regardless."

    I swaggered forward with every ounce of arrogance I could muster, my eyes glowing a bright blue as my Marks burned bright. The Black Pegasus members all shot to their feet, and their guards ran toward me.

    Shadows pulled away from everywhere, forming shields around me as they all screamed. One of them took aim, and fired. He grunted as it was swallowed by the blackness.

    "QUIET!" I bellowed, throwing spears of shadow at the one who had fired at me. It struck between his eyes, and he sunk to the floor lifelessly. A few more fired at me, and they too received a spear to the head.

    Four more soul marks were added to my back.

    One shot made it through my shield, clipping my side. I hissed as the blunt force sent me back several steps. My armor did it''s work, but it had a hole in it now.

    I growled, looking at the remaining guards, who went quiet.

    "W-Who are you?" asked one of the men with a Black Pegasus ring on. He stepped forward on quacking legs.

    "We aren''t afraid of you, Deified! Soon all of you will perish!" he said, jabbing a finger my way.

    I gave him my best predatory smirk.

    "I''d believe you if your knees weren''t shaking and you didn''t look like you were going to piss yourself," I said quietly. Quick as lighting, I sent a spear of shadow his way. He screamed in pain, sinking to his knees as he clutched his bloody hand. The shadow curled around his severed finger, ring now wet with his blood. I pulled it to me, tucking the ring into my satchel and tossing his finger over my shoulder.

    "I have unfortunate news for you all," I said conversationally as I returned my attention to all of them. They stared at me with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of me.

    "Your benefactor has made his God pretty angry, and I''m sure he is very busy enduring his punishment," I explained, summoning more shadows. I fought back the wave of exhaustion as I did, knowing I was nearing my limit.

    "And now," I said, sending the darkness around all of them, "You have me to deal with. And I need you in order to send a message to him."

    They began to murmur to themselves as they saw the blackness surrounding each of them, lapping at their feet. One of the guards was dumb enough to fire at his blackness.

    "And that message is," I said as I burned my Marks even brighter, "That he messed with the wrong bitch."

    That was when the screaming began.

 Lesson Thirty-One: Before Embarking on a Journey of Revenge, Make Multiple Plans.

    "Gods, Miss Rowena! You look awful!!" cried Myra as I strolled through my front door. I arrived exactly six minutes before noon. It may have been later than expected, but it was still technically within when I had promised to be back. Zachariah sat the the kitchen table, looking as if he fought the Battle of the Fire Meadows singlehandedly. Myra sat across from him, an assortment of laces and fabric in front of her.

    A bride on the eve of her wedding.

    I ignored her, striding right toward the old wine cabinet. I wrenched the door open, using my teeth to yank the cork out of the closest bottle. I tipped it back, draining half of it before I came up for air.

    "Mentally, physically, spiritually, or emotionally?" I asked, tipping the bottle back again.

    "Does that distinction actually matter?" Myra asked sardonically, lifting a brow.

    "No," I growled, sinking into the plush chair by the fire. I shook my hair, allowing the last of the ice crystals to fall to the floor as my bones gradually heated. I held the wine bottle by its neck, not bothering with a glass. Silence fell in the room, though I could picture the looks Mya and Zachariah were sharing. I heard Ash pad out of one of my side rooms, her steps cautious. I had completely forgotten she was here. Gods damn it all, was I running a boarding house?

    I glanced at the Puma girl, and decided I didn''t have the energy to deal with her now. I just wanted to sleep, and forget about last night for a few precious hours. I sighed, resting my eyes as I sunk into the chair more comfortably and kicked my feet up. I had been awake entirely too long, and my body was reaching its limit. I just wanted some peace for a while. My only plan was to sit here, drink, and contemplate my next move. Eventually.

    And, as usual, I was interrupted.

    The heat of the fire was blocked as Myra stood in front of me, hands on her hips and looking thunderous.

    "Explain yourself, Miss Rowena! Why do you look like you lost a fight with a Nephilim? And why were you gone all night?" Myra asked, a few rebellious locks of hair pulling free from the stylish bun on her head.

    I played with the bottle in my hands, lolling the liquid within from side to side as I considered how to answer her. Myra and I may have been approaching something like a friendship, but there was still so much she didn''t understand about me. And I didn''t have the energy to explain it all to her right now.

    "What''s the matter? Did little miss MyraBelle miss me?" I replied dryly, lifting the bottle to my lips again.

    It was wrenched from my grip by a lace-gloved hand. I was on my feet in a second, somehow managing to not stagger. Myra didn''t back down, going nose to nose with me. We glared at one another as the seconds stretched out. I reached for the bottle again, but she held it out of my reach.

    Why you ungrateful little bitch, growled the black voice in my head.

    "Do you even know what the cost of protecting you has been?" I said in a voice that was only barely human.

    She yelped as my arms moved of their own accord, my fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. I could feel that power ebbing and flowing beneath my skin with a life of it''s own. A starving animal begging for a piece of meat. A thing that thrived off despair and rage, and desperate for more. The fabric of Myra''s dress complained as my grip tightened, and I managed to lift her a few inches off the floor.

    A hand landed on my arm.

    I turned, seeing Zachariah''s eyes boring into me. Stop, they said.

    Just like that, the wind went out of my sails. Cold went through me as I gazed into the green depths of his eyes, their unerring calm breaking through the madness. The walls I had spent three years making were dangerously thin now. Gods only knew what would happen if they eroded altogether.

    I suddenly realized I holding a woman I had sworn to protect in a less-than-friendly position, my hands clawing into her in an iron grip. I also realized she wasn''t wrong. From her perspective, I had just run off last night without so much as a goodbye. A measure of sanity returned to me as I came back to myself.

    She gazed at me with terrified eyes, her hands pulling at my arms. She looked at me like I was...like I was...

    Like I was a monster.

    Her heels tapped on the floor as I set her down. I backed away from her, gazing at my own hands in shock. Say what you wanted about me, but the one thing I took pride in was that I never harmed an innocent person if I could help it. Myra may be a pampered pain in the ass on the surface, but I was finding out there was more to her than that. And I had just threatened her for no other reason than taking away my booze.

    "I''m sorry," I breathed, lowering my hands and meeting her eyes.

    To her credit, Myra was already settling her dress back into place with expert hands. She even looked in the window to catch her reflection, primped her hair, and resettled her glare on me.

    "You''d better be," she muttered, gesturing to the small tears in her dress, "This was Silvein Silk from the the Reach mountains, I''ll have you know. And you didn''t answer my question, Bullet Queen. Where were you last night?"

    A brave face, but I didn''t miss the slight shake in her voice.

    Something shifted in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew that somehow she had forgiven my loss of control. Leave it to Myra to simultaneously be this mature and immature.

    "Let me get you up to speed," I said, loosing a slow breath, "The Chosen sent me another letter last night in my Gods damned Ghost Thistle during the festival."

    Zachariah scowled, leaning against the fireplace as I paused. Myra sank into the chair beside me, taking the time to put the bottle back into the cabinet. Ash sat at the kitchen table, maintaining her silence as she listened.

    "Then, I found Yared mostly tortured to death. While I was trying to save him, the Chosen showed up and tore his soul apart while I watched,"

    A hand came to Myra''s mouth, and her eyes turned glassy. Zachariah hung his head, a low growl escaping his throat. Ash alone remained calm. I knew Stone would have told them about Yared''s murder. But based on their reactions he obviously didn''t tell them everything.

    "After that, I...I lost control. I almost had him, but then his fucking God showed up and banished me from that part of purgatory," I explained, my voice rough as I fought down the lump in my throat. I took a few moments to describe the creature I had become in the depths of my rage. I told them more about how the God of Knowing had saved his Chosen''s ass, and about his motives for killing the Deified. In a way, I was grateful to the God of Knowing for stopping me. I didn''t know what would have happened if I had returned to my body in that state.

    No, scratch that. I knew exactly what would have happened.

    Grimwater.

    "And then I went to Gears End to deal with a new gang. They were a pack of sociopathic scientists named Black Pegasus. They were making these and experimenting on Elemancers," I went on, pulling the Perdita Stone out of my duster coat pocket. I held it up for everyone to see.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "So yes. It''s been a Hells of a night," I said as they processed my story.

    Zachariah surprised me by stepping forward, gently taking the stone from my outstretched palm. He glanced from the stone to the Elemancy gun sitting on the kitchen table. It was still where we had last left it, as if touching it would cause an Elemancer to jump out and burn us all alive.

    I sighed through my nose, meeting Zachariah''s gaze.

    "You said they were making them, McAlister. Not that they are. What did you do to them?" Ash asked suddenly. I looked her before locking eyes with Zachariah again. Finally, I confirmed what they already suspected,

    "I killed a lot of people last night."

    Zachariah shifted in his seat, reaching to set the Perdita Stone next to the gun. The sound of it hitting the wood was heavier than it should have been.

    "How many?" he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

    A morbid chuckle escaped me as I stood, reaching into my satchel. Opening it, I pulled out a cloth bag and untied it.

    "Well around five guards plus..." I said, trailing off as I upended the bag on the table.

    Ring after bloody ring fell out of the filthy bag, the metal clanging noisily off the wood. There were more than thirty by the time the time the last one tumbled out.

    "Plus around that many."

    Zachariah looked at the pile of rings calmly, his eyes counting each one. Myra just stared at them, mouth agape and her face pale. Ash had already picked one up, using the edge of her shirt to clean off the dried blood. She began to hum a small song, though I recognized the melody immediately.

    Come all ye sinners,

    Don''t bother to hide,

    Death''s reaper has come,

    You''ve had your last rights,

    What is that claims your life?

    We call her the Blight,

    "What now?" Zachariah asked, interrupting Ash''s song. I looked at him, truly seeing him for the first time since coming home this morning. Here was one of my oldest friends seeing the very worst of me. And he was still here, ready to help. It meant more than words could describe. But, as normal with Zachariah, one look in his eyes said it all.

    "Well first I need a nap," I said, answering his question with a smirk.

    "Then I need to try something, and somebody to try it on," I explained, but Zachariah was already nodding his consent.

    "And for this plan to work," I said more significantly as I glanced at Myra, who slitted her eyes in response.

    "I need a distraction."

    *******

    "Wait just a second. I''m bait?" Myra asked, curling her hands around a glass of wine. Her hair was unbound now, a few curls falling into her eyes. I was learning to like those curls that refused to be restrained by pins, especially as Myra blew them out of her face irritably.

    "Well, you''re the bride-to-be. So yes," I said bluntly, standing in front of Zachariah with water still dripping from my hair.

    "You have bollocks of steel, Lady Rowena," Dash said, chuckling low in his throat. Levi sat by Myra, a deep scowl etched into his face.

    "It''s mad. That''s what it is," Levi growled, his fingers tightening on Myra''s hand. We all had to leave for the Beafoutonte estate soon for the rehearsal dinner. Everyone had to be sure in their roles for tomorrow. Everything had to be perfect. Their margin of error was minimal at best.

    And mine was none at all. I had to succeed this time. All or nothing.

    I had slept for four precious hours and still had enough time to wash. They all collectively looked at me like I was an abyssal beast as I explained my plan to them. Myra had sent word to Levi to come and meet at my house before the rehearsal dinner while I slept, only for me to explain what the plan was to everybody once I wasn''t mind-numbingly exhausted.

    Everyone hated Plan A.

    They liked Plan B even less.

    And Plan C even less.

    And so on.

    There was the usual endless torrent of questions, but I found that I had an answer to them all. They just weren''t the ones they were hoping for. Mainly because half my answers were the same phrase.

    "Well, I guess I''ll die then."

    Everyone scowled, but eventually agreed this was our best option. The Chosen was going to resume killing Deified as soon as Levi and Myra were married. That left us a day to make sure he was dead before that happened.

    And I''ll deal with Death''s punishment after, I thought with a shiver down my spine. Zachariah alone was aware of Death''s "suggestion" for me to let these people, including Myra, die. He hadn''t told anyone what he knew, but I knew he was thinking about it.

    But the die was cast. There was just one more thing we needed to practice. I needed to take someone to Purgatory.

    Zachariah and I stood facing one another, faces grim. Gulping, I reached a hand toward his neck where Death''s Mark had been. The remainder of the Earth energy he had absorbed was still present in flowing lines on his skin, the piercing red color stark against the network of scars patterning him. Taking a slow breath, he nodded encouragingly at me.

    I trust you, his eyes said. I lifted a brow at him in silent reply.

    That makes one of us.

    Frowning, I closed my eyes as felt the energy of the world around me. I allowed the fractured parts of my soul to come alive. The parts of me that were bound to Death. At first nothing happened. There was just the darkness behind my eyelids and the sound of the others holding their breath.

    Slowly, I started to burn one of my Marks. The radiant energy flowed through me, but I kept my eyes closed. Kept focusing. Suddenly, I saw the others. I could see the light of their souls imprisoned in their bodies. They looked like flames behind the foggy glass of a lantern. Shifting my attention, I focused on Zachariah. My hand was connected to his soul energy with a feint thread of light. It trailed from my hand, to his neck, and then to the searing light within.

    That''s when I felt it.

    I felt the distant calm of the Night Garden. Death''s Garden. It pulled at me from the sky above, as if welcoming us in. I felt lighter, my soul drawn to the beauty of that place I had come to hate. Looking down, I saw a black thread extending from my body to it. I was the only connection, my soul as black as the sky of Purgatory.

    All that was left to do was to pull on that thread.

    "Let''s hope I don''t accidently take up to the Hells," I muttered as I focused on that distant place.

    "What?" Zachariah asked, a shard of doubt entering his voice before I pulled us both from our bodies.

    *******

    It was terror and unholy bliss. I didn''t need the thread binding me to purgatory. I soared straight toward it, pulling Zachariah''s soul behind me.

    My bare feet landed on soft grass with glowing dew several seconds before Zachariah. I felt euphoric, as if some well in my soul had turned out to be a vast ocean. It felt oddly primordial and powerful in a way I hadn''t experienced yet. It was soaring through the sky without care or worry. Like the world was nothing more than a prison. I was my own master as I flew up, barely feeling the weight of Zachariah''s soul behind me.

    It was God-like.

    I took a deep breath as Zachariah came into view behind me. Death was thankfully nowhere in sight, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

    Well, I had done it. And we weren''t accidentally in the Hells.

    Zachariah swayed on his feet as he looked around, frowning. He was pale, and a small tremor went through his hands . His scowl deepened as he looked at his arm. I gasped when I saw what he was looking at.

    "Your Elemancy tattoos," I said quietly as he traced the curving lines, "They''re white."

    It was true. The normal crimson red of Elemancy had given way to a pure white. They glowed on his skin, bending and flexing with each of his movements. Zachariah held up a hand, and I went silent. His face was contemplative as he turned his palm up and murmured a few words in Kaze.

    A ball of flame blazed to life in his palms. With a wave of his hand, a gust of wind blew through the garden. Another wave, and the ground beneath our feet shifted. The tattoos changed shape with each element, but remained that blazing white.

    Zachariah lifted his eyes, grinning like a child on his birthday. I was grinning too.

    "So Elemancy magic changes in Purgatory. Good to know."

    Zachariah chuckled, summoning another flame to his hand again in answer.

    Suddenly, his scowled returned as he glared at something I couldn''t see. I whipped around, already summoning shadows with half a thought.

    Two figures floated above the ocean that lead to the Far Shore. One was a male form, while the other was female. Both of them had huge and beautiful wings made of deepest black. They simply stared at us from their vantage point over the water, unmoving as if someone had painted them on the horizon. A feint feminine laugh was carried on the wind toward us as the female form lifted a hand in greeting, twin short shorts glinting at her back.

    With a sharp breath, I realized who they were.

    Lera the Bane and Lorian the Blade. Death''s twin angels.

    "I didn''t know they were real," I whispered, readying myself for anything.

    In a blink of an eye, they were gone.

 Lesson Thirty-Two: Dont Ask a Question If You Dont Want the Answer

    "Thank the Gods!" a man cried from the waterside. He was older, his spine bent and a bloody rag clasped in his hand. Dark shadows were under his eyes, which were set deep in his skeletal face. A telltale sign of illness. The glowing water cast light upward into his face as a grin pulled at his mouth. Whatever Fate was showing him must have been wonderful.

    I stifled a snort. I would thank your healer, sir. Not the Gods.

    The Blue Moon seemed brighter tonight as the second night of the festival drew to a close. The bonfires held off most of the winter chill with their blue flames. Moonlight glittered off the endless blanket of snow covering the plains. People strolled around me, shivering despite the heat from the fires. Everyone meandered around the Borobelly lake, seeking a private spot to see their reflection. Ghost thistle was clenched in every palm as people caught the last minutes of the Gazing Ceremony.

    I''ll spare you the majority of the details of the rehearsal dinner from earlier tonight. Matron Beaufoutonte drilled what everyone was supposed to do into us until we were all able to recite the ceremony by heart. Dresses and tuxedos were fitted down to the last stitch. Final orders for food and drink were placed. All that was left was the grueling wait for the ceremony that would take place on the third and final night of the Blue Moon Harvest Festival.

    Even knowing the danger, Myra and Levi still found a way to look excited.

    It was amazing to me that something as normal as a wedding could still happen in the middle of all this shit. Did none of them realize what prowled in plain sight? How the God of Knowing''s Chosen could just show up and kill someone before taking on another skin.

    But, as those two looked at one another, there was a promise of a better life. Maybe a better world.

    I wasn''t one for sentiment. That was beaten out of me a long time ago. To be honest, people like me didn''t make the world a better place. I knew that. The best thing I could hope for was to eliminate as many evil people as possible while I was stuck on this plane. I would never lead armies, give inspiring speeches, or be the heroine people tended to picture.

    But those two were different. Levi always had an indomitable sense of optimism. Did he genuinely love Myra and manipulate Father into arranging this? Or was this yet another example of him thriving regardless of his circumstances? He refused to give up on our father, no matter what was next on his endless list of abuses and neglect. But, even more unbelievable was his stubborn refusal to give up on me. And Myra? She had never once flinched about this marriage. She had complained about nearly everything else, but never about her love for Levi.

    Someone was trying to kill Myra and the Deified, but they still found a way to smile at the thought of spending the rest of their lives with one another. That hope eclipsed their fear.

    As for the Matron, I was pretty sure she would let the entire world burn if it were the only way of lighting the ceremonial lanterns for the evening.

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    Tomorrow. These were all thoughts for tomorrow. I had done everything I could do today. But tonight wasn''t done yet.

    Ice crusted the edges of the lake, but otherwise the water lapped at the shore. As if the power of Fate kept nature from freezing it, along with the plentiful bonfires. Myra and Levi were walking together on the paved path around the lake, Myra''s arm looped around Levi''s. Part of me was happy that they saw anything at all as they took their turn gazing into the water.

    Dash was talking amiably to Zachariah and Lucien, all three of them chuckling.

    I walked along the stone bridge which spanned the center of the lake. The radiant blue glow of the water reflecting upward off the stones. I massaged my hands, trying to warm them. If it were up to me, we would already be home. But I was outvoted. People were gazing at their reflections all around me, seeing what glimpse into their timeline Fate had for them. What their destiny was.

    Me? I knew what I wanted my destiny to be. My road ended with me turning in thousands of souls to Death, and going to the Far Shore. That wouldn''t change, even if it took a millennium. I didn''t need Fate to show me anything else.

    And yet...

    I started to peek over the edge of the bridge before I recoiled. No. I wouldn''t do it. I didn''t need to. Nothing I saw in there would change what would happen tomorrow. My jaw clenched, and I nodded to myself before I began to walk again. I was about halfway across now, directly under the moon. Yes, I would round the others up in a few minutes and head back to the house. Gods, these two weeks had been so fucking long. One more night, and I was free to go back to hunting down my bounties.

    And maybe stop a war while I was at it.

    There was still the puzzle of the Elemancy guns to solved, but that could wait until after we killed a certain murderous bastard.

    My steps quickened as I approached the true center of the bridge, my boots thudding on the stones. I didn''t need to take part in this ceremony that had no bearing on my past, present, or future. I didn''t even have the Ghost Thistle necessary for-

    I came to a grinding halt.

    A young woman walked away from me, singing a happy tune to herself. She left her bundle of the white flowers on the wall of the bridge. Ghost Thistle.

    Gods damn you.

    I stared at the bundle as the water continued to cast its beautiful glow. As I considered the flowers, another voice sounded in my head, promordial and mocking. The same voice from last night when I was gazing at the same water.

    Coward.

    Growling, I strode toward the bundle and ripped a flower out of it. I crushed it into my fist for several seconds, taking a deep breath as I peered over the edge of the wall. The water beckoned, nearly blinding me as I allowed the little flower to fall from my fist.

    It barely made a ripple when it hit the surface, and I breathed a sigh of relief as nothing happened. A small laugh escaped my lips as I made to turn away. What was I so fucking scared of? I really needed to see a counselor.

    The light disappeared below me, catching my attention. Turning back to the water, I looked down again. The flower was gone, and so was my reflection. In its place was an all-consuming darkness. I peered around me, but nobody else was on the bridge. People were still gathered at the edge, but the water below them was still glowing.

    Grinding my jaw, I looked down again, the cold seeping into my core. That cloud of black was still there, blotting out the light. I gripped the wall tightly as I leaned further over the edge, but the image didn''t change. It wasn''t just darkness. This was darkness. The type that stared back at you, promising something within. Endless and oppressive.

    I allowed myself a few more seconds to stare at what Fate had to tell me before I tore my eyes away. I grabbed the remaining bundle of Ghost Thistle, staring at it treacherously. Without warning, I threw the rest of it into the water and turned away firmly as a single word tore free from my lips.

    "Fuck."

 Lesson Thirty-Three: No Wedding Goes Perfectly

    Sleep didn''t find me that night.

    The darkness stared back at me behind my eyelids. A shadow shifted in the obsidian depths, and something beckoned for me to join it. To descend to someplace deeper than the Hells. A place with no beginning and no after. That is what greeted me every time I closed my eyes, but I didn''t have time to contemplate it. I had to think of tomorrow and what was at stake. Even so, it spoke to me.

    You are a bringer of Death, it said in a deep and primordial tone with a hint of mocking.

    Have you not been paying attention to you life? You are not capable of saving lives. Screams are your song, and its lyrics are written in blood.

    I laid on my back as those words played across my mind, listening to Myra''s deep breathing in the next room. In the silence of the night, I realized that it was the final time I would hear it. Whether I succeeded or failed tomorrow, I would never see any of them again after the ceremony. I wanted nothing more than to disappear the next day, pay my debt, and board my ship to the Far Shore. To do that, I needed to turn my back on Tumblend and never darken its streets again. Those who I cared about would be safer as long as I stayed far, far away.

    End of story. That was what I wanted.

    Wasn''t it?

    My hand strayed to the Marks on my neck again and again. I thought of my long-awaited afterlife, and thought of Death. I thought of Fate, and those beyond its reach. What I was, and my purpose tomorrow.

    You''re right, I thought in answer to that voice, but who I deliver to Death is my choice.

    I shifted, allowing my eyes to closed again. I stared at the thing in the blackness, imaging the beast that hid in the shadows. The shadows that I used in battle. The shadows that saved me when all else failed.

    "Now," I whispered to it, "For the last time, fuck off."

    *******

    "Miss Rowena, take some powder. You look like a raccoon," Myra said, fluffing an already perfect curl. Addie''s gentle hands turned me and she used a brush to add a tincture to the skin under my eyes. Myra pulled on her silken white gloves as the Matron looked me up and down, scowling at my pale face.

    "You look as if you ''ave not slept in a week," she said dourly. Addie patted my shoulder comfortingly, her hand cupping my cheek for the smallest moment. I could hear voices outside the door as the Beaufoutonte manor steadily filled with people awaiting the ceremony. We were all gathered in Myra''s bedroom to get ourselves presentable. As I looked out into the backyard, I saw the large gazebo that had been set up with the customary bonfires of the Blue Moon Festival melting the snow. The crackling flames were doing their work, drying the grass and stone patio the ceremony would be held on. I was glad that they changed the location of the wedding to the manor, because protecting Myra in the town square would have been a Gods-damned nightmare.

    I tore my gaze away from the window as Addie finished with her brush.

    "You should be thanking me, Matron," I replied dryly, "I didn''t want to outshine the bride at her own wedding ceremony."

    Myra snorted behind her gloved hand, batting her lashes at me.

    "Miss Rowena, have you seen me? That was never a concern."

    "Refrain from making zhat infernal sound again!" the Matron snapped, her scowl deepening. She reached out and gave a sharp tug on Myra''s ear, making her yelp in surprise.

    "Mama! You''ll mess up my hair!" Myra squealed, rubbing the offended ear and brushing a rebellious lock of hair out of her eyes. I couldn''t hold back a snort of my own, earning a cuff on the back of my head.

    "You look beautiful, My Lady," Addie said quietly, turning to face her. She wasn''t wrong. Half of Myra''s auburn hair was ornately braided on top of her head with several locks of curls cascading down her back. Her dress was fitted to her body with the neckline fashionably cut across her bust. The beige fabric glimmered under white overlay in sweeping layers. Addie had done her makeup perfectly. Myra''s high cheekbones and bright blue eyes were striking in every light. Every angle and line of the garment showed off Myra''s natural beauty, and made it take on a regal quality.

    "Let''s just hope Levi agrees," Myra said, looking at herself in the mirror as her cheeks reddened. Something shifted in the Matron''s eyes as she looked Myra over, her face softening ever-so-slightly. Mother and daughter looked at one another, and I looked away, feeling as if I was intruding on something private.

    "You are a grown woman today, not a love-sick teenager. Zhe weight of our family name rests on your shoulders," she said softly. Myra made to reply, but the Matron held up a hand to silence her.

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    "Be sure to carry zhat name well," she murmured, reaching slowly into the neckline of her deep blue dress with satin-gloved hands of glimmering gray. Slowly, she withdrew a long silver chain with a scarlet stone hanging from it. It gave off a soft glow as she held it up. Myra''s hands went to her lips as she beheld it.

    A soft smile pulled at her mother''s face as she walked behind Myra, brushed her hair aside, and secured the chain around her neck.

    "Zhis has been in my family for two-hundred and seventy-four years. Zhe chain is pure silver, and will repel most persuasion enchantments."

    Her expression turned wry.

    "It ''as been useful more zhan once. Zhe stone comes only from L''Mere island. Zhe place of my birth. Now," The Matron said as she settled Myra''s hair back into place, "It is yours."

    She came back around, and looked Myra full in the face as she recited the age-old wedding tradition rhyme.

    "A trinket of olde made anew,

    A treasure of luck truest of true,

    A symbol of love in darkest night to get you through,

    And a stone gilded in red-flamed hue."

    The Matron smiled then, seeing our dumbfounded faces. Holy shit, I never knew the old bat had the ability to be sentimental like this. But, as always, the moment ended, and she returned to her normal self. Unfortunately.

    Her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze shifted to me. She hesitated, as if not knowing what to say. I was just about to break the silence when she produced a paper from her sleeve and handed it to me.

    Frowning, I uncurled it to reveal a direct withdrawal slip from the Beaufoutonte family account with my payment on it in full.

    "You have done your job adequately, Ms McAlister. Do try to make it one more night wizhout embarrassing us," she said dryly, her hands folding over her middle. All the maternal glow was gone from her expression as we stared at one another.

    The Matron pinned me with her eyes for a few more moments before nodding to Addie and turning to leave.

    "When zhe music starts, zhat is your cue to walk downstairs. For now, I will--"

    "Actually, hold on there, Matron," I said evenly, reaching to a side table and picking up a box tied in a silken white ribbon.

    "I have something for you too."

    The Matron arched a brow as she reached toward the box.

    "Zhis is...unexpected," she said, starting to untie the box with deft pulls on the ribbon. A shit-eating grin spread over my face as she went to lift the lid.

    "Oh yes. Just a little something to remember me by. I bought it just for you after the first dress fitting," I said brightly, amusment rolling through me in waves.

    The Matron grunted, and dropped the box like it contained a rat. I saw Myra struggle to hide her grin as she also peered inside. Addie hid a chuckle behind a cough, turning away.

    A corset fell out of the box as it hit the floor.

    "The store-keep nearly had a stroke when I told her about the corset of yours that I ruined," I explained as Myra continued to choke down laughter. The Matron eyed the thing with distaste before stooping to pick it up.

    I watched as the Matron went to the small pouch that contained Addie''s sewing materials. My mouth dropped as her slender fingers picked up the diminutive scissors in the pouch and cut the stays of the corset. She met my eyes as she cut each and every single one, her expression unreadable. When a final snip, she tossed it toward me. I caught it reflexively as she put the scissors back into the Addie''s pouch.

    "Zhere," she said, a smile dancing in her eyes, "Now we are even."

    And with that, she left the room.

    There was a single beat of silence, before all three of us broke out into unladylike laughter, tears brimming our eyes. It took several minutes for us to calm down without erupting into more giggles.

    "Did that actually just happen? Or am I dreaming?" Myra asked through gasps to catch her breath. Neither Addie or I were composed enough to reply.

    Addie finished preparing us for the ceremony, having to nearly redo our makeup after our tears of laughter. She fitted me into a deep blue dress the same color as Myra''s mother, but mine had silver stitching to give it flare along with patterns of roses going down the front. I reached in a hidden pocket Addie had stitched, my hand disappearing into the dark fabric.

    "There''s one more thing, Myra," I said, handing her an inch-long small dagger on a necklace chain with a familiar red stone as the pommel. I pressed it into her palm, a slight quiver to my hands as they pulled away.

    "Tuck that into your neckline. If things go to shit, pull it out and say ''en gardes'' to it. It''ll turn into a short sword," I said quickly before I could change my mind.

    "Do you really want me to have this? I''ll probably stab myself," Myra replied, holding the dagger as if it were a snake. I lifted a brow at her as Addie slid a final pin into my hair, which was braided into a knot at the base of my skull.

    "Don''t get ahead of yourself, Princess. This isn''t a gift. I want that back after the ceremony. You''re just borrowing it for now," I said, sliding my feet into the flat leather shoes.

    Myra rolled her eyes heavenward, but after a moment of hesitation, she slid the small thing under the fabric of her dress without further complaint.

    "Fine. Anything else? Do you want to give me a war hammer next to match my bouquet?" she asked, peering anxiously out the back window and biting her lip. People were starting to sit in the rows of chairs lined up on the patio. I could see Levi and Dash walking around with Zachariah and Lucien, heads bowed in deep conversation.

    I hesitated before replying, going to the window with her. I looked at her through my reflection.

    "No, that''s all...Lady Beaufoutonte."

    Myra went still, slowly turning to meet my gaze directly.

    "What did you call me?" she asked in a whisper, her eyes as big as saucers. I looked at her sardonically, parroting her words from two weeks ago in the Swooning Sparrow.

    "Lady Beafoutonte is your name, Sugar."

    Myra''s brows knitted together. She was just about to reply when the door opened and a maid stepped inside hurriedly. A bonnet was pulled low over her face, and her uniform was a wrinkled mess. I tensed, instantly summoning shadows to my hands.

    "Wait!" said the maid in a rough female voice. I paused, recognizing her even through her disguise.

    "Ash?" I asked incredulously as I relaxed, "Why in Fate''s fiery asshole are you here?"

    Ash ripped the maid''s bonnet off her head, and I gasped. New wounds were drawn all over her face until there was barely clean skin on any part but her chin. Angry bruises spotted her temple and cheekbones, the left side still swollen. It looked like someone had used a branding iron to draw more X''s on her cheek, forehead, and even into her hairline.

    "Puma''s came to the house," she uttered as she slumped into a chair, "And they...they took the Elemancy gun."

    That''s when the music started.

 Lesson Thirty-Four: Be Ready to Improvise

    "You didn''t take the damned thing with you? The gun that can incinerate us with the pull of a trigger?" Myra snarled, color rising to her powdered cheeks. That rebellious hair fell back into her eyes as Ash helped herself to a sip of water from the bedside table. The music played meanwhile, all the people slowly meandering to their seats under the darkening sky.

    Glancing out the back window again, I couldn''t keep the bite out of my voice as I replied.

    "Where exactly did you expect me to hide it, Myra? Under my skirt?"

    A vein throbbed in her temple.

    "I don''t know where you would have hidden it. Why don''t you ask the Puma who''s going to kill my wedding guests!" she replied bitterly in a barely-contained whispered.

    "Being a smartass isn''t going to help," I growled waspishly, feeling defensive as Ash''s eyes went back and forth between us like she was watching a sparring match.

    "Well it seems to have served you well up until now! I thought I''d give it a try! Call me a pot. Hi kettle!" Myra shot back, standing to her full height as she crossed her arms across her chest.

    "Maybe I didn''t want to use a gun powered by souls!" I replied with equal venom, rounding back on her.

    "It''s preferable to you practically giving it to murderous psychopaths on a silver platter!"

    I gnashed my teeth together, refusing to admit Myra was right on some level. But it didn''t matter now. The music played on, weaving a magic of its own. The string quartet and pianist harmonized perfectly with gentle and hopeful melodies, unaware of the danger. Everyone was in their seats now, and Levi and Dash now stood at the back of the aisle in their black tuxedos.

    Several town guards on horseback patrolled the grounds of the estate, scanning the crowd for enemies. I could see Stone among them on Buck, his face tense. From my high vantage point, I paused, trying to see the plan. The Pumas were clearly working for the Chosen asshole, but what was their plan here? Whatever it was, this sadistic son of a bitch had a flare for the dramatic. I knew in my gut the Pumas were here somewhere, and so was he, but I saw nothing amiss in the crowd. Besides, Stone would have detained any unwanted persons at this point.

    I looked at the guards again, trying to see any signs of distress. They were posted masterfully around the perimeter, with equal vantage points on the crowd, scanning continuously. They were certainly alert, but none of them seemed to be taking any action. So where was the damned gun? Surely someone walking around with it would have drawn some attention by now.

    Come on, Come on...

    That was when I spotted it. There was a dark line visible in the snow. It was subtle in a way that could be easily dismissed as dirt from people''s shoes or mud from melted snow. If I hadn''t had the benefit of a bird''s eye view, I would have missed it. But as I stared at those lines, I noticed a definite pattern to them. It was almost like a spider''s web which surrounded all of the carriages and steam vehicles. It ended in a trail that lead subtly to the tree line of the small patch of private woods on the Beaufoutonte estate.

    I frowned, catching Ash''s eye as she stared at me, as if waiting for me to put it together. The pieces of the puzzles shifted as I put myself in my enemy''s shoes.

    Death had promised Myra would be safe until she was married. I had a feeling that the Chosen was planning to not waste a second after that part of the deal was upheld. However, he would be frustrated at having to wait so long to strike against his prey. And the longer he had to wait, the more grand it had to be when he struck.

    And now there was a banquet of victims just waiting to be slaughtered down there.

    "Myra, you need to get downstairs," I said, surprised by how calm I sounded. Ash stood from her chair, her brows knitting together as much as her swollen face would allow.

    "What are you planning?" she asked as Myra stared at me like I had an incubus crawling out of my ass.

    "Miss Rowena, have you finally lost it?" Myra asked, her eyes wide. I ignored her question, a smirk spreading over my face.

    "Don''t worry, Myra. Everything is going to be fine. You''re still getting married tonight. What type of Maid of Honor would I be if I failed to get you down the aisle?"

    "You''re the worst Maid of Honor ever and you know it," Myra deadpanned in a response, her eyes widening as I let loose a laugh that was more manic that I had planned.

    "Ash?" I asked, glancing at her. She nodded her head, the wrinkle between her brows getting deeper.

    "I need you to go downstairs and tell Dash, Levi, and Zachariah that we''re switching to plan B."

    *******

    The last rays of sun hit the tops of the trees as the preamble music came to an end. The western sky was bathed in a glorious sunset red over the Yari mountains and Mirth Hills, fading to purple and obsidian in the east starry sky. The blue bonfires kept the assembly plenty warm with their magic, casting an ethereal glow over the gazebo and audience. Anticipation crackled in the air as everyone waited for evening to begin.

    Ash made her way back into the upstairs of the manor, her eyes lingering on Myra and Levi as she disappeared behind the door. Nobody paid her any mind in her maid''s uniform. Zachariah drifted behind the crowd, finishing a hushed conversation with Sheriff Stone. They both nodded to me as the music changed its melody, the musicians playing louder to signal the start of the ceremony.

    Here we go.

    Councilman Terris walked down the aisle first, He would be overseeing the ceremony and would declare it legal. He was followed by Stone, who swung gracefully off Buck and strode to the opposite side of the gazebo as the first official witness.

    Myra and I watched from the window of the manor''s back door as everyone swiveled in their seats to look at the back of the aisle. Lord Beaufoutonte stood away from us, his expression tight as he watched my father walk down the aisle next.

    I shook my head, watching the man who had hurt me time and again make his way to the gazebo with efficient and purposeful strides. His face was so very like mine with his violet eyes and stoic expression under shining black hair. My gut twisted as flashes of my own wedding flew across my mind. I remembered gazing hopefully at an empty road, wanting to be wrong. I remembered waiting...and waiting. Until Levi was the one to walk me down the aisle all those years ago.

    How nice of you to show this time, Father.

    My bitter thoughts were interrupted as I heard Lord Beaufoutonte come up behind us.

    "May I have a brief word with my daughter?" he asked warmly, his eyes shining with pride as he looked at Myra. A lump formed in my throat as I sidled away from them, watching more of the ceremony.

    The music swelled significantly as the Matron walked down the aisle on Dash''s arm, both of them smiling brightly enough to light up the sky. She looked somewhat ridiculous next to Dash''s enormous bulk of muscle, but oh well. As they reached the end, the Matron stood next to my father and shook hands. Together, they stepped to the central alter and looked at the large metal latern hanging above it.

    The Matron and my Father worked together to open Soul Lantern, which was an ornate metal thing of graceful blacksmith work. Fayra and I hadn''t been able to afford one, but they were common in most weddings in Luradia. It was meant to symbolize Fate''s light leading the prospective couple together in unity toward their destiny, and also meant to give them luck.

    Myra chuckled next to me at something her father had said, and I turned to them just in time to see him kiss her hand. He then folded her arm around his in anticipation.

    A golden light suddenly burst from the end of the aisle, and the audience applauded at the Soul Lantern blazed in pretty contrast to the blue of the bonfires surrounding the patio.

    "Rowena," Myra said suddenly, and I turned to look at her with a lifted brow. If I missed my cue, the Matron would eat me alive and Myra knew that. Even so, I delayed as she motioned for me to approach. She cleared her throat delicately, before she narrowed her eyes at me.

    "I want to say this just in case everything goes in the ash can," she said in a low voice before she lifted her chin.

    "You are a terrible Maid of Honor, Miss Rowena," she said flatly, the corner of her mouth lifting, "but you are a top class body guard. Now let''s finish this."

    I snorted a laugh, opening the door.

    "And you''re a top class pain in my ass," I replied quietly as I took my first step out the door, "But you''ll be good match for my brother."

    And now it was my turn.

    Let us be clear. I hated being on display like this. The stares of the crowd burned worse that any wound I had ever received as they settled their attention on me. I did my best to lift my chin and smile as I had been instructed, but I probably just looked uncomfortable. Dash stepped forward as I reached the end of the aisle, and walked with me to our designated spot next to Myra''s mother and my father.

    The music halted for the slightest moment, the song changing to a stronger and even more elegant melody as Myra and her father appeared. The crowd took a collective breath as they took Myra in. I couldn''t blame them. She looked absolutely stunning, emanating raw and natural beauty at its finest. To be honest, the loveliest thing about Myra in that moment was her smile. She looked relieved, hopeful, and only had eyes for Levi.

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    I slid my eyes sidelong at my brother, who was grinning like he had just been made the king of the entire fucking world. His stood to his tallest height, his shoulders squared back as he watched Lord Beaufoutonte and Myra''s progress with every step. His eyes were drinking in the sight. As if he didn''t want to miss a single detail.

    Lord Beaufoutonte united their hands, and stepped away as they reached the end. His eyes were shining as he came to stand at the remaining spot near his wife.

    Councilman Terris called everyone to order. He began a somewhat long-winded speech about unity, prosperity and blah bluh-blah bluh-blah.

    My attention to the words wavered as it dragged on. My heart began to hammer harder against my chest as my eyes looked for any sign of the Chosen. This was the part of my plan where we were at our most vulnerable. I knew that as soon as Death''s promise was fulfilled, as soon as Myra and Levi were officially married, he had free reign to do whatever he wanted with us. This was where we had to be ready to make sure he didn''t get to my brother and Myra. It wasn''t a guarantee, but everything I knew about him so far told me he would start his killing with them. I would have a split second to ensure that didn''t happen.

    Movement behind the crowd caught my attention, and my eyes snapped to Zachariah. I tilted my head in silent question as he jerked his chin at where the carriages were parked. In answer to my questioning gaze, he slowly lifted his coat flap to where his pistol was holstered, and tapped it significantly.

    I dipped my chin in subtle understanding. Zachariah nodded, slowly rounding the crowd.

    "Now then!" Terris cried cheerfully as I turned my attention back to Myra and Levi, "If you are both of sound mind and willing, say your vows now in front of your loved ones and these witnesses!"

    Myra and Levi turned to one another, their hands interlocked as they gazed into each other''s eyes. Matching rings on their fingers glistened under the golden light of their Soul Lantern, the crowd silent as they waited for the climax of the ceremony. They voices blended in a duet as they said:

    "Light and Dark,

    Life and Death,

    New and Olde,

    These things are not separate,

    But two halves of a whole.

    As rain is to sun,

    And rock is to air,

    So we shall be,

    A true balance pair.

    Servant to the all the God''s will

    We are now one

    Until time stands still!"

    Terris grinned, raising his hands high and wide as they finished.

    "Ladies and Gentlemen! Meet the new Lord and Lady McAlister!"

    The crowd erupted in cheers as I tensed,watching for anyone to make a move toward Myra and Levi, who were wrapped up in a kiss. I was already summoning shadows, and I felt Zachariah nearby just as everyone started to file up the aisle.

    Yes, I knew he would strike now. This was his moment! I knew he would be waiting in someone else''s skin and go up to them, drag them to purgatory, and kill them. I tailed the happy couple, ready for that moment. Yes this was definitely it. He wouldn''t pass this. It was the perfect time to strike.

    It didn''t come.

    Blinking in confusion, Zachariah on my heels, I followed Myra and Levi as they entered the ballroom with everyone in tow. They were redirected toward upstairs to one of the grand rooms to take pictures as everyone else gathered in the ballroom for the post-ceremonial soir¨¦e. Dash frowned at me in confusion as he came near us ahead of the crowd.

    "Now?" he asked quietly, his eyes going to the Matron. She was already directing people away from the new couple, and telling them to go upstairs for the pictures. People were crowding around us, calling quesitons to me and Dash. Though I did my best to ignore them, a veritable wall of people surrounded us as I was held up by more and more of them. Myra and Levi continued to the stairs to where the photographer waited, and my stomach dropped.

    I looked around the crowd again, but they had not answers fro me. I sighed through my nose, trying to think. Something was off.

    I didn''t want to act too quickly. I had another trick up my sleeve, but I needed to save my strength for the Chosen. Everything hinged on me dragging him to Purgatory to kill him. It was a fight I would gladly have had by now if he had bothered to reveal themself. Where in fucktown was he?

    I only knew one thing. I couldn''t let Myra and Levi go off alone, but the Pumas could move in for the kill at any moment. I didn''t have time to protect Myra and Levi and deal with them.

    Or did I?

    Finally, I nodded at Dash through the throng of people.

    "Now."

    He cleared his throat significantly, parting his way through the crowd as he went straight toward the Matron. People were still gazing at me and asking me question after useless pretentious question that I didn''t care to answer.

    After an endless moment, a female screech rang out above the cacophony of other voices. Everyone looked away from me as Dash''s considerable bulk dove to catch the Matron. Icing coated her face and bosom as she had just tripped, or rather was pushed, into the huge wedding cake. Her fall didn''t stop there. As she tried to right herself, her heeled shoes slipped on the fragments of the cake and she went to the floor.

    "My Gods! I am so sorry! I beg your deepest forgiveness!" Dash''s voice screamed over the crowd, and people rushed to the scene to see what was the matter. Nobody was staring a me anymore.

    Zachariah''s hand slipped into my just in time for my to pull in a deep breath. I let the ice in my veins expand, the primordial power swelling within me. I concentrated on my power as well as Zachariah''s as I pulled on that vein of ice, letting it flow and flow without hesitation.

    Everything went silent and the air went unnaturally still.

    Zachariah and I looked at one another and grinned. It had happened just like we practiced. I had managed to pull Zachariah with me in the my ability to stop time. We found out that it only worked when we had physica contact, and it took a hells of a lot more effort on my part. But it was worth it to have him by my side.

    He looked around, clearly disoriented for a moment.

    What now? he said with his eyes when he refocused on me. I gazed around. Myra and Levi were frozen at the base of the stairs, the photographer waiting at the top balcony. The rest of the crowd was frozen in their places as they went to help the Matron.

    Bah-Dum.

    A growl escaped my lips as I felt Death''s gaze on me in this strange plane, my power straining. I knew I couldn''t stop time forever, but as I drew in a deep breath I felt the strain lessen. The pounding beat of my heart slowed as I tried to figure out what to do. Obviously the Puma''s were waiting for some sort of signal from the Chosen to begin the slaughter of everyone at the party, and I was very sure he would have taken his chance during the ceremony.

    So why hadn''t he? I didn''t have an answer for that, and I didn''t know where the Chosen was, but I was pretty sure I knew where the Pumas were.

    "Gunpowder?" I asked Zachariah, referencing the dark lines in the snow which surrounded the carriages. Zahacriah nodded in confirmation, and I saw their part of the plan clearly. Obviously they would use the gunpowder to blow up the carriages once they were signaled, blocking any chance the Deified would have of escaping.

    I pulled in another deep breath, looking at Zachariah to settle one problem at a time. And right now I could only solve one for sure.

    "Let''s go."

    *******

    I mainatined the time stop as Zachariah and I made our way along the line of gunpowder toward the treeline. The snow seemed twice as cold as we passed the last of the fires, Zachariah stopping briefly to absorb a bonfire with a few whispered words in Kaze.

    We walked and walked, meanwhile every step grew heavier. I could feel Death watching me, but she stayed away. I didn''t know if that was good or bad, but I was grateful to not have to contend with her among everything else. We eventually broke the tree line and followed the dark line of gunpowder to a central clearing. Zachariah took a moment to clear away the path, breaking the trail back to carriages.

    We looked up, seeing a huge stack of barrels with Pumas standing at the ready around them. Several other barrels were scattered around the clearing, but they were clearly empty. I eyed the way they held their weapons at the ready, one using a looking glass to spy on the manor. In the center of the group stood a woman with smudged dirt all over her face, and a familiar weapon laying in her arms.

    The Elemancy gun looked unweildy in her grasp, and I guessed her to be this group''s leader based on her position and posture. I could barely move as the strain of holding the time stop for so long pulled at my energy reserves. I shook my head, realizing that they intended to use Elemancer fire to make sure the the gunpowder worked despite being on top of snow. Normal fire would likely fizzle out after traveling acros so much snow, but Elemancy fire would keep burning until it reached its target.

    Too bad they wouldn''t get to use it.

    Zachariah stare sidelong at me, smiling as he realized what we were about to do. His smile turned to a frown as he saw the strain in my featuresm his brows knitting in concern.

    "I''m fine. I just need a break," I said breathlessly as he held his hands aloft toward the pile of gunpowder barrels, his Elemancer tattoos bending and flexing in anticipation.

    "Make it quick."

    "How long do you need?" he asked with a sidelong glance at me as I started to summon shadows.

    "Thirty seconds?" I said and he nodded, rolling up his sleeves despite the cold. I lifted a brow at him, and he nodded.

    And not a moment too soon. My control on time wavered, then dropped entirely as we stood before the group of people I hated most. Wind immediately blew icy air through my hair and dress. I had a split second of peace, already feeling some of my abilities return in that moment. I pulled in a lunful of the wind as I curled the shadows between my fingers, their power pulling on a different well within me. They were like a dog who had been caged too long, begging to be set free. And now I did.

    "What the actual fuck?" said the woman with the Elemancy gun, and I immediately heard triggers cocked on me and Zachariah as we suddenly aappeared to them. I gave her my sunniest smile as I cocked back a shadow spear.

    "Howdy," I said flatly. And without any further warning, we attacked.

    Racing forward with inhuman grace, Zachariah grabbed the nearest Pumas and flipped him over his shoulder. He tore through several of the group in a matter of seconds with quick and efficient attacks. He bobbed and weaved between them, at one point making two of them shoot at thei comrades as he positioned himself between them. Their bullets missed him him by less than an inch, but he was already pulling out his own pistol and firing three shots.

    Before long, at least six of them were thrown to the snow with broken limbs and bleeding wounds. I was a bit sluggish after stopping time, but I motioned toward the general group, tearing through them with my shadows and binding them down. Ten precious seconds ticked by as we disarmed them. I reliashed the thrill of the fight, embracing every punch and jab that met its mark even as I took hits of my own. It was like pushing past the bottom of a well and dicovering an ocean laid beneath, and I pulled deep on that power in preparation for our next move.

    Several shots rang out, and I felt one graze my side, the bullet burning like fire.

    Not wanting Zachariah to outdo me, I raced forward with my shadows to the center of the group, catching the leader as she leveled the Elemancy gun my way. I coiled the darknes beneath me, and used it to propel my body forward as I lifted my feet in a kick right to her face.

    I felt her cheekbones give a satisfying crunch as I made contact, and flipped my body in the air to land next to Zachariah. My hand landed on his shoulder as he raised his hands to the pile of gunpodwer. Many of th Pumas were still recovering from our initial atrtack, but all of them were still alive. Zachariah was murmuring in Kaze, and I felt the power flowing trhough him as I kept my hand firmly on his shoulder.

    "You''ll fucking die for this!" growled a man Zachariah had just sent flying a few seconds ago. He cradled an arm which was decidedly pointing an awkward angle as his eyes looked at us with the utmost loathing.

    "No sir," I replied, as Zachariah summoned his flames and I prepared another time stop, "You will."

    He didn''t get the chance to reply.

    Blue flames flew from Zachariah''s palms just as I managed a second time stop, my legs nearly giving out beneath me. They were less than an inch from the barrel as they halted mid-air. I leaned against Zachariah, managing a smile as I realized we needded to hurry. I didn''t know how long I could hold off time''s eternal flow, and I had never been able to pull it off more than once in a day before. This was pushing me far past my limits, and every cell in my body screamed in protest. But we didn''t have the luxury to rest. I needed to be near Myra and Levi again before time moved. The Pumas may be dealt with, but they still were very much in danger.

    I grunted in suprise as Zachariah lifted me, but I knew we would be faster with him carrying me and I could save my energy.

    Because we both knew this fight wasn''t over. The Chosen had yet to reveal himself. And that begged a better question. It knawed at my stomach as Zachariah sprinted in the snow back to the manor, his long legs carrying us to a enemy even scaried the a whole hoard of criminals.

    Where was the Chosen?

 Lesson Thirty-Five: If Things Go to Shit, Go Out With a Bang

    BOOM.

    The ground quaked under the force of the explosion as I released my stranglehold on time. My vision blurry, Zachariah and I stumbled into the house. I glanced out the window to see the entire patch of woods alight. Black smoke belched into the air with the force of a dragon''s breath.

    "Would you believe me if I said this wasn''t my first explosion?" I ask Zachariah breathlessly, blinking away my fatigue. His sidelong glare was his only response.

    We stood in the ballroom at the base of the stairs, the crowd of family, friends, and Deified realizing what happened one by one The Matron tried to stand again with Dash''s help, but only succeeded in slipping in more of the cake. Several people rushed to the windows, pointing and yelling. Some called for their servants to go and assess the source of the fire, while many made a hasty move for the exit.

    Stone''s strong voice called the guards into action, and in seconds a veritable army of them fought their way through the snow to the source of the smoke.I didn''t bother to follow them. I knew what they would find.

    Meanwhile, Zachariah and I slowly worked our way up the stairs, trying our best to look as if we weren''t the cause of the wildfire. I was suddenly glad for the thick layer of snow on the ground, and doubly grateful we had thought to break the trail of gunpowder leading to the carriages. Levi and Myra were at the second floor landing now with the photographer, holding hands and looking at the smoke filling the sky as more and more voices joined the cacophony.

    Their eyes shifted to mine at the same exact time, their gazes knowing. Gods, was I really their first suspect when things blew up? I pursed my lips as that thought crossed my mind.

    Yes. Yes I was. And rightfully so.

    I did my best to appear innocent, although that was extremely difficult since my hair was anything but its neat coifieure and my dress was now torn in several places. Not to mention that I was now running low on energy. If I looked half as bad as I felt, then it was obvious what happened.

    "I''m assuming," came a familiar bass voice from behind us, "That there is a plan?"

    I turned, pulling in a deep breath as Stone took his hat off his head. He nodded to Captain Lowin, who immediately started barking orders to the remaining guards. I felt a bit bad for them as they tried to manage the crowd, which was slowly spiraling into panic. Even Lord Beaufoutonte was pacing nervously, his expression taught. The Matron, once she scraped icing off her face, joined Captain Lowing and the Lord in barking orders to the guards to count every head. Tension pulled at every, line in their faces as they sought to ensure everyone was safe.

    One poor guard received a slap across the face as a Deified woman tried to push past him, her Mark glowing in sharp contrast to her skin.

    "Let me through or you will be looking for another job!" she cried, and she wasn''t the only one. Many people were trying to shove their way in various directions, and not listening to anything the Lord and Matron had to say.

    "Did you find the other Chosen?" Stone asked when I didn''t answer right away, his voice low. I bit my lower lip and shook my head, glancing around for answers that weren''t appearing. Gods damn it all. It was too hard to think with fatigue weighing me down like a boulder.

    Stone''s hand landed on my shoulder, a line between his brows.

    "What do you need, Little Lady?"

    I ground my jaw so hard, I could feel my teeth turning to powder. My legs were made of clay, and the edges of my vision were hazy. I shouldn''t have stopped time twice, but I was too damned afraid to leave Myra and Levi alone long enough to fight the Pumas. I was so tired, and...and.

    Come on Rowena, let me out again. We almost had him last time. And there''s no God to stop us in this plane.

    Go--

    A coin cannot banish its other side. No matter how many times you tell me to go, it will not change the fact that we are one. Use me.

    Growling, I snapped my focus to Stone again.

    "I need time."

    Before I could say more, Councilman Terris stepped forward. He raced up the stairs in a few powerful strides to stand beside us, before turning to address the throng of yelling people.

    "Everyone! Ladies and Gentlemen please!" he called, but nobody was listening to him. His voice could barely be heard over the tumult. He spread his arms wide and yelling again, but it made no difference. I stepped forward, trying to think of how to help him before Stone''s deep baratone voice rang out.

    "ENOUGH!"

    Silence immediately fell over the room as if everyone had been struck dumb, even Councilman Terris. Hells, even I flinched. I had only heard Stone use that tone two other times in my life. One was when I told him about Fayra. The second time was seconds later. When I told him that her killer had gotten away. Although I had never met the being, I was sure Stone could give the God of Wrath a run for his money when he was in a rage.

    Stone stood to his full height, staring down his nose at the crowd.

    "Are these the people whom the Gods themselves have chosen to bestow a Mark on? At the first sign of trouble you all become animals?" Stone murmured more quietly, making many of them shift on their feet. Some of them at least had the decency to be embarrassed, Stone''s words making them feel like scolded children.

    Me too everyone. Me too.

    "You are all leaders in this town! Every last one of you!" Stone continued, his hands curling into fists, "And many of my men are currently risking their lives to protect you. Act like people who are worth protecting."

    Everyone stared wide-eyed at him, murmuring quietly to one another. Terris cleared his throat and straightened his tie, moving to match Stone shoulder to shoulder.

    "We apologize for this disturbance, Ladies and Gentlemen. Please be assured that this matter will be investigated thoroughly by Sheriff Stone''s capable hands," he said gently.

    "And the next person who lays a hand on any of my men will spend the evening in jail. I do not care who much money, power, or influence you have," Stone growled, still angry.

    "But I doubt that will be necessary," Terris said quickly, indicating the Lord and Matron Beaufoutonte. Taking the cue, Myra''s mother and father moved to the stairs. Lord Beaufoutonte picked a piece of cake out of his wife''s hair before addressing everyone.

    "To those who wish to leave because of concerns for their safety, please know that we understand and you will be escorted home by the guards once it is safe to do so. To those wishing to wish my daughter and son-in-law well and stay for the party, you are most welcome. Edmund?"

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    The Beaufoutonte''s butler seemed to materialize out of the wall the second his master called, his skin doted in the glistening scales of the Umifolk.

    "Please ensure the everyone has a glass of the finest wine that we have. We--"

    "Protect Levi and Lady McAlister. I will handle things here," Stone murmured to Zachariah and I.

    We didn''t need another invitation.

    *******

    "What in all the Gods hold holy happened, Wen?" Levi asked the second we entered Myra''s bedroom. In typical Levi fashion, his tone carried no animosity. He glanced at me in genuine concern, his eyes lingering on my ruffled hair and dress. Myra and Levi had politely and firmly told the photographer that we needed to talk, and he now stood outside. Zachariah stood behind me, his Elemancy tattoos still roaming around the skin of his neck and even trailing up to his jaw.

    Dash was the last to slip through the door, icing covering his pants.

    "Is everyone alright?" came a voice from the windowside chair. I looked and saw Ash rising from it, the swelling in her face still prominent. I had forgotten that she was still here.

    I loosed a breath through my nose.

    "Yeah. I thought he would have shown by now," I murmured almost to myself, "But he hasn''t yet. He''s still out there."

    Dash stooped to brush himself off.

    "Is it possible that he knew you would be expecting him and is waiting to strike when you aren''t" he reasoned, folding his massive arms behind his back. I wanted to shake my head, but something was still off here.

    "I don''t think so, but then again I''ve been wrong at every step," I replied, jumping as Ash pressed a wet cloth into my hand with steam rolling off of it. She indicated the wound on my side from the bullet I had taken, and I grunted a thanks to her. I had almost forgotten about the wound, but I could see the trickle of blood coming from the parted cloth of my dress. I hissed as the hot water hit my flesh.

    "Maybe the God of Knowing decided to call off the murders after he saw your rage?" Myra asked, sitting on the edge of her bed alongside Levi as Ash paced around the room.

    "I''d agree with you if I didn''t just blow up a herd of Pumas in your back woods. And the God of Knowing was able to send me packing with a flick of his finger. I doubt he''s threatened by me," I deadpanned, reaching to my hip to stroke Fayra''s pistols by habit, only to find they weren''t there. Otto still wasn''t done fixing one and still had the other for collateral while I had the Elemancy gun.

    A gun that the Puma''s had stolen. A gun that was now probably blown to smithereens.

    Fuck. He was going to have an aneurysm when I told him that little chestnut.

    I heard Ash let out a low whistle as I groaned. I peeked an eye at her, only for her to avoid my gaze and watch the smoke.

    "Well then how do we find the other Chosen?" Myra asked, voicing the one question I didn''t have an answer to.

    The room descended into silence as we all thought, our eyes drifting to one another. I massaged my temple, a persistent throb coming from the wound on my side and a violent headache brewing. My dress felt too tight and restrictive, corset or no corset. I found myself longing for my normal tunic and riding breeches.

    "Maybe Lady McAlister is right," Ash said suddenly, making all of us look at her. Her voice sounded even, despite the swelling and new scars on her face. I felt myself frown, waiting for her to explain.

    "I feel like the Pumas acted of their own accord. Maybe its just a coincidence that they attacked today? And the Chosen was ordered to stop murdering the Deified?" Ash said in a contemplative voice. Myra nodded, and Levi pressed a kiss to her hand.

    "All the gangs hate the Deified, so that would make sense. Or its possible that they were hired by another company to sabotage the merging of our two companies?" he asked. Dash frowned, but offered no comment.

    "Either way, we should probably keep watch for now," Ash said more conclusively, standing and brushing her dress off. I frowned at her again, looking more keenly at her bruised face.

    Goose flesh spread over my skin.

    I stood slowly, my legs still weak as I curled my hands into fists. Zachariah stood too, staying close to me.

    Ash sent me a puzzled look as I put myself between her, my brother, and Myra.

    "Did somebody hit you on the head, Miss Rowena? What are in the Hells are you doing?" Myra asked waspishly, but I ignored her. I continued to walk toward Ash, who shifted uncomfortably on her feet, a hand touching one of the scars on her face.

    "What do you suggest for the watch?" I asked evenly, sitting on the bed. Well, more accurately, I collapsed on the bed as my legs gave out, the room definitely spinning now.

    Ash shrugged noncommittally.

    "You look like the Hells themselves. I don''t really think we''ll make much progress with you like that. While you heal up, we can make sure he doesn''t strike. After the party, we can look for him again."

    I narrowed my eyes at her.

    "Yeah. But there''s a problem with that," I began as the mattress depressed under Zachariah''s weight, my fingers curling as I reached for the darkness within me. They were slow to respond now. It was like trying to run on dry land versus running in water at hip height. I realized my mistake as the wound in my side gave a particularly nasty throb.

    "What? What''s the problem?" Ash asked, shifting again and pulling on the neck of the maid''s uniform. As if it didn''t quite fit right.

    "You''re a traitor to the Pumas," I said bluntly, curling my toes in my shoes as I gathered more and more shadows beneath me.

    "Why would they leave you alive?" I asked, meeting Ash''s eye.

    She scoffed, her rough voice flat.

    "It''s not like they left me off easy, Blight. Look at me!" she said, waving at her tortured face. I shook my head slowly, a lopsided grin twitching at my lips. I looked down to find the image of my hands blurring.

    "That''s the thing," I replied as I closed my eyes and tucked my legs further beneath me like a spring.

    "I don''t fucking believe you."

    And then I jumped on her.

    Ash was up long before I got to her, sidestepping my attack. I sent spears of shadow at her, but I missed by a long shot. A hols blasted through Myra''s wall, cold air rushing in with some flakes of snow. Ash caught my arm, twisting it behind my back painfully. I was slow to react, my limbs feeling like they were made of lead. Using every ounce of stubbornness I had, I pushed the hazy thoughts away. I switched the direction of my attack and clung to where Ash held me so I was tugging her into my back. Using brute strength to push us both backward, I tried slamming us into the wall.

    But I didn''t get that far.

    I distinctly felt Ash''s arm get larger with more muscle, and she stopped us with iron strength. Her other arm snaked around my throat, her grip as unbreakable as a chain. I growled, desperate for my body to obey me. But it wasn''t. The fatigue was spreading through me and I could see black dots in my vision now.

    "What''s the matter, My Lady?" Ash whispered in my ear sycophantic-ally, her voice getting deeper, "Feeling a bit sluggish?"

    I gasped as I heard Myra and Levi screaming somewhere far away, their voices echoing at the end of a dark tunnel.

    But then there were other hands on us, tearing Ash''s arm away from my throat. My vision cleared just in time to see Dash holding her in a bear hug and pinning her arms against her sides while Zachariah fought her kicking legs. Their faces strained with the effort to hold the shifter, its skin already molding into something much larger.

    "Rowena!" Zachariah cried, holding out a hand to me, though I saw at least three of them.

    I dove forward blindly, grasping Zachariah''s hand just as I reached another to the Chosen''s neck, right where a Mark would be.

    A howl of rage came out of him as I found his Mark and began to burn one of my own. It took precious seconds, and they felt like hours. I was pulling myself from my body, wrestling the Chosen and Zachariah''s souls with me. The room faded away, blackness becoming complete around us as I focused on that horrid realm.

    Purgatory.

    I though of Death''s garden, willing us toward it. We were flying through realms, Cosmos. Millenium. To a place where time didn''t truly matter.

    Our energies merged and I dragged us closer and closer while the Chosen fought the pull. I saw all the Purgatory realms of all the Gods, but I kept my focus on that darkest corner of the sky. The corner with an ocean of red, leading to the Far Shore.

    And then my feet were hitting soft grass, and an endless field of plants and flowers flowed around me. Zachariah and the Chosen collapsed on the ground next to me, gasping for air.

    The Chosen sprang to his feet as I gazed at him, halfway transformed between Ash and a Behemoth. My energy was still low, and I could feel the call of the darkness within me, but somehow I managed a smile at his enraged face.

    "Welcome to my turf."

 Lesson Thirty-Six: Zachariah

    Why do people waste so much time on words?

    My father once told me that words are like coins. They could cost you your life as much as they could buy your freedom. And the more foolishly you spent them, the more dangerous they became. Each word becomes progressively more meaningless when a person goes on and on. One well-placed word was more worthwhile than a thousand. I''ve often found that people spend more time talking than they do listening. And when I spent my energy keeping my words to myself, I found that people speak even when their lips are firmly closed.

    People thought I was good in a fight because of my experiences. But they were wrong. I was a good fighter because I paid attention to the things that were important. Words were least among them.

    So why was Rowena bothering to talk to the Chosen?

    I struggled to my feet, this mystic plane thrumming with power from every crevice. Rowena and our enemy were already squaring off against one another. Like two wolves preparing to tear one another apart.

    "We''re in my Purgatory now. I''m about to show you how outclassed you are," Rowena said in her raw voice, wasting another precious second to attack and finally end this. Gods damn it, Rowena. Why did she always have to say something? And now of all times? Taunts and boasts wouldn''t win this fight.

    "Says the woman who has failed to save anyone she holds near to her shriveled little heart," the Shifter shot back is his new deep voice, settling into his Behemoth form. He stood at more than double my height, each of his arms thicker than a tree trunk. His skin had gone a pale white, and his eyes were gray as the sky before a snow storm. A thick white beard now clung to his chin, and power radiated from every single inch of him.

    I wasn''t going to let him attack first.

    I sprang up on silent feet, gathering blue fire into my palms as the energy of my Elemancer blood danced on my skin. Pivoting on my feet, I aimed an attack at the Behemoth''s back, dipping right and left and keeping my eyes locked firmly on him. He was facing Rowena fully, as if he had forgotten I was here. His head was canted to the side, and his arms hung down loosely. The perfect mark.

    My heart jumped with the thrill of the justice this would bring to all the murdered Deified and their families. Why was this man so much trouble up until now? I knew he must have been formidable if Rowena hadn''t been able to kill him until now, but that didn''t seem to matter now. My flaming fists raced toward him, while he made no move to defend himself.

    Perhaps Fate itself would smile on us at last and make this an easy fight.

    The corner of his mouth hooked upward in a smirk right before I struck. That was my only warning before his bucket-sized hand reached out for my head.

    On instinct I lifted my legs beneath me, sliding on my side with my forward momentum as the flames extinguished. The giant hand closed on empty air inches from me with the sound of clapping thunder. I immediately rolled to the side just as the Chosen''s foot came crashing down where my skull had been. I pressed my hand beneath me, push-pressing myself to a crouch.

    Changing tactic, I shot a fireball at his ugly face as my other laid on the grass and changed the energy to call to the ground itself . If I couldn''t sneak up on him, then I would-

    "-Crack the ground beneath my feet?" the Behemoth asked with a low laugh, glancing at me over his shoulder. I froze, keeping my face blank as I coiled more energy into my palms. The Chosen''s posture was relaxed, his feet returning to an even stance as grinned at me.

    "Is that going to be your next trick? I must say its an effective choice for someone larger and heavier like I currently am," he went appreciatively when I didn''t respond. Rowena chuckled, drawing his attention again.

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    "Reading minds again are we? Life must be very boring for you," she said, giving him a small clap. The Behemoth swiveled his massive body more fully to her as I stood slowly, keeping my weight in the balls of my feet.

    The second his eyes left me I raced forward again, calling water to my hands and spreading it beneath him. I then froze it as he grunted, slipping with a curse. I created a sword of ice in each of my hands next, and was a fraction of a moment from driving it into his skull before he kicked out. I jumped out of the way, but not before his hand closed around my chest.

    Pain soared through my ribs, and it felt like my soul was being crushed. I could only manage a grunt as I called more fire to my palms, laying them on his fingers. He hissed, but kept squeezing all the same, his lip curling back in a snarl.

    A spear made of shadow pierced his forearm just as I was about to pass out.

    He released me with a grunt of his own and I landed hard, but I didn''t have time to recover. I brought another hand up just in time to deflect a stone-shattering kick to my head. It flung me back several feet all the same, fiery pain crawling up my arm.

    "Stop!" cried the Chosen, holding a hand out to me and Rowena both as we both panted. I glanced at Rowena quickly, seeing all color drain from her face as she stooped her hands on her knees.

    The Chosen grunted again as he resumed his feet, looking at me like a cougar would look at a wasp with his brow pinched in annoyance.

    "That''s enough, Elemancer boy," he said dimiisively, and I felt my nostrils flare as anger coursed through me. Gods, I wished this coward would stop his endless babble and simply fight us so we could all go home.

    "And keep your offensive thoughts about me to a minimum," he said quietly the corner of his mouth hitching upward, "My ego can only take so much. Now sit there and wait for your turn to die. Let the immortals speak,"

    He glanced at Rowena then, his hands clasping behind his back.

    "Or is my lady Chosen still trying to delude herself into believing she''s just a normal human? That she can having normal things like love and simplicity?"

    "Oh?" Rowena asked, cocking her head, "I thought you could read my mind, but apparently you''ve misread me."

    Shadows began to spread over her skin as her eyes blazed a radiant blue. They spread just like my Elemancer tattoos in stark contrast to her pale skin as she curled one around her fingers like a snake. She looked...evil.

    "I know exactly what I am. I was born a monster. Care to be my next meal?"

    Frowning, I spread my palms over the grassy ground and pushed to my feet, sending Rowena a confused look.

    Why wasn''t she fighting him?

    The Behemoth''s eyes tracked my movement before Rowena barked a laugh. She stood in the simple dress of Purgatory, her hair uncoiling with the gentle wind that swept through the flowers and trees. She stood straight with her shoulders back and her fists clenched, looking ready to punish the bastard who had caused so much hell.

    But then I saw her more clearly.

    Her eyelids hung low and thee was a slight shake to her palms. But it was more than that. I could sense the magic within her, a gift I had always possessed. I could feel her control on her abilities slipping. That darker energy lurked within her like a wild animal pacing in it''s cage. It was whispering in it''s sleep when she first came back, but now it was throwing itself against the doors of its cage. And now that she had stopped time, her defenses against it were low.

    She wasn''t fighting, because she couldn''t. She needed me to buy her time to restore some energy.

    Rowena and the Chosen said something more, I was distracted as a laugh floated to me on the wind.

    I pivoted in an instant, gazing all around. The night sky stared at us pitilessly with an all-consuming oblivion, but I was able to spy two figures within it. At first they simply looked like constellations, but as I gaze further at them, the stars reformed and merged with the blackness into two humanoid shapes. They had huge wings extending out their backs, and I could see one was male and the other was female. They didn''t respond to my attention, seeming content to hover above us.

    Puzzled, I hesitated as I felt their eyes on us. What were they? And why were they here? I could sense their magic even from this distance, and I pulled in a sharp breath as I felt a seemingly endless ocean of power inside each of them.

    The female form suddenly descended to the ground, landing with catlike grace. Her wings grazed the ground behind her as folded them back, her male counterpart not far behind her.

    Calling wind Elemancy to my palms, I sank into another fighting stance as they approached. The female laughed again, her wings spreading as she did.

    "Believe me," she said as ashen hair fell into black eyes, "That would be a mistake."

    "Peace, Lera. Our mistress said he is not to be harmed," said the male, who stared at me with pity in his eyes.

    My mouth parted as I thought about asking them what they meant, but nothing came out.

    "Don''t mind us, Boy," the female named Lera said, "Your friend over there needs you more."

    She smiled again as she reached behind her back and produced two short swords of glistening obsidian metal.

    "And I have a feeling things are finally about to get interesting."

 Lesson Thirty-Seven: Pain is Addicting

    Why do I bother making plans?

    The people of the Yawning Caverns had a saying. The actions of mortals are the echoes of Fate. They believed it didn''t matter what was done. Every blink, breath, and step were all part of an already-written story. The Story.

    Fatalistic bastards.

    I disagreed with them utterly. Screw that. I just wished something would go my way. Just once. Just. Fucking. Once.

    The Chosen glanced at me, his eyes dancing as if my soul were already flaking apart under his meaty hands. I tried to keep my legs from shaking, examining my nails as if I didn''t have any other cares in the world.

    "So here we are, My Lady Chosen," he murmured, turning to face me fully and holding up a hand to count off his fingers, "Two immortals locked in a battle to the death with the fate of hundreds on the line."

    He held two fingers up to me at arms length, his teeth bared in a snarl.

    "First there''s you. Empty of power and with a fighter who is useless against my abilities," he said, nodding his head toward where Zachariah had landed.

    He lowered one finger and pointed to himself, his voice echoing softly in the garden.

    "And then there''s me. Fresh and ready to send another soul into the Abyss."

    His fingers curled into a fist and he punched it into his other palm as he began to come toward me. The sound of flesh on flesh made me flinch despite myself as I heard the effortless force behind it. My eyes flecked to Zachariah, wondering why he had stopped attacking.

    I was shocked when I saw he wasn''t alone. Two winged people stood behind him, shortswords gleaming behind their backs even though the night sky was giving off precious little light. They were both impossibly tall, probably dwarfing Zachariah by several inches.

    The female had thick muscular arms, and wore armor of gleaming black material I couldn''t place. She had curly black hair and red irises. The male was slightly taller than her, though their resemblance was uncanny. He had the same powerful build and sculpted armor with curly black hair of his own. And the same red eyes. They were almost like Death''s except their corneas weren''t black like her''s. The male had a all-consuming calm about him, with his expression having no emotion in it at all. I didn''t quite know what to make of him.

    The female, however, I knew was a problem with one look at her. I immediately disliked the arrogant cant of her head and the slightly manic gleam in her eyes. I remembered breaking up an animal fighting ring once. I saw one of the more vicious matches. I remembered the malicious look of the audience''s faces as they roared with excitement while watching beasts tear flesh from bone.

    She had that same expression in her eyes.

    She leaned down to murmur something to Zachariah as it dawned on me. Angels. They were angels. Why were the Angels of Death here? I wasn''t sure if I wanted the answer to that. Better yet, what was Zachariah doing? Making motherfucking friends?

    An overlarge chest blocked my view of him.

    "Any last words?" The Chosen asked as his eyes began to glow a radiant blue. The shadows within me leapt at his challenge, whispering words of blood in the deepest part of my mind. The other side of my coin wanted to show itself, and I felt as if I were balancing on the edge. A large portion of me wondered why I was bothering to hold it back, but the rational part of me knew I had been lucky to regain control last time. I didn''t know what would happen if I let it out again. How many would die? One? Twenty? Two hundred?

    Would I even stop this time?

    And that wasn''t my only problem. My energy wasn''t coming back anymores It hadn''t regenerated at all since the moment I set foot in this Gods-foresaken realm. In fact, the shadows were pressing harder on my soul now. The demon''s door weakened with every passing moment I was here. I was running out of options, so I went with the only one I could think of.

    Talking shit.

    "I have a question," I said giving him my best smirk, even as I felt more and more of the darkness slide over my skin, "Can you tell me what it is?"

    He smirked back.

    "A touch of madness in your final moments? What do you want me to tell you?" he asked, his voice light with mirth as he canted his head to the side. I lifted a brow at him.

    That''s when I saw his gaze sharpen on my face and a wrinkle form between his brows. He narrowed his eyes in concentration before his jaw hardened.

    "What''s the matter?" I whispered, "Look into my mind and find the answer. Go on. I''ll wait."

    His nostrils flared before his arrogant mask slid back over his face and he chuckled darkly.

    Talk, Rowena. Keep him talking. He likes talking.

    "You can''t read my mind here, can you? This is Death''s Purgatory. The God of Knowing''s pretentious gifts won''t work here."

    "What is your question?" he growled, his eyes glinting brightly in the shade under his brow.

    I shifted my weight, crossing my arms across my chest.

    "Why are you helping Black Pegasus make soul stones for the Elemancy guns?" I asked bluntly. The corner of his mouth quirked, and he lifted his chin skyward.

    "Humanity has made its final error. This is part of a far bigger game than you know," he growled as his muscles bulged under his plane shirt. The radiant bliue light spread through the veins of his face.

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    "What does that mean?" I asked, but he shook his head, his hands flexing dangerously.

    "No sense explaining it to someone who won''t exist soon."

    He swiped his hand at my head, but I was ready for him. Swaying under his fist, I pivoted on my heel and tried bring my fist up under his forearm. My joints had oil in them, moving too easily. I lost my balance in my fatigue. I only just caught myself from falling, my palm pressing against the ground. I drew on the precious puddle energy I had remaining and cast a blade of shadow on my foot as I kicked straight upward between his legs.

    Blood. A high-pitched scream.

    "YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

    My legs failed me. I couldn''t spring back up like I intended, so I laid back and rolled. I caught sight of the damage I''d done and huffed. He had twisted at the last second, and a deep gash went through his upper leg leg now.

    A leg that swung backwards for a kick.

    I braced for impact, but I heard someone sliding on the ground, and it cracked as he went. The crack splintered toward the Chosen''s feet, making him twist awkwardly to keep his footing.

    Zachariah tucked me into his body and rolled us both to get some distance.

    "Get away," he grunted, before kick-flipping himself into a standing position. I didn''t waste the opportunity. I managed to stand and took some staggering steps away. Pulling in a breath, I turned just in time to see Zachariah shoot a ball of blue fire at the Chosen.

    The Chosen just laughed at him, side-stepping his attacks easily. He may not have been able to read my mind, but he could easily read Zachariah''s. He stayed light on his feet, enduring the stray flames from Zachariah''s attack.

    Even so, I saw the man''s skin burn and boil under the heat of magical fire.

    So what''s the strategy here, Rowena? The demon whispered, an icy current racing under my skull. It burned in my mind, crawling through every cell. My hands flew to my temples, but it didn''t matter. The voice kept coming.

    You''re just going to stand here and watch as your friend dies?

    As if in answer, the Chosen''s hand darted out. He caught Zachariah''s leg as he lept and began beating him against a nearby tree. A feint silvery shield glimmered with each hit as the plants remained safe in the fight. The barrier looked similar to the one protecting the books in God of Knowing''s library.

    You thought you would have been able to bury me while you were here? That''s like expecting a fish to swim slower when it''s in water. This is my home. Our home. Stop fighting it and give in.

    Zachariah grunted as he hit the tree a second time, casting a spike of rock to shoot from the ground right under the Chosen''s feet. He dropped him in an instant, still side-stepping the spike. Zachariah bounded out of reach, the tattoos crawling over his skin as they shifted between the elemental patterns. First fire. Then earth. Then air, water, and back to fire.

    He was keeping pace with the Chosen''s attack''s, but he also wasn''t scoring any hits. And he was getting slower.

    The Chosen''s eyes found mine as he dodged an ice sword to his neck.

    "Running away from your fight, My Lady? Come now. You brought me here--"

    He cut himself off as Zachariah brought the ice sword around again, forcing him to dodge.

    "I thought you wanted to kill me," The Chosen said mockingly, spreading his arms wide in invitation. As if this was all a game.

    Curling my upper lip back, I shifted my weight forward and called to the shadows again despite the bone-deep fatigue in me. They didn''t obey me. The best I could do was tiny ones the size of hair ribbons.

    You can''t win like this, and he''ll run out of Elemancy eventually. Are you going to let another one die?

    Flashes of Yared''s bloody face came suddenly. Unbidden. They were replaced by Fayra''s bloodied corpse in the street next. Then my mother''s sweaty form as the infection took her.

    I gritted my teeth and pulled on those shadows once again, tightening them until they were sharp as needles. Then I tucked one between each of the knuckles of my fists.

    "You talk too much," Zachariah growled, drawing the Chosen''s attention again. I sprinted forward as fast as I could in that moment, using my remaining strength to jump.

    I landed on the Chosen''s back, stabbing the needles between my kuckles into his thick neck. He howled, trying to buck me off. But I wasn''t letting go. Even if my arms got ripped off and more of my soul flaked away.

    I was just that stubborn.

    "Burn Us!" I bellowed to Zachariah as the Chosen pivoted again, just barely keeping my hold. I twisting my fists, burying the shadow needles deeper into his neck. I curled them into hooks and drove them into my skin as well, pushing to claw further and further inside his soul. He tried to rip me off him, but the shadow hooks bound us together.

    Zachariah hesitated, his expression hard.

    "BURN US!" I repeated, sending him a nod. He immediately opened his palms, and the Chosen didn''t have time to dodge this time with me on his back as the blue flames engulfed us.

    If you''ve never had your soul burned before, allow me to describe it for you. I''m sure you already know this, but it isn''t pleasant. It downright sucks. I would definitely not recommend it as a spa treatment.

    Our souls ignited like kindling, and the pain was blinding. The flames mostly hit the Chosen and his screams reached a higher tenor as he ran and ran. He tried to transform into something smaller, but I kept all of my focus on holding on. Zachariah sent fire ball after fire ball at us, being careful to avoid me as much as possible.

    But he couldn''t do it entirely.

    The Chosen''s hands began to fall slack as he tossed himself to the ground and rolled to try to staunch the flames. But these were Elemancy flames. We kept burning until skin became charcoal. The Chosen rolled one more time, and fell still. Part of his arm fell into ash and I panted.

    The ash blew on the wind as more and more fragments flaked away until her was just a pile of ashes.

    I was a burned corpse, but I felt my Chosen ability sliding through me. My skin stitched me back together, and my hair regrew. Zachariah knelt before me as my scalp finally healed. My magic was still pitifully gone, but I supposed Death still didn''t want me to die.

    I had a debt to pay after all.

    I looked up and saw that Zachariah''s skin was bare now. He used all of his Elemancy to finish the Chosen off.

    "I bet you never thought I''d let you burn me alive," I deadpanned as I panted a breath. My soul was in absolute agony. The demon was screaming in rage inside me, but that was where she would stay. I would never let her out again.

    The corner of Zachariah''s lip quirked and some of his red locks fell into his eyes as he shook his head at me.

    The healing energy slowly made it''s way down my back, the new skin reforming under the old. It flaked off me and scattered to the gentle wind of the garden. Zachariah stayed with me second by second, making sure I was healing fully. I laid on my back, looking to the night sky as I tried to figure out our next step. More ashes carried on the wind from where the Chosen''s body laid, and I was glad he disintegrated to nothing. Like the nothing he was.

    "Are you okay?" I asked, gesturing to Zachariah''s leg. It was definitely bent the wrong way.

    Before Zachariah could respond, a fist collided with his face.

    He was thrown bodily to the side, and his body collided with the tree at the center of the garden. I pushed myself up, my body screaming in pain as I did so.

    A bland and humanoid shape stood where the Chosen had laid.

    It gazed at me with its blank face before morphing. Shifting. It became taller with lean muscle, clothing forming on it''s surface. It''s voice groaned with the transformation, becoming a familiar deep bass.

    Sherriff Stone smirked evilly at me.

    "Well then, Little Lady," he said in my mentor''s voice, "It would seem you forgot that I can heal just as well as you can."

    He took slow and measured steps toward me as I stared at him in shock. No. I saw his body turn all the way to ash. We were in Purgatory. How was he still alive?

    "That was a great first act," The Chosen went on in Stone''s voice, "But I think it''s time for the finale."

 Lesson Thirty-Eight: A Bastards Lesson. All Pride Has A Cost

    Zachariah

    What in the Hells just happened?

    My body went limp as a rag doll the second the Chosen''s fist hit me. One moment everything was settled in a torrent of fire and ash. And then my ears were ringing, my body was screaming in agony as I was punched across the night garden. I flew head over heel until my back slammed against a tree, the silvery shield surrounding the greenery here radiating out from the impact.

    Blackness took me for...well I don''t know how long. I came to, and my vision swam as I pulled myself into a sitting position. The ground tilted beneath me, everything spinning on some unknown axis. Something warm dripped down my chin, and I tasted the coppery tang of blood.

    Grunting, I tried to gather my surroundings as I pulled free from unconsciousness.

    Silvery light gave off a low glow in the endless field of plants of every type and color. I hadn''t noticed that before. I had only focused on the fight and our purpose before, but this place really was beautiful in its own way. Behind me was an ocean of deepest red in the distance. A speck of an island stood in the middle. The boundless black sky held only the symbols of the other Gods in it, looking down on us without emotion.

    Everything snapped into focus.

    "What are you being so pissy about? Never been burned alive before?" Rowena said as her skin finally knitted back together. The Shifter stood over her, taking on Sheriff Stone''s form. My jaw hardened as I watched this snake impersonate an honest man. The image was perfect, but everything about his body language was wrong. From the tilt of his head, to the smile that didn''t reach his eyes.

    My hand flew to my arm where my Elemancy marks had been, but my skin was clean now. I reached to the ground and called forth its energy, but it shied away from me in this realm. It was like trying to call a dog away from its master. It cared nothing for my request. Some unspoken command kept it from me.

    I was out of Elemancy.

    "Burning someone alive is considered an insult in some parts. And it was rather uncomfortable," The Shifter responded in Stone''s deep voice, curling his hands into fists. His eyes began to glow like beacons, allowing the full power of what he was to shine through. Rowena''s eyes were more like someone striking flint, flashing between radiant blue and her normal violet.

    "Don''t be such a bitch. I''ve seen less drama in a theater," Rowena muttered, slowly getting to her feet. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but nothing had changed. She was barely holding back that darker part of herself. We all knew it. Blackness seeped into the veins of her face like ink as she spoke. Inch by inch.

    Leaning into a roll, I tried to tuck my legs beneath me. If this coward was going to send Rowena to the Abyss, she sure as the Hells wasn''t going alone. I would fight for her. For the people who would be slaughtered like pigs. For the fate of my race and the war that would follow if we failed.

    When we failed. I hated to admit it, but he had outwitted us. The God of Knowing''s Chosen. He knew we would try to find him. He knew we would try to stop the Pumas. He had put them right in our path like fodder to sap Rowena''s energy. He knew his job would be easy by the time he revealed himself.

    But that didn''t mean we would simply roll over and die.

    I finished in a crouch, realizing my legs had gone numb. The tree''s blow to my spine must have been harder than I anticipated. My legs felt like stilts supporting my torso, but I still had to fight. I wasn''t afraid. I had grown up fending for myself on the streets long before I learned the art of my heritage.

    I didn''t need magic to win a fight. Battles came in many forms, but there were commonalities to all of them. You had to accept that it was going to hurt. You had to greet pain like an old teacher. Pain didn''t kill you in a battle. It was just a reality.

    "You''re strong," came a steady voice. I looked over my shoulder to find the male angel standing there like a statue. One of the Angels of Death. He could be nothing else. His counterpart stood a few paces away, looking on with excitement as Rowena and the Chosen continued to talk.

    An idea came to me.

    "She serves Death as well. Help us," I breathed, trying to steady myself. A bark of laughter came from the female, cruel and high. The male just stared impassively at me, his arms crossed over his massive chest. His gaze never left mine as he spoke next.

    "She did serve Death," he said quietly.

    I felt my eyes narrow, and turned more fully to him. I needed to know what he meant by that, but I didn''t get the chance to ask. He was before me in a blink''s breath, staring down with those with flat eyes.

    "There are events which must take place. Events to which we must bear witness," he said as he laid a hand on my shoulder, his red gaze boring into mine.

    "I will tell you this," he went on more softly, "Yours are the eyes of a warrior. Not a martyr."

    My brows drew together, but the angel just backed away from me with impossible grace, his hands lowering to his sides.

    "Now go," he said as he looked back to my friend.

    Frowning, I looked away from them just in time to see Rowena punch the Chosen, her hands shaking. My stomach dropped as the blow barely made him move. He slowly and deliberately turned his chin to her again. She and the Chosen stood chest to chest as his eyes blazed with power. Rowena''s familiar scowl came to her features as I saw her spread her fingers toward the darkness of the nearest shadow.

    Don''t, I thought. But she did. The smallest tendril of shadow came toward her outstretched palm, and I saw Rowena pant with the effort. It turned and twisted until finally making contact with Rowena''s shaking fingers.

    And then she screamed.

    The air seemed to ripple as she sank to her knees. Shadows spread over her skin like black fire, her eyes blazing. I was already running, sprinting to her in fumbling strides. It felt like running on the deck of a ship in a hurricane, but that didn''t matter. I saw the Chosen''s sadistic smile as he just stood there, watching her writhe.

    I couldn''t let this happen. Rowena had told me the truth of that night in Grimwater. The horror that she became. I couldn''t allow her to become that again. For all our sakes.

    "This again? I thought I told you to wait your turn," the Chosen drawled in Stone''s voice as I came within an arm''s reach. He could read my mind. It was pointless. I knew that. I swung anyway.

    And in the same motion, I turned my mind off.

    He blocked my punch to his throat, using a single forearm to redirect my fist to the left. I let it happen, turning with my momentum and the elbow of my other arm up as I finished the turn.

    A sickening crack was my reward. My elbow drove in his jaw, dislocating it and ending all conversation. I didn''t take the time to celebrate. My body was moving with the instincts of a lifetime of street brawls against boys and men twice my size. I didn''t allow myself to plan strikes or lure him into a mistake. I simply moved.

    And it was working. By all the God''s mercy, it was working.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    As he stumbled back, I didn''t allow the space to open up. I crouched and drove my fist into his side. The spinning in my head was gone now, replaced by a rage I had never known. This man would pay. I had seen too many cowards get away with their schemes on the streets. But not tonight. Not this man. This thing. He would pay.

    His body curled, his mouth open in a gasp. I wrapped my arms around his bent waist, somehow managing to lift him on my numb legs. I turned us both before finally slamming him flat on the ground. The rest of the air in his lungs left him in a whoosh.

    I pinned him beneath me, pulling my fist back to punch him again. But he had finally recovered from the blows, and I was getting slower already. The Chosen thrust his knee up, scoring a hit between my legs. It was good that I was still numb, because I only registered the burning ache his knee left behind. It only fueled my rage as I aimed a second punch to his face. His nose shattered under the impact, blood spraying out from his nostrils and his dislocated jaw. He brought his elbow up, hitting me in the temple. I just took the hit even as sparks danced across my vision.

    The Chosen used my momentary pause to roll me beneath him, and I took two more punches to the face. But I didn''t care. I was all attack. The only thing that mattered was hurting him. Killing him.

    A grunt escaped me as I threw my forehead into his already dangling jaw. A strangled scream of pain rang out and he reared backward, I twisted out from under him as my arms became free. I threw an arm his neck as I slammed him back to the ground face first. I used my other hand to twist his head as he kicked and struggled. But it was too late now. I had the advantage. He seemed to know my intent before I did as I threw my body weight into twisting his neck more and more until...

    A snap, and the arms and legs beneath me went slack. The only sound was my rasping breathing for several seconds as I tried to gather myself.

    "Zachariah."

    I glanced over at Rowena as sanity returned to me, the rage ebbing away and replaced by agony. She sitting with her knees to her chest, sweat dripping from her face, which had gone white as snow. Her entire torso shook even as she wrapped her arms around herself. But her eyes stayed decidedly violet as she gazed at me. I sighed in relief, but not for long.

    I knew this was far from over.

    As if in answer, the head beneath me twitched as bone moved beneath skin. He threw me off of him as his body became more muscular, armor forming on it. Stone''s form was gone, replaced by a man in a general''s uniform. A general of the King''s Army of Burland. The sigil seemed to smile at me as I saw the steel gray and golden livery. The sun and moon stood back to back on a green background.

    I landed flat on my back as the Chosen slowly regained his feet. Ash Blonde hair was cut severely short over a prominent brow. This body looked like a warrior honed from legend. The only giveaway was the blue glow in his eyes.

    He reached up to his jaw, forcing it back into place with a crunch. He worked it hesitantly before smirking at me, all bruises vanished from his face.

    "Getting tired yet? We can do this all night," he asked in a posh Burlish accent. I didn''t respond, focusing on my breathing and trying to control the pain beating through my body. My soul.

    A low laugh echoed in the garden.

    "Has it finally sunk in? You cannot win this, Boy," he said with a pretentious placating hand.

    "Oh, I''m sure you''ll try again and again. But this fight isn''t about effort. A kitten can try to fight a lion, but in the end we all know how that ends."

    He shrugged as he turned his back to me, looking at Rowena.

    "But I''m not finished with you yet, My Lady," he said, switching to a conversational tone. Rowena was still pale, gripping her knees to her chest, but she still managed to glare at him with utmost hatred.

    "Did you know that there used to be several of the Chosen?" he went on, lifting a brow at her. Rowena just gave the smallest tilt of her head in question.

    "Oh yes," he said, sinking to his haunches before her, "The Gods have selected Chosens for generations. We existed long before the war began, but in secret. However, you are the first Chosen of Death that has been seen in almost a thousand years."

    He gestured as if tipping a hat to her.

    "My compliments to you. What an honor it must be."

    "Why," Rowena said too quietly, "Do you talk so fucking much?"

    "Like I said. I''m not done with you," he explained, standing to his full height again. I tried to sit up, but my body simply wouldn''t respond. I could only watch as the Chosen spun on his heel, looking back to her with a smile.

    "The Gods have a law against fighting one another directly, but they are still very competitive," he said, glancing to where the God of Knowing''s symbol hung in the sky.

    "So they had us, their various Chosens, fight in a tournament to see who''s power was the strongest."

    A cruel smile.

    "It was glorious. I would regale with the thrilling tale, but I can see your patience running out. So I''ll skip to the end."

    He leaned forward, meeting Rowena''s eye.

    "I won my first tournament as Chosen. And I have won every tournament since. Every other God has had to find a new Chosen for the past eight hundred and thirty-six years."

    "Why do you think I care?" Rowena asked, her voice a lethal quiet even as a bead of sweat trailed down her pale face.

    "Because I want to see you at your best, My Lady," he explained, curling a finger under her chin.

    "I''ll admit you got the better of me last time, and my God was less than impressed by my performance. But I''m prepared for you now. There is no pride in killing this pathetic form you cling to."

    His eyes flashed brighter.

    "So let out that other form. Your true form. I will kill you at your most powerful. I will kill you like I did all the rest."

    A beat of silence passed as Rowena glared at him. The plants seemed to take a collective breath as they waited. Darkness shifted over her face, replaced by that glowing blue, and then finally going back to violet.

    "Go to the deepest of the Hells and rot," Rowena growled before punching him in the throat. He stumbled back, coughing for a moment as the light of his eyes seeped into the veins of his face. His expression twisted in anger as he settled his uniform back over his shoulders. Rowena didn''t rise. I doubted she could. But she did glance at me then, an apology in her expression.

    "Well then," The Chosen said, looking from me, to her, and then back to me. That cruel smile was back, and I felt ice spread through me as I realized his next plan.

    "Let''s see if we can get you rage going," he said, before stalking toward me, "And if I have to make you watch another person you love go to the Abyss, then so be it."

    I needed to move. To do anything. I managed to get to my feet just in time to greet my executioner. The rage was gone, burned up inside me. I knew he was right. A Chosen had a power in a different dimension than I did, Elemancy or no. I lifted my chin, determined to try to buy Rowena as much time as possible.

    I looked at her then, trying to tell her with my eyes to run. Save herself and fight this fight another day. More would die in that preparation, but it was better than the alternative. Rowena needed to stay herself. That demon inside her needed to stay caged. If my death bought her that ability, then it was a price I could pay.

    The Chosen smirked at me as I sank into another fighting stance. That general squared off against me, and I didn''t even see his first strike. I was sent backward as his palm struck my chest. I tried to land, but my legs were slow. The Chosen sent a kick at my head, but I blocked it. Even that sent agony through me, blinding me. But it was fine.

    It was worth it.

    "Wait," Rowena rasped.

    We both paused, glancing at where she stooped. But she wasn''t stooping anymore. She stood with her shoulders back and spine straight. Her eyes met mine, and I saw they were rimmed with silver. Her words were only for me.

    "Find a way to stop me."

    Not a request. An order.

    And then Rowena, Blight of Grimwater and Chosen of Death, lifted her face to the black sky.

    Drops of all-consuming darkness fell from it like rain. The drops fell around her, and then toward her. I watched, my body ice cold as one of the drops hit her forehead, curling into a black mark like I had never seen.

    Rowena was laughing now, spread her arms to greet the drops of darkness. They gathered on her like a second skin, making her form obscure. It became a black humanoid shadow with glowing blue eyes as she laughed and laughed. The very plane of Purgatory seemed to roar, the ground itself rumbling beneath my feet. And then Rowena''s form grew, standing tall as she lost all shape altogether. Even her eyes were swallowed by the blackness. The edges curled and writhed like blame flames, towering above both the Chosen and myself.

    It stopped raining blackness. All went silent.

    "Finally," The Chosen whispered, turning from me to face the bonfire of darkness my friend had become. He drew nearer as I stood rooted to the spot, throwing his arms out and sweeping into a bow.

    "I see you true self has finally come out of hiding. How abou--"

    His words were cut off as a blade of darkness shot out from the flame, severing his head clean from the neck. It bounced near my feet, turning to ash as the body collapsed. Seconds later, I saw another head forming on it.

    I tore my eyes away from the healing Chosen, seeing the black flames start to condense. They gathered together as two dots of red light formed within it''s depths. A face appeared around them, then a female figure of ashen skin with black armor fitted to Rowena''s new body.

    There was nothing human about Rowena''s gaze as I finally recognized her. The black flames still surrounded her as she canted her head. She waited patiently for the Chosen to rise again, ignoring me completely. I didn''t know if I was grateful for that.

    "Do you know why you were able to win the tournaments of the Chosen?" Rowena asked in a deep voice that sounded both nothing like her and everything like her. A voice that made the air ripple with power, silver light glowing from every plant she approached.

    The Chosen simply smirked at her, resuming the form of the general. Rowena chuckled darkly, pausing to lift her hands.

    The black flames fell into her fists, becoming solid and fitting to her palms exactly. In mere moments, Rowena had pistols made of the purest shadow in each hand.

    "You won because I hadn''t joined the party yet."

 **Updated** Lesson Thirty-Nine: Even Immortals Have Rules

    Rowena

    The Healer, my weaker self, was gone. Dead. I had taken her place.

    I looked to the side, and saw the mortal man there. Zachariah. The friend of my other half. He looked at me with wide eyes, red hair hanging in his face. Two angels stood behind him, but they seemed content to watch. The male angel, Lorian if I remembered correctly, took in every part of my awakening. His eyes were expressionless, as if he had seen this every day. His sister, Lera, let her fingers trail along her blades as she watched the last of the black flames settle around my body. A small smirk pulled at her lips, her grip settling on the pommels at her back.

    The mortal watched me with wary eyes, and I didn''t miss the sadness in his aura. The Healer had been his best friend after all, but it didn''t matter. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I heard her memory bellowing, screaming and begging to be let out. But no. I had waited long enough, and I was here to stay now. The Blight of Grimwater was back. The Healer was nothing more than an echo.

    There was only thing that mattered, and that was removing these damned Marks from my neck. The Healer wanted to go to the Far Shore to see her precious lost love, but she thought like a mortal. She felt emotions like a mortal. But there was a bigger prize to be had.

    Yes I would kill, pay my debt, and take this realm for myself. I would lord over Death, the strongest of all the godly planes.

    And then nothing would be taken from me ever again.

    The Chosen would be the first in a long line for the gallows.

    Power. Unbelievable power beat through my veins as I released it. It was my blood. My very being. This realm spoke to me, and some deep part of myself answered. And at that moment I knew I was home. That other material plane was nothing but a plaything for me. I was the silence that came after the final breath. I was the end, and what came after the end.

    And it felt fucking right.

    ¡°Well then,¡± I said, sweeping into a curtsy with my pistols pointing outward, ¡°You have what you want now. How does it feel?¡±

    The Chosen laughed, throwing his head back and wrapping his hands around his middle. He did so for several seconds before looking me up and down. His eyes lingered on the aura of black flames surrounding me, before finally returning to my face.

    ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m a bit disappointed. I was hoping for a bit more¡­well more,¡± he said with a shrug. It was my turn to laugh as I spun my shadow pistols around my fingers.

    ¡°You would think removing someone¡¯s head would be enough to show them how much more you are than them,¡± I said too quietly, snapping the handles back into my grip, ¡°But here I am having done it twice to you now, and you maintain your arrogance. Astounding.¡±

    He swept into a bow, his eyes cast downward.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me, My Lady. Losing your head loses its intimidation factor when you can just grow it back. And you¡¯re nothing compared to the God of Wrath¡¯s Chosen. He was able to turn the sky blood red and make the ground quake beneath your feet.¡±

    He lifted his head only, still holding his torso in a bow.

    ¡°And I think the accurate count would hold at two and a half decapitations. You nearly succeeded in the library,¡± he corrected, rising to his full height.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if the third time''s the charm,¡± I said, holding my shadow pistols aloft and pulling the trigger. A blast of shadow came out of the end, turning into two, then four and then so many that I couldn''t track it. Everything rippled around me as the shot rang out, the trees and flowers swaying back in the shockwave.

    It missed.

    One moment the Chosen stood there, and the next he was getting smaller, the black comets of raging shadow hitting the space where he had been moments ago. My eyes tracked him as his small body elongated into a serpent. He curled neatly around my next two shots before disappearing into the flowers.

    Coward.

    Growling, I curled my black flames until they were one with me. I threw them out until they formed wings at my back. And then I was giving chase, flying with half a thought. The darkness did my bidding as easy as your body breathes for you.

    The Chosen wound and weaved through the undergrowth, using the protective barrier around it to shield from my attacks. I commanded the shadows to encircle him, but he slipped out by changing form seamlessly. A snake, a fly, a spider.

    And he was fast. Very fast. I¡¯ll give him that. I was about to call out to him before I realized where we were going.

    The red ocean loomed ever closer with every slither he made. I had never been this close, but I knew what this was. The ocean to the Far Shore. I laughed, moving past the Chosen snake to speed ahead to the Near Shore.

    A titanic black tree stood on the sandy beach. A thunderwood tree, but far larger than any I had ever seen on the material plane. Silvery leaves shone on top, giving off a brighter glow than the rest of the garden. Its trunk could not have been encircled if a hundred people linked arms. The branches disappeared into the sky, and its roots reached into the red ocean, disappearing into its depths.

    I landed on a lower branch that was at least the width of a road, the metallic bark unyielding under my feet. I kept my shadows formed into wings, my pistols held ready. Looking down, I tried to watch for the Chosen. Instead I saw my reflection in the unnaturally still red water.

    My eyes had lost their radiant blue, instead replaced by a glowing red surrounded by black where white had been. Black armor hugged me all the way to my neck, and the wings of black flame seemed to feast upon what little light there was.

    But I wasn¡¯t here to look at my true form. Tearing my eyes away, I watched for my prey or anything amiss. I wasn¡¯t stupid. This was the same game we had been playing since our first fight. This man did everything for a reason. If he had led me here, then there was a plan.

    But I was strong enough to fight him now. And I was done holding back.

    Some presence brushed against my mind, but I dismissed it as I continued to scan the shoreline. My aura of black flames pushed against that pressure, but it was persistent. I whirled around, eyes narrowed on where I felt it coming from.

    A girl¡¯s voice echoed on the shore as mist began to gather.

    Mommy¡­Mommy!

    A small form stood in the feint glow. A child. A child with long black hair and violet eyes.

    I pulled the trigger, the darkness consuming the figure. It melted into nothing, but I felt nothing from it in return. Like trying to grab rock only to realize it was sand.

    Please¡­please don¡¯t leave me¡­

    I whirled again, the voice seeming familiar and distant. But then there was another voice. An older female, soft and pained.

    Hush, my Curadh¡­

    Another form materialized out of the mist. A woman with long hair and clear blue eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯ve tried this cheap trick before,¡± I murmured, leveling my pistol at the woman¡¯s head. She looked at me, confused. Even as blood spilled down her front. Even as her face grew pale.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Cruadh?¡± she asked in a sweet voice. Her voice. A voice from a human childhood.

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    My pistols didn¡¯t move an inch.

    ¡°Come out and face me, Chosen,¡± I ordered even as the figure drew ever closer, ¡°The woman this would have worked on is dead. She shattered along with the rest of my humanity.¡±

    My mother was within arms reach now, her face aching sad. Sweat began to bead on her brow, her skin clammy. And then I smelled it. The stench of human refuse, sickness, and fever.

    "Souls are never broken, Curadh" she murmured as she collapsed to the ground, "Only lost for a little while."

    I pulled the trigger.

    This time the figure didn¡¯t fade. She screamed in agony as the shadows consumed her, the form tearing apart as if a hundred wolves were feasting on her. Somewhere deep inside me someone was howling. Screaming to stop hurting my mother, but I didn¡¯t listen to it. That mortal part was weakness.

    Pathetic.

    My mother¡¯s screams raged on as I gazed upward into the sky. And that¡¯s when I realized that the symbols of the Gods were all equidistant here, even Death¡¯s.

    ¡°I know why you lead us here,¡± I called into the gloom, ¡°This is neutral territory.¡±

    Silence was my answer. I turned and turned, flames forming an aura around me again. But then I felt it. That pressure at the edge of my mind.

    ¡°I fail to see how you managed to kill other Chosen when you can¡¯t even face me,¡± I said quietly, closing my eyes and feeding into the shadows. They became my eyes. I spread them out, seeking my prey. I would find him and end this. And then I would find the gangs who threatened peace. I would kill them. Send them to the abyss where they belonged. But this Chosen would be the first to die.

    ¡°Are you in such a hurry to die?¡±

    Opening my eyes, I saw the Chosen standing on the shore below me, his face pulled into a too-wide grin. Something had changed about him, and it took me several seconds to realize it was his eyes. They now glittered a faint gold color around dilated pupils.

    Just like the God of Knowing.

    ¡°Nothing would make me happier,¡± I whispered, leveling my pistols at him without delay. I pulled the triggers, sending two bullets of purest shadow at his head. But I saw he wasn¡¯t paying attention to me. Those gold eyes penetrated me, pulling me into¡­into¡­

    And then there was that pressure on my thoughts again. More insistent this time. The bullets seemed to slow as they trailed toward him. Voices were echoing around us. A scene I had only seen in my nightmares.

    Please. I won¡¯t bother you again. Just let me go! Please! PLEASE!

    A male voice answers as hot metal hums with anticipation.

    The only thing you have to do is scream.

    A high pitched shriek paired with hiss of burning skin.

    Fayra screams again and again.

    Something rang in my soul, the memory echoing in some hollow place. Just as a shard of that pressure pressed past my defenses.

    My head was being torn apart. Every part of my mind was being ripped from me. Nothing felt real anymore. Not the power in my hands, and not the body I now inhabited. It was like every fact seemed fiction, and fiction could be fact. My thoughts were not my own, running through my mind without cause or reason.

    And yet those bullets crawled toward him slower now. I saw them, but I didn¡¯t. Nothing was sure now. The pain was excruciating. Like lighting striking me. Burning me.

    ¡°Power means nothing,¡± The Chosen was saying, still staring at me with those golden eyes, ¡°If you do not know how to wield it.¡±

    He strode toward me as I felt him pulling a strand of memory, tugging it forward.

    ¡°And now, I have what I need to destroy you.¡±

    Something was tearing through my skull. Every memory. Every sensation. Everything was real, and yet nothing was. I was reliving it all. Those dark days were pushing forward like a knife. That was the only reality. Images faster than I could realize flashed before my eyes. It wasn¡¯t in my head. I was standing in them. I heard, saw, smelled, and tasted every part. They were not memories. They were the only thing I knew. The only thing I could think about.

    Screams and wails in the streets of blood and dust which settles and Death looming here in this garden which calls to my soul.

    ¡°You¡¯ve taken my only reason for living,¡± the young healer says to the Goddess with red eyes. The Goddess sends a wave of pain at her through their bond. The Marks on her neck scream as the young healer goes to her knees.

    ¡°I had to give some reason to want to die, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    My beginning. My end.

    There was only one thing I knew. I was desperate for it to stop.

    Stop?

    Stop.

    My eyes flew open through the pain. I came back to myself in bits and pieces. I wasn¡¯t this man¡¯s plaything. I was a Chosen of Death, gifted with god-like power. And it was about time that I started to use it.

    The bullets halted in mid air.

    The Chosen stood root to the spot in mid-transformation into a song bird. He was already bending around to dodge the blackness from my pistols. I smiled, pulling more of the black flame aura from around me and commanding it to wrap around him. The second they made contact, they too froze in place. Finally, I aimed my pistol at point-blank distance under where each of his wings would be.

    The Chosen squawked as soon as I released my hold on time, but it was nothing compared to the sound he made when I pulled the triggers. Feathers went flying, and my shadows slammed him to the sandy ground. I didn''t let up, sending a spike of shadow to impale the flightless bird to the shore.

    "No more running," I said quietly as the Chosen began to heal. I stalked toward him as he transformed.

    "What''s next? A bug? A rat? A weasel?" I muttered, never breaking stride.

    I was very wrong.

    The tiny bird body became indistinct, groaning and thrashing against its impalement. Legs and arms shot out of the body and formed into a humanoid shape. As he grew, he molded his body around the spear of shadow to become free. I waited, leveling my pistols as he finished his transformation. After all, he had given me the same privilege. And I had all the time in the universe.

    The shifter rolled away from the shadow, the hole in each arm healing as he reformed. I kept waiting for him to turn into a giant or some sort of creature, but he didn''t.

    A featureless face stared at me with those same golden eyes. The skin was an odd gray and seemed to never be still, waves running along the surface of his body continuously. He was the shape of a man, though an aura of power pulsed around him. A sort of energy that made the sand around him hiss and sway in a forgotten breeze.

    "Out of energy, are we?" I asked before a whispering voice came from a mouth I couldn''t see, the gold in his eyes flashing.

    "How?" he asked, standing fully and displaying the tall but slim body of indistinct gray.

    "How what?" I asked, twirling my pistols again.

    "How did you resist the pull of memory? How are you still standing? Nobody has been able to come out of it before," he asked with something close to respect, standing with his feet wide and his hands clenched at his sides. The corner of my mouth lifted in a predatory grin as I stared at him down the barrels again, the black aura surrounding me pulsing.

    "Simple, " I said, tightening my fingers on the triggers again, "Death consumes everything. Even knowledge."

    Blackness shot out of my pistols, pushing him backward but otherwise doing little damage. His feet dug into the sand as the branches of the thunderwood tree swayed above us. That odd aura pulsed around him as he squared to me again. That pressure radiated from him like a furnace spits out heat. I saw his face look at the sky then, and his eyes lingered on the God of Knowing''s symbol in the sky before I reach out with my shadows, encasing us in a dome of darkness.

    "I said no more running. Fight me," I growled, allowing the pistols in my hands to fade into the gloom as if they had never been there. The shifter emitted an odd light against my shadows, barely visible. His head whipped around, trying to spot a hole in the dome where there was none. Finally he faced me fully, that odd aura pulsing at his fists.

    "Fine. Then we do this the old fashioned way," he said before lunging toward me. He fist came up, aiming directly for my face. I could see the power behind it, enough to separate my head from my shoulders.

    I could have cast a shield of shadow. I could have dodged the attack. Hells, I could even have sent down a rain of shadow spikes on top of him. But I didn''t. I met him with a punch of my own, a fist of shadow meeting a fist of light.

    CRACK.

    Lighting erupted from between our fists, penetrating my dome and shooting into the black sky. It was joined by another as our other hands met. I could only feel the impact of his power as it met mine. Neither of us shrank an inch despite the sky roaring above.

    The Chosen shot a leg out at my head with the same glow on his gray skin. I slammed my palm into his calf, redirecting the attack upward. In the same motion I looped my free arm around his thigh, intending to yank him off his feet. He anticipated it, jumping and twisting to arc his other leg into my face with immortal grace. The blow met home, but the remaining aura around me softened it. My head snapped to the side all the same, agony arcing down my jaw. But I kept my grip on his leg somehow, slamming him down into the dirt.

    Still reeling from the kick to my face, I sent him a kick of my own to the stomach. He tried to regain his feet, but my foot knocked the wind from him. It gave me just enough time to curl more shadows around my fist . I dove on top of him in the same motion, and punched him with all the force I could muster with the weight of my shadows as well. His featureless face was nothing more than a canvas for bruises and blood.

    He rolled beneath me, but I brought my other fist down on his exposed throat. And then I did it again. And again. And again.

    My fist paused as I saw the shifter had stopped fighting back, only guarding his face.

    "If you killed the other Chosen," I said through panting breaths, "Then they must have been weak."

    An incoherent gurgle came from the shifter as he tried to speak, but only blood bubbled from his throat.

    His head lifted as I stood suddenly. I stepped away from him to give him some room, even as his body started to regenerate.

    "Stand up," I growled, hooking a rope of blackness around his throat and hauling him to his feet.

    He staggered, holding his healing face and throat. He sank into a fighting stance, but I said nothing. Did nothing except maintain the dome of darkness. And waited. I allowed him to heal just enough to start to speak as he squared himself to me again.

    "We--" he began before my fist slammed into his jaw, breaking it. He fell to the sand again, a hand flying to his new wound. I stepping forward, standing over him with slitted eyes.

    "Stand up," I repeated, feeling energy course though me, and I knew my eyes were glowing red. Red with rage. Red with vengeance.

    The Chosen backed away from me until his back hit the edge of my dome of shadow. His eyes cast around with panic even as they glazed over with pain. I felt his aura pressing against mine as it did before, trying to pierce into in. I blocked it easily this time, knowing his presence now.

    "I said stand up," I said too quietly into the gloom, "You''ll beg for the Abyss before I''m done."

 Lesson Forty: Your Death is a Reflection of Your Life

    Zachariah

    I was told that my grandfather was a warrior from a select group called the Way of Blunted Blade. A group that was said to be the lifeblood of many, many legends. Growing up, I thought that the group was exactly that. A legend. A fantastic tale of honor-bound heroes of unbeatable skill weilding swords of Sk''uul steel.

    Source steel. Epic warriors. A code of honor.

    A nice thing to think of, but I never believed it. That was until Oji brought me my grandfather''s sword, wrapped tight in leather bindings, the unmistakable glimmer of Sk''uul steel peeking through the bindings. Even though it had been more than a decade in hiding, the blade still gleamed with the colors of the sky at daybreak.

    There was a seal covering the blade in silver-lined Thunderwood fiber with the symbols of Elder Speech imprinted on it.

    For when peace fails, a new monster must be born.

    And that was what I saw when I looked at Rowena, my oldest friend. A monster.

    The air cracked as Rowena formed her shadows into wings, wings for the God''s sake, and powered after the Chosen like a hound on a scent. A muscle ticked in my jaw as the Chosen fled from the fight he picked.

    Coward. Not that I expected anything else.

    Lera gave a whoop the second Rowena sped away, unfurling her own wings and drawing her swords. The whisper of steel cut through the sounds of the Night Garden.

    "Finally!" she cried, jumping off the ground with a perfectly-time beat of her wings. And then she was soaring after them. Fifty feet. A hundred. Two hundred.

    I took an uneasy step in their direction, but they were already black specs in the distant sky over the red ocean by the time I made it ten paces. How was it possible to go from feeling so powerful to feeling so weak? My body complained with every step, every part of my soul catching up to my injuries. I bet the fight would be over by the time I caught up to them, but it didn''t matter. I had to catch up to them and see this through. Thinking of this, I forced myself into a run.

    A hand landed on my shoulder.

    I turned to see Lorian, his face a grim mask, and his massive bulk emphasized by the black armor catching in the low light. He stared down at me, an unnatural weight to his gaze. Remembering the duty of an Angel of Death. I met his eyes. Angels of Death led souls to the afterlife once they entered Purgatory. I wondered then how many souls were led to the afterlife by him. Did he reap my father? The dozens of fellow abandoned children on the street who were claimed by sickness or the icy breath of winter?

    Did he even remember them?

    "I told you your eyes were not those of a martyr," he said, his tone flat. We descended into silence, Lera''s laugh''s echoing in the distance. I wished he would just speak plainly instead of these enigmatic warnings. So far this being had been all words and no action, and I was not impressed. Elemancy or no, I knew he could likely kill me with half a thought just by looking at him. I knew what type of man the Chosen was. He was one who survived on schemes and tricks. But Lorian was a warrior honed by more than one millennia of training. But I still wasn''t intimidated by him. I just wished he would explain himself faster. Or be useful. Preferably that.

    So I stayed silent. People eventually did one or the other to fill the silence.

    He sighed after a heartbeat, looking to sky where the others had disappeared.

    "You''re too slow. Let me carry you. Your role here is not yet done," he commanded, extending his other hand to me. I froze, staring at the hand for several moments. What did that mean?

    But then he reached for my arm and my decision was made for me. The Night Garden blurred, the air rushing past me with abandon. I wasn''t aware of beginning to move, only that we were flying over the plane of plants and flowers, a silvery glow coming off them. Before I even realized where we were, we were slowing, descending to the ground.

    And that was when I heard it. A boom that shook the sky.

    Looking down, I saw lighting arc out of a dome of shadow on a vast beach at the base of a titanic tree. A thunderwood tree. My eyes locked on it as I felt the tree''s aura more than saw it. It was the difference between dipping your hand n a stream and standing under a waterfall. Everything in the entire plane seemed to pull toward the tree that didn''t seem to end. The branches vanished into the sky, and the roots twisted across the beach and into the red ocean.

    "That is Tonitruum. The tree. His roots bind the planes together. Very few of the living have ever seen it," Lorian whispered, our feet landing on soft sand. Lera floated nearby, her attention solely on the beach. Ignoring Lorian, I followed her gaze just in time to see the dome of shadow dissolve as a figure as thrown from it. A humanoid thing of gray skin and a featureless face. Cruel cuts lined its torso, fingers and toes hanging on by bare slits of skin. It tried to back away, but it collapsed back to the sand in a heap as one its toes hooked under its foot. It yelped, the sound high and pathetic.

    The darkness regathered around another figure of red eyes and pale skin. Flowing black hair tumbled over black armor. A figure that wore Rowena''s face.

    My jaw hardened as I watched her stride toward where the creature landed. There was nothing left of the true Rowena in this things'' s face, a twisted smile curling her lips as the gray-skinned creature recovered slowly. The aura coming Rowena was staggering. A pressure settled in the air, making it harder to breath. It pulsed from her in waves, the ground itself rippling like water. The gray figure gave off an energy as well, but it was dwarfed by hers. Since Rowena was fighting it, I assumed this was the Chosen. Out of energy to shift forms.

    The Chosen rounded on Rowena, going to a half-kneel as the aura around it grew stronger. He thre an arm out, energy rippling from his palm and arcing toward Rowena''s head.

    Her shadows responded for her, encircling the energy and drawing it into it''s dark depth. A ship sinking into a black sea. Rowena didn''t even seem to notice the attack, her feet never breaking stride as the the Chosen sent two, three, four more pulses of energy at her. None of them met their mark.

    "Find a way to stop me"

    That was what Rowena had asked of me before giving in. To stop the thing that she became. Part of me recoiled as I took her in. There was a word Elemancers had for beings like her.

    Dakari.

    Demon.

    Servant of destruction.

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    Rowena was my friend, and I would always show up for her, but that was not who I was staring at. This thing was a monster. Something that relished pain, brutality, and death. And that begged a question in my mind that I had no answer to.

    How am I supposed to stop you, Rowena?

    "Stand up," the demoness said, nearly within arm''s reach of the Chosen now. Legs shaking visibly, it eventually stood, the energy around it intensifying again. A spark without kindling try to turn into an inferno. His palm curled again, and Rowena side stepped it this time, not even bothering to absorb it like she did all the others. It nearly collided with Lorian and I as we stood there, watching. A uncomfortable pressure built in my skull as it passed, making my hand brush against my temple. Warmth trickle from my nose, and I smell the coppery tang of blood.

    "Don''t get cock--" the Chosen said as wound healed on his face, the voice emanating from him oddly through the featureless face. He didn''t get to finish his threat.

    CRACK

    Rowena vanished from where she stood about twenty feet from where he had landed. She was suddenly behind him, shadows curling around the Chosen''s limbs and pulling...pulling.

    The Chosen howled, thrashing wildly as Rowena''s shadows dismembered him in a shower of blood and tissue. It was strange having physical injuries in this plane, as we were only souls. It didn''t make it easier to watch.

    I waited for Rowena to finish him, trying to process what I would do once we got back to the material plane. What was I going to do? This thing would kill everything in sight. All the wedding guests. Myra. Levi. Dash. I doubt the thing she had become cared. I had to get Rowena back. I had to-

    She was just standing there.

    The demoness made no move to kill the Chosen. She bared her teeth in a predator''s grin as she watched him heal, arms and legs slowly forming, bone and muscle taking shape.

    "Stand up," she ordered again, her voice barely a whisper on the wind. The Chosen began to right himself, his arms transforming into some sort of beast. His face darted around, reminding me of a cornered rat.

    He''s going to run again.

    Despite everything, I opened my mouth to warn Rowena.

    But I didn''t need to.

    CRACK.

    Rowena appeared before him, a shadow pistol pressed to the Chosen''s throat. It exploded as she pulled the trigger, a torrent of shadows piercing his skin like a hot knife through butter. The Chosen gurgled, sinking back into the gray-skinned form and going to his knees. He coughed as Rowena stood over him, the sound disturbingly wet and human.

    A trickle of light tore free from his form suddenly, alarmingly bright in the dark realm. It slowly began to dissolve into nothing.

    "Oh no. No," Rowena said, coiling shadows around him, "You can''t go to the Abyss yet. We''re just getting started."

    The Chosen thrashed again, shaking under the darkness. A tendril of shadow separated itself from the mass and rose to his face. It seemed to caress his cheek before burrowing under his skin and tearing a section free.

    And then he was screaming again. Screaming as if his life would end when it stopped. He scream with every breath of air in his lungs, until I was sure In would never anything but that screaming ever again.

    Rowena let go suddenly, allowing him to collapse to the sand. I could see sections of his soul flayed away then, blood seeping into the sand. My stomach churned as I saw the unbridled joy on her face.

    "Stand up," she said quietly, aiming her shadow pistol at the Chosen, a explosion of spike of purest darkness obliterating his flayed leg.

    Seconds passed, but it may as well have been hours.

    CRACK.

    Teeth pulled from his skull.

    "Stand up."

    CRACK.

    His legs forced backwards until all the joint popped out of their sockets.

    "Stand up."

    CRACK.

    Blood.

    "Stand up."

    CRACK.

    Screaming.

    "Stand up."

    "Stand up."

    "Stand. Up."

    The Chosen suddenly looked at where Lorian and I stood, his gaze settling on the angel as pain twisted his face.

    "Help me!" he cried. Lorian didn''t answer, simply staring at him. Rowena payed the Chosen''s words no mind as she stalked around to his front.

    "Stand up," she repeated once more, the aura of black flames around her getting larger, her eyes glowing with crimson and black. The Chosen whimpered, crawling as it slowly healed.

    "What''s the matter? I thought injuries weren''t intimidating if you could just heal," Rowena mocked, stooping to meet his face. Something sour settled into my stomach as I watched her toy with him.

    This was madness. I had no pity for the Chosen, but this wasn''t Rowena. She was less recognizable with every blow she dealt him.

    Lorian caught my eye then, his gaze going from me to Rowena, and I understood.

    "Rowena," I called, my voice raw. She went still, and I knew she heard me even through she didn''t turn. My throat felt unnatyrally dry as I forced the next words out.

    "End it."

    It was like throwing a stone at a bear.

    Her gaze snapped to mine at last, the black and narrowing to catlike slits. I forced myself not to flinch as our eyes met. A deep chill cut through me as she stared and stared, the Chosen still whimpering as he healed. More slowly than he had before.

    I swallowed, feeling the plane pause in that moment. Feeling the eyes of angels and Gods alike gazing at us.

    "You are a healer," I said in Kaze, remembering Rowena and I learning the complicated language together, "Not a torturer."

    The atmosphere shifted as the Kaze words hit it, a deep rumble going through the ground itself. But I didn''t pay attention to that. Didn''t glance at the wounded thing on the sand. I just kept staring at my friend, a girl like a sister to me.

    Violet appeared in Rowena''s eyes. She looked at me, sadness weighing in her pale face. She began to breath, the violet slowly replacing all of the crimson as the black retreated.

    And then it came back.

    The demoness growled, her hand covering her face for a moment as the shadows curled around her. When she lowered her hand, the violet was gone.

    CRACK.

    She stood in front of me, teeth too white under her red eyes.

    "Did you really think you could reawaken my weakness with your friendship?" she asked, spitting out the last word. She stared at me impassively before that adder''s grin was back darkness rising behind her like a viper ready to strike.

    "Well I''m sorry you idealistic fool. It''s just not that type of world."

    I didn''t fight back.

    Suddenly there was darkness around me, binding me. I was spun around, as helpless as a rag doll in a wide arc. Once. Twice. Three times. And then my back was colliding with the trunk of Tonitruum, the world around me going a blinding white. Something in my head was exploding, my surrounding come back in tiny details at a time.

    I laid around fifty feet from where Rowena stood, that dark aura the same as always.

    "You''re right," she said quietly in a tone that made the blood in my veins turn to ice.

    "This game is getting boring. My freedom waits for me in the material plane" she continued, turning toward where the Chosen was still crumpled on the beach. She began to walk toward him as if she had all the time in the world.

    Shadow bound him again, hauling him toward her as curled a hand under his chin. The Chosen groaned, more sections of light coming off of him as the shadows carved him like knives.

    "I only want one more thing from you," Rowena said to him, forcing him to look at her.

    "Your name."

 Lesson Fourty-One: Gods Only Play Games

    Zachariah

    Four Days Earlier.

    How did you get here, Zachariah? I thought bitterly, massaging my temple.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t wait very long,¡± Death said dryly, looking at me through red and black eyes.

    My head spun as I got used to my surroundings, wondering at the fact that the whole world had changed in a matter of a few days. Just a few minutes really. My mind was made up, but I wasn¡¯t sure I was a clever enough man for all of this.

    ¡°Welcome to Purgatory, Zachariah,¡± Death said, rising from a throne carved at the base of a tree amidst the plants of the night garden. They seemed to reach toward her, flourishing and twisting along the ground. She approached me on long legs as my heart thundered in my chest.

    ¡°Now what can I do for one my Marked?¡± Death asked, reaching me at last. I swallowed, my mind still catching up to what just happened.

    One minute I was sparring with Rowena, and the next I was speaking to a Goddess. I may have been in Purgatory, but I was also in Hell.

    How did I get here? I asked myself again as I tried to get reoriented, my breathing rushing out all at once as it finally hit me.

    Oh, I remember now.

    *******

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Rowena bellowed the second I revealed my Mark, her voice cracking in the cold dry air. She rushed at me, and I felt myself dodging on instinct. She managed to flip in the air, kicking at my neck and my arm went numb from the impact. Growling, I twisted and locked my fingers around her ankle, turning in a wide arc and dragging her with me.

    I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever been this angry with Rowena, even as I tossed her into the snow. None too gently. But it wasn¡¯t her attacking me or the fight that made me angry.

    The Royal family was ordering an army¡¯s worth of Elemancy weapons to be created. Luradia was going to war against my kin. My family, distant as they were. Even though I was an outcast, their blood still flowed in my veins. Elemancers were extremely strong and hard to kill, but not even they could survive an entire army sacking them village by village with weapons that mimicked their abilities.

    This war needed to end before it started, which meant we needed to act. Now.

    And Rowena wanted me to wait. To ignore the power that laid dormant on my skin. It was wrong. I knew it, and so did she.

    Rowena fought like an animal when she let her emotions control her, and now was one of those times. She rolled, snarling at me with her landing. Meanwhile, I stood in front of the door to her home, listening to Myra approach from the inside. Rowena charged at me like a bull, training forgotten, and I side-stepped just in time for Myra to open the door.

    The women fell together in an ungraceful heap, Myra yelping like a banshee.

    Retreating a few steps, I tried to calm myself down. After a few breaths I held a hand up, warding off Rowena¡¯s next attack. Some reason returned to her eyes then, her breathing as ragged as my own.

    Rowena wasn¡¯t going to stop me from using a Mark from the Gods. If Rowena couldn¡¯t use her magic to stop this war, then I would get some of my own. I was certain any of the Gods would want to keep humanity and Elemancers from fighting again. It was what they did when they first created the Deified anyway. None of them wanted this war¨C

    "That Mark is Death''s, Zachariah. She has no interest in helping you. Trust me," Rowena murmured, cutting off my thoughts.

    My body went still as her words hit me.

    Hells. None of the Gods wanted this war. Except that one. Death.

    My brows knitted together as Rowena and Myra talked, Myra demanding some sort of explanation and Rowena doing her best to ignore her.

    "I''m Death''s Chosen, Zachariah. It was...It was a mistake. I''d give anything to take it back," Rowena explained further, and I could see the pain which haunted her boiling near the surface. The pain she masked with razor-sharp wit and flying fists.

    Rowena had become like a sister to me. The closest that anyone had ever come to a constant in my life. There was once a time where I wished we could have been more, but the second I saw the way Rowena and Fayra look at one another, I had let that dream wither before taking root.

    "There''s no winning in a deal with Death, Zachariah. She got Fayra, and she has me. Don''t let her get you too."

    Rowena looked at me, her face more open than it had been since Fayra died. The Mark on my neck seemed to pulse as we looked at one another, several things settling into place at once.

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    Rowena was a different person before Fayra died. She had changed everything about herself, turning from the path of the healer she had fought so hard to be. I had originally thought it was revenge and grief that drove her, but it was something far darker than that.

    Death owned her until she paid for her freedom with souls. Whether that took a thousand years, or ten.

    I had felt helpless this entire time. It started the moment that Fayra left on the bounty that led to her death, and it got worse when Rowena rode out of Tumblend. Running from her own morality.

    Everyone I grew to care about seemed doomed to die too soon. My father. Fayra. And now Rowena was suffering a fate worse than death.

    But maybe I could finally do something about this. Something besides hiding myself in my tavern.

    The answer came to me, and I acted, praying to the Gods in my mind and feeling the Mark pulse on my neck. Feeling light trail up to my eyes in the way distinctive of the Deified.

    And then the world faded.

    *******

    Death¡¯s Purgatory was beautiful in a way, but something was still very wrong with it. I tried to place what made this place feel unnatural as the silence stretched and stretched.

    And then it hit me.

    There were no animals here. No birdsong. No rustle of rodents in the leaves. No padding of hooves on soft soil. My Elemancer blood normally loved the forest, but I hated this place the moment my soul gazed upon it.

    It was disturbing to be in a place that had so many flowers, trees, and herbs and yet still felt so¡­so¡­

    Dead.

    Pointing at my Mark, I drew in a deep breath before I spoke.

    ¡°I will not negotiate for what I want. You must either give it to me, or I want nothing else from you," I said in a strong voice. Death¡¯s lips lifted in a surprisingly charming smile.

    ¡°You dare to give me orders in my own realm?¡± she asked, something swirling in her dark orbs. I kept my face blank, trying to keep my nerve. I didn¡¯t like the way she was looking at me. It was the look a bear gave to a fox when it was trying to steal its meal.

    Not daring to answer her question, I took another deep breath.

    ¡°I want you to forgive Rowena¡¯s debt to you. I want you to set her free,¡± I said bluntly, my hands curling into fists.

    Death blinked at me before starting to chuckle, the sound like a knife scraping at my bones. I didn¡¯t join her in her mirth, just waiting for her to be done.

    ¡°Never in thousands years,¡± Death said, turning from me and resettling herself on her throne, ¡°Has any being asked me for something I was not willing to part with. You have my compliments¡±

    My heart sank, but I kept my silence. Waiting.

    ¡°Come now,¡± Death said, leaning her head on a hand, ¡°You didn¡¯t honestly think it would be that easy, did you?¡±

    Tightening my jaw, I endured another round of soft chuckles from her until they faded, echoing into the gloom. Finally, she looked expectantly at me.

    ¡°Ask for something else,¡± she said simply when I still said nothing.

    Alarm bells went off in my head, warning me to be careful. I didn¡¯t want my emotions to cloud my reasoning.

    ¡°I told you,¡± I began calmly, my voice low, ¡°That I didn¡¯t want anything else.¡±

    The red in Death¡¯s gaze glowed for the smallest moment. She was taller than I expected, and her throne was raised. I was at the foot of a mountain, staring at its peak with Death¡¯s eyes staring back. Never in my life did I feel so small. So insignificant.

    ¡°You are mortal. Your mind will change. They always do. Eventually,¡± Death said evenly, reclining in her seat and raising a hand my way, ¡°But if that is all for now, they I will send you back¨C¡±

    Taking a step forward, I mounted the small incline to her throne.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Death paused, her hand motionless as all humor faded from face.

    ¡°No?¡± she asked, the temperature dropping in the night garden. My breath started to come out in white clouds.

    I took another step toward her pointing to my neck where my Mark laid.

    ¡°Take it off.¡±

    The air was definitely cold now, Death''s eyes dilating to a thin ring of red in a pool of blackness. The plants around me started to die one by one, the garden changing as the Goddess before me aged with it. She became a skeleton with leathery skin stretched tight over her bones, the plants now husks of what they once were.

    "You dare to spun my gift," Death said, and it was not a question. A shiver crept up my spine, but I refused to repeat myself. Ruler of the afterlife or no. Goddess or no Goddess, this thing before me was evil. I could feel it radiating off her like the stench off a corpse. There was no denying it now.

    "I''ve seen what your gifts do," I said quietly. Right before I took another step forward. I knew the ways of Olde. I knew the insult I was throwing at her in that moment, but I felt a taste of Rowena''s recklessness now. I couldn''t bring myself to care.

    The plants around me started to grow again suddenly, brown shoots turning green once more. Death changed as well, skin reforming on yellow bone. Long black hair grew over a younger face, but those eyes never changed. Not even once. Shadows curled around her as I felt power pulse from her in waves. The entire realm seemed to shift with her, and a shard of fear pierced through my stubbornness. But it was too late. Death came toward me, taller than me by over a foot despite the childish form she now wore.

    She halted, staring down at me with glowing red rings. Several heartbeats passed before she lifted her hand toward my neck.

    She''s going to destroy me, I thought, squeezing my eyes shut. I had overstepped, and now my very essence was going to be ripped apart for it. I had hoped to outsmart a Goddess, but now I realized how idiotic that was.

    Fingers like glacier ice touched my neck. And then I was screaming, the cold scorching where she touched. I was on my knees without realizing it, and distantly I heard lighting crackle across the sky. I thought I heard Death growl a feint curse, but I couldn''t be sure. I was writhing in the worst pain possible, screaming and screaming.

    And then her hands were gone.

    My head lifted just in time to see Death holding a shadowy silhouette of her Mark in her palm. She considered it for another moment before lowering it to the inside of her forearm, where it stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. I watched as the Goddess of Death branded herself with her own Mark, the inky blackness seeping onto it. Then she met my confused gaze again, her face splitting into a predatory grin.

    "For safe keeping," she explained before stooping to meet my eyes, a single finger going to my forehead.

    "Until next time," she said before touching the space between my eyes.

    And as I landed back in the material plane, I couldn''t decide if I just won something, or made things a thousand times worse.

 Lesson Fourty-Two: To Nothing You Return

    Rowena

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself,¡± I said too quietly, digging a taloned finger into the Chosen¡¯s skin. He whimpered, his head lolling through his pain. Surprisingly his gaze went to Lorian again, the tall winged warrior standing still as a statue.

    ¡°Please¡± he murmured again, little more than a moan before it pitched into a howl of pain. Blood sprayed once again as I tore an ¡°X¡± over his left eye socket, wrenching his eye free. A second later I moved onto the right eye.

    Ignoring his plea, the angel just stared at him, his face carved from glacier stone.

    ¡°Your Hell will continue until you answer me,¡± I whispered, hooking shadows into his skin and lifting him high into the air, ¡°So come on now. We mustn''t keep Lady Death waiting. Your name. Now.¡±

    The Chosen contorted, thrashing wildly against his pain as section after section of his skin tore. But I just kept adding more whenever he threatened to pull free. A laugh escaped me as I watched him. Then another.

    And distantly I felt my heart remember an older man in a gun smith¡¯s shop, his kind face bubbling up from some distant place of my mind.

    "Hello Little One," says the old man. Yared. He holds me at arm''s length, and a touch of sadness enters his eyes.

    "Not so little anymore, I suppose."

    And it is replaced.

    The old man looks at me, his eyes full of pain. We are in the God of Knowing''s Purgatory, and there is the sound of a book tearing in half.

    "This isn''t your faul--"

    His voice is cut off as his soul shatters beneath my hands.

    The images flashed across my thoughts, and I recognized him from my weaker self¡¯s past. Oh yes, that¡¯s right. The Chosen tore his book and destroyed his soul. Yared. An old man who couldn''t even fight back. Dark as I was in this form, even I was disgusted by that. And now, as the Chosen screamed and screamed, I felt nothing but satisfaction. And that deeper personality, the Healer, felt it as well.

    See? I whispered to her. We aren''t so different after all.

    My shoulders lifted in a shrug at the thought. Fine. If the remnant of my weaker self took some joy in this, then so be it. Maybe I could see how long he could last before I needed to let him heal again. Let¡¯s see. What could I try next? Maybe-

    ¡°IAMN!!¡±

    The scream tore free from the Chosen as if that was all the air he had left in his lungs. Blinking, I lowered him back to the sand by dispelling my shadows. He collapsed face-down, breathing like beached fish. I felt myself grin at him. I had almost forgotten what I was doing, but then I remembered. I asked for his name.

    Because there was only one way I wanted to kill him, and I needed to know his name in order to do it.

    ¡°Iamn what?¡± I asked, stooping to gaze directly into his misshapen face. He coughed again, but I was able to catch the muttered words in it.

    All my teeth were bared now as the corners of my mouth lifted. I felt the gazes of Zachariah, Lorian, and Lera on me as they waited for my next move, but I ignored them. Let them look. They weren''t going to stop me.

    I summoned my shadows a final time, positioning them to curl around the Chosen¡¯s legs.

    ¡°Well then Iamn,¡± I said, putting posh into my voice, ¡°Would you be kind enough to escort a lady back to her Purgatory?¡±

    Not waiting for him to answer, I tightened my shadows around his legs and lifted him. I whipped him through the air in a large circle to gain momentum. Once. Twice. Three Times.

    Finally I let him go, throwing him back toward the Night Garden.

    *******

    It took more than one throw, but I didn¡¯t allow the Chosen to escape. He didn¡¯t even try. All the fight was out of him. Finally, he landed in a mass of broken bones on the soft grass of the fragrant place. We were right in the heart of the garden now. Where I would have the best view. It was a small clearing with a familiar grand tree on one side, its braches thick and strong with some sort of small fruit hanging from it. Small paths of grass weaved among the carpet of flowers, herbs, and other plants of the rolling dark plane, all glowing with a feint silver as the barrier to protect them pulsed.

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    Lorian and Lera were close behind, and I saw Zachariah being carried by the male angel. The mortal Elemancer¡¯s eyes were stony, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth firmly shut. Good.

    I flexed my hands and rolled my neck, marveling at the energy still coursing through me. I wasn¡¯t tired in the slightest, even though the Chosen looked to be completely out of energy. How were we the same being? Moreover, how was this pathetic thing before me even able to defeat other Chosen? The thought of it bothered me.

    The Chosen rolled over to his side and curled into a fetal position, his body slowly mending together. I let it happen, leaning over so my shadow stretched across his face.

    ¡°What a weakling. I think that position suits you,¡± I said, using a toe to push him onto his back and giving him a flat look.

    ¡°You were lying before,¡± I said, letting my eyes trail over the surrounding plants, ¡°You didn¡¯t defeat the other Chosen. You¡¯re not strong enough.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a question, and he knew it. His face snapped to mine, the indistinct features catching in the low silvery light. I waited for him to explain. After a breath, he did.

    "They weren''t worthy," he said suddenly with a pained laugh as more of his skin knitted together, "I simply helped their Gods to realize that."

    "So you tricked their Gods into turning away from them. Once they were weakened, you went in for the kill," I concluded, "That fits. A pathetic worm past and present."

    He didn''t react to the comment, instead curling in on himself again. Looking around the garden again, I pulled in a deep breath. Fine. That was one mystery solved. I was finally ready to end this.

    "Iamn Othing," I whispered into the wind, voicing the name of the thing at my feet. My voice sent a ripple through the air, and it radiated out as if I had just dropped a stone in a mill pond. It turned to a current, all seeming to seek out one place, and I followed it with my eyes.

    A patch of Hemlock weed lit up suddenly, interwoven in the other plants at the base of the largest tree in the garden. The silvery barrier dissolved around it, but every leaf suddenly was alight with white color. The entire plant itself had tiny white flowers on the top, and it swayed as the wind swept toward it with my voice. It stayed lit as I approached it slowly. Every mortal had it''s own physical representation in each Purgatory. The God of Knowing had his books, and Death had her garden. A garden of souls.

    Everything seemed to wither, the plants aging in their cycle as I approached. I ignored it and kept my eyes fixed on the Hemlock. A weed. The Chosen shifter was a weed, and a poisonous one at that. Of course he was.

    Turning, I poised my hand above it and met the Iamn''s gaze. He had rolled onto his knees and was kneeling, his hands clawing in the dirt. A condemned man waiting for the executioner''s swing. This was it. After this moment, he would be on his way to the Abyss, where his soul would be food for the abyssal creatures. His very existence would be gone, and he would cease to exist. Just like the old man, only this one deserved it.

    "Any last words?" I asked, my voice soft in the silence. Lorian and Lera stood rigid as Zachariah''s eyes swept between the Iamn and I like two sparring wolves.

    The shifter, Iamn Othing nodded, still on his knees. He opened his mouth to speak.

    And then he was screaming again, fractures of light splintering his face. Pieces of his soul were flaking apart now, but not fast like they had with Yared. It was happening slowly, drifts of light pulling away from him like dust.

    Smiling, I looked down at the Hemlock again, my own fist crushing it slowly. Grainy segments pressed between my fingers, but I kept squeezing tighter and tighter, and the screams increased in pitch.

    Most of his body was gone now, but I looked back to him, making sure to catch his attention as the final wailing continued.

    "Nobody cares what you have to say. Now disappear," I said, and I knew he heard me, throwing his head back and fourth in denial of what was happening. I maintained his gaze for several long and agonizing moments before pulling the hemlock out of the ground entirely and snapping it in half.

    His screams cut off.

    A hand landed on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Lera towering above me, her muscular hand offered to me. She nodded her head toward the Hemlock in my grasp. That same manic smile was still on her face, and I thought for a moment it must be permanent.

    "I''ll take that," she said with another jerk of her chin, before pulling the weed out of my hands with a chuckle. She was gone in the next moment before my eyes could even track her movement. There was only the sound of wind. Wind and wings. Frowning, I looked back over to where Iamn was kneeling.

    But there was nothing left to see.

    Victory swelled in the pit of my stomach. I had won. Utterly and Completely. A smile split my face as I was unable to contain my excitement, and I curled my hands into fists.

    The rest was going to be so damned easy! All I had to do was go back to the material plane and pay my debt. And with my weakness finally behind me, nothing was holding me back anymore. Ten years. Ten long years, but I was finally going to be free of Death. I knew exactly how I was going to celebrate.

    I was going to take her realm from her.

    Summoning my shadows again, I strode away from the central tree to where Lorian and Zachariah stood, but they didn''t seem to be paying attention. Lifting a brow at them, I failed to notice that the plants were still withering. The air was turning colder, but it didn''t matter. I needed to decide what to do with Zachariah. He could be a problem when we went back to the Mortal realm.

    Something deep within started to scream.

    DON''T YOU TOUCH HIM!

    The voice came raw and strong as soon as the thought crossed my mind, but I shoved it down. The most Zachariah had done in this fight was stay out of the way. But he had seen my true form now. That could be troublesome if I took him back to the mortal realm with me.

    My eyes strayed to Lorian as well. He could prove to be a problem too.

    But neither were paying attention to me still. I tracked their eyes to the tree I had just walked away from. And that when I noticed the air getting colder, my breath starting to come out in clouds.

    And then someone started to clap behind me. Slowly, and with each having its own echo in the clearing.

    I pivoted on my heel and saw the tree had curled into a tiered throne. I looked up. And up. Until I saw the primordial being seated atop the throne, her red and black eyes smiling at me as she clapped.

    "That was a wonderful show, my Chosen. What is your judgement, Lera?" Death said, still clapping. With a breeze of wind, Lera suddenly appeared beside her. The dark angel immediately swept into a bow at her Goddess''s feet, her head bowed in deference.

    "Your orders were disobeyed just as you said, My Lady," Lera said, her eyes still down. Death looked from her to me with crimson slits for eyes, taking several moments to answer. I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn she looked at Zachariah as well for a fraction of a second.

    "And now," Death said, laying her hands on the armrests of her throne, "Your consequences."

 Lesson Fourty-Three: Thereéˆ¥æªš No Such Thing as Winning

    Rowena

    ¡°What a coincidence,¡± I said too quietly, giving Death my best smirk with my arms crossed, ¡°I was just off to pay my debt.¡±

    The garden went dead silent, as if the very air was awaiting Death¡¯s permission to move. Catlike, she canted her head to the side, eyes glinting. Her raven hair undulated despite the lack of wind and her fingers sharpened into talons.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Death asked, almost amused, ¡°I thought you were intent on becoming the new mistress of this plane,¡± she said, echoing my thoughts from seconds ago. Seconds that may as well have been years.

    Fuck, I cursed inwardly. Yes I wanted to steal Death¡¯s plane from her, but not before paying my debt and getting rid of her Marks.

    Lera still knelt before her, and a quick glance told me that Lorian was bowing too. Neither of them so much as flinched as Death stood, descending the steps toward me. Her dress of shadow and mist trailed regally behind her, and her posture was straight as an arrow. I stood taller myself, lifting my chin. Two angels and a Goddess were a tall order, but it looked like she wasn¡¯t going to give me a choice. She wasn¡¯t going to let me walk away from this.

    ¡°Well you destroyed my other side¡¯s dreams, so I thought I¡¯d make some of my own,¡± I countered, not yielding an inch. The corner of Death¡¯s mouth lifted a fraction as she descended the last few stairs in leisurely steps.

    ¡°Your mortal side wants to see her love again, and your immortal side wants power,¡± Death said in a bored tone as she reached me at last, ¡°How unoriginal. Seems like neither of you will get what you want. It''s a sad story really.¡±

    She seemed taller now. Every bit as tall as her angels. Everything seemed to center on her, and I felt her power. If the Chosen¡¯s had been a spark, then hers was an inferno. A fire mountain spewing hellbroth. Even standing near her was difficult as it hit me harder and harder.  And yet the plane was still so quiet.

    I refused to let fear overtake me.

    Besides, I wasn¡¯t helpless. A Chosen was supposed to be akin to a God on the material plane. I had defeated the God of Knowing¡¯s simpering servant easily. I still felt that endless sea of power within me, churning as high as a storm. Subtly, I drew shadow into my palms as I kept my face calm.

    ¡°My story isn¡¯t over yet,¡± I said before striking with every ounce of energy I had.

    I didn¡¯t even make it an inch.

    The second my hands moved, pain spread through me. Ripping. Tearing. Burning. It all centered on the Marks that still laid on my neck. It had hurt feeling it through the Healer¡¯s eyes, but this was agony. Unendurable and yet seemingly without end. My entire world narrowed to where they were on my skin.

    I was faintly aware of falling, the ground rushing to my face as my body twitched, my throat raw from screams of agony.

    ¡°Hubris does not suit you,¡± Death said, curling the fingers of her hand she held aloft. The pain somehow doubled. I was being drawn and quartered, held at the moment before my limbs came loose. That was what my pain was. Every cell was agony. The world was only pain. A pain so terrible I forgot what existence was before it.

    ¡°Never forget how out of your depth you are,¡± Death said quietly, though I barely heard it. I had run out of air to scream, and a ringing filled my ears. Distantly I heard a male voice yell, but I couldn¡¯t make out the words. I couldn¡¯t focus enough to care.

    Yes. This was my punishment for disobedience. A punishment for being weaker than her. She was going to kill me, and these Marks made me powerless to stop her. Letting my head relax, I stopped fighting the pain. This was going to be my end, but at least I still had my pride. Without these Marks, I knew I had a chance of winning. Or at least, that¡¯s what I was going to tell myself.

    And then it was gone.

    Grass was damp beneath my face. Tears tracked down my cheeks, but the pain faded to a memory. I pushed myself cautiously to my side and looked at Death. Lorian stood next to her, leaning into her ear. Death¡¯s face was now a thundercloud, her eyes tiny red slits in a sea of black.

    My eyes refocused on the ground surrounding me. I felt the barrier protecting the plants pressing into my side, and I glanced that way. I was curled up next to a bush of white roses, the tiny thorns curling wickedly.

    Then there were strong arms under me, pulling me to my feet. Zachariah grunted as he finished pulling me up, his eyes stony. I put weight through my legs cautiously, testing to see if I even could. Other than a few teetering steps, I seemed fine now. Sending a puzzled look at Zachariah, I opened my mouth to ask him why she stopped. It was unlike Death to be merciful, but I was sure I knew.

    His scream. It had been he who had screamed something at her while I writhed on the ground like a weakling.

    I closed my mouth, flexed my hands, and called some shadows. They responded, bringing warmth to my trembling limbs. Though some part of me was desperate for the pain not to return. It was strange to have so much pain evanesce like that.

    Not that I was complaining.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Death said, and Lorian was a blur of motion as he went back to his original position. He stood with his arms behind his back, his face emotionless. Zachariah stayed by my side, his eyes going from the male angel to Death and back.

    Looking back at Death, I saw her stalking back up the stairs of her throne. Lera stood, standing beside her mistress and smiling in anticipation. I didn¡¯t like it. It was somehow almost as bad as the pain.

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    ¡°The Laws of Origin shorten your pain, Chosen,¡± Death said, settling herself on her throne with her legs crossed.

    ¡°But they will not save you.¡±

    She lifted her chin, staring down at me impassively.

    ¡°Rowena McAlister, Blight of Grimwater and Chosen of Death. Your loyalty has been tested and been found,¡± she paused, leaning forward, ¡°Wanting.¡±

    She finished with the barest glance at Lera, who slowly drew her twin swords from behind her back, the hiss of metal exiting its sheath sounding in time to Death¡¯s words.

    Despite myself, I crossed my arms again.

    ¡°I owe you eleven-thousand souls. Why do the deaths of the Deified matter?¡± I said, lowering my voice.

    ¡°What if I killed them myself?¡±

    Death canted her head, listening. Zachariah stiffened next to me, but I ignored him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill them myself if they matter so much to you,¡± I said, sending her an adder¡¯s grin, ¡°Then we both get what we want.¡±

    Death was silent for a long moment, and then she started to laugh.

    My face fell as I listened to her, the sound roiling through my stomach. Death finally looked at me, and I didn¡¯t miss the victory in her eyes.

    ¡°Fate has smiled upon me since this started, Rowena. Chaos will reign regardless of the Deified¡¯s existence or not at this point,¡± Death said, resting her head on her hand, ¡°Their souls no longer matter to me.¡±

    A close-lipped smile.

    ¡°Your obedience, however, does.¡±

    Lera stepped forward, her wings spread wide as she gripped her swords and stepped down the stairs.

    ¡°Is the honor mine, My Lady?¡± Lera asked, bouncing on her heels like a child on their name day.

    ¡°Yours or Lorian¡¯s. Just don¡¯t play with your food,¡± Death replied, reclining in her throne and steeping her fingers like a noblewoman about to watch an opera.. Lera glanced at Lorian, who shook his head. Grinning wider, she held her muscular arms aloft as she stopped ten feet from me.

    ¡°Take this,¡± Lera said, tossing me one of her swords, ¡°You¡¯re going to need it.¡±

    Side stepping, I let the blade hit the ground, not even bothering to look at it. So I had to fight Lera the Bane herself. There was a reason she was a legend. Many Bards of the material world held story Marks about her and Lorian both. People name constellations after them for their many deeds.

    And now I had to fight her. Or get torn apart. Permanently.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± I said, summoning shadows and giving them form. A sword appeared in one of my hands, and a shadow pistol appeared in my other.

    ¡°I brought my own weapons.¡±

    Lera bared her teeth, coming forward and stooping to pick up her sword where it laid.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to regret that,¡± she singsonged.

    And then she lunged. Time seemed to slow, and I lifted my arm in a parry, somehow striking her thrust aside. The blade bit into my arm though, making blood gush. But she was within range now. I angled my pistol upward, putting the barrel right under her chin and pulling the trigger.

    Too easy, I thought with a smile as I tracked the shard of shadow that exploded from it. But I was so wrong.

    CRACK.

    Lera vanished from in front of me, my shadow shooting high into the sky. I didn¡¯t have time to be confused before a fist collided with my back. I was thrown forward as if from a cannon, the blow knocking all the wind from my lungs. I tumbled head over heel, struggling to find purchase over the shifting plane of plants.

    Finally righting myself, I aimed back the way I had come on instinct, pulling the shadow sword across my body as a makeshift shield. I didn¡¯t have time to reform it into an actual one. Grunting, I fired again and  realized what she had just done.

    Lera had stopped time.

    Fuck. It sucked when I was on the receiving end of that trick.

    In the same moment of pulling the trigger, I reached for the area of ice inside me. Fine. She wasn¡¯t the only one who could use Death¡¯s power. I reached further inward, preparing to move and corner her in a curtain of shadow spikes in my own time stop.

    Only the ability wasn¡¯t there. There was only a horrible pit where it had been. Nothing responded to my call.

    My eyes widened before I heard another CRACK.

    Lera chuckled from behind me before kicking me back toward the central plane. Her foot landed in the exact spot her fist had, and I felt something crack in my soul¡¯s spine. The plane blurred as I was sent soaring again. Landing in a heap, I was back in front of Death¡¯s throne. Pain sang in my back, even as I felt my body healing itself from Lera¡¯s sledgehammer of a blow.

    Wings rustled, and Lera landed beside me.

    ¡°Stopping time is a privilege Lady Death grants only to the worthy,¡± she said, twirling her swords in her hands, ¡°A privilege you no longer have.¡±

    My soul finished mending itself, and a growl escaped me. At least my shadows were still working. Closing my eyes, I reached for the shadows looming behind Lera. I pulled at them, and they struck, quick as lightning as they formed into blades.

    But Lera dodged at the last moment, curving her body at an impossible angle. They flew over my head, making Zachariah dive out of the way to avoid being sliced to ribbons.

    I reached into the shadow beneath me, grasping and forming it into a dagger. I swung my arm high as she was in her awkward angle, my heart leaping. The tip reached its snapping point, and I knew I was going to draw first blood.

    There was the whine of a blade moving through air, and then it bit into my wrist. It cut my hand off cleanly as if it went through parchment.

    The pain hit me a second later, but I bit back the scream.

    Lera laughed again, stalking around me in a circle. She twirled her blades again and again in complicated formations too fast for my eyes to track. Realizing she was giving me a reprieve, I slowly regained my feet, breathing heavily. That¡¯s when I saw it. Part of the fabric between the plates of her armor on her side now hung loose, a sliver of skin showing beneath. I hadn¡¯t managed to cut her though.

    ¡°I already danced this dance with the weakling of a shifter,¡± I said, feeling sweat gather on my brow as I tried to push the pain in my hand down, ¡°Come at me all you want. I¡¯ll just heal and come back harder.¡±

    Lera tilted her head facetiously, her eyes glinting just like Death¡¯s. She lifted her blade, letting me see my blood on its shining surface. The blade of gleaming black metal I didn¡¯t recognize.

    ¡°Will you heal?¡± she asked simply in the tone one uses when talking to a toddler. I scoffed, rolling my eyes until I realized she was right. I looked down.

    Blood was still flowing from my bloodied stump of a right arm, and it wasn¡¯t stopping. It wasn¡¯t even slowing down. And that wasn¡¯t all. My arm was still bleeding as well where her blade bit into my skin.

    The metal was somehow blocking my ability to regenerate.

    Looking back up at Lera, I saw her blade glint again, and my blood slowly absorbed into its surface.

    Lera barked yet another laugh as she saw the realization dawn on me, sweeping into a bow.

    ¡°Welcome to your execution, former Chosen. Expect pain.¡±

 Lesson Fourty-Four: No Weapon Compensates for a Dull Mind

    Zachariah

    They were going to kill her. Worse than kill her. They were going to send her to the Abyss, where she would be erased. Her soul would be eaten. Gone.

    And there was nothing I could do about it except stand and watch it happen.

    Rowena was losing her reason more with each passing second. A fox run to ground. Her moves were becoming more desperate as the fight dragged on and on. At first, she tried tricking Lera with surprise attacks, but the angel just kept stopping time to evade them. She made a leap for Lera¡¯s sword from the ground, but Lera sidestepped and slammed the pommel down on the space between Rowena¡¯s shoulder blades. The angel had more than a millennium of training, and it showed.

    With another CRACK, Lera disappeared from where Rowena¡¯s shadow bullet nearly hit her and reappeared at her side, laughing manically. She kicked Rowena square in the chest, sending her to the side like a comet of shadows. She then appeared on Rowena¡¯s other side before she hit the ground, and sent her back the other way with an elbow to the space between her ribs and hips.

    Rowena managed to land, growling like a beast. Outmatched and outwitted.

    Meanwhile, Death watched from her throne. An empress watching her gladiators fight. But this wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a one-sided slaughter.

    Rowena screamed. Again. And again. I could see it in her eyes now. She knew she was being toyed with.

    Lera had stopped using her sword after removing Rowena¡¯s hand, instead opting for brute force. Rowena wasn¡¯t even summoning her shadows anymore. Not even fighting back. Slowly I saw the defiance leak out of her as she settled in for the beating of a lifetime.

    Damn my own weakness.

    ¡°It was a fool¡¯s gambit,¡± Lorian murmured from beside me, making my gaze snap to his. The angel glanced sidelong at me, his throat bobbing.

    ¡°Days ago you tried to goad Death into killing you. Thus breaking the Law of Origins,¡± Lorian said bluntly. I just stared at him until his calm mask slipped with a fractional lift of a single eyebrow.

    ¡°Oh? That wasn¡¯t your intent?¡± Lorian asked, looking back at the fight as Rowena cried out again, ¡°Then you are twice the fool that I thought you were.¡±

    I¡¯ve never been fond of people who talk cryptically, and Lorian was pushing me to the end of my patience. Law of Origins? Why would he choose now to say that? Unless¡­

    Maybe there was something I could do.

    Lorian glanced at me one more time, watching my expression before giving the slightest nod of his head.

    I looked at Death again, who had steeped her hands on her chest. Her skin gave off a faint glow, every surface seeming to bend and flex with her movements. My Mark I had given back to her was still there.

    And then I was limping toward Death, my entire body aching from my own ass-kicking just minutes ago. Only her eyes shifted to me as I approached, turning a deeper crimson.

    ¡°You were right,¡± I called from the bottom step of her throne. Her expression didn¡¯t change, even as Rowena¡¯s body was sent flying again, this time hitting the branches of the great tree mere feet above her head.

    CRACK.

    Death met my eyes as Lera appeared above Rowena, her body finishing a forward flip as she drove her heel into Rowena¡¯s head. The blow sent her to the ground with a thud, her limbs flopping to the side as blood trailed from her mouth and lip.

    CRACK.

    Lera appeared on the ground next to Rowena, her leg cocked back for another kick.

    And then Lera froze mid-swing.

    The angel glanced up at Death, who had lifted a hand to stop. Lera lowered her leg down in a too-controlled motion and knelt before her Goddess.

    ¡°Right?¡± Death asked, her eyes dancing. Rowena moaned, rolling over to her side and cradling her still-bleeding arm. My throat bobbed as I looked back to the throne.

    ¡°I have an offer,¡± I said quietly. Glancing at Lera, I lowered myself painfully into a half-kneel before Death. The corner of her mouth lifted.

    ¡°I thought you only wanted one thing from me,¡± she said conversationally, as Rowena slowly made it to her hands and knees and spat blood.

    Doing my best to ignore her, I swallowed again.

    ¡°And that is still true. I want you to forgive¨C¡±

    Death¡¯s eyes narrowed before I finished.

    ¡°And you have heard my answer. Do not be foolish enough to ask for her freedom again,¡± Death said in a lethal quiet, the plants beginning to age around us. The life bled out of the plain as it went from green to deathly gray. Death¡¯s body aged with it until it was a corpse with leathery skin. Those same black and red eyes stared out at me from bony sockets.

    My shoulders lifted in a deep breath before I loosed it slowly.

    ¡°Give her debt to me. Make me your Chosen,¡± I said, my voice surprisingly strong. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. This was an insane plan. A horrible, brilliant, and insane plan.

    The seconds crawled by as I felt our fates rest on a knife¡¯s edge. I didn¡¯t dare look at Lorian. Didn¡¯t dare look at Rowena. I just kept my gaze locked on the ruler of Soul Sea. The captain of all ships to the Far Shore.

    Death¡¯s brows lifted, her head canting slightly to the side. Reclining in her seat, she stared down her nose at me.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Her voice was soft, but it made the air bend and shift around it. My stomach dropped as I heard it, my entire soul going cold.

    But then I was turning, realizing that Death was not the one who had spoken.

    That¡¯s when I saw the pants around me. They were coming alive again, growing greener and blooming once more.

    Looking at Death again, I saw the Goddess rise to her feet, but she was still a corpse. She still looked dead even as the landscape came alive again.

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    She wasn¡¯t doing this.

    Something had changed about her eyes, however. Fear. There was fear in them now.

    ¡°Kinuari,¡± Death said, her voice little more than a whisper. I looked behind me then, tracking her gaze.

    Rowena was back on her feet. A faint glow emanated from her hands, both dark and light. The silvery glow from the landscape was now pulling toward her. Her face was blank though. Gone was the black armor. Gone was the crimson in her eyes, though they were violet and black now.

    Lera was on her feet in an instant, her eyes going from her mistress to Rowena. She didn¡¯t notice the pool of black forming at her feet, silent as shadows.

    ¡°Attack,¡± Death growled, answering the silent question. Lera looked back at Rowena then, drawing her swords.

    CRACK.

    I closed my eyes, waiting for Rowena¡¯s howl of pain. It didn¡¯t come. Instead, I heard Lera¡¯s.

    I opened my eyes in time to see the angel¡¯s leg trapped in a coil of shadows like a bear trap. Then I understood what Rowena had done. While Lera was distracted, she had closed her shadows around the angel¡¯s leg. It didn¡¯t matter if she stopped time if she couldn¡¯t move.

    Lera¡¯s blades were a blur as she slashed at the trap, but then there was another around her arm.

    CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. Lera seemed to vanish and reappear in several different positions, but it did no good.

    Lera kept trying to attack, but Rowena had found her key to victory now. And it was working. It took several seconds but, eventually, Rowena managed to lock all four of the angel¡¯s limbs in darkness.

    Rowena¡¯s face still held no expression as more and more of the silvery light gathered in her palms. She began to stride toward Lera, who slashed and slashed at the shadows.

    And then Rowena stopped, lightning cracking across the black sky as she did. She gasped, hands flying to her temples as she staggered back. She blinked, and her eyes were only violet now, her aura returning to normal.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Rowena asked, looking at me. I didn¡¯t have time to respond before Lera dove on top of Rowena, forcing her to her knees. Lorian appeared at Rowena¡¯s other side, avoiding my eyes. He put his large hand on Rowena¡¯s shoulder in a firm hold. He wasn¡¯t nearly as rough as Lera, who twisted Rowena¡¯s arms behind her back until she grunted in pain. And then she was holding her sword aloft, the blade glinting wickedly as she aimed for Rowena¡¯s neck.

    ¡°Hold,¡± Death said, stopping Lera for a second time. The angel kept her stance this time though, both she and her brother keeping Rowena subdued. Death smiled cruelly at Rowena as she barked in pain again, Lera crushing her arm in an unforgiving grip. Finally, she looked back at me.

    ¡°Why should I allow you to take on her debt?¡± Death asked calmly.

    One last chance, Zachariah.

    ¡°You gain nothing by killing her now. But if you give her debt to me and allow her to go, I will serve you and pay it,¡± I said, dropping my gaze momentarily to the ground, ¡°Faithfully.¡±

    A long and slow blink.

    ¡°Only certain souls can become Chosen. You must know this. This may cause you a horrid end,¡± Death said calmly, and I nodded.

    She considered me for agonizing moments before she lifted her hand, and a branch of her throne bent down. An odd sort of black fruit hung from it. She grasped it and pulled it free.

    And then, slowly, she smiled.

    ¡°Your need has been heard. Your request has been made,¡± she said, reaching to the Mark on her forearm I had given back to her and gathering its energy into her palm. She turned to me fully with unnatural grace, descending the steps of her throne in leisurely strides.

    ¡°And our bond,¡± she continued as she reached me, holding the Mark out to my neck, ¡°has been struck.¡±

    Rowena started to say something, but she was cut off with a grunt as I heard fist meet flesh and Lera¡¯s low laugh return.

    Death placed the Mark on my neck, and I felt like someone walked over my grave. Its touch was ice and fire, burning my skin with cold.

    ¡°Eat of my garden willingly,¡± Death said, splitting the fruit, which began to bleed crimson juice on her hand, ¡°And become more than mortal. Bound to me. And me alone.¡±

    Rowena was screaming now, but I ignored it. Ignored everything. This was the only thing I could do, and she wouldn¡¯t stop me.

    I accepted the section of fruit Death offered, taking a single bite before I lost my nerve. It tasted like pure power.

    And then my neck was burning. Scorching. But I refused to scream. Refused to blink. I stood and endured the agony as Rowena¡¯s Marks appeared on my skin one by one. I managed to look at Rowena as the last one left her neck. But then I saw streaks of light flying from her back, temporarily illuminating the garden. Ten. Twenty. A hundred. Two. They all gathered above her like fireflies until nearly a thousand were there. And then they swarmed toward me all at once, merging with my back in a pain so blinding that I collapsed to the fragrant ground.

    Gods. I felt them. The marks of the souls Rowena had already killed. Bile rose up in my throat as I stood on shaking legs when it was done and met Death¡¯s gaze once more.

    She now stood before Rowena, who Lera and Lorian still held in a kneeling position. Her face was pale, and she was breathing too hard, but then I saw it.

    Rowena still had a Mark on her neck.

    My brows knit together as I stared at her. What treachery was this? Now was the part where Death sent Rowena back to the material plane. Or was she going to order me to do that? Rowena told me that Gods didn¡¯t outwardly lie to mortals by their own code. So why wasn¡¯t she setting Rowena free yet?

    Dread spread through my veins like poison as I looked back to Death, and saw her fingers elongating into black knives.

    ¡°I am glad you survived the transformation, my new Chosen. I look forward to seeing how your Chosen abilities take shape. It varies from soul to soul,¡± Death said with a smile, angling her hand toward Rowena¡¯s chest, ¡°But here is some incentive for your service.¡±

    She drove her hand forward, piercing Rowena all the way through to the other side. My eyes widened as Rowena gasped in pain, coughing up blood.

    ¡°These are your terms, Chosen,¡± Death said, pulling her hand out with a sickening crunch. Rowena slumped forward, but the angels held her in place as red spread down her front. On the other side of the small clearing, a bush of white roses began to wilt, white petals dropping one by one.

    ¡°Pay her debt, and serve me faithfully. If you do so before her soul is destroyed, then I will reform it and allow her to move on.¡±

    She bared her teeth in a primordial smile, resting her head on the hand she had just put through Rowena¡¯s chest.

    ¡°However, I suggest you hurry. Souls tend not to last terribly long in the Abyss.¡±

    I barely heard her as I watched Rowena¡¯s blood run down her arm and drip onto the grass.

    No. No! This was all wrong! My mind whirled with something to say to Rowena. Anything, but I couldn¡¯t think over the pain beating through my soul. They burning on my back and neck. The painful sparks of light as Rowena¡¯s soul started to dissolve.

    I tried to go to her, but Death¡¯s hand rose and my Marks started to burn until my legs buckled.

    ¡°Bitch!¡± Rowena uttered, coughing up more blood. Death glanced back at her, her grin turning feline.

    ¡°I feel it only fair to tell you one last thing,¡± Death said to her, bending down until she was eye to eye with Rowena¡¯s fading soul, ¡°You played a losing game from the beginning.¡±

    She reached out, brushing a strand of Rowena¡¯s hair behind her ear almost lovingly.

    ¡°You were never going to see your precious Fayra again.¡±

    Rowena narrowed her eyes at Death, most of her lower torso gone now.

    ¡°What?¡± she growled, and Death stood again with a low laugh.

    ¡°Did you really think with all that blood on your soul that you were going to Heaven?¡± Death answered.

    And then, before she could respond, Rowena McAlister¡¯s soul shattered.

    ¡°No,¡± I whispered, but it was too late.

    Gone. She was simply gone. Lorian vanished in the same moment, and I saw the white rose bush had vanished with him. The only sound was my pants of rage as Death turned to me once more.

    ¡°Well then,¡± Death said, approaching me as I regained my feet, ¡°I think that concludes our business for now, Chosen.¡±

    I restrained my flinch at the title as Death reached out, trailing her hands along the Marks on my neck.

    ¡°Now where were we?¡± Death asked, meeting my eyes, ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. You have a party to return to.¡±

    With no warning, I was sent back to the material plane.

    Alone.

 Lesson Forty-Five: You Are Remembered By Your Tasks Left Undone As Much As Your Tasks Done

    Zachariah

    A cold wooden floor. Distant voices. Sounds coming in waves through a tunnel. The vibrations of footsteps thrummed against the back of my head. I knew then I was on my back, but I didn¡¯t know where I was. I just knew everything hurt. My only solace was the darkness behind my eyelids.

    Reality settled in slowly as I listened to muffled voices, deep in conversation. I was back. It should have felt like a victory, but the pain of loss echoed through me as much as the blood in my veins. I was a damned fool. Death had taken my friend in the worst way possible. And if I wanted Rowena¡¯s soul saved at all, I had to kill eleven-thousand people. Quickly. Before she was swallowed by the Abyss forever.

    If only Death had taken my hearing too.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t she waking up?¡± came a posh feminine voice. Sharp and clipped. The click of heeled boots came toward me.

    ¡°She¡¯s probably just recovering. It was likely a hard battle,¡± came an accented male voice. It took me a moment to place Dash¡¯s voice. Everything had a sort of echo to it.

    ¡°No Zachariah is breathing. Rowena isn¡¯t! She¡¯s not breathing, Levi!¡±

    Rowena¡­

    Sparks of light danced across my eyes as I opened them. Stifling a groan, I rolled onto my side. Knuckling my eyes with one hand, I propped myself on my other arm and looked around.

    I was in Myra¡¯s bedroom, and six pairs of eyes now stared me down. I didn¡¯t know how long I had been unconscious, but it was definitely long enough for someone to lay me on my back next to the window. Rowena¡¯s body was laid out next to me along with the shifter¡¯s. Both were utterly still. She was still in her dress, the dark color contrasting with too-pale skin. Her eyes were closed, face relaxed. Rebellious strands of raven hair fell out of the fancy knot it was tied into. The only thing that was different was her neck. Where there had been rows of Marks, there was now only one.

    A brief moment of silence passed, and then the questions started. And I was in the deepest of the Hells.

    Myra and Levi knelt next to me, asking questions in tandem and interrupting one another in their haste. Their gazes drifted to the bodies of Rowena and the Shifter again and again as they spoke over each other. I was able to hear the common questions between the two of them.

    Where was Rowena?

    What happened?

    Was the Shifter dead?

    Were they coming back?

    Why was I awake?

    Why wasn¡¯t Rowena awake?

    Where was she?

    The room came into focus as I glanced around, unable to get a word in edgewise. Then again, I wasn¡¯t in any hurry to answer their questions.

    Myra¡¯s mother stood in the doorway along with Lord Beaufoutonte, their faces pinched in concern.

    ¡°Peace you two,¡± Dash said, cutting Levi and Myra amidst their endless stream of questions. He was breathing hard, his coat and tie disheveled. I remembered how he had helped to grapple the Shifter right before Rowena sent us on the journey that would end her existence. He placed a hand on Levi¡¯s shoulder while meeting Myra¡¯s eye, his voice calm and low.

    ¡°Give the man room to breathe.¡±

    Numbly, I nodded my thanks to him, but I knew I couldn¡¯t delay forever. The room finally fell quiet as I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Gods, I wished I could find a way to explain. But nothing seemed to encompass it all. What could I possibly say? The Marks on my neck seemed to burn as the seconds turned into an eternity.

    I vaguely registered more footsteps before Rowena¡¯s father knelt next to her body. He pushed his glasses up his nose, hiding his eyes as they glinted in the everlight lamp. Violet eyes. Rowena¡¯s eyes. Eyes that would never open again.

    Black hair with shoots of gray fell into his face as he bent down, pressing a finger to her neck. His face was a blank mask as he waited to feel a pulse, but of course it steadily fell. A line formed between his brows as he straightened finally. He looked at me before turning to the rest.

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    And that¡¯s when I finally found the words. Rowena¡¯s father wouldn¡¯t give this news. I would. She deserved that much.

    ¡°Death destroyed her. She¡¯s gone,¡± I said, swallowing hard.

    A beat passed, everyone going still as statues.

    ¡°No,¡± Myra said thickly, shaking her head. She crossed her arms as she glared at Rowena¡¯s corpse.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like me enough to die for me, Miss Rowena,¡± she said, silver gathering in her eyes, ¡°So wake up!¡±

    She bowed her head, swallowing hard.

    ¡°Please.¡±

    Levi had already knelt where his father had, mirroring the man¡¯s actions. His jaw hardened as he searched for what wasn¡¯t there.

    ¡°Come on, Wen,¡± he murmured. It settled on him in phases, his focus shifting to me gradually. Suddenly he pivoted to face me, pinning me with his eyes.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, though I saw his hand was still on her neck. Still feeling for a pulse.

    ¡°What. Went. Wrong?¡± Levi asked as I slowly pushed to my feet, his voice dropping like Rowena¡¯s.

    I pulled in a deep breath.

    ¡°Everything.¡±

    Nobody said anything as all of us stared at her body, too still in the bedroom. Silent as any graveyard. There was only the crackle of the fire, and the pull of the Marks on my neck and back. Rowena¡¯s father was the first to move, turning away and walking toward the door.

    ¡°At least she is on the Far Shore with her friend now,¡± he said calmly.

    No, I thought, She isn¡¯t.

    Like he was discussing anyone else besides his own daughter. He nearly made it to the door before Levi was striding toward him, Myra on his heels. Son outpaced Father and barred his way through the door, a storm brewing in his face.

    ¡°Your daughter is dead, Father, and you can¡¯t even remember the love of her life¡¯s name?¡± Levi asked, and I saw Dash step up behind him. The large man kept his silence, but I didn¡¯t miss the way his eyes narrowed on Lord McAlister.

    The older man didn¡¯t even blink.

    ¡°She hadn¡¯t been part of this family for ten years. Not truly. She made that very clear. Be glad I said even that,¡± he said evenly, adjusting his coat more evenly on his shoulders. And with that, he shouldered his way past his son and walked down the hallway.

    Nobody seemed to know where to look. Levi and Myra stood together their hands clasped as we struggled to figure out what came next. Lord Beaufoutonte and The Matron were murmuring to them tensely.

    Voice still echoed from downstairs as the guests filed out, Stone¡¯s deep commands keeping command. Gods. Stone. He still didn¡¯t know.

    Lord Beaufoutonte and The Matron came toward me

    ¡°Zhat zhing is dead? Zhe guests are safe?¡± The Matron asked, looking at the half-transformed corpse. I managed to nod.

    Lord Beaufoutonte met her eye briefly before nodding.

    ¡°We must summon Addie to prepare the bodies,¡± he murmured, his shoulders slumped.

    Narrowing my eyes, I sent him a questioning gaze.

    ¡°That one,¡± the Lord said, pointing at the shifter¡¯s body, ¡°for disposal.¡±

    He looked briefly to the doorway where Rowena¡¯s father had vanished and gave the barest shake of his head. He then redirected his hand to Rowena¡¯s body, his gaze softening.

    ¡°And since it appears Miss McAlister will not be welcome elsewhere, she will be buried in the Beaufoutonte family crypt. As thanks for my daughter¡¯s safety and¨C¡±

    I shook my head, cutting him off. Everyone watched as I walked to her, stooped, and picked her up off the floor.

    I knew a better place to bury her.

    *******

    I didn¡¯t expect to sleep that night, but eventually, I succumbed to exhaustion. One moment I was resting at the base of a tree in the small clearing, and the next I was walking through a field of mists.

    Nearly a thousand different people were speaking somewhere far away, but I couldn¡¯t make out the words.

    ¡°You hear them. The voices of those whom you carry,¡± someone said behind me. I rounded, even though I knew what I would face.

    Lorian stood behind me as he had in Purgatory, his wings spread.

    ¡°Why am I here?¡± I asked, trying to relax. Lorian stared down at me, his shoulders set.

    ¡°You called me. We who are touched by Death are¡­connected.¡±

    I frowned, feeling the mist gather thickly around us.

    ¡°Rowena talked to you like this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Your friend¡¯s soul is¡­different. Her rage blocked us from visiting her, although Lera often tried to send her whispers,¡± Lorian explained, dropping his chin.

    ¡°Can Death hear us?¡± I asked looking around, but there was nothing but drifting fog.

    ¡°Only those invited to the plane can hear,¡± Lorian said, looking around. He made a complete circle, before looking at me again.

    ¡°You have questions,¡± he said, meeting my gaze with those unsettling red eyes. I swallowed and considered him.

    ¡°You said that events needed to take place,¡± I said, curling my hands into fists, ¡°Did they?¡±

    Lorian¡¯s eyes softened suddenly before his face turned blank again.

    ¡°Something is coming for humanity. Something that your friend lacked the ability to fight. You are where you must be, and so is she.¡± My jaw hardened as he finished, but I didn¡¯t have time to argue.

    He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping as he retreated backward into the mist. I tried to follow him, but he was somehow faster. Eventually, he was nothing more than a silhouette, his voice carrying above the others.

    ¡°The changing of the guard has come. What is honorable, what is smart, and what is right are three different realities. Humanity will need one who knows how to combine them.¡±

 Lesson Forty-Six: Songs Can Be Deadly

    The Bard

    Skywater, the capital of Luradia. The city was an absolute marvel, climbing above the cloudline of the Titan¡¯s Crown of the Yari mountains. Playing here alone was an honor, let alone for the Council of Peace. I would make more from this show than most Bards made in a year.

    The thunderwood palace stood at the peak of the mountain, surrounded by the other smaller patches of towns, ice crawling over most of the paths. Large blue bonfires kept the roads passable, but overall the city was as cold as rumored. Elemancers, Beastfolk, Umifolk, humans, and nearly every other race walked the ancient paths. Each of them carried scrolls, leatherwork, baked food, Source Steel, or mining tools as the only sign of their trades.

    I stopped at the gates, looking back only once to gaze upon the sun glittering upon the clouds, the base of the mountain hidden below its depths. I brushed my locked curled hair back and looked up. Squinting against the setting sun, I saw the network of ice bridges disappearing into the distance toward one of the other peaks of the Titan¡¯s Crown.

    ¡°Gunehey,¡± called Tepesh, our troupe leader, ¡°Don¡¯t keep the King waiting.¡±

    His breath fogged with every word, forming instant ice crystals in his black beard that had its fair share of gray. He stood at the top of the steps as guards helped the rest of our troupe unload our wagons, his Story Marks writhing upon the inch of exposed skin on his neck.

    Gods, it was cold. I shivered, wishing I could grow a beard like him. But I knew I would be warm tonight. My curves, dark curly hair, and gray eyes rimmed with green never failed to draw someone to warm my bed for me.

    Giving him my best smile, I swept into a bow upon the stone steps of the thunderwood palace. I even managed not to slip on the ice. My instrument pack was nearly over-balanced as I dipped, the cello within it large but thankfully light.

    ¡°My apologies. It¡¯s not often I climb high as the heavens,¡± I said, adjusting the straps of my pack. Tepesh grunted, his eyes trailing over the pick and orange of the clouds reflected in the sun as it reached the western sky.

    ¡°True, but you¡¯ll never see it again if we never get invited back because you¡¯re late. As usual.¡±

    ¡°You wound me, good sir. I¡¯ve never been late in my entire life,¡± I lied dryly, passing him with a sly grin. He caught up to me, blowing into his hands and rubbing them together.

    ¡°It''s a known fact you¡¯d end up in the Abyss because you missed your boat to the Far Shore,¡± he deadpanned, shoving his hands into his pockets. We both sighed in relief as we crossed the threshold. The air immediately warmed with plentiful fires standing sentry next to the floor-to-ceiling windows stained in pictures of the great battles of history.

    ¡°Facts can be hurtful,¡± I replied, gazing upward into the high ceilings. We made our way through the relative chaos of the rest of the troupe preparing to perform, going straight to the throne room.

    ¡°The Saga Troup here to see you, sire,¡± announced one of the guards at the doorway, barring us from going further. There was muttered conversation on the other side before the doors opened, and we were ushered inside.

    I¡¯ve seen many corners of this country, each more beautiful than the last. The throne room passed them all with ease.

    Veins of thunderwood with wove an easy artwork across the ceiling, which otherwise was stained glass. It depicted the Other of the Ethereal forests, with all the known Raito kings that walked among them. One of them, a cross between a fox and a wolf with wings and horns, stood near the center. I¡¯d seen paintings of him before, and he had always been my favorite. He¡¯d always been my favorite.

    The symbols of all the Gods made a circle at the apex, casting lights of many colors throughout the room, while natural light flowed in through other windows.

    Several people sat at the council table, high-backed chairs crowned with the flame encased in ice. Each one carried an insignia that resembled their region. My eyes lingered on the King and Queen, who both sat at the head, Marks lining their necks.

    So it is true, I thought as I counted their Marks, They are blessed by all the Gods. All of them except Death, at least.

    ¡°Thank you for coming,¡± boomed the King, his voice surprisingly strong coming from his withered body, ¡°The Blue Moon Festival wouldn¡¯t be the same without some entertainment.¡±

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    ¡°Of course, Your Majesty,¡± Tepesh said, bowing deeply. I fumbled after him, remembering to bow a fraction too late.

    ¡°Rise,¡± said the King, and we did. He didn¡¯t seem to notice my momentary lapse of manners, however, I saw two of his Council did.

    A female Elemancer with white hair and black skin scowled at me, along with a human man sitting next to her. The man was built like a bear, thick white hair and beard covering most of his face. The man had glittering armor, though he and the Elemancer both wore matching cloaks of steel gray. A winged black horse was stitched into each one.

    ¡°I realize the festival isn¡¯t meant to start until sundown,¡± said a man with a fox-like face further down the table, his tone easy and relaxed, ¡°But may we have a taste of your talent before you settle in? I apologize if this seems rude, but I¡¯ve heard so much about your troupe.¡±

    ¡°I would gladly, Councilman,¡± said Tepesh, nodding his head deferentially, ¡°But I have not yet unpacked my lute¨C¡±

    ¡°I have my cello,¡± I said before thinking better of it. Every head turned toward me, including Tepesh¡¯s. Gods, I was going to hear it later. The Elemancer woman¡¯s eyes narrowed a bit further on me, but she relaxed as her companion leaned over to whisper in her ear.

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± said the foxlike Councilman, ¡°Please showcase your talents for us Miss¡­¡± he said, trailing off, looking at me expectantly.

    ¡°Genehey. But please call me Gunny ¡± I replied, giving my Saga Name as I started to unpack my cello, ¡°Does my Lord have a request?¡±

    Laying my cello gently on the polished stone floor, I pulled out a small stand with wheels at the bottom, making the cello the perfect height for standing and playing. Having that engineer in Gear¡¯s End design and build it had cost a fortune, but I think it was well worth the result. Curved metal wove delicately, with plates sticking out like enlarged flower petals.

    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± said the Councilman, perking his ears as he smiled, ¡°Do you have the Story Mark of Stonefeathers?¡±

    ¡°Any Bard worthy of the Writer does, Councilman,¡± I replied, drawing rune resin along my bow. Finally, I began to shrug off my coat, revealing the network of Story Marks upon my skin. Whispering in Elder speech, I coaxed the Mark of a feather to the wide plane on my shoulder blade.

    Pulling in a deep breath, I tested a few notes on my cello, grinning when I heard it was still in tune. Finally, I lifted my eyes the the Council of Peace and began to sing.

    As I did, the feather shifted on my skin, becoming the figure of a woman who shifted quickly into a bird. Then came the man, a hunter who shot her with his arrow. And so the song turned sweeter, the melody coming from me as easy as breathing. I sang the legend of how they fell in love, the ink shifting on my sing at the beckoning of my voice. It was an old story, but an epic one of love, sacrifice, and rebirth.

    The room was silent, even the Elemancer¡¯s eyes going distant with the story. My voice echoed in the large space, weaving the tale layer by layer, until it reached its happy end. I eventually closed my eyes, seeing the story in my head as if I had been there myself.

    I tried to make the others see it as well. I wasn¡¯t the most religious person in the world, but I always believed in the Writer. In my mind, nothing was more powerful than a compelling story.

    And then the final notes rang out, the others blinking as if awakening from a dream.

    Meeting the Elemancer woman¡¯s eyes, I smiled.

    The Council of Peace applauded, some more than others. The King and Queen even stood. I turned to Tepesh, seeing pride in his eyes.

    ¡°Excellent!¡± cried the Queen as she clapped, ¡°If this is a taste of your troupe, sir, then we eagerly await the festivities tonight!¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± said the Elemancer woman, and the man next to her nodded. Tepesh swept into a humble bow, yanking me with him before my mouth got away from me again.

    ¡°Majesties! Ladies! Gentlemen!¡± he said, lifting only his head, ¡°I promise you will not be disappointed.¡±

    *******

    ¡°Well done everyone!¡± Tepesh boomed, opening his arms wide and holding up his mug of Skywater ale. Cheering, the rest of the Saga troupe raised their mugs in unison. It was late into the night, and we all sat together in the guest halls of the castle, which all made a circle around the huge hearth in the center. Barrels of ale were everywhere as the troupe celebrated. The food was hot, the ale was cold, and the laughs were hearty.

    Most of us were either tap-hackled, or well on our way there. The edges of the room blurred around me, a pleasant warmth in my veins. I listened as several of the troupe told of their best performances tonight, some even singing.

    Yes, many of the townspeople had gone to bed, but our party was just beginning. I looked at the flames, reveling in this feeling. Gods, I loved being a Bard. The Writer had blessed me immeasurably.

    But eventually, the ale hit bottom for me, and I stepped away from my chosen family to relieve myself. The halls of the castle got ever quieter as I walked them, looking for the lavatory.

    A chill went up my spine.

    I stopped in my tracks, looking around. Something was off. And that¡¯s when it hit me. There were no guards. Not even one.

    A rough clasped around my mouth, stifling my scream. I bucked, trying to throw the man off, but it was useless. His arm was around my neck then, my airway abruptly cut off.

    ¡°The changing of the guard has come. Thank you in advance for your service,¡± said the man as he chuckled, his voice a crazed whisper. His breath was sour as he leaned into my ear.

    My consciousness wavered, but not before I spotted the winged horse tattooed on his hand in black ink.

    That was the last thing I saw before the world went black.

 Epilogue: The Abyss

    The Spirit

    A place beyond beginnings and endings. A place where time is meaningless. A place of nothing. Nothing but darkness.

    And something moves in the darkness. Something that wants all that you are. Something that sends you past the Hells until you are nothing at all. There is no after. There is only waiting.

    Waiting for that thing to find you, and bring the end.

    *******

    Echoes. That was reality. It was all that mattered. It took me a long time to realize that the echoes were mine. It took me longer to realize that I was. I was pain within nothing. A shard of something shattered.

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    Vague recollections of a life. Love. Loss. Pain. Laughter. I wandered in the blackness, waiting for the end. Occasionally I heard screams that didn¡¯t belong to my echoes. But those screams were always abruptly cut off as something shifted in the darkness.

    I didn''t know how long I wandered. I stayed quiet, wanting to avoid whatever monster awaited me. But I didn''t know why I tried. What was there to exist for?

    And then I could see a light in the darkness. Distant at first, but stronger with time. I wandered toward it, nothing more than a shadow myself. If I was one with the gloom, then maybe the light would be a kinder end than whatever hunted the others.

    The light took shape as I approached, looking like a man. Something distant lept within me at the sight of him, but I didn¡¯t know why. And yet, I still wandered toward him.

    He looked my way as I approached, and I saw through the haze of his aura. He had a gentle face. A face unfit for a place such as this.

    He smiled as he saw me. Dropping to my height, he spoke in a soft voice. A familiar voice.

    ¡°Hello, Little One.¡±

 Prologue: A Dance of Steel and Words

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Soren</h2>

    Hurry now. There¡¯s not much time. He approaches.

    Tipping into a steep dive, I went face-first into the blackness. The wintery wind battered my face.

    A seemingly endless drop through the great chasm greeted me. My wings tucked into my body, arms stretched out in front, as I plunged ever deeper into the heart of the world. Not bothering to open my eyes, I used my other sight to steer me through the other flying bodies. Downward and downward I flew; a star fallen from the surface world.

    The harsh transition of the bitter snowy cold of a Luradian winter to the radiant heat of the forgotten reaches under it was not a pleasant one. The rapid temperature change made my limbs feel like they were catching fire.

    Still I dove, flying straight past the hundreds of floors and caverns to the deepest part of the known world.

    The Source Chasm.

    Soren, came her call again as I passed underground fields of lichen, clanks of metal being refined, and the thunderous sounds of hammers being driven into stone. I flew past the floors that contained the markets. Contained the mines. Contained homes.

    But I passed them all as fast as gravity would take me. There was only one place I wanted to be.

    I snapped my wings open right where the chasm met its end.  My body tipped parallel to the floor as I glided to the grand doors of the council chamber. Though I had been here several times, I couldn¡¯t help but expand my sight one more time to the beautiful room around me.

    The bottom floor, called Tier One,  was as large as any castle the humans had ever built. It was a dome-like space with one section walled off in intricate crystal and stone. Fifty-foot doors guarded the private entrance to the council chambers. Similar doors stood across the space, leading to the Empire chambers. The apex of the domed space was open all the way to the surface miles above. A small stream of sunlight trickled in from above.

    My feet made the barest whisper when I touched down in the inner council chamber, still not bothering to open my eyes. I rarely used them anyway.

    Nonetheless, I saw everything.

    Soren. Welcome home.

    Empress Tiradel¡¯s voice, strong yet gentle,  whispered across my mind as I stood sentry by her side.  Bowing my head, I placed two clawed fingers over the base of my throat. As per our custom.

    How may I serve you, Empress?

    In the same thought, I pressed into my Sight. Not the inferior physical sight as surface-landers used, but my Source Sight instead. A gift that I was very proud of.  Even among my kin it was a rarity.

    The energies of the walls and the very air itself spoke to me. And I spoke back to them, allowing me to see everything.

    The wood and steel council table in the center of the room.

    The Nadurat Guard stood with me in the corners, silent as shadows.

    It even told me the way the torchlight danced across the stone and wood. The pale glow of the crystals reaching from floor to high ceiling near the door.

    But most important of all, my Sight showed the Empress. She was seated on her throne as if nothing were more natural.

    Her head swiveled to me, silvery hair braided in a coil at the base of her neck. Clouded gray eyes stared out beneath curved black horns from either side of her skull. She was dressed much the same as her Nadurat Guard. Reinforced black leather armor, source steel bracers, and a bow laid across her lap like a loyal pet. A quiver containing Source arrows was leaned against the base of her throne. The weapons showed signs of their former use. Small scratches and dents were littered across their surfaces like scars. Still, like their mistress, they were beautiful.

    I frowned as I focused on her more fully. I could see the tension in her no matter how she tried to hide it. It had been growing ever since the message from Skywater came that the King would be coming to Fonte Shiata.

    Her voice rang in my mind again.

    Have you found the other scouts from the surface?

    I shook my head.

    No, Empress. My apologies. I know only rumors from my own journey.

    Her grip tightened on her bow.

    Which are?

    Hesitating I chose my words carefully.

    The humans are said to have made a weapon, Empress. A weapon capable of wielding Elemancer power. And-

    I stopped myself, mindful of what my report may cause. Empress Tiradel¡¯s mouth formed a thin line.

    And¡­ she asked. Not a question. An order.

    And the King is preparing for war, Empress. His armies gather, and Elemancers and Deified alike are dying.

    She narrowed her eyes.

    Are they not immortal?

    I tucked my wings behind my back, seeking the heat of the stone wall.

    They are supposed to be, but apparently, there is one who can overcome that barrier.

    Fighting the urge to fidget, I shook my head and clenched my hands behind me.

    But these are only rumors from a mere day of scouting. I have my doubts that they are true.

    She didn¡¯t answer me, her attention instead snapping to the grand door at the entrance to the chamber. Less than a second later I knew why.

    The King of Luradia had finally arrived to Story One of the Source Chasm.

    Why were Surface-landers so loud?

    Metal armor clanked along with heavy footsteps as they finally entered the chamber. I pulled my sight back to hold off the pounding in my head. Even those among my kin who were completely blind would know they were coming.

    Empress Tiradel leaned forward on her throne, her brow creasing.

    This wasn¡¯t the king.

    A female Elemancer stood at the head of the group along with a human man, a mixture of guards bearing the royal sigal behind them. Their faces were all pale as they glanced back at the thousands of stairs they had used to come down here. Their legs were shaking with more than fatigue though. No doubt their surface-lander eyes could barely see anything down here. Hands clenched their strange weapons of fire and steel. Some wore swords at their back, but all had the barrels of pistols at their belts.

    ¡°Well then,¡± Empress Tiradel said with an amused glance at the Elemancer female, ¡°The king of Luradia has a few more curves than I expected him to have.¡±

    The Elemancer narrowed her eyes at my Empress, clearly unamused. Her long white hair seemed to glow over her black skin. And yes. Those signature eyes the color of fire coals burned white hot.

    She too wore the royal sigil, a flame encased in ice. But instead of armor, hers was embossed on a steel gray cloak. Another symbol of a winged black horse was fanned out on the back. Her skin bore the distinctive tattoos of Elemancy power, scarcely visible above the cloak.

    The man, like the guards, wore armor under his matching cloak. He gave a singular look to his lead companion, who lifted her chin.

    She cleared her throat.

    ¡°Your king,¡± she began with a weighted look at my Empress, ¡°Sends his greetings to you, Councilwoman Tiradel. I am Suhin, Councilwoman and Elemancer emissary of Skywater.¡±

    She waved to the human man next to her. I wondered if he had some beast-kin in him because he resembled a white bear more than a man with his thick white beard covering most of his face.

    ¡°And this is Herald Surak, Hand of the King.¡±

    The man¡¯s only response was a curt nod.

    I was happy for my concealment in the darkness of the edges of the room. The Nadurate guard and I bristled as the arrogant female spoke, not missing the emphasis on her use of ¡°Councilwoman¡¯ instead of ¡°Empress¡±.

    Thankfully, Tiradel did not react to the slight.

    She leaned back in her throne, staying relaxed as she gazed at the visitors.

    ¡°You, a member of the High Council, deign to descend the True Mountains? This must be important. What an honor, it is,¡±  Tiradel replied with a hint of sarcasm.

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    She sent them a close-lipped smile before continuing.

    ¡°So, what does the king of Luradia¡¯s emissary party want with me?¡± she asked politely. Her voice sounded so strange aloud. It was so much colder than the telepathy our people normally used.

    ¡°Your shipment of source steel is late, and we require it. Now,¡± said the Elemancer bluntly, standing to her full height.

    A low laugh came from Empress Tiradel.

    ¡°It''s a pity then¡± she began, her fingers drumming lightly on her bow, ¡°that the royal family has not signed our trade agreement.¡±

    The Nadurat guards were moving now, fanning all the way around the room. They were so swift and silent that even I had trouble tracking them. I stayed by the Empress¡¯s side, still unseen in the darkness.

    Herald¡¯s thick beard twitched down, his eyes hard. Suhin¡¯s tattoos glowed for a slight moment.

    ¡°It is not trading if it occurs in his own territory,¡± said Herald, speaking for the first time. Even his voice was like a bear. Every word was a growl.

    Empress Tiradel¡¯s brows raised.

    ¡°Oh? Did he discover his own Source mine then? Surely you do not speak of my city.¡±

    Suhin stepped forward.

    ¡°Must we speak of this again? Your request to secede was denied. You dare to claim this miserable hole as your city, Tiradel?¡± she asked, tattoos glowing a bright red now. I didn¡¯t dare to breathe as the Nadurate guard closed ranks around the visitors. Their gazes remained locked on the Empress, oblivious to the danger mere inches from them.

    Tiradel nodded, raising her chin.

    ¡°My apologies. I have failed to communicate effectively,¡± Empress Tiradel said. Her tone was light, but every line of her posture was hard. Her bow creaked in her grip. Her spine was straight.

    ¡°I was notifying your king, from one monarch to another, that we are seceeding. I was not asking for permission.¡±

    ¡°Treason!¡± hissed Herald, his hand grasping his sworn. Suhin curled her fingers like talons, the tattoos pulsing with energy. Sparks began to glow at her fingertips.

    They were too busy to see a hand go around one of their guard¡¯s mouths, sharp nails piercing his throat. His eyes widened as he was silently drawn into the shadows.

    ¡°So all pretenses of keeping the treaty your people set in place are gone!¡± said Herald, his shoulders bunching as Suhin continued the trail of sparks at her fingers.

    Tiradel¡¯s smile turned feline.

    ¡°Promises made by my forebears mean nothing to me. Especially when those promises condemn my people to a fate close to slavery,¡± replied Tiradel in a lethal quiet.

    ¡°Calm yourself, Herald,¡± said Suhin, though fire now encased her fingers, ¡°We should not waste breath trying to teach a Gray Eyes about honor and duty.¡±

    We all jumped as Tiradel let out a full laugh now, her head going back.

    ¡°Ha! I will not be lectured by a race that enslaved humans until recently. You''ll have to do better than that,¡± she said leaning her head into her hand.

    ¡°Tell me. What was it like to lose a war with the humans? Of all the races!¡± she said with a few more low laughs.

    Another guard was pulled into the shadows. Then another.

    ¡°You tread a dangerous line, Tiradel,¡± Suhin fired back, ¡°This is an act of war.¡±

    She mounted a single step toward the throne.

    ¡°The next time you see us, there will be an army at our backs.¡±

    Another step. Her head was above Tiradel¡¯s now. My Empress didn¡¯t move an inch, instead gazing at the Elemancer like she was nothing more than a spoiled child having a tantrum.

    ¡°But if you drop this charade of becoming independent, then we can all put this behind us. Submit control of Source Chasm to the High Council, and all will be forgiven.¡±

    I tensed. Suhin could reach out and touch Tiradel now, her hands still aflame. The light nearly reached my hiding spot. I curled my fingers, the nails elongating into claws, and prepared to strike.

    No, came Tiradel¡¯s voice. That alone stayed my hands.

    The Empress took her time gazing up into the Elemancer woman¡¯s face. Her head was still leaning on her hand.

    ¡°War? An army?¡± Tiradel asked, and as she did, her gaze lingered on the singular entrance to Fonte Shiata miles above. She seemed to take in the thousands of feet of open air. A daunting drop for anyone not blessed with wings. Then her eyes strayed to the much-abused stone stairs which spiraled up the space. They were built nearly a hundred years ago specifically for visits from surface-landers, but they were used so rarely that little effort was put into maintaining them. They were only wide enough for one person, and several of the stairs had fallen sections out of them.

    The thought of an army storming the place using only those pitiful stairs¡­

    ¡°You can try,¡± said Empress Tiradel with a patronizing look at the Elemancer, who flushed. The flames in her fists grew bigger. Herald ascended the stairs as well to stand beside her, sword still in hand.

    ¡°Well, since you are a confirmed traitor,¡± he said and, without taking his eyes off the Empress, signaled the other guards to attack.

    He didn¡¯t even get to finish the gesture.

    ¡°I have three questions for you,¡± said Tiradel before he could draw his sword fully. He paused, some amusement entering his eyes.

    ¡°Oh?¡± he asked.

    Tirade raised one finger.

    ¡°Question one. Has the king suddenly stopped needing Source Steel? This mine will not run without me,¡± she said, reclining in her throne.

    A second finger went up.

    ¡°Question two. Are these not my chambers and my guards?¡±

    Taking the cue, I and the Nadurate guard stepped out of the shadows. Suhin and Herald jumped as they saw us for the first time, seeing how outnumbered they were.

    A third finger.

    ¡°Question three. Where do you think your guards have gone?¡±

    Herald and Suhin growled quietly as they glanced throughout the room. Not a single guard was left standing.

    ¡°Now then,¡± said Tiradel, standing at last, ¡°Do not insult my intelligence by further deceptions. You and I both know the true reason you are desperate to keep this territory under your thumb.¡±

    She leaned in close to them as if explaining a secret.

    ¡°And it has nothing to do with steel. You seek something far darker, and far fouler from my realm.¡±

    ¡°We serve the crown of all life, and the crown alone!¡± cried Suhin. The light of her flames reflected in Tiradel¡¯s eyes and cast a red glow on her horns.

    Tiradel raised a brow at her and then glanced at a single Nadurate guard.

    Thud.

    A body landed in the middle of the council chamber. A body clad in a matching cloak to Herald and Suhin. The winged black horse emblem was soaked in blood.

    ¡°You and your cult will not be tolerated in my city anymore,¡± said Tiradel as Suhin and Herald stared fixedly at the body.

    ¡°I have grown tired of your ilk trying to break into places best left forgotten. No matter how many we kill, you keep trying,¡± Tiradel said, all amusement gone. She waved at the body.

    ¡°No more. Tell this to the rest.¡±

    They settled into silence, Herald and Suhin looking at Tiradel with the deepest of loathing. Finally, Tiradel smirked at them.

    ¡°You may both go. I suggest you return to your king before this pretense of trading in Source Steel runs thin. If you surface-landers wish to tear yourselves apart with war and betrayal, then by all means, do so. But leave my realm out of it.¡±

    She gestured at the bottom of the thousands of stairs leading to the surface.

    ¡°And do be careful on the steps. I hear the fall is quite unforgiving.¡±

    A final glance at the body.

    ¡°Just ask your friend.¡±

    Her voice echoed in the hall, the clink of Herald¡¯s sword and the crackle of the fire the only sound.  Suhin and Herald¡¯s eyes met, and something seemed to pass between them. We tensed, ready for anything.

    Then, as one, they turned to go. Some of the Nadurate Guard trailed behind them.

    Soren, came her voice as the visitors ascended the first steps. I bowed my head again with two fingers at my neck.

    You spoke of a rumor of a being capable of killing Elemancers and Deified. And then there¡¯s this weapon to consider.

    I nodded, tucking my wings further behind my back. Every muscle in my body felt like a spring.

    Find them.

    I went still.

    Empress, my sight has limits¨C

    Then allow me to extend them.

    She turned toward me, placing a hand over my heart. She closed her eyes, and suddenly I felt her sight extending toward mine. They met, and the energy I felt was unlike any before. Suddenly I didn¡¯t just want to see. I had to see. I had to know everything. Right now. This very moment.

    Laying a hand against the smooth stone at my back, I reached out with my Sight again. My Empress¡¯s and mine.

    Further.

    Further still.

    More Gray Eyes flew in the cavern. I soared past the sight of Suhin and Herald panting their way up the stairs. I flew past Gray Eyes gliding in the caverns, creatures hiding in twists and turns of the corridors. I reached to the energies themselves, asking for the source of the chaos.

    There had been a shift in the balances of the world. Some struggled. Some dominated. I felt it before, but now I saw it. Like stepping into another world, invisible under our own.

    And it was terrifying.

    Cords of twisting energy coiled before me in every color imaginable. All dazzling.

    An invisible web once hidden to even me.

    There! A thread lay hidden among the masses. But instead of giving off a gentle glow, this one throbbed.

    I tried to push into it further but recoiled. This thread was old. Very old. Trying to identify it was like touching a fire to see how hot it was.  An ancient energy, long since sleeping, now awakening.

    I paused, furrowing my brow as I tried to make sense of the chaotic patterns of energy ebbing and flowing. Even with the Empress¡¯ help it fought me. Shying away like a wounded animal one moment, then charging and forcing me to retreat the next.

    My breath hitched as I finally was able to follow its rhythm.

    My knees shook, and I fought to stay on my feet. I snatched my hand back from the wall as if it were a viper. But Tiradel¡¯s hand crushed over mine, forcing it back. Sweat broke out of my skin.

    It is  hungry and¡­angry.

    Track it, Soren.

    My body nearly failed, but I pushed farther. Grabbing hold of that cord and using it to guide across country. Across the True Mountains. Across the Yari. Across field and cattle. The snow was so vivid that I could feel the chill of it. I forgot where I was, giving myself fully to that thread.

    And then, finally, it veered toward a town near the bending river. I even saw the town¡¯s sign.

    Tumblend.

    But it veered again.

    I followed it into a forest of tall trees. Thunderwood trees. An Ethereal forest.

    I had never been able to see this far, but the image was so clear.

    The thread led to a clearing in the forest.

    A man with red hair, Elemancy tattoos trailing up his arms, stood before two graves side by side.  One seemed freshly dug, the ground still uneven where he had pressed sod in. He was using a chisel to carve words on the arch marking the second grave. I even saw that.

    Rowena McAlister.

    1821-1855

    But someone was coming. The thread was pulling further. Further. And-

    My knees buckled. Sweat now soaked my skin, and my Empress sank with me. And then I was back in Fonte Shiata. I felt hands on us both, supporting us and helping us back to our feet. The Nadurate. Everything around me was a haze. I needed to rest, but Empress Tiradel¡¯s voice whispered across my mind one more time before we both fell unconscious.

    Bring him to me.

 Lesson One: There Are No Right Words

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Zachariah</h2>

    Of course you would die when the ground¡¯s hardest to dig in.

    I lifted my hammer again, striking the chisel hard and fast.

    Clang. Clang. Clang.

    I could feel my wrist jarring with each impact as I carved into the Thunderwood arch. The shock of the repetitive motion made the bones in my wrist rub together. It burned like kindling. What did Rowena say those little bones were called again? Right. Carpals.

    Gods. Does everything I say turn to ash? Are you even listening, Zachariah?

    I could see the sly smile spread over her face as the memory boiled to the surface. Had it already been over ten years?  It may as well have been a lifetime. A millenium.

    Bones.

    That is what Rowena¡¯s body was becoming six feet below my boots at this very moment. It still hadn¡¯t sunk in that I would never see her again. Not in this life. Not in the next.

    Come on Zachariah. Just admit you¡¯re happy you don¡¯t have to deal with my bullshit anymore.

    The hammer paused as I waited for the pain to arrive with the constant stream of memories. But it didn¡¯t. Had I gone numb to them so fast?

    She always said she was going to the hells if she died.

    If. I now knew why she had chosen that word.

    I thought at the time she was joking, but now I knew she hadn¡¯t been. I¡¯d been too blind to see it. Everything changed after Fayra died. Of the three of us, she may have been the one who ended up in the ground.  But two of my friends died that day.

    Sighing, I brushed a hand over my tired face, massaging the cold flesh and muscles. The joints in my fingers clicked as I bent and flexed them.

    There was still work to do, so I shook my head to clear it. Cold air burning my cheeks, I began to carve again.

    Clang. Clang. Clang.

    ¡°Happy now?¡± I asked the wind as I finally finished my carving. Right above her name were two dueling pistols with the barrels crossed like an X. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but I did my best to recreate her pistols.

    It was right next to two hands cradling a bird. The symbol of the Physician¡¯s Enclave.

    We held a small funeral for Rowena after the wedding. That was about two months ago. We decided it would be best to not wait too long. It was small. Just Myra, Levi, Oji, and myself. We were surprised when Lord and Lady Beaufoutonte arrived. I guess they were grateful for what Rowena had done for their daughter.

    I even spied Levira Casanaddi lingering in the trees at the edge of the clearing. When I noticed her, she strode forward. Before any of us could argue, she placed a bottle of bourbon at the base of the arch.

    Rowena¡¯s father never came.

    Maybe that was for the best.

    Even as the coffin was lowered, I didn¡¯t feel like Rowena was dead. I didn¡¯t understand it. I had watched her body placed in the ground. Watched icy soil spread over it. Watched her soul disintegrate.

    But she still didn¡¯t feel dead.

    So I spent the past two months looking for everything that mattered to her. Even the damned box the Chosen had stolen from Fayra¡¯s grave. I sent a gaze to the freshly patted down sod where it was now buried.

    I never looked inside.

    My muscles shook with fatigue. The hours of stabbing the ground with my worn shovel had made me sore. I knew I didn¡¯t have a right to complain. I could have used Elemancy, but I chose not to.

    So it had been hours upon hours of bone-jarring digging. Hitting ice and rock. Lifting larger stones out of the way. Then pressing the box next to her coffin. Even that didn¡¯t seem like enough, so I spent several more hours decorating her arch.

    My breath fogged in front of me, the wind more gentle in this serene space. However, winter had finally made its way to even here.

    But the arch still wasn¡¯t finished.

    I looked up at the one next to Rowena¡¯s.

    Fayra Marvella Stone

    1821-1845

    Beloved Daughter, Friend, and Wife

    Daughter. Friend. Wife. Such words were always on graves, but I didn¡¯t know what to write for Rowena. What best encompassed her?

    Friend? She abandoned all her friends for the sake of revenge. A revenge she never fulfilled.

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    Daughter? Her father hated her, and her mother was gone to the Far Shore.

    Wife ? Well¡­at least their bodies were side by side now. Even if their souls weren¡¯t.

    I twirled the hammer and chisel in my hands again  before¨C

    I spun around, calling on the magic written on my arms. Gooseflesh pricked my skin, and my hair stood on end. I was being watched. I knew it. Something thrummed in the Earth Elemancy tattoos on my skin.

    But there was only silence. Not even a footfall on the icy leaves and snow. The wind blew gently on my skin. The small Toge bushes lifted their heads to glance at me. Sunlight trickled down from the barren branches above. A minute passed. Then two. But there was still nothing.

    Losing a breath, I turned back. The Earth Elemancy tattoos crawled up my arm again as I coaxed them back onto my skin.

    And yet, I still wasn¡¯t surprised when he spoke.

    ¡°Shruni kanuah humani kadini, Brunan?¡±

    My mind translated the Kaze as if it were the common tongue.

    Still upholding human traditions, Brother?

    I closed my eyes, my grip tightening on the hammer and chisel. Looking over my shoulder, I scanned the one place I had forgotten. The trees.

    Up.

    Up.

    My brother, Prince Oji of the Kenshi Ethereal Forest sat perched upon a branch of the thunderwood tree at the opposite end of the clearing.

    I turned to face him, hardening my jaw.

    Smooth as wind, Oji dropped down to the snow with a crunch.

    ¡°I understand the need for closure when humans have such short lives,¡± Oji said in the common tongue, coming closer as he spoke, ¡°But why do you linger here, Bruneii?¡±

    I scowled as he said his favorite name for me. Bruneii. Little Brother.

    I stayed silent, hoping he would leave if I refused to answer. It didn¡¯t work.

    Oji¡¯s keen eyes went from one arch to the next, a crease forming between his brows.

    ¡°Ah. It is unfinished.¡±

    Drawing cold air into my lungs, I followed his gaze.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to write.¡±

    Oji considered the carvings. His throat bobbed as his hand went to my shoulder. I stiffened at the contact but didn¡¯t push him away.

    ¡°We have a saying if you would hear it,¡± he said quietly, his eyes not straying from the arch.

    I looked at him. Waiting.

    ¡°Buanti aze don kan ran tuhe.¡±

    I closed my eyes, massaging the bridge of my nose as my mind translated automatically.

    Pretty words do not change a darker truth.

    Looking at the hammer and chisel, I considered it. Maybe Rowena¡¯s life couldn¡¯t be simplified to a few chiseled words into a Thunderwood arch. And maybe I shouldn¡¯t try. Words were never really my strong suit anyway.

    ¡°I have a suggestion!¡±

    Oji and I both started as another voice came from the treetops. We looked up to see Renjin there, blue fire weaving in and out of her fingers. A catlike grin spread over her face, and she too dropped to the forest floor.

    We could both feel the heat coming off her immediately. The blue fire melted the snow around us, revealing green grass and fallen leaves.

    ¡°Renjin, I do not require your help,¡± said Oji quietly, all warmth gone. Renjin tilted her head, the smile unaltered as she pulled the fire back onto her bare arms beneath her dark red cloak.

    ¡°You have it all the same, Your Majesty,¡± she replied.

    She came straight to the arch without preamble, placing a hand right below Rowena¡¯s birth and death years. There was nothing friendly in the expression.

    ¡°I know what you should carve. There¡¯s only one word that fits that woman,¡± she said, her hand grazing Rowena¡¯s name.

    ¡°Dakari.¡±

    A breath hissed out through my nose, and I felt the power in me stir. Oji¡¯s mouth turned down in distaste as the meaning hit us both.

    Demon.

    My hands clenched into fists around the tools, my tattoos stirring again. Renjin looked at me, a brow lifting.

    ¡°Oh? Did I strike a nerve, Halfling?¡± she asked, fingertip tracing the grooves of the pistol symbols now. That power moved up and down my skin, but then there was another sensation. One at my neck. Death¡¯s Marks began to burn, and a radiant blue glow trailed from them to my eyes.

    Oji¡¯s eyes widened as he saw it, his gaze going from the Marks to Renjin. I tried to calm myself as I had always done. But this power was still new to me. An animal locked in a cage.

    Renjin chuckled, turning to face me fully. The flames in her hands became the figure of a woman, unmistakably Rowena with her hat. Horns slowly protruded from her head.

    ¡°Winds, that¡¯s a new trick, Halfling. Where did you learn that?¡± she asked, pointing to her neck where a Mark would be.

    I still didn¡¯t answer her, loosing a breath as the sensation finally retreated and I regained control.

    Oji hand clasped around Renjin¡¯s wrist.

    ¡°Why are you here, Renjin?¡± he asked, colder than the air around us.

    She glanced at him, staunching the flames.

    ¡°Your mother sent me. She wants to talk to the Halfling directly.¡±

    ¡°She sent me to speak with him.¡±

    ¡°She changed her mind,¡± Renjin countered, breathing into her hands, ¡°You took too long indulging in human sentiment.¡±

    Surprised, I looked back at the tree Oji had been in. How long had they been there?

    Oji loosed a breath through his nose. Eventually, he looked my way.

    ¡°We need you to come to the village.¡±

    I blinked at him, not moving. My mother had never asked me to return to the village itself. Not once in over twenty years.

    ¡°What were you supposed to talk to me about?¡± I asked too quietly.

    Oji turned away, starting to walk deeper into the Ethereal Forest.

    ¡°Namely one thing.¡±

    I began to trail him, Renjin following behind me.

    ¡°A strange creature is roaming the land. A creature that only the oldest among us have heard legend of. A creature solely controlled by The Lady of Death.¡± he said, glancing back at me. He swallowed.

    ¡°Answers are needed. And as Death¡¯s new Chosen, we need you.¡±

    I stopped, the snow crunching under my frozen feet. They both glanced my way until I finally began to follow them again. How was I supposed to explain why I didn¡¯t have their answers?

    No, I thought to myself, dread coiling in my stomach.

    You need Rowena.

 Lesson Two: Souls are Never Broken. Only Lost.

    <h2 style="text-align: center">The Spirit</h2>

    ¡°Hello, Little One.¡±

    The man spoke as if the darkness was nothing to him. As if the thing that awaited within the shifting mists was nothing as well. He was light. The only light in this pitiless place. It hurt to look at him, but something told me to stay. To watch. To listen.

    He inclined his head, his smile warm. He knelt before me, and that is when I realized I had a size. That I was small. Smaller than before.

    Before?

    ¡°How did you come to be in such a terrible place?¡± he asked, steeping his hands over his knee. His voice was warmth. A warmth that penetrated the cold dread I had been feeling. I tried to remember the answer to his question, but it was frayed. Fragmented. I tried looking deeper into my mind, but¨C

    Pain, deep and horrible, tore through me. My hands clenched my head as razor blades scraped against raw and empty places. Missing things.

    ¡°I¡¯m broken,¡± I cried. The words left my lips before I even realized that I could speak. Curling in on myself, I trembled. Legs and arms folded together as I prayed for the agony to pass. My limbs felt like strangers, but thankfully they obeyed me.

    Murmuring, the man leaned down. He lifted me gently into a half-sit, his hands as soft and gentle as his voice.

    ¡°Souls are never broken, Little One,¡± he said, managing a smile. He cupped my face, seeming to take in every detail. Lines formed between his brows.

    ¡°They¡¯re only lost for a little while.¡±

    I stared at him. Those words. I knew those words. Had heard them before. But they weren¡¯t from him. I fought a scream as agony tore through me yet again. Breathing, it eventually passed. He waited patiently for me to answer, a knowing look in his eyes. As if he understood this pain.

    ¡°Then¡­I¡¯m lost,¡± I said hesitantly, gathering my legs beneath me to stand. The man stayed kneeling, still taller than me. He steadied me, and though I knew the danger around us had in no way lessened, I didn¡¯t feel afraid.

    The corner of his lips lifted, his eyes softening. He stood as well, stooping to offer me a hand.

    ¡°Well then. Maybe we can be lost together.¡±

    *******

    There was little else to do but walk. The unending mists and echoes were disorienting. Unsettling sounds of screams abruptly cut off still came from left and right, but the man¡¯s light seemed to keep the worst of it away.

    We walked seemingly for an eternity, looking into the gloom that went on and on. Many times different souls came toward him. I leaned close to his side as I saw jagged bodies and hungry faces seeking the ray of his light. But as soon as they entered it, they all screamed and ran away. Creatures, darker than dark, would move after the souls.

    They never made it far.

    Eventually, we stopped seeing them altogether. Still, we walked, though I had no idea where we could go. This was a place of nothing. I had begun here, and this is where I would end. And yet I still followed him on and on, enjoying the distraction. If only for a moment.

    I wondered why I wasn¡¯t burned by his light like the others. But then again, I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted the answer. Anything was better than waiting for one of those creatures to find me. For the end of all ends.

    We didn¡¯t speak, instead settling into companionable silence. Yared seemed to be looking for something I couldn¡¯t see, but I didn¡¯t mind. I was content to walk with him.

    I was so absorbed in my thoughts, it took me too long to notice the change in our surroundings. His hand tightened on mine, his pace growing faster.

    And that¡¯s when I realized that we could no longer hear the screams. No longer hear the scuttling in the dark. Not so much as the scrape of claws. Nothing.

    I stopped altogether, tugging Yared to a stop as well. The silence settled in on us full and complete.

    And somehow that was worse than the screams. The whimpers of the hunted. The breath of the beasts.

    Cold crept over us both, and I felt a distinct pressure build at my back. I could swear I saw motion at the edge of my vision, but no matter how I turned my head I couldn¡¯t quite catch it.

    On some instinct, I  glanced fully behind me and immediately regretted it. A black mass moved in the dark, stalking us.

    ¡°Why are you looking back?¡± asked the man lightly as he urged me to walk again. He squeezed my hand gently.

    ¡°That¡¯s not where we¡¯re going. Don¡¯t concern yourself with it.¡±

    I glanced from him to the thing following us. Did he know what it was? It moved silently, eyeless and I couldn¡¯t discern any true shape. I wondered if it was the reason for the lack of sound that had settled around us. Like everything was desperate to escape its notice.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± he asked suddenly, drawing my attention again.

    ¡°Name?¡± I asked, confused. I didn¡¯t have a name. I had always been here. Hadn¡¯t I?

    ¡°Yes, your name,¡± he said with a laugh, as if I were the one being silly. But I didn¡¯t understand. Why would he want to know? Why would I have a name? What good did a name do here?

    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± I replied, looking up at him.

    ¡°Everybody has one,¡± he corrected, glancing down at me before looking ahead once more, ¡°Can¡¯t you remember?¡±

    I shook my head, my hand still clenched in his. The pressure on my back became stronger, and I knew that thing was drawing closer. I began to look behind us again, the fear returning.

    ¡°My name is Yared,¡± said the man suddenly, his hand squeezing mine again. I refocused on him.

    ¡°It was Yared?¡± I asked, my voice lifting. My legs were going numb, my feet slowing. The pressure grew until it was like walking through water.

    ¡°It is Yared,¡± he said, pulling me along as he noticed my slowing pace.

    My breath came in rushed gasps as I noticed the cold drawing nearer. Nearer. Like mist whispering across stone. It prickled the back of my neck.

    ¡°Do you know what my name was?¡± I asked, my legs getting slower still.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I do know what your name is, Little One,¡± Yared said a crease between his brows,

    ¡°Is it Little One?¡± I asked, glancing up at him. He gave a close-lipped laugh, his eyes suddenly far away.

    ¡°It may as well have been, but unfortunately no.¡±

    ¡°But you do know what it is?¡±

    ¡°I want to tell you. More than you know. But I believe you need to remember it yourself.¡±

    Frowning, I pulled my hand out of his grasp. A new sensation came then. Irritation.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer, his attention turning ahead. His mouth turned down as he considered the area around us.  The pressure was tenfold now, making it hard to think. Yared seemed to feel it too, his eyes narrowed. He suddenly reached, catching my hand in his again as he motioned for me to follow. I didn''t resist trying to see where he was taking us.

    ¡°Where can we go?¡± I asked, trying to keep up with him. But then he stopped, his arm going around my shoulders.

    The silence had become deafening.

    Yared¡¯s jaw hardened, and he clenched my hand in an iron grip.

    Finally,  I followed his gaze.

    The black mass had taken shape, standing on the fringes of my vision.

    A shadow of a woman stood before us, hair unbound as it flowed in its own wind. She was tall. Adult sized. And a weapon was in each hand.

    Slowly, the head went from Yared, and then focused on me. My breath hastened, my entire being shaking as we stared at one another. And then, like blood injected into a night sky, two eyes formed in the face. Black eyes with red irises.

    ¡°Little One,¡± said Yared, his hand resting high on my back. He didn¡¯t glance at me but kept his eye trained on the woman.

    ¡°Run,¡± he whispered, and then he pushed me away.

    Needing no further encouragement, I ran on unsteady legs. The mist was cold. Unforgiving. But that silent pressure trailed me.

    A primordial roar shattered the silence, along with Yared¡¯s grunt of effort. I didn¡¯t dare to look back this time. I simply ran.

    But I was weak, and the thing was powerful. I knew that for certain.

    I wasn¡¯t fast enough.

    Yared yelled wordlessly, and then I felt her coming closer. A breath from my back.

    The shadow was upon me in moments. Fingers like claws reached, grazing my back. And then ice was filling my veins. My entire being.

    Oh Gods, the pain.

    I was being eaten. Absorbed. Torn to more shreds than I already was. A thousand tiny hooks were pulling me toward that black. That icy darkness that woman was made of.

    Screaming. I was screaming a high-pitched wail. And through the screams, something new came. A primal urge for survival. Beyond fear. Beyond rage.

    It was like my body already knew what to do.

    Tucking into a ball, I rolled with my momentum, shaking the claws off me. But as I pulled away, I could see I was taking some of the shadow with me. A dark vapor trailed after the severed contact, merging with my skin.

    What¨C

    The shadow¡¯s own momentum carried her past where I had fallen, buying me precious seconds. Seconds I couldn¡¯t waste on thinking. I pivoted backward, scrambling on hands and knees that still felt foreign.  Wrong. I ran back to Yared, his light coming toward me.

    He wrapped me in a hug as we both rounded back to the shadows.

    Red eyes stared out of the gloom, the hum of an unpleasant laugh floating toward us. The shadow stared at us for a moment before stalking our way again. Unhurried this time.

    And then she began to sing.

    Do you wish to speak,

    of the unspoken night?

    I stilled. Something pulled within me. A ragged edge of my soul began to burn, radiating to where the shadow had grazed me.

    of voices made silent,

    of eyes robbed of light,

    My hands hugged my middle as the cold in me spread. And then I was seeing flashes and fragments. Yared¡¯s arms tightened around me, but I barely felt it. I was falling, flying through fragments of time. The Abyss dimmed around me, and I saw roads. People. I felt it too. The rage. The hate.

    A woman in a soiled bed. Sweat on her brow from fever. A wound festering in her side.

    People with brands on their skin laughing. Jeering.

    Oh yes. And then there were flashes of power. Of the shadow punishing those responsible.

    Sadness.

    Hate.

    It was horrible, but I knew it was mine. And I wanted it back.

    And the shadow crept closer as I began to pull away from Yared. His grip tightened, but I was struggling now. Fighting to be one with the woman.

    a nameless fear named

    We call her the¨C

    ¡°Little One,¡± Yared said into my ear, cutting through the darkness, ¡°Look at me.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to. I wanted to sink into the shadow. I wanted that power that radiated from her. I wanted her rage. To punish.

    To kill.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    Yared said the words calmly, despite my thrashing. But they brought forward another fragment of memory.

    A book being torn in half.

    Cradling Yared in my arms as his soul fragments away. He looks at me, his eyes full of pain.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your faul-¡±

    And then his soul shatters.

    I went still, even as the shadow was nearly at us. Yared looked up into those piercing red eyes. Cold eyes. Hate-filled and pitiless.

    Still cradling me, he extended his hand to her, the light around him expanding. He hissed in pain as a beam shot from his hand. The second it touched the shadow, she screamed that primordial roar once more. The eyes faded as she swept away, weaving back into the gloom again.

    And then she was gone.

    We both simply breathed for several moments, still holding one another. The whisper of the mist, and the distant screams returned, but somehow I felt safer. Small comforts.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Are you hurt?¡± Yared asked when we finally regained our feet.

    ¡°Oh! She is very much hurt! But she¡¯s been that way for many years!¡±

    We both stilled at the male voice, disconcerting and out of place. It was far too¡­happy. We looked around as I tried to ignore the cold still present on my back. But there was only the mist. Only the gloom.

    ¡°Come closer, Soulings! I promise not to bite¡­often. Believe me, I¡¯m much better than that wraith.¡±

    Glancing at one another we simply stood. The screams seemed to soften.

    ¡°Fine then! I¡¯ll come to you!¡±

    And just like that, a figure came toward us. It looked faintly humanoid, with no distinct features on the face and skin like shifting sand. It glimmered even in the lower light. It glanced at Yared, the head tilted to the side. It hummed thoughtfully.

    And that''s when it began to change. The sandy skin shifted. Molded. Gained color and texture. Hands. Feet. Hair. Finally, a woman began to walk toward us.

    ¡°Clara?!¡± Yared said, stepping toward her before rearing back.

    The woman was olive-skinned, with dark curls and a light smile. But there was something off. It was in the way she tilted her head, her eyes unfocused.

    ¡°Oh yes! This is a nice one!¡± she said, head angling toward Yared, ¡°You have good taste, sir!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not Clara,¡± Yared said, his voice as close to a growl as I¡¯ve heard it so far. He pushed me behind his back, hands clenched.

    ¡°My my, the noble soldier sees his wife again and he isn¡¯t grateful!¡± said the woman, but still in that male voice. A shrug of the shoulders.

    ¡°I think I look pretty nice, but oh well.¡±

    The head tilted the other way, a finger going to her lips.

    ¡°Well is look the correct word?¡±

    The figure came fully into the light now, and Yared took in a sharp breath.

    It wasn¡¯t until she was fully in the light that I could see it. Her eyes were clouded over. Milky pupils stared sightlessly out of the face. She patted herself down before doing a twirl.

    I could see Yared¡¯s and my thoughts align as the strange being began to hum tunelessly, still patting its body. The aura coming off her was stronger. Just looking at her made a warmth bloom in my chest. There was power written in every breath it took.

    A God. This was a God.

    ¡°You¡¯re blind,¡± said Yared, maintaining his ground. The figure smiled before shifting. The sandy skin molded, twisting and turning into a man with white touseled hair and beard. He was beautiful, his features clean and almost too perfect. White teeth grinned as he swept into an over-low bow. A manic laugh bubbled out of him.

    ¡°Love always is!¡±

 Lesson Three: Blood and Water

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Zachariah</h2>

    Twenty years. It¡¯s been twenty years.

    A mere drop in the ocean that was an Elemancer¡¯s lifespan. But for me, it meant everything. Snow crunched lightly underfoot as the sun snuck through the canopy of barren branches. I thought of the last time I traversed this path. A child clinging to his father¡¯s hand. Shivering in snow just like this.

    ¡°Bruneii?¡±

    My head snapped up as Oji saw I¡¯d paused. He looked at me with searching eyes, but I just shook my head and began to walk again. My horse, Wind, walked beside me automatically, hooves clacking on rocks and frozen soil.

    A vein of the Silkendale River snaked through the forest, the cackle of cold water and ice mixing with the hush of snow. Ancient Thunderwood arced overhead at dizzying heights. Frost clung to the branches, blending the black into white.

    Oji cut to the right, following the river north. He didn¡¯t bother glancing at the sun or the trees for direction. He knew this path by heart. Humming a familiar melody, Renjin hopped from branch to branch above us, puffs of blue flame visible now and again as she warmed herself.

    Crack.

    My boot sank through ice and into frigid water. Looking down, I saw I¡¯d stepped onto the embankment. My foot was lost in the burning cold as my skin went numb, the water cutting through the leather of my boots easily.

    You need new boots, Zachariah.

    I know, Rowena.

    I paused, looking over my shoulder. The voice had been so near but, of course, there was nothing.

    Eventually, we came to a downward slope where the river dissected the land.  A cliff rose on one side as the other sank downward. The river split as well, part flowing from the cliff as another portion followed gravity. We took the low path, the cliff soon towering a hundred feet above us. Thunderwood trees stubbornly grew out of the side of the cliff, reaching to the sky. Columns of ice dripped down from their knarled roots to the ground below.

    Twenty years, and yet I looked at it like it was the first time.

    I gazed up, transfixed by the magnitude of the space. Most of the people who lived in Tumblend died there without seeing any other part of the world. How had it been so long since I¡¯d been here? Then again, all I¡¯d seen as a child was a set of gates closing. A mother who hadn¡¯t bothered to look at me as my father dragged me away, tucking my tipped ears under my hair. He always did his best to hide all evidence of my Elemancer blood.

    For all the good that did me.

    The rush of the water became a roar as we neared the bottom of the slope. My feet and most of my calves were numb by now, and my breath turned to vapor in front of me. We were deep into the forest, fog drifting near the cliff and between the trunks of the great obsidian Thunderwood.

    A series of huge waterfalls tumbled down from the cliff as we reached the bottom, vapor coming up in clouds around us. A single land bridge spanned the waterfalls from end to end. Oji kept walking, deep into his thoughts. He turned at the thirteenth break in the wall of water. Without so much as a backward glance, he walked into the gap, disappearing in the fogging vapors.

    A second later, Renjin landed soundlessly next to him from the lower trees. The seemingly ever-present blue fire weaved between her fingers like a pet snake.

    Oji was waiting when I finally caught up to them on my dead legs. Nodding in what I was sure was Oji¡¯s version of comforting, he reached up to the stone. A symbol was carved within the wall. The figure of a fox-like face with curved horns coming from behind it¡¯s ears.

    Oji reached to the crown of the fox¡¯s head, whispering in Kaze. Part of his tattoos flowed from his arm and into the stone, making the figure of Kenshi¡¯s eyes glow for a brief moment.

    A seam formed within the stone in moments, swinging inward on Oji¡¯s beckoning.

    Darkness met my eyes, and I could feel the heat from within wafting toward me.

    Oji looked at me then. Seeming to want to say something, his eyes searched mine. Eventually, he settled for silence, turning to enter. Renjin clapped me on the shoulder, the fire scorching through my coat and shirt.

    I hissed, though more in irritation. Damn her. I only owned four shirts, and this was by far the warmest. All my other clothes were largely borrowed. She grinned unapologetically, glancing at the burn hole she had made before nodding her head inside.

    ¡°Come now, Halfling. It¡¯s rude to keep your mother waiting.¡±

    I paused, hesitating. Twenty years. Suddenly it didn¡¯t seem like long enough.

    *******

    We walked into the cliffside, a narrow tunnel at first. Sections of rock formed like braziers poked high out from the wall with fire nestled at the tops. The air grew warmer and more humid, soothing my frost-bitten skin.

    Oji seemed as nervous as I was, though he tried to hide it. His face was too carefully blank, his steps a bit too fast. Eyes like dying coals glowed in the dark of the tunnel as he looked at me occasionally. Renjin followed behind us, reaching to touch the braziers. Some of the flame peeled away, turning from orange and red to her signature blue as it absorbed onto her skin.

    The tunnel turned sharply, and I was suddenly blinded by sunlight. The cliff opened into a plateau on one side, the entire northern forest on display below us. Frosted branches with black trees atop a blanket of snow.

    On the plateau where we stood was the Kenshi Ethereal Village. It was as large as Tumblend. Probably larger, with arcing buildings and everlights twinkling as the sun pulled toward the Yari mountains.

    Grand buildings formed from the Thunderwood trees themselves, twisted with intricate doors and windows. I saw Elemancers of every age wandering between them. Speaking to merchants of every type. Stoking fires contained in stone. One was speaking softly to a tree, which dropped thunderwood branches. Those branches were then collected and taken into another Thunderwood building belching smoke. The distinctive white color of Source Flame glowed from within it as the Thunderwood was put within a kilm.

    A forge.

    I frowned, looking at the building. Elemancers never used a forge before. I looked and saw Oji looking at it too, a wrinkle between his brows.

    Far to the right stood a particularly knarled tree, larger than the rest. Its roots extended out, touching the base of each tree I could see.

    Sap seeped from the great tree, forming a structure of amber in its branches. A grand crystalline staircase extended up to it. At the head of the structure, also made of amber, was the figure of a creature with the head of a fox, body of a wolf, and curved horns on either side of its skull.

    The creature, Kenshi, seemed to gaze upon the forest, eyes catching the light of the sun.

    Pools of steaming water were located periodically along the village, some Elemancers lounging inside.

    ¡°Welcome, Bruneii,¡± Oji asked, indicating the village. I set my jaw, tracking his gaze. Looking out over the forest, it seemed like winter would never end. But as I stood there, sweat gathered on my skin. It was as warm as any summer day between the pools of bubbling water and roaring fires. Elemancers found ways to be comfortable year-round.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    I opened my mouth and closed it again, settling for a nod in reply.

    Renjin huffed, shaking her head.

    ¡°Take it in while you can. Hells, take one of those mortal pictures,¡± Renjin said, padding up beside us. She indicated the amber building.

    ¡°Move, Halfling. Let¡¯s get this done.¡±

    ¡°Renjin,¡± Oji said calmly, pushing his cloak apart.

    ¡°Prince, it¡¯s cruel to make him think this is even in part his home. He¡¯s here for information. Nothing more¨C¡±

    ¡°Tell my mother and father that we have arrived, Renjin¡± Oji cut in, an edge to his voice. A small wind accompanied his words, the burning red tattoos on his charcoal skin stirring. Renjin didn¡¯t move. Her eyes slitted.

    Oji¡¯s eyes bore into hers as I glanced between them. I kept my mouth firmly shut, not wanting to fuel the fire. Seconds ticked by, and nobody moved. Some nearby Elemancers paused in their work, looking at their prince and his guard having a pissing contest. Even immortals weren¡¯t immune to them apparently.

    Oji¡¯s chin tilted down, looking at Renjin over his nose.

    ¡°Now.¡±

    The air pressure suddenly increased, making my eardrums pop. A wind, cold and biting, rushed toward Renjin as Oji spoke, his eyes glowing. Even though it wasn¡¯t directed at me, I felt some of my skin scream in protest. A quick glance confirmed what I felt. A thick layer of frost glittered down the front of my clothes.

    Looking at Renjin, I felt my brows lift. Her flames had gone out, a tendril of smoke trailing from her hand. A small tremor went through her hands as she visibly fought a shiver, the tips of her hair along with her clothes stiff with ice.

    But it wasn¡¯t half as impressive as the icicle now pointed at her throat, rising up from the ground. Gods. Here I was working with one element at a time, and Oji could manipulate two at once.

    Renjin swallowed once. Twice. Finally, she turned and walked to the amber building without another word.

    *******

    ¡°Welcome back, my son.¡±

    Our mother, Queen Naya, only had eyes for Oji as we walked to a dais. Her hair was braided and coiled at the nape of her neck. An amber gemstone hung to her forehead from a chain encircling the crown on her head. Her mate, King Rhagav, stood beside her. He was gazing at a table on the dais, a map carved into its surface. A crown of interwoven thunderwood branches laid on his head, the branches forming the patterns of all four Elemancy tattoos.

    ¡°You have brought him?¡± asked Rhagav, not looking up. Oji didn¡¯t break stride, leading the way up the aisle. He aimed for some chairs built in the wall. He motioned for me to follow, and I did. We sat side by side, waiting.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said smoothly, sitting taller.

    My mother finally looked at me, her pupils constricting as soon as she saw me sitting next to Oji. Her tattoos, bright red against skin the color of night began to stir.

    The frozen river suddenly didn¡¯t seem so cold.

    The King of the Kenshi Etheral Tribe rolled his shoulders, thick with muscle, before straightening.

    ¡°Chosen of Death, you¡¯ve been brought here to¨C,¡± he said evenly before cutting off.

    Oji shot him a questioning gaze as the room went quiet.

    ¡°Father?¡±

    Rhagav looked at me a moment longer, his eyes searching. He replied to Oji in Kaze.

    ¡°This is Death¡¯s Chosen? I was expecting something¡­different.¡±

    Yes, different, I thought. Someone with raven hair, violet eyes, and a very big mouth.

    Rude, Zachariah.

    Rude, but honest.

    I blinked again, looking around. Gods, I needed to get some sleep.

    Rhagav recovered, setting his jaw. A familiar wriggling blue flame caught my eye at the back of the room. Renjin smirked, standing sentry at the back with a few other cloaked warriors.

    ¡°Chosen of Death, thank you for coming,¡± continued the King in the common tongue.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t call me Chosen,¡± I found myself saying quietly. I looked down at my hands, clenching them, I looked at where several tiny cuts had been from the chisel while I worked on Rowena¡¯s grave.

    They were gone now.

    ¡°Zachariah,¡± Queen Naya said lightly, looking at me fully, ¡°His name is Zachariah.¡±

    The King looked at her before continuing.

    ¡°Zachariah then,¡± he said, loosing a breath through his nose, ¡°We are hoping you can shed light on the Abyssal roaming our lands.¡±

    Looking up, I swallowed, my ears still ringing slightly from Oji¡¯s Elemancy. I had heard of Abyssal¡¯s before, but they were primarily a cautionary tale told in human towns. A story parents told children so they would behave, because otherwise they may be end up in the Abyss. The tale worked equally well on adults, because of what their purpose was.

    To destroy your very being. No Hells. No Far Shore. Just ceasing to exist.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about an Abyssal,¡± I said, my voice cracking.

    Rhagav¡¯s brows rose, a flash of rage making his eyes glow.

    ¡°A beast made by Death herself kills an entire hunting party in a way that only it can, and you expect me to believe that you know nothing about of it?¡± he said, looking at me over his nose, ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me, Chosen.¡±

    A muscle feathering in my jaw, I looked at the King directly. I felt my mother¡¯s eyes on me, a silent weight.

    Oji stood. Clearing his throat, he spoke to his father in Kaze, though I translated it automatically.

    ¡°Father, what more do expect him to say?¡±

    He approached him, dropping his voice. However I still managed to hear.

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you he would never loose a creature like that. What do you expect to learn from a Chosen who¡¯s only been so for a few months?¡±

    ¡°The truth,¡± replied the King, the words more a growl than anything else.

    I stood as well, my throat bobbing. I wasn¡¯t prepared to voice what had been haunting me for the past few months aloud, but from the look on the Elemancer¡¯s face I realized I would have to.

    I coughed, drawing their attention again.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to commune with the Goddess since becoming a Chosen, or go to her Purgatory.¡±

    Everyone in the room settled into preternatural stillness. Even Oji looked surprised. It was true. In the months since Rowena¡¯s death, I hadn¡¯t been able to return to Purgatory. I hadn¡¯t felt anything different apart from the never-ending pull of the soul Marks on my back. No shadows. No Chosen gifts.

    I would have doubted it happened at all if  not for the dreams of the shifting mists. Of the endless whispers and screams.

    My mother searched my face, a low hum from the back of her throat.

    ¡°He is telling the truth. He is among the touched, but I sense no deception.¡±

    I looked at her, but she had already broken her gaze.

    The King¡¯s jaw clenched, looking at his mate. She stood and looked at him unflinchingly. Something seemed to pass between them.

    ¡°Apologies Zachariah,¡± he said, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°You must forgive my suspicion. It feels as if the last war just ended, and now we face another with the humans.¡±

    He looked at me then, and I saw surprise fleck across Renjin¡¯s face as well as the others. The King settled his cloak more fully on his shoulders. He raised his voice, the tone easily heard by all in the room.

    ¡°This war will likely be worse. Much blood will be spilled, and every drop is a violation against the Lady of Life-¡±

    ¡°Father the war is not yet started, and we still do not know what the humans seek,¡± Oji interjected, his voice clear and strong. The King¡¯s next words were only for him.

    ¡°I hope you are right, but I have the burden of age.¡±

    Another look at me.

    ¡°If you do not know why this creature is roaming our lands, Zachariah, then I will task you with trying to find it and return it to the darkest realm. None but you can do this. We will need every warrior for what is to come.¡±

    He did a slow circle then, eyeing everyone while his hand trailed along the lines of the map carved into the table. Something passed between them with each shift, The warriors clenching their hands over their hearts as Rhagav met each gaze, took in each scar and battle-hewned expression.

    Finally he strode to me, eyes blazing.

    I tensed, ready for anything, but the King just extended his arm to me, palm out. I did the same, and we gripped eachother¡¯s forearms. The King lowered his voice so only I could hear.

    ¡°Our laws have not made your life easy, but trust that they exist for a reason,¡± he said, his throat bobbing. He looked tired. How many of his people were now facing a second war? A war with a race that they¡¯ve already lost to.

    ¡°I intend to change things after the dust settles. If I get the chance.¡±

    His grip tightened.

    ¡°And when the horns of war sound, because I¡¯m certain they will, I hope you will stand with your mother¡¯s people. Or at the very least not stand against us.¡±

    I simply looked at him, unsure if he was saying this because of some long guilt or¡­or¡­

    Or because I was Death¡¯s Chosen, and the King of the Kenshi Ethereal tribe was frightened. I could see it in his eyes clear as day.

    Frightened of seeing his people slaughtered.

    Frightened of being the King who would see the end of Elemancers.

    Frightened of the Chosen of Death.

 Lesson Four: Shadows to Shadows. Corpse to Corpse.

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Zachariah</h2>

    The amber doors boomed behind us as Oji and I left. He told me that the Elemancers called it the Amaro Diado, or the Amber temple. Looking at it again, I could see it. Every surface worshipped the forest around us, as well as its true king. Raito Kenshi. The sun sunk toward the horizon, the dark trees casting long shadows over the forest below. The eyes of Kenshi¡¯s likeness at the temple head shone, and the reflections of the trees themselves could be seen in the gemstone depths.

    Steam trickled into the sky, catching the golden beams of early evening. Everywhere I walked in the village I saw Elemancers wandering into the main stony path. Mothers and fathers guided children down the main road occasionally, but I could count them on one hand.

    Elemancers were not a fruitful race typically. Having a child was considered precious, and the entire village tended to care for them under their parents. None of the adults, children or no, were smiling this evening. They gazed about as if danger lurked in every corner. Their wide-eyed young gripped their parents'' hands tightly, tucking into their sides.

    Confusion flooded me as I saw there was nobody left in the hot spring pools. Everyone was filing out of their homes. Even the two workers of the forge had abandoned their post, the white light of the Source Flame the only inhabitant remaining.

    Pausing, I heard a low and mournful song gliding gently on the air. The melody was sweet, making me want to sing along even though I didn¡¯t know the words or tune. It held me rooted to the spot, desperate to hear the end.

    The people of this village, each clad in a fine cloak, meandered toward the source of that song. Warriors were easy to see among them, their cloaks the deep red, green, white, and dark blue for the four Elements. Signifying their specialty. Amber runes were embroidered along some of their cloaks, signifying rank.

    Arching my head, I saw where they were all going. Another standout structure stood further down the plateau, and I had to rub my eyes to make sure they weren¡¯t playing tricks on me.

    It was another grand tree, but not living. No. This one was made entirely of stone. Right down to the leaves. It had a huge opening in the center where the people were filing in.

    And then I saw the colors. A billowing on the breeze.

    Abandoned cloaks were tied on the branches. All the colors of Elemancy. Red. Blue. White. Deep green. Each looked as new as the day they were made. Not surprising given their immortal craftsmen.

    Warrior¡¯s cloaks. No longer needing use. My chest tightened when I realized what that tree was. Their burial site.

    ¡°Saddabuna,¡± Oji said behind me, making me start. Renjin followed tight on his heels, her eyes burning. She spared me one glance before shouldering past to follow the rest of the people. Oji hung back with me, drawing the hood of his white cloak up. The rest of the people were doing the same as the sun continued to fall.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, my voice nearly a whisper. Other than the song, the village had gone quiet.

    Oji closed his eyes as the song reached a new height, and he followed along for a few lyrics.

    Opening his eyes, his gaze glowing like burning coals, he answered.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t a word in Kaze I¡¯ve had to teach you yet,¡± Oji said, a shadow falling over his face, ¡°You¡¯ve never seen how we saw goodbye to our dead.¡±

    A muscle feathered in my jaw as more people gathered in the path, heading toward the tree made of stone.

    ¡°The best translation for it in the common tongue would be ¡®The Wayfairing¡¯, where we see the fallen to their ship to the Far Shore,¡± Oji explained, starting to walk across the path. I expected him to join the crowd, but insead he aimed for the tunnel leading out of the village.

    I didn¡¯t move, staring at the stone tree again.

    Oji turned, his brow creasing.

    ¡°Come, BruneiI. I¡¯ll walk you out. I want to get back before the ceremony starts. All of us are expected to come. I must not be late.¡±

    Looking down, I clenched my fists. Us. He had said us, but apparently, that did not include me. No matter what Rhagav said about changing things, I was still a halfling. Even if Oji had taken risk after risk to ensure I could use Elemancy, speak Kaze, and knew as much about my culture as I could, I was still nothing to them. Unwelcome.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, voice cracking as I watched the shadows grow longer, ¡°Part of my blood is theirs. I¡¯ll stay.¡±

    Oji held firm in his path, though his eyes were gentle.

    ¡°Zachariah I know your heart, but if you stay they¡¯ll¨C¡± he said quietly before breaking off with a muttered curse. His eyes trailed over my shoulder just as another group came out of a lower tier of the Amber Temple. The Marks at my neck began to burn in the same moment, my hand flying to cover them.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Four warriors each carried a coffin. At the head of each one was a torch of purple flames. There were seven coffins in total. I looked again and saw all the Elemancers were lining the road now. All the adults held a small flame in their cupped hands.

    The pallbearer warriors were singing the same song as the choir at the stone tree. The words and melody made a raw place in my chest start to ache anew.

    It sang of long lives brought to a sudden end. It sang of those left behind who should have seen a millennium with the fallen. Of rest, and seeking comfort. Of death and the life beyond. But I knew that part was entirely for the living.

    If an Abyssal truly had killed them¡­well they left nothing behind to sail to the Far Shore. There was no purpose for this except for the living to say goodbye. The most thorough goodbye there was.

    The procession led past us, and people filed afterward, joining in the song one by one. Some sent me glances, but most simply walked.

    As one of them passed, I glanced at the head of one of the coffins, which were lidless.

    My stomach roiled, even as the Marks began to throb again, the light briefly trailing to my eyes.

    A dried husk of a corpse lay within, the warrior¡¯s cloak folded with care at its feet. Mummified skin was where healthy flesh should have been. The face was still twisted with agony as if still trying to scream. Rigor mortis had set in before the bodies were discovered. I could tell by the fractured arm of this particular corpse as if it had happened while their arms were being folded across its chest in preparation for burial.

    But none of that was as bad as their eyes. They were nothing more than two empty sockets, the skin fraying outward at the brow and cheeks. Like something had sucked them out of the skull. Somebody had tried to clean it, but I could still see the crusted blood in the canyons of the skin. The body looked like the shedding an insect would make when it grew. Hollow. Empty.

    And it looked like it had hurt to become that way.

    Pain, cold and sudden, radiated from my neck, an echo trailing to my back. It was strong enough to take my breath away. I fought to stay still even as one of my feet drifted forward, toward the coffins. I ground my molars, my fists clenched, and a cold sweat soaking my clammy skin.

    What is this?

    I¡¯m so sorry, Zachariah.

    I breathed through my nose, eventually calming the sensation enough to bring the world back into focus. Chasing the ghosts away through sheer will.

    A sniff sounded next to me, distracting me from the cold.

    Looking down, I saw a female Elemancer, a commoner from the color of her cloak, standing with her family. All their eyes were shining as the next coffin passed. Then the next. And the next. Everyone bowed their heads for every body that passed them, eyes shining.

    I never realized how immortals would interpret death. Elemancers lived everywhere from hundreds to a thousand years. Death was uncommon for them. An unwelcome stranger. It was a small wonder that they mourned their own kind so hard.

    I felt Oji''s eyes on me at one point but didn¡¯t say anything as I followed the warriors and kinsfolk. He wouldn¡¯t dare disrupt this. I did, however, draw my own hood up as everyone else had done. I let out a grateful sigh as the last of the pain left me, whatever it had been.

    The song was soaring now, the sound as tragic as it was beautiful. The closer we came to the stone tree, the larger it seemed. Tall as a titan. The entire village eventually filed inside. I stayed near the walls as Oji strode past. My eyes widened when I finally settled into a spot at the outer edges of the crowd. My hand traced one of thousands of carvings of small animal-like figures on the inner wall and realized they were depictions of the Other. Spirits of the forest bearing witness to this event as well. Eventually, I followed the gazes of everyone else to the sunken center of the room, the space like an amphitheater.

    King Rhagav and my mother were stationed behind seven families, faces calm, yet grave. They stood at the center of the tree where a purple amethyst the size of a small building jutted from the ground.

    A choir stood on a raised dais in the back of the tree, hollow on the inside and leading to the various branches, each the size of a road.

    As the final body was placed before the seventh family, I saw that only two boys were there to see off whoever this had been. A parent? A master? They both gazed at the body before them, unrecognizable from what it had been in life. They were little older than children, still having the gangly limbs of young adulthood.

    My jaw tightened as I remembered burying my father when I was barely able to care for myself. Those boys looked like I had felt, their emotions raw on their young faces.

    They would be adults when this was over.

    A brief moment of silence, and the song changed into a peaceful sweeping tune as the congregation began to sing along. But in the silence before it, I heard the hiss of someone nearby. I didn¡¯t need to look at her to know who was currently glaring daggers at me.

    Renjin.

    She was making her way toward me, along with a few other warriors at her back. She was trying to be subtle about it, but it was clear from the venom in her eyes what she intended.

    But I couldn¡¯t bring myself to pay attention.

    The pain was suddenly back along with something more. A pull. A deep chill that would not ease despite the roaring purple flames that began to sprout from the amethyst at the center.

    Everyone said an Abyssal did this, I thought, fighting a shiver.

    But the cold was getting stronger. Stronger.

    But¡­

    Almost of their own accord, my eyes wandered to the bodies again.

    Something was wrong. Very wrong. Nobody else seemed to notice the cold which swept through the space. The way the shadows pooled and swirled unnaturally.

    If the Abyssal killed them¡­

    I was looking at the final body now, the deep chill seeming strongest from that direction. One of the boys was crying now, the other placing a hand on his back. But that wasn¡¯t the source of my horror. No.

    The body¡¯s shadow was growing. Changing.

    But nobody said where it went.

    And that was when the Abyssal, the creature of unspeakable nightmares to humans, Elemancers, and all the races alike, appeared.

 Lesson Five: The Shadows Call

    Zachariah

    My Marks burned.

    A scorching chill spread through my veins to my eyes, light following in its wake. Mindless with the pain, I clawed at my neck.  All thought centered on the growing agony. I had to get rid of it; to dig it out of my skin if I could. I shut my eyes, trying to force the pain away. But there was only more darkness behind my lids. My fingers dug into my skin, the tissue healing in pace with the wounds I inflicted. The only gift of being a Chosen I had been ¡°blessed¡± with so far.

    Pressure built behind my eyes, the ice spreading further down my limbs.

    Gods. The creature was here all along. And now that it revealed itself, I could feel it. It was hunger. Not merely hungry, but hunger itself. A bottomless, endless void of wanting more. More. It was greed. Gluttony incarnate for the life around us.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Halfling?¡± Renjin growled, fingers like talons digging into my upper arm, ¡°How dare you disrespect the dead! How dare you intrude on our most sacred ceremony!¡±

    I pressed a fist into my forehead, the pressure still building. Why was she bothering with me? Couldn¡¯t she sense the monster?

    Opening my eyes, I looked at the corpse¡¯s shadow again. It held to the light unnaturally, taking form. Shape.

    No.

    Shaking, I lifted my hand toward the corpse, pointing. Renjin ignored it, twisting my arm behind my back until I grunted. Her male Elemancer companions each gripped my shoulders, steering me toward the exit.

    Swallowing a scream, I fought against them, the heels of my boots scraping on the stony floor.

    I managed a half turn, strength rising from some unknown place. I stopped their progress with a pivot, my knee flying up and into one of the male¡¯s lower stomach. It gave me just enough time to look back at the corpse.

    Eyes glittered red in the dark depths of the shadow, the two boys standing sentry over their fallen warrior. Still oblivious. Just as I met the thing''s eyes, the form finally settled into a dark-winged horse, every twisting angle demonic. Wrong.

    A fist dug into my diaphragm, making me collapse.

    ¡°No¡­Abyssal,¡± I grunted as Renjin dragged me upright, her fingernails digging into my arm. Her expression didn¡¯t change as she growled something under her breath.

    Dammit, why didn¡¯t they see it? I whipped my head around, looking back to the shadow, my stomach filling with ice water.

    Gone. The eyes were gone.

    And they were replaced by bone-chilling screams. Ripping my arms free, I cupped my ears. I could hear nothing but the bellows of torment echoing in my skull, missing whatever venom Renjin was spewing now. I tried to block it out. Gods, why was everyone just standing there? But then I realized it.

    The screams were only in my head.

    That didn¡¯t make them less horrible.

    The high tones of the bellows bounced off the inside of my skull. They reached a new soprano, and I could hear the poor soul writhing. Picture the shapeless form of the voice throwing their head side to side in unendurable pain.

    Renjin was saying something else, her fire burning my arm now. Oji was near me, murmuring something to her, but I couldn¡¯t hear them.

    The scream was fading slowly, and I could swear under it there was something else right before it cut off.

    A laugh.

    The other males, Oji, and Renjin were having a muttered argument now, but I didn¡¯t pay it mind. I was clawing my wat back back through the crowd, the others soon tight on my heels. Twisting between singing bodies, I screamed the only words I could think of.

    ¡°ABYSSAL! RUN!¡±

    Heads were turning toward me, brows knitted. Many were outraged. Arms were reaching out to me, halting my progress. But I kept fighting, locking my eyes on the shadow of the corpse, and the two boys still hovering near it.

    And the red eyes were back, the black demonic horse form twisting and bending. One of the boys, the younger of the two, shifted as he stared at me screaming.

    His shadow touched the corpse¡¯s.

    And then the red eyes were looking his way, the greed radiating from it like oil in my throat. Cold. Bitter. Choking.

    ¡°RUN!¡± I screamed to the boy, but he just stared blankly at me. He continued to stare even as the shadow melded with his, changing its shape.

    More hands were on me, but I fell into old habits. I turned and aimed a kick at one person¡¯s knee. I put my shoulder into the center of the male¡¯s chest, using my now free arm to pendulum his body up and over me.

    The tactic worked, the male¡¯s large form hitting many of those who still held me. There were still some who were just noticing the disturbance, and I used the chaos to my advantage.

    I called upon the Earth Elemancy on my skin, commanding it to give form to my will. Nothing mattered except saving that child. No. I would not watch another person get sent to the Abyss.

    Never again.

    The ground in front of me cracked, thunder roaring through the room. Others were calling on their Elemancy, but I had counted on that. Their focus was destroyed as the ground beneath them tilted upward. The crack created the barest path to the great amethyst center, and I took it. I didn¡¯t need to hurt anyone in this room. I didn¡¯t want to fight anyone. There was something far more precious I needed.

    Time.

    If only I could stop it.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    But there was no call. No underlying darkness. No thread to the never-ending rhythm of the world. There was only me, the Marks on my neck, and the life that currently hung in the balance.

    I made it to the end of the path I had created just to meet red flames.

    King Rhagav stood before me, his face pure rage as he directed the fire into a barrier between me and the creature I was hunting. The life I was trying to save.

    His eyes shifted as I simply kept running.

    The fire ate at my skin, my back taking the brunt of the heat as I dove through it.  My shirt and hood were on fire, though the flames staunched as I tucked into a roll on the other side of the barrier.

    I uncurled just as my feet rotated to the ground, my skin still burning. But I was healing in tandem with the flames, the pain nothing compared to the need to move forward. But then there was a cry of Kaze, and the ground shifted beneath me, twisting my legs.

    I stumbled, my vision going hazy even as the Chosen healing worked on my skin. My hood was gone now, consumed by Rhagav¡¯s fire.

    One second. That was how long the stumble cost me, but it was enough. My voice was raw, and I realized I was still screaming. Commanding everyone to run. That the Abyssal was near.  More words tumbled from me than I had uttered in the past two months. But they meant nothing.

    Ice was suddenly encasing me, bands of it growing over my chest. I looked up and saw Oji vault over someone in the crowd a hand extended toward me. His face was a mirror of his father¡¯s. A mirror of everyone standing around me. That¡¯s when I realized how I looked.

    A poor ranting and raving Halfing. Disturbing a funeral.

    Others were screaming at me too. Curses and slurs were blended into a hateful wind in the Stone tree. My mother and Rhagav tried to speak, but they were drowned out by all the noise.

    Oji¡¯s tattoos swirled, as he took in a seemingly unending breath.

    ¡°SILENCE!¡¯ he screamed in Kaze, the power a gale storm behind his words. All went quiet, but all eyes were still on me.

    None of them were looking at the boy, who still had red eyes staring out from his shadow.

    ¡°Why, Bruneii?¡± Oji askled in a lethal quiet.

    ¡°It¡¯s in his shadow! The boy!¡± I yelled, my teeth beginning to chatter as the ice continued to spread over my chest. My arms were pinned to my sides, and my legs were encased in rock. Looking around, I saw my mother commanding the stone with her hand extended toward me,  her eyes hard as ever.

    ¡°The Abyssal wouldn¡¯t dare to come this far into our village. Not when¨C¡± Rhagav began, but he was cut off.

    The boy coughed, a horrible hacking sound.

    His breath came in heavy rasps, sweat shining on his skin. And the red eyes were glowing wickedly now. The boy looked down, even as his shadow shifted again. Darkness the shape of wings was slowly spreading behind him, rising from the ground.

    He was screaming now, his back bowed so far it should have snapped. Tendrils of his shadow were tethered to the wings, which were pulling them tight.

    The older boy rounded on him, his face pale as he beheld his brother.

    A tear trailed down the boy¡¯s cheek. A tear made of light. Another joined it. Then another.

    It was the older boy who put it together first. He looked down the the shadow now, meeting the thing¡¯s red eyes, but his gaze rose steadily. The shadow was rising as well, the wings slowly encasing his brother, who screamed and screamed.

    The older boy reached to the tattoos on his skin, summoning fire and shooting it at the thing rising from the ground.

    But it did nothing. The flames went out as soon as it touched the blackness. And that¡¯s when I heard it.

    Laughter. The thing was laughing. Enjoying the torment it was inflicting. It didn¡¯t have to go this slow, but it sensed the panic rising in the crowd. And it loved it. Hungered for it.

    The boy clawed at his face, his tears raining light down to the shadow that consumed them.

    Other Elemancers were yelling now, shooting flames at the rising shadow. But each was as ineffective as the last.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± I screamed at Oji, but he was distracted by the blackness slowly encasing the boy, his older brother¡¯s screams of rage growing increasingly desperate.

    I writhed, curling and uncurling my body until¡­

    Crack.

    The ice split around my arms, freeing them, and I immediately laid my hand on the stone at my feet trying to command it to settle.

    Meanwhile, the crowd descended into bedlam. Some stared in horror. Many shot flames at the Abyssal. Most of them finally ran.

    I was on my feet again, sprinting toward the black mass surrounding the boy, who was still screaming. Still alive. And the thing was still laughing. Still enjoying it.

    I found Oji standing before them, his arms spread and his eyes closed. He was muttering low in Kaze, but I couldn¡¯t hear him. I didn¡¯t pay attention, even at the air pressure began to rise.

    I sprinted straight into the blackness, doing the only thing I could think of.

    I dove into it.

    *******

    The chaos around me cut off, the darkness complete. There was a weight to it, pulling on my bones. My soul. My Marks were glowing now, the light trailing to my eyes.

    I was sure the shadow was only slightly larger than the boy, but it felt larger inside. I ran through the void, trying to track the boy¡¯s voice. His screams were fading, dissolving into soft cries.

    I knew the thing was paying attention to me, trying to pull on my soul, but it shied away from my Marks.

    Lady Death¡¯s Chosen, it hissed in my mind, its thoughts foul. The voice was neither male nor female. Unnatural and unsettling.

    I ignored it, turning and turning until I collided with something on the ground. A quivering form.

    Stooping, I picked up the body even as the thing laughed again.

    Something was clawing at my being, an agony too deep to ignore. I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn¡¯t obey.

    ¡°You cannot have him,¡± I bit out, tightening my grip on the form that had gone still in my arms. I tried not to think about how it was too small. Too light.

    ¡°Go back to the Abyss,¡± I grunted, trying to move again. But the pressure increased, my soul screaming.

    You have no power over me, Chosen. All life will fade¨C

    The Abyssal was interrupted as the darkness exploded into light. A hellish scream tore through the void, bending away and inviting the chaos back.

    My ears rang, my tongue tasting ether as I was blown backward. The Stone Tree was back as the Abyssal bent away from the flash of white light. The ground vibrated as Elemancers fled.

    Looking up, I saw the Oji standing, his eyes blazing white hot as his chest heaved with effort. His skin was empty, all Elemancy gone.

    Lightning. He had used lightning.

    Fighting the urge to look at the form in my arms, I struggled to my feet and backed away.

    Because the darkness was growing, towering above the fleeing crowd now. The lightning had hurt it, but the Abyssal was merely angry now. The Black Pegasus was in full form. Red eyes scanned the crowd, deciding on its next victim. And I could feel it¡¯s intent. The boy had been for pleasure, but now it would feast. Devour every soul as fast as it could.

    I was still trying to back away as it swiveled its head, rearing up.

    But blue light was spreading in the tree¡¯s walls, the glowing carvings of the Other still pulsing. The energy was palpable even as everyone ran.

    And that was when Raito Kenshi, fox head a radiant blue and eyes the purest white light,  walked through the walls of the tree. He aimed straight at the Abyssal.

    The true King of the forest did not hesitate. Did not even slow as it sprinted toward the towering shadow.

    Light met darkness in an earth-rattling impact. The ground was upended beneath me, the Stone Tree groaning as shockwaves rang out again and again. The beings met one another blow for blow. I curled myself around the boy¡¯s body, unable to do anything but wait.

    A final blow rang out, my bones vibrating with the crash

    The pain from my Marks bled away as the light emanating from the Other carvings faded. The ringing in my ears subsided as the dust settled, the room quiet.

    Both the Abyssal and Raito Kenshi were gone.

 Lesson Six: The Story That Matters

    <h2 style="text-align: center">The Bard, Two Days Earlier</h2>

    My name is Gunehey.

    I belonged in the Saga Troupe.

    And I wanted to go home.

    Those facts kept me sane as I shivered, my stomach rumbling because they forgot to feed me. Again.

    I shouldn¡¯t be here. I knew that above all else.

    My soul felt the pull tonight. The thirst for freedom. Of needing to roam, or be literally anywhere else. But I was a prisoner, and I couldn¡¯t do a damned thing about it.

    Captivity wasn¡¯t as exciting as I¡¯d imagined it would be. One moment I was in Skywater entertaining royalty for the Blue Moon festival, and the next I¡¯m bound, gagged, and swept off to a miserable hole in the world. Though I was obviously not a willing participant, the teller of tales in me had been thrilled.

    At first.

    Yes! I was a heroine in one of my stories! Captured! Taken! Threatened by some mysterious cult to do their bidding. I¡¯d told this type of story hundreds of times in several iterations, secretly wishing to be part of the story. Not merely recounting it.

    Granted, my capture had the makings of an excellent adventure. Danger and intrigue with the right amount of mystery. Maybe some lust if I was lucky. Oh, I could see myself telling this one around a fire years from now, my audience leaning in to hear what happens next.

    If I didn¡¯t die from boredom first. Or hunger.

    Alas, so far this adventure had been nothing more than traveling through bone-biting cold. Hours upon hours of listening to others bitch about the weather. Bitch about sore muscles and what poor animal would wind up as dinner. Who had to get the firewood and who had to dig the latrine.

    Things had improved once we approached the Source Chasm, and my heart had raced with excitement. But for the past three fucking days it had been more of the same.

    In short, it was so¡­boring. The only difference between this and my life so far was the addition of shackles and the general lack of privacy that came with being a captive.

    So, I retreated to my mind. To the part of myself that mattered most. And Fate, the Writer himself, had answered.

    Curled in the comfort of half-sleep, my mind watches a creature made of purest light walking through a forest. He has a strange beauty about him. A horned head of a fox, the bulkier body of a wolf, and regal wings fanning out from his back. He and I walk together, though none of the Other creatures acknowledge me. They can only see him, and what a sight he is.

    He walks through his forest as a king would his castle. Every smaller creature bows in deference to him. His head reaches to the upper canopy of the trees, long winding tail curling around the trunks. This is his home, and every leaf, branch, and being is his to command.

    To protect.

    A ripple, nearly invisible, goes through the air.

    His head turns, eyes looking to a plateau in the distance. Tension is written in every line of his ethereal form.

    I take in a sharp breath, watching him change his path and head straight for that plateau. Something is wrong. A blight on his forest. His kingdom. And it is his duty to stop it.

    My body tenses as I watch him glide through the forest, darting through the trees at unbelievable speed. Speed only he can summon in this place. We are together, my spirit pulled by the center of this vision. Raito Kenshi.  He bounds straight for the small village nestled atop the plateau, leaping¨C

    A boot nudged my ribs, calling me back to reality.

    ¡°Wake up,¡± said a brusk feminine voice, pushing me again and moving me a couple of inches.

    But I didn¡¯t listen. I clung to the vision, squeezing my eyes shut.

    The ripples in the air grow faster. Stronger. He feels something foul in the air. But he is clearing the lip of the cliff now, landing among homes made of thunderwood. He is approaching a tree made of¡­stone.

    Stone? Was this a dream after all?

    The Raito races forward, the pounding in the air as visceral in the vision as if I were actually there. He passes through the wall of the stone tree easily and I yelp at the sight.

    A Pegasus made of shadow stands in the center, rearing. Even through the vision, I can feel the dark energy from the thing. Evil. Sadistic.

    ¡°Abyssal,¡± I murmured even as the boot nudged me again. The harsh stone was rough under my cheek, the shackles at my wrists and ankles chafing the sensitive skin there. But still, I squeezed my eyes shut. Fate was speaking and it was my purpose to listen.

    Bards never dreamed, but we did see events in our sleep.

    Hints of the future given to us by our God. The God of many verses. The God of the One Story. The story which began with time, and would end with it as well. Fate itself.

    We called him the Writer.

    And, for tonight, he was trying to tell me where I needed to be next.

    The boot pushed me another few inches, the toe digging against ribs which had become too prominent. Writer spare me, could this woman take a hint? I gave zero shits about what she wanted when my mind had better places to be.

    The stone tree is glowing inside, miniature carvings of Other creatures lighting the walls ever brighter with his approach. The Black Pegasus gazes down at the beings fleeing the tree. Elemancers, I realize. I only briefly notice the one human racing away, clutching a body, before my eyes go to the Raito again.

    He hasn¡¯t so much as paused.

    The horned head tips down as he races to the thing made of shadow and wanting. The Abyssal has only just noticed him before it bellows an unholy scream.

    Kenshi tears straight through the shadow, the force of energy meeting energy shaking the stony walls.

    Kenshi turns, wings spread to balance himself and he mounts another attack. Part of me breaks as I see he is smaller now, but so is the Abyssal. It knits itself back together as it swivels its head to Kenshi, red eyes narrowed.

    The Abyssal bucks, wings touching each side of the cavernous space inside the tree. The blow catches Kenshi in the side of the head, a piece of light tearing away. But Kenshi meets this strike without hesitation, whipping his long tail around like a whip. It wraps around the Abyssal like a bridle dragging the darkness toward the light. It shrieks at Kenshi, who remains silent.

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    The beings square off, the Abyssal¡¯s leg rising and falling upon Kenshi¡¯s head again and again, but light wings deflect the blows.

    And I can see them both growing weaker with each strike, though the Abyssal it taking the worst of it. It is growing smaller faster than Kenshi, who reaches to the walls with one of his wings. As he makes contact with one, the light flows into him, covering him in newer colors.

    The colors form shapes that I would recognize anywhere. Elemancer tattoos, but unlike any other pattern I¡¯ve seen.

    Light. Light Elemancy.

    The Abyssal screams again as tendrils of smoke come off it. It tries to rear, its movements becoming erratic as beams of light flow from Kenshi. Burning. Destroying. Kenshi holds the thing tight.

    But then, the Abyssal, changing its weight onto it front limbs, begins to attack the tree itself.

    As the shadow meets the walls, the Other lights go out.

    Stone begins to crack, and Kenshi tracks the fissures of the weakening structure. He tries to drag the Pegasus away, but the Abyssal strikes again. Another boom. The stone tree groans.

    ¡°No,¡± I muttered, curling in on myself. The female¡¯s fingers grabbed my shirt, dragging me into a sitting position. I did my best to ignore her, desperate for the end.

    Fleeing Elemancers scream as they see the stone tree start to sway. The Abyssal intends to bring the whole structure down around them. Killing everyone.

    Kenshi looks from the Elemancers, to the Abyssal, and back to the beings who so faithfully serve his forest.

    He extends his wings to the walls, and light flows from him in pace with the Abyssal¡¯s attacks.

    The cracks heal, and the light within him starts to dim.

    The Abyssal tears free, and it rounds on him. Kenshi, his face changing to rage for the first time, bares his teeth, the last of his light wavering like a candle in the wind.

    The old Raito meets the darkness in one final rush, teeth and limbs tearing with every ounce of his strength. And¨C

    A slap cracked across my face and I was finally forced to open my eyes. A female Elemancer held me up by my shirt, my toes barely touching the floor. Her eyes were glowing like dying coals, the tattoos on her skin coiling.

    Another of my captors stood behind her. A human woman with flat eyes and black hair. She wore the same cloak as the rest of them, and I flinched when I saw it.

    A Black Pegasus was stitched on the back, rippling in a gentle wind.

    ¡°Wake. Up,¡± the Elemancer growled, her fingers digging into my skin.

    I yawned, feigning indifference.

    ¡°I know you all don¡¯t believe in beauty sleep,¡± I said, waving at the general group who were all less than my standard of attractive, ¡°But do you really have to force me to give up mine?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re moving out, and you finally get to make yourself useful,¡± said the Councilwoman Elemancer, shoving me away, ¡°Start walking.¡±

    My brows knitted together as I massaged the raw skin on my chest where she¡¯d held me.

    ¡°But my feet hurt. And I want a hot meal. Trust me, I¡¯m a lot more agreeable when I¡¯ve had some food. Just ask¨C¡± I said, crossing my arms as much as the shackles would allow before I was cut off. The human woman¡¯s fist dug into the soft spot below my ribs, a smirk on her lips as I collapsed in a heap.

    My only other reply was a grunt and another shove as the moon hovered above us, the group starting to move again.

    Ahead I saw a tower of steam belching into the sky, the stars reflecting in it. My stomach turned colder the the air as I realized this was it.

    The Source Chasm.

    The stone was hard and unforgiving as I lay on it, gasping for air. My captors hovered nearby and I knew I had only moments to close my eyes one more time. One more chance to hear Fate¡¯s message.

    All goes quiet and my heart breaks when I see the scorch marks near the center of the tree. Kenshi and the Abyssal are gone, and I can¡¯t help but stifle a sob.  My hand drifts over the place where he met his end.

    But then, a light flickers in the corner of my vision and I turn to see a huge amethyst in the center, shards of it laying scattered across the floor.

    A tiny purple flame is inside the last remaining part jutting from the floor. As I watch the flame, it changes.

    A baby fox climbs out of the amethyst. A fox with horns and wings.

    *******

    ¡°Com¡¯on, Sweet¡¯art! Sing us a song! Warm up that pretty voicebox!¡± one of my jailors, Sack Pox, said for the fourth time.

    Turning sideways to squeeze between rocks, I shot him a cool glance. The cool glance my father had taught me, as only he could.

    ¡°Give me my cello and I¡¯ll sing you a Gods-damned ballad,¡± I replied, my voice stronger than I felt. Every inch of me hurt. We had been walking for hours now. The Elemancer Councilwoman had left with us at the entrance of the Source Chasm. Her underlings, me included, were to split off from their main group.

    Which left us to search for another way into the Source Chasm. A more subtle way. And I knew that didn¡¯t bode well for me.

    Apparently, the giant gaping hole the Source Chasm was known for was too good for us. No. The Councilwoman and her white-haired fellow councilman along with their envoy of royal guards would get to descend into it the proper way.

    I hoped they fell all the way down the stairs.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you were quite the little songbird at Skywater. You don¡¯t need that hunk of moldy wood to sing us one little tune,¡± the man, who I¡¯d nicknamed Sack Pox, went on. They had refused to give me their full names, so I¡¯d invented names for them.

    Sack Pox, to my disappointment, found his nickname funny.

    ¡°Oh, but why settle for good when you can have perfection?¡± I shot back to him, but he only grinned. His hand palmed a wicked-looking runic knife at his belt, the other holding a lantern higher as he shuffled between the labyrinth of rocks.

    ¡°I could make you sing,¡± he murmured too softly, drawing the knife out enough to catch the moonlight.

    Fighting the urge to flinch, I put on my best theater smile.

    ¡°Oh, please do,¡± I said, batting my lashes at him. My smile became real when his brows knitted together.

    ¡°I¡¯d welcome a little pain. Anything to escape having to climb another rock. And who knows?¡± I went on, dropping my voice to a husky whisper, ¡°I might like it.¡±

    Disgust crossed his face rapidly, the knife falling back into its sheath.

    Score ten for Gunehey. Sack Pox; zero, I thought as the human woman in front of me groaned impatiently.

    We came to a sudden stop. The scouts had returned, talking briefly to one another as they gestured for a new path for us to take. Meanwhile, I stumbled in the uneven terrain, dislodging a rock the size of a loaf of bread on my way.

    The crash was loud in the otherwise quiet.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, looking at the rock. But, then again, this wasn¡¯t my first bout of being clumsy. My vocal cords may have worked fantastically, but my coordination was not as gifted. Especially not now.

    Grunt. Shove. Another order to keep moving.

    ¡°As a matter of interest, why do I need to warm up my voice? ¡± I asked sweetly, even as my ankle gave a nasty throb from the stumble ¡±Am I going to be using it soon?¡±

    Sack Pox started to reply, but one look from the female who¡¯d punched me earlier had them going silent.

    I¡¯d decided to call her Stick. Yes, Stick suited her. Because she was the stick up everyone¡¯s ass.

    Wordlessly, she gestured to a small rift in the ground, like a scar on the earth.

    ¡°Hmm. Let¡¯s venture a guess. Shall we, Sack Pox? Hope about you, Stick?¡± I asked but received no answer. I was shoved forward as we made for the thin hole in the ground.

    I rolled my ankle again a minute later, more stones shifting and cracking together. Then again as I was dragged back to my feet, but I collapsed once more. Another bigger rock tumbled in my wake.

    Finally, I was lifted and carried to the opening roughly. They deposited me in front of it, nearly causing me to fall in. A cold sweat broke out over my skin, somehow overtaking the existing chill of predawn. The hole was barely as wide as a coffin. A horrid rocky coffin.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking. You must be!¡± I cried, gesturing to my still-generous physique. Although I hadn¡¯t been given all my meals, I still was curvier than all of them.

    ¡°Shut up and get in,¡± muttered Stick, her face tense. I looked at her incredulously.

    ¡°Maybe if I were as thin as you, but come on! I¡¯ll lose what little skin I have¨C¡±

    Her hand clamped around my mouth, muffling my last words. She dragged my face to within an inch of hers.

    ¡°Shut. Up. Get. In,¡± she repeated, her tone barely audible.

    I peered in the hole, praying I wasn¡¯t just seeing things.

    Come on, I¡¯ve been calling you for hours, I begged silently. Because I knew the denizens that lurked beneath my feet.

    I was pressed forward until I overbalanced, landing hard inside the hole. Stick loomed above me, a soft chuckle escaping her. She made to follow but froze in place.

    Because something shifted next to me in the darkness. Something with wings, claws, and clouded pupils.

    A grin spread across my face.

    Because that¡¯s when the Gray Eye¡¯s guards emerged.

 Lesson Seven: Gambleréˆ¥æªš Odds are a Fooléˆ¥æªš Plan

    The Bard

    I¡¯ve heard stories about Gray Eyes. Hells, many of their Story Marks resided on my skin.

    I¡¯d always loved the mystery surrounding the demonic beings of claws, leathery wings, and clouded eyes. The way they seemed to see even with their inherent blindness. Warriors who outclassed any other race. Surviving a fight with them was a matter of luck in every case I¡¯d heard, not skill.

    Yes. There were many things said about the Gray Eyes that varied in level of truth.

    They all fell short of seeing them in real life.

    Stick¡¯s smirk vanished in an instant, her eyes drifting to the darkness behind me. I just focused on making myself as small as possible. Not a threat. This was my one chance for freedom. My chance to see the death and rebirth of the Raito I¡¯d seen in the Writer of Fate¡¯s vision. My only hope was that the Gray Eyes would focus on the Black Pegasus guild rather than one Bard.

    It was working so far.

    My hair whipped past my face as a warrior flew out of the darkness toward my captors. Then a second and third. At one point I curled into a ball in the tiny hole, watching the lithe beings pull their wings in tight to negotiate the tight opening, then snap them out to gain height.

    Stick didn¡¯t even have time to scream.

    The first warrior straightened his arm, catching her solidly in the jaw and sending her flying backward. Even among the surprised cries of the others, I heard Stick¡¯s skull connect with some unfortunate rock.

    Taking my cue, I tried to stand. I needed to find my cello. If I could just do that, then I¡¯d be fine. It would be a long treck back to the pitiful camp of wagons, but I had to find it. Without it, I was just a debatably heavy woman with a pretty voice.

    With it I would make every member of this Gods-foresaken guild pay.

    I got my legs under me by some miracle, hands raw and bound from softening my earlier fall.

    Falls.

    I was just barely to the lip of the opening when a clawed hand wrapped around my throat.

    ¡°No! I¡¯m not with them!¡± I grunted, my throat bobbing against the bruising force on neck, ¡°Let me leave, and you¡¯ll never see me ever¡ª¡±

    A prick at the left side of chest was my only answer, and it was enough to silence me.

    So I stood still, watching the other Gray Eyes swarm the my captors.

    Their silvery hair was nearly the same as an Elemancer¡¯s distinctive white. Their wings whispered in the air, the only sound they made as the ascended into the sky above. Stick still hadn¡¯t risen from when she fell, but the others were screaming now. One of the scouts from earlier, who I¡¯d nicknamed Rat Face, drew a pistol. He dove behind a rock as he fired off a shot.

    Almost lazily, one of the warriors did a vertical twirl in the air to dodge. He swept into a dive as he finished it, blurring with speed. Unafraid of gravity.

    Rat Face tucked into his rock, firing again and again. The winged shadow rolled in his drop first to the left, then the right. His face was smooth, unbothered as he fell upon Rat Face.

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    It struck me then how broad their frames were compared to humans. They weren¡¯t heavily muscled, but each limb moved with its own strength and grace. The warrior was at least three heads taller than Rat Face, and his shoulders were far broader. His large back muscles worked his wings with easy grace.

    My jaw fell open as I saw the Gray Eyes pick up a grown man like he was a loaf of bread.

    His wings snapped wide just in time to gain height, the tips barely grazing the ground as one of his feet powered off the ground to reverse his body¡¯s momentum. The motion looked so easy, so natural to him. To me, it was a work of art. I¡¯d seen fights before, but never such a raw display of power.

    He didn¡¯t merely pick Rate Face up by the throat. The human¡¯s eyes widened as the Gray Eyes arched his arm up to throw him skyward. The man flew like an arrow at least twenty feet, his body silhouetted against the sky.

    Screaming, his limbs flailed uselessly as gravity captured him again.

    And then he met the ground with a sickening crunch.

    My attention was redirected as Sack Pox fired his own pistols, screaming a war cry.

    He wasn¡¯t trying to hide, instead duel-wielding pistols and shooting indiscriminately. But the denizens of the Source Chasm danced away from every bullet, tucking and rolling in the air like a dancer rehearsing choreography.

    Something glinted at their belts with each movement. Squinting, I saw handles of Source swords, daggers, and arrows neatly tucked away on each of them.

    Gods. They hadn¡¯t even drawn their weapons.

    Two of the Gray Eyes made their way to Sack Pox simultaneously, claws enclosing his forearms in punishing grips. He squealed as he too was lifted high into the air. His pistols clattered to the dirt as his arms were forced wide.

    He tried kicking out at the warriors, but they simply let him go, only to catch him the exact same way a moment later. A third warrior suddenly appeared, sweeping down and then ascending toward where Sack Pox bobbed in the air, legs still kicking.

    By some unknown signal, the two warriors holding him let fall just at the third met his downward momentum with a fist to the abdomen.

    Sack Pox spat out bile as he was carried back into the sky a few feet higher with the hit, his body going limp over the Gray Eye¡¯s arm. A moment later, he was allowed to join his companions on the ground again.

    All went still.

    I went to move again, but that was rewarded with a small shot of pain as the knife pricked my skin at my chest. I froze, bringing my hands up in surrender.

    ¡°Please,¡± I pleaded to the warrior holding me, ¡°I need to live.¡±

    Silence.

    I swallowed, saying the words I was too proud to say until now.

    ¡°I just want to go home.¡±

    My plea was still ignored.

    The warrior¡¯s grip around my neck didn¡¯t change, even as his three companions landed soundlessly at the lip of the hole. They looked to each other in some sort of silent communication, one nodding or shaking his head from time to time.

    Doing my best not to struggle, I kept still in the warrior¡¯s arms. I had a strong feeling that the reason I was unharmed was because I hadn¡¯t fought back. Yet.

    I looked downward at the hidden entrance to the Source Chasm, realizing the narrow shelf I stood on actually opened up to a dizzying drop. Distantly I could hear the roar of fires, the whisper of air flowing over stone, and mining.

    And wings. Lots of wings.

    The warriors continued their silent conversation for a few minutes before I heard a groan from nearby. Then another.

    Gods. They didn¡¯t kill them. I opened my mouth to ask why, but the warriors were already turning, hempen rope appearing in their hands to bind the others.

    I stifled my groan, realizing I was going to have to wait a little longer to get my cello.

    Dragging me backward, the warrior holding me gave a small huff as he lifted me and began to descend into the Source Chasm.

    Well then, I thought bitterly as my stomach dropped with our flight, I¡¯ve gone from one set of jailors to another. Writer, you¡¯re a real bastard sometimes.

 Lesson Eight: Wants, Needs, and Promises

    The Bard

    I¡¯d always imagined flying would be a breathtaking experience. Freedom embodied in the form of muscle, bone, and rushing wind. Battling gravity and winning; if only for a little while. This was certainly the case when there was a way to see what you were doing.

    But this? Plunging into a pit of blackness with only the occasional glowing crystal for light?

    Fuck no. This was terrifying. Breathtaking for all the wrong reasons.

    Biting back a scream, I clung to the warrior¡¯s arms. I tried to think of how I could have avoided this. Something I could have done or said.

    I¡¯m sorry. My father said to wait at least a lifetime before diving head-first into a pit of blackness after a meal.

    Lovely as your home sounds, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m allergic to gravity-induced speeds. Can I take a rain check?

    Writer spare me, This plan had gone so sideways.

    Interminable moments passed as we glided down. My eyes were useless, leaving me only with the sensation of falling head-first without end. Further, further, and further again we went; completely at the mercy of the warrior¡¯s strong leathery wings.

    My heart ticked an ungodly number of seconds by, bile rising in my throat. Wind rushed in my ears, cutting off all other sounds. There was a vague sense of other flying bodies nearby as the warrior bobbed and weaved between them.

    Leveling.

    Rising.

    Rotating.

    Falling again.

    There was certainly a path that the Gray Eyes knew by heart, but there was no chance in the Hells I would ever make sense of it. Between the blackness, my watering eyes, and the desperate need to vomit, it was a miracle that I stayed conscious.

    And this brought me to one conclusion. Listening to stories was amazing. Being in the stories was a nightmare.

    Finally, the warrior¡¯s wings fanned out, slowly lowering us to a stony ledge that loomed over a larger drop into blackness. A single small crystal the size of a candle gave off feeble light near the wall. I could barely make out other dark tunnels leading to different parts of the Chasm. Some openings were larger than the Skywater water palace doors, while others had room for only one person. The air carried the faint odor of lichen and other plant life, the humidity surprisingly warm and nice on my frost-bitten skin.

    Still bound, I was lowered to the stony floor on watery knees. I didn¡¯t miss how gently he did it. Every story I¡¯d heard about Gray Eyes described how they were ruthless killers, and crossing them was a death wish. But they hadn¡¯t just killed us on sight like some tales claimed. There had clearly been some strategy other than that. Some anterior motive long before they emerged from the coffin-sized crevice. They hadn¡¯t drawn their weapons, and had used restraint in their fight. Formations and pre-planned blows.

    Which had completely blown my plan of slipping away while Black Pegasus was torn apart.

    So that begged the question as to how long they¡¯d known we were here? Why hadn¡¯t they killed us?

    I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted those answers. Regardless though, I was still breathing. And that meant I still had to get to the Ethereal Forest near Tumblend. The Writer had given me that message for a reason, and it was thanks to these Gray Eyes that I would get a chance to fulfill it.

    Not quite brutes after all, I thought as I assessed my injuries. There was a tiny cut in my side from the warrior¡¯s knife as well as bruises and various cuts from walking along the crust of the Source Chasm. But otherwise I was unharmed.

    The same couldn¡¯t be said for my former captors.

    There was only enough light to discern the silhouettes of the three other warriors. They landed gracefully next to us, each carrying the members of Black Pegasus. The warrior had wrapped each of them in their cloaks, presumably to keep them from struggling during the flight. All of them were groaning in pain as they were set down. Were they not a bunch of kidnapping bastards, I would have felt bad for them. Getting your shit pushed in by a Gray Eyes and then being thrown head-first into the Source Chasm couldn¡¯t have been a fun way to spend an evening.

    ¡°Where¡­Where are you taking us?¡± asked one of them, Stick likely from the voice. The vague silhouette cradled her head as she sat up, swooning with the motion. The others were barely conscious, only turning their heads to look at the warriors vaguely.

    The Gray Eyes looked at one another, continuing their silent communication.

    Suddenly, they all stood straighter, almost at attention. Tension lined every muscle as their gazes simultaneously wandered to a deeper part of the Chasm, their heads inclining.

    After a moment, they snapped to attention as one, their claws coming up to touch their throats with fingers straight.

    A salute? I wondered, realizing they weren¡¯t just talking to one another. Based on the incline of their heads, they were focused on someone else further away.

    ¡°Where are you taking us?¡± Stick repeated, pushing herself to a standing position, swaying, and nearly falling again.

    They looked at her, leathery wings and broad shoulders squared. After a beat of silence, one stepped forward.

    ¡°My name is Baret. You will answer my questions, surface-landers,¡± The Gray Eyes said, his voice a lethal quiet. Like a claw sharpening on stone.

    Stick¡¯s silhouette bristled, but he loomed over her. No room for negotiation. No question as to who was in control.

    ¡±Why are you trespassing here when others in your group used the main Chasm?¡± He asked bluntly.

    ¡°W-We were just¡ª¡° Stick began, her silhouette sitting a bit taller. She was interrupted as the warrior bent down until their faces were inches apart.

    ¡±No. Lies.¡±

    Stick swallowed audibly, swaying with the concussion I¡¯m sure she was fighting off. Her mouth opened and closed without reply for a moment, but the aching in her head seemed to make her settle on simplicity.

    ¡°We¡¯ve come to see the Night Garden Gate,¡± she said, a hand coming up to cradle her head.

    ¡±Tch.¡±

    The snort escaped me before I realized it. Their heads snapped to me, low light making their eyes glitter in their silhouettes. I looked down, letting the space settle to silence. I couldn¡¯t help myself. I¡¯d known Black Pegasus wasn¡¯t entirely sane, but this was a new level of madness.

    I may love stories as much as any Bard, but even I knew the Night Garden Gate was a myth. Something created by fanatics obsessed with Death which thankfully didn¡¯t work. A fantastical lie built on kernels of half-truths. We Bards knew it had to be.

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    If it were true, then the world would have ended by now.

    But Baret apparently didn¡¯t know that.

    His hand darted out, fisting in Stick¡¯s tunic.

    ¡±See it, or use it?¡± He asked as if I had never spoken. Standing to his full height again, he dragged Stick up until her toes tickled the floor. My heart skipped a beat as he spoke. He couldn¡¯t be serious. Was he actually entertaining them?

    ¡°The Gate doesn¡¯t belong to you!  We will see it!¡± Sack Pox growled, pushing himself to a half-sit. His words came at a rasp as he struggled for breath.

    ¡±It was built by Black Pegasus a thousand years ago! The Far Shore now calls to all! Our Goddess has need of us! You can¡¯t stop us from¡ª¡° he went on before breaking off in a cough. I heard him spit something up. Probably blood.

    ¡±All that is here is my Empress¡¯s to command,¡± said Baret calmly, not moving an inch, ¡°Humans that know not what they tamper with are not welcome,¡±

    He stopped with a shake of his head, waiting patiently for Sack Pox to finish hacking.

    ¡°Why do you surface-landers keep coming here? You have been warned many¡ª¡±

    ¡°Naught se vine en ter¡­¡±

    The warrior halted  mid-sentence, looking perplexed as the eerie words prowled in the darkness.

    All of Black Pegasus began to speak together, their gazes tracked toward Baret. He, along with the rest of the Gray Eyes stood tall, drawing their weapons. But the motion was sluggish, their hands uncoordinated on their hilts.

    But BlackPegasius was still chanting.

    The warriors began to advance on their captives, but their motions quickly grew staggering. They moved as if controlled by two puppeteers who wanted two entirely different things.

    Eyes wide, I glanced between them as the ancient tongue went on. I knew this language. Every Bard did, though we seldom had the opportunity to use it without threat of death. But as long as I could remember, we were the only ones who knew how.

    Rooted to the spot as I listened, Black Pegasus went on.

    ¡°Perde tu no ese necre uun¡­¡±

    The air began to hum. I grunted as my Story Mark began to writhe on my skin, drawn to their words.  And as the words left their lips, I finally understood why they were here, why they needed me, and why it needed to happen here.

    I couldn¡¯t let it happen.

    And then I was moving, my legs gathering beneath me with athleticism I didn¡¯t own.

    Gods, I wished I had my cello.

    ¡°Ana Mare! De Circe per afere!¡± I bellowed over them, and I felt power within me shining. My lungs swelled, trying to drown out their words with my voice. They were novices, but Elder Speech was an old friend of mine. It would obey me, not them. I didn¡¯t give a shit how many of them there.

    But Baretand his warriors were still standing still, still looking dazed as Black Pegasus slowly began to rise. One of the warriors began to turn his knife on himself, the blade catching wicked light as it aimed toward his breast.

    No, no, No!

    ¡°Ana Mare! De Circe per afere!¡± I screamed again, my hands scraping as I pressed toward Baret. My hands reached for his sword, which had clattered to the stone. He too was unsheathing his small dagger, and turning the blade toward his throat.

    My hands circled around the sword, even as my own limbs grew tired. My thoughts clouded. Black Pegasus¡¯s hellish chorus was echoing inside my skull. Beckoning. Calling for me.

    And then it wasn¡¯t hellish at all. It was a haunting, beautiful melody. Sweet as honey, and twice as smooth. Some distant part of me knew they were still using Elder Speech, but my mind heard the common tongue.

    ¡°Never worry, dearest one¡­¡±

    No! They wouldn¡¯t do this to me. They wouldn¡¯t do this to anyone. Driving my nails into my arm until it bled, the warmth of the chant faded. It was like wading through and icy lake. Wading through it so long that you like the cold. That the cold of the water had turned warm, and coming up for air seemed far colder.

    Even if you were drowning.

    But I knew better. And I had to break the surface.

    Blood made a gentle tap tap tap on the stone as my finger dug and dug, the nails biting through tissue to muscle. It worked. I could hear both the languages mixing in my head now, my temples pounding.

    ¡°Let your waking mind rest¡­¡±

    Fuck off, I thought to it. The entity of the words. You¡¯re mine.

    And that was when rage filled me, pure and cleansing as fire.

    I was a Bard, and this was my Gods-damned language. My art. My culture. Only we spoke it, and it had purpose. These bastards had no right to pervert it this way.

    The Source Steel sword in my hands was heavy. I heaved it with both hands, as Baret pierced his leather armor, seeking his heart.

    ¡°ANA MARE! DE CIRCE PER AFERE!¡± I screamed again, filling every channel of the Chasm. Using every molecule of air in my lungs.

    Incantations always were best in groups of three.

    Baret¡¯s eyes cleared just in time for me to swing the sword. Stick stumbled back as I did, breaking the rhythm of the others.

    It was a terrible swing, missing entirely. I wasn¡¯t a warrior. In fact, this was the first time I¡¯d ever held a full sword.  Any half-fledged trainee would have been able to disarm me before I lifted it an inch. It bought less than a second.

    But it was enough.

    Baret and the others pressed forward, slamming their fists into the guild members as they lost the flow of Elder Speech. They crumbled to the ground with each concussive hit. Baret recoiled afterward, his hands clutching his skull. The other warriors seemed less affected, merely shaking their heads. Clearly Baret had been the main target. They glanced at one another in their silent language, but Baret massaged his eyes. He shook his head like a dog trying to clear water from his ears.

    Elder Speech was how we made Story Marks, and only we Bards could do so. Only we could convince the story to take residence on our skin. A piece of history to carry with us. It was a dance of using our tools to write while the Elder Speech coaxed the story to take residence with us. Little pieces of life inscribed in ink and flesh.

    Persuasive as a siren.

    Forbidden as sin when used for any other reason. Black Pegasus had now offended me to my core.

    It was one thing to kidnap me, starve me, and make me shake with cold and fear. But never come for my art.

    I would make them pay. If I got the chance.

    Panting, I let Baret¡¯s sword drop again as the after-affects took hold. My skull was splitting, making it harder to see than before. Everything seemed two-dimensional, as if a beginner artist had painted the world in dull grays and black.

    ¡°You,¡± Baret said quietly, standing over me as he massaged his temple, ¡°Explain.¡±

    Blinking against the pain, I looked up at him with my brows knitted, but I was spared from answering as one of the other warriors laid a hand on Baret¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡±Sir,¡± he said, little more than a deep whisper.

    Baret loosed a breath through his nose, looking to the other Gray Eyes.

    ¡±The Empress is nearly ready,¡± he said, nodding his head toward Black Pegasus and myself, aiming toward where Stick was sprawled.

    Baret¡¯s face became blank, unreadable as he glanced back at the woman on the stone.

    ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± She asked around a grunt of pain. Baret said nothing, pulling her up by the cloak still clasped around her throat. He began to drag her toward the edge leading into more blackness. For several seconds there was only the sound of her boots dragging on the rough floor.

    There was something beyond it though. Feint voices drifting up from the darker tunnel.

    ¡±Where are you taking me?¡± Stick asked, still barely able to speak with her bruised diaphragm.  And Baret still carried to the edge.

    Closer. Closer.

    ¡°The air tower. Then Death¡¯s angels will see you to the Hells.¡±

    Stick was fighting now, writhing in his grip, but her arms were wrapped tight in her cloak. I could just barely see the outline of the black winged stallion embossed on the fabric as they passed the glowing crystal.

    Baret barely registered her struggle. His shoulder stayed relaxed, his grip firm around her as they drew nearer and nearer.

    Stick¡¯s silhouette was just barely visible against the gloom of the caverns, the largest one yawning below. The one the voices were coming from.

    She was screaming now. Begging. Bartering.

    It fell on deaf ears.

    She was still screaming as Baret tipped her over the edge.

    Still screaming as she fell.

    And fell.

    And fell.

    A soft thud, and the screaming stopped.

 Lesson Nine: Love is as Blind as You Want to Be

    The Spirit

    Yared¡¯s soul had a magnetic calm about it.

    The Abyss was supposed to be the embodiment of sorrow, pain and fear. So far, it had lived up to its reputation. The only fate worse than the Hells. Nothing else existed here apart from the darkness around you, the darkness within you, and the wait for the horrid and painful end of your existence. The most thorough end there was.

    But his soul defied all of that. He met panic with peace, tempered the torture, and faced the bleak reality around us with warmth and light.

    The same couldn¡¯t be said for the God we were following.

    ¡°Well then,¡± he¡¯d said hours ago, shifting from foot to foot, ¡°This is¡­nice.¡±

    A beat of heavy silence. Distant wails of torment.

    ¡°So,¡± he¡¯d gone on, settling back into his form like shifting sand, ¡°Shall we take this conversation elsewhere?¡±

    My eyes darted between the God and Yared, confused. Elsewhere? Where was elsewhere? The Abyss was the end of the road. Nowhere to go.

    But then, without another word, Love had turned and begun to walk into the gloom, humming a melody as he went.

    Nothing else to do, we followed. That had been hours ago. Maybe a day. It was impossible to tell here. I began to think he was leading us into the same endless field of shadows, until I noticed something.

    The Abyss changed the more we walked. Some unknown shift in the air. The screams and shuffling faded. The prickling energy was calmer, and I felt marginally more at ease. It wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable or safe, but the sense of impending doom seemed more distant. I didn¡¯t feel like an Abyssal would creep out of the shadows at any moment and tear us apart. That alone was a massive improvement in my eyes.

    But that wasn¡¯t all. The oppressive semi-cold had changed; the difference between standing in a hailstorm versus a mist after rain in springtime. The realization hit me like a wall, making me pause.

    Why was I able to draw that comparison, but not remember anything about the life I¡¯d had? Not even my name. I still didn¡¯t know who I¡¯d been, but my soul recalled these sensations.

    Because you¡¯re torn, said a voice in my head. A dark current that coiled and uncoiled itself with each of my thoughts.

    Broken.

    But then one final voice echoed in my mind, so feint I may have imagined it. But it was there. Soft, but strong enough to ground me.

    Souls are never broken, Curadh. Only lost for a little while.

    Yared paused with me, a line forming between his brows as he looked down at my small form. The God of Love made it several more strides before he noticed our footsteps had stopped. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, sighing.

    ¡°Well I guess this is as good a place as any.¡±

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked, leaning into Yared¡¯s warmth. The soul of light glanced down at me then, his eyes sad.

    ¡°You can¡¯t see it?¡± asked Love, waving around us. Waving at the blackness and shadows. I tracked the motion, feeling a new sensation apart from the ever-present fear. Annoyance.

    ¡°There¡¯s only shadows.¡±

    Love began to laugh melodically, a seam of a smile going through the featureless face as it looked at Yared again. It began to shift into Clara once more, the form achingly beautiful.

    ¡±Don¡¯t just stand there like stumps!¡± he said once he¡¯d finished, ¡°Tell me your names!¡±

    Yared stared at him, his eyes softening as he glanced up and down Clara¡¯s silhouette, and then lingering on the clouded eyes.

    ¡°Yared,¡± he said cautiously, ¡°How can you see us?¡±

    Love strode forward, Clara¡¯s black curls bouncing.

    ¡±Oh I can sense souls, and see who they love the most. All Gods can do something of that nature. Didn¡¯t you know that?¡± he said, canting his head to the side. His voice was still far too loud, too cheerful for this place.

    ¡±What we see in the mind is usually much more important than what the physical realm tells us¡ªoof!¡±

    His foot caught on the ground, sending him sprawling.

    Yared rushed forward, helping him to his feet. His fingers lingered on Love¡¯s arm, Clara¡¯s arm, before shaking his head and stepping back. His eyes were distant, his brows drawing up as his aura dimmed.

    The way his light faded seemed scarier than anything I¡¯d seen so far in this realm.

    Love¡¯s head snapped in his direction, his eyes changing color from clouded gray, to nearly black. Like the sky before a storm.

    With no warning, Love threw his arms around Yared, kissing him on the cheek.

    ¡°Oh you poor Souling! You miss her so much, and you love her so deeply! I¡¯m so sorry!¡±

    Yared¡¯s shoulders stiffened, his hand coming up to pat Love¡¯s shoulder. Clearly he was less than thrilled about having his feelings broadcasted.

    ¡±Um, thank¡ª¡±¡°

    But Love was already turning, backing away from him to look at me. Unnerved, I took a step back. He approached me slowly, stooping down and reaching out with a hand to graze my cheek.

    Gods, his touch was wonderful. Addictive as any drug. Wanting. Comfort. Warmth. Not the type of warmth that made someone sweat, but the inner warmth of happiness. Contentment in that someone cared for you. That he not only saw me, but saw me.

    Well. Love. It felt like love. I somehow knew it without knowing.

    ¡°And you,¡± he said soberly, orbs getting lighter until they were completely white, ¡°I get nothing whatsoever from you.¡±

    Another tilt of the head.

    ¡°No wonder. You¡¯re very damaged.¡±

    Something dark purred against my soul again, but Love didn¡¯t notice.

    He smiled, standing again and taking the comfort with him. The despair of the Abyss seemed to double, and I fought the urge to curl into a ball because of it.

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    And then Yared¡¯s hand was on my shoulder, bathing me in light. Love grinned again, showing off Clara¡¯s white teeth. Gods, whoever she¡¯d been, she was perfect. Yared seemed to agree, his eyes taking in Love whenever he thought we weren¡¯t looking.

    Love, leaned a his head into his hand, thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers.

    ¡°Yes!¡± He cried triumphantly, ¡°We¡¯ll just have to put you back together then! Your soul is most peculiar, and I¡¯d hate for it to be eaten.¡±

    I stiffened.

    ¡°Put me back together?¡±

    Love pointed Yared¡¯s way.

    ¡±It¡¯s what hubby managed to do.¡±

    ¡±Don¡¯t call me hubby¡ª¡±¡°

    ¡±Whatever you wish, Lovebug!¡± Love replied, batting Clara¡¯s thick lashes at him.

    Yared sighed, massaging his eyes.

    ¡°My soul isn¡¯t back together yet, Little One. But it¡¯s close.¡±

    Love crossed his arms.

    ¡°Well if you keep using pieces of your soul to blast wraiths away, then you¡¯ll never be back together!¡±

    Yared waved him away, sending me a gentle smile. He looked at me for a long moment, sadness touching the corners of his eyes even as his smile held.

    ¡±We should be more concerned about her.¡±

    Love¡¯s brows climbed toward his hairline, eyes going from me to Yared and back. After a pause he breathed out a sigh, sober for once.

    ¡±Oooh.¡±

    Yared yelped as he was encased in another hug.

    ¡°You cannot help her,¡± Love said into his neck, pulling back to stand in front of him,¡±You can¡¯t mend her seams for her. She has to do it herself. And if you stay much longer, you might miss your voyage the Far Shore¡ª¡±¡°

    ¡±Fighting for and fighting with are two different things,¡± Yared said firmly.

    Silence settled over us, Yared¡¯s gaze meeting mine. My head was spinning, trying to wrap my mind around what they were saying.

    I wasn¡¯t broken beyond repair. I could find the missing pieces of myself. Leave. Go to the Far Shore. Hope bloomed in my chest.

    But then something dark passed over my eyes. Yared and Love were still talking, beginning to bicker playfully. But their voices sounded far away. Cold prickled harder on my skin, but it wasn¡¯t unpleasant this time. Oddly familiar.

    Liars.

    The voice trailed across my mind like smoke, leaving numbness in its wake.

    This is what the Abyss does. You will sentence his soul to extinction just so you can delude yourself into believing you can leave.

    I shook my head, trying to focus on Yared and Love. They were looking at me now with knitted brows, but I could still barely hear them. There were only the thoughts, and a steady pressure building behind my eyes.

    All these events? They are just so you can taste hope, only to have it ripped away later. The Abyss can always take more from you. And you will drag him down with you. That selfishness is why you are here in the first place.

    I cradled my head in a hand, shutting my eyes.

    No! Love said it was possible. He wouldn¡¯t lie to me.

    A raspy laugh.

    Tell yourself that. Are you going to trust a God again? A God who wanders the Abyss?

    Yared took a step toward me. Then another.

    The Abyss will tear you apart until you are nothing. And he will suffer that fate with you. Again.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± I muttered before I could stop myself. Another laugh, and the darkness retreated.

    Love didn¡¯t seem to hear, but Yared dropped to one knee in front of me.

    ¡±Little One, are you¡ª¡°

    ¡°So it¡¯s decided!¡± Love cried suddenly, clapping his hands as he glided between several different forms. A shapely woman with dark hair, a teenage-looking boy with olive skin and shining golden hair, and an older woman whose spine was bent with age.

    Finally, after some muttered curses, he settled on a tall man with broad shoulders, white hair, and beard. Pale eyes stared out from the handsome face, and I realized he was wearing a soldier¡¯s uniform. He saluted, gesturing to the gloom around us.

    ¡°What¡¯s decided?¡± I asked carefully, looking from Yared to Love. The God had been helpful so far, if not a bit eccentric. But the question took root in my mind as I glanced warily at him.

    What was a God doing here?

    ¡±We¡¯ll help you mend your soul,¡± Love replied, fingers combing his close-cropped white beard, ¡°And then we¡¯ll see Yared to the Far shore.¡±

    Yared frowned at that. So did I.

    ¡±And her too, correct?¡± He asked, hand resting lightly on my shoulder again.

    Love shrugged, glancing sidelong at me.

    ¡±With Love on your side m¡¯dear, you can make it happen,¡± he said, his grin turning a tad shit-eating, ¡°If I say so myself. But ultimately it¡¯s up to you.¡±

    He looked at me, then looked at me, head tilting to the side.

    ¡±However, it looks like you¡¯re off to a great start!¡±

    He sighed dramatically when I just stared at him, confused.

    ¡°You took a piece of soul away from your wraith, you scrappy little thing!¡±

    ¡°Wait, my wraith?¡±

    Love chuckled.

    ¡°Yes. The worst parts of yourself that coalesce into a monster. A wraith. Most souls make them when they die.¡±

    He looked at Yared.

    ¡±Most, but not all.¡±

    Ice spread through me again.

    ¡±I don¡¯t want to merge with it. Can I leave that part out?¡±

    Love canted his head to the side, something like pity pulling at the corners of his clouded eyes.

    ¡°Darling girl, you have to love all parts of yourself to become whole. You want to go to the Far shore, right?¡±

    Yared met my eyes, nodding. A brief breath, and then I nodded too.

    ¡°Fine, but how do I¡ª¡°

    Love¡¯s hand grasped on my arm before I could second-guess myself, and suddenly that dark current was back. Needs, desires, and pain rippled through me. I was falling, the Abyss fading to nothing but a pure black behind my eyes.

    A cold burn was pulling at some frayed edge inside me. Raw parts where my soul was torn. I didn¡¯t remember dying, but surely it couldn¡¯t have been worse than this. Ice and fire gouging like a thousand needles. Pinning me down as the darkness loomed. Red eyes bled into the black, watching as I was dragged closer. I wasn¡¯t going willing, my body going stiff as the inner part of my soul recoiled against it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fight it, Little One. It will be okay,¡± Yared¡¯s voice called from far away. But it wasn¡¯t fine. Nothing about this was. I was thrashing now. Screaming. Desperate to get away from Love¡¯s iron grip. The dark current was churnin, trying to pull me into it. The red eyes stared out from the blackness behind my lids, and I was losing strength. The closer it came, the more it hurt. And in that moment I wanted to fade into nothing. The void was surely better. Anything was.

    But the darkness outpaced me, and eventually I had no choice.

    And then I had no choice.

    *******

    I wanted out. I didn¡¯t know what that meant other than some indistinct yearning. A call from something beyond shadows. Beyond the Abyss. Smell was the first thing that hit me. Damp rock. Gravestones on a cold and rainy night. Freshly turned earth and mossy ground.

    The slow rot of a corpse encased in a wood coffin.

    I stand, shovel in hand, before a hole dug in late Autumn. The leaves around me have changed color, and a polished wood coffin lays next to the hole. My arms burn with the effort. There¡¯s supposed to be wounds on me, I know this, but they have healed already because of Death¡¯s ¡°gift¡±. My Chosen abilities.

    And a voice stirs within me, whispering of revenge. Thirsting for blood.

    I have been by gravesides too often in my short life. A flash comes of a woman in a sick bed, and a child begging for her to not die. To live. But my mother¡¯s wounds and sickness take her anyway.

    I see a beautiful woman with eyes like a lioness and auburn curls cascading down her back as I mend her bruised knuckles. She tells me she will be fine even as she packs for a suicide mission. That she will come home. That I should focus on my healing while she goes to make us safer. To make our town safer.

    She is wrong.

    Cruel burn marks litter her body the next time I see her. I cannot stop starting at the tear tracks coming from eyes that no longer see. Eyes that have clouded over. Her body has been left in the sun, gathering flies.

    I shuddered, still trapped. The dark current threatened to bury me. I was sure this would never end, and I cannot control it. Powerless and a prisoner to nightmares made true.

    But then I saw something else. These images weren¡¯t as strong as the others, but they were there nonetheless.

    In my grief I am training. Growing. Getting stronger. Muscles burn as a fist meets my stomach. I train to holster and unholster a pistol again and again. I aim at targets until I hit without even thinking about the shot. I want revenge. Blood. I want to hear them scream and beg for mercy. But something is more important to me, hidden under the sadistic thoughts and gunsmoke. More important than the pain and the Marks on my neck.

    Resolve.

    I would learn. I would fight, I would pay my debt, and kill them all in the process.

    And then I would see her again.

    ¡°Fay,¡± I whispered aloud.

    There was a near-audible hum as the ice faded, but the memories remained. My memories. No longer an empty shell of soul, but more akin to a person. And then my soul was growing, my limbs lengthening. It was strength, sadness, and the smallest trickle of power. Still there beneath a leash of control, but more manageable.

    Eyes still shut, I heard Love shuffle in front of me.

    ¡°Souling, do you remember your name now?¡±

    I opened my eyes, but kept them trained on the floor as the last of the memories faded and I came back to the present. To the Abyss around me.

    ¡±Rowena.¡±

    The word came out in a breath, and in a voice that sounded older. More rough. It felt strange to say it, but something in me warmed as the word escaped me. So I tried it again.

    ¡°My name is Rowena McAlister.¡±

    Yared¡¯s hand came down on my shoulder, his light growing brighter as I looked up at Love.

    But it wasn¡¯t the form of the soldier with white hair that greeted me.

    It was Fayra.

 Lesson Ten: Love and War

    Rowena

    Gods. She was here. Beautiful, whole and perfect. Not a corpse rotting in the road, but a person. Living, breathing, and whole. Auburn curls framed a heart-shaped face just like they always had. The playful spread of freckles across the bridge of her nose was the same as when I¡¯d last seen her alive. The mischievous slant of her mouth. The long lashes brushing her cheeks.

    Everything around me faded; nightmares, Abyssals, and darkness alike. There wasn¡¯t much substance to it, only the feeling of something lost that was found. Like a war-worn soldier smelling a favorite meal after returning home. I didn¡¯t know why this feeling consumed every part of me, but it did. The calls of the other parts of my soul frayed my edges, but the pain was grounding. Not tortuous. I could sense them now, pulling me in many ways, giving me focus.

    My life, everything I was, awaited. And I wanted it back. Every single piece if that¡¯s what it took to see her again. To give meaning to my existence.

    But here she was. Right in front of me. My mind stopped, and so did eveything else. There was only her and the scent of untamed grass, winter flowers, and fallen leaves. Her scent. Some part of me knew that. She was even dressed exactly as she was the last time I saw her alive. A rancher-style hat hid her eyes. Her beaten leather jacket hung well on her shoulders, with a collared tunic beneath and riding breeches.

    The corner of her mouth hooked upward as she reached up to play with one of her curls, the other arm hugging around her middle.

    Yes. Here she was. The past made real right in front of me, moving and breathing. The fragments of memory floated in my mind, making me feel dizzy. I blinked once. Twice. No. She was definitely real.

    And then I didn¡¯t care about anything else.

    Getting my feet beneath me, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders in a rush. She didn¡¯t fight, instead encasing me in her own grip. Her scent got more intense, and I breathed it in greedily. Her arms wandered my back in soothing circles as I buried my face in her hair. Lips grazed the top of my head and I twisted to¡ª¡±

    Yared cleared his throat.

    My eyes flew open again.

    Fayra¡¯s head was inclined toward mine as she held me. Her hat had fallen off in our embrace, revealing her eyes.

    But they weren¡¯t her eyes.

    These ones were clouded over. Sightless.

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± said Love in a voice too deep for Fayra¡¯s, angling his head toward Yared. The older man shifted on his feet, looking unapologetic.  A scowl pulled at both their faces.

    ¡°That¡¯s the most action I¡¯ve gotten in months. Months!¡±

    ¡±It¡¯s cruel, and you¡¯re not Fayra,¡± said Yared simply. Love angled his head back to me and batted his lashes, smiling around white teeth. Farya¡¯s smile. Fayra¡¯s lashes.

    ¡±I could be.¡±

    And that¡¯s when I remembered something else about myself. I hated the Gods.

    Still holding me, Love inclined his head again even as I pulled away, the hands lingering too long.

    ¡°You,¡± I said, finally managing to pull free of his arms, ¡°Transform into something else. Anything else.¡±

    Love pouted for a second, before sighing.

    ¡°All right. Fine, spoil sport. Any requests?¡±

    My face split into a shit-eating grin as the answer came to me. I brushed myself off calmly, as Love stood as well.

    ¡±My father.¡±

    Love considered me, blind eyes searching hidden parts of my soul. He rested his head in a hand as he thought.

    ¡°I suppose you do love him on some level. We can try.¡±

    Love rolled his shoulders, humming as he worked his finger joints. But then he was growing taller, dressed in a refined gray suite. Black hair tied at the nape of his neck replaced the auburn curls. The angles of his face became sharper, more like mine. Long limbs with clever fingers and an expressionless face.

    And then my father stood before me.

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    Love patted himself down, looking pensive.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of this one actually. May I go back to Fayra? Perhaps Clara¡ª¡°

    I punched his stomach.

    *******

    The Abyss had been my reality for so long, I¡¯d forgotten to look for anything else. Now there was a reason to go on. I¡¯d been so busy looking at Love that I¡¯d forgotten to see my surroundings.

    I¡¯d reclaimed part of my soul, and with it, felt more human. I was larger now, no longer child sized, but the world around me still felt too big. Too daunting.

    The darkness was replaced with a misty gray, like a desert at twilight. There was enough to see things beyond the darkness, but no details. Simply objects with no distinction before me in a boundless plane.

    And then there were the other souls.

    Frayed fragments of people wandered the planes, eyes watching aimlessly. I wondered how I hadn¡¯t seen them before. They were right there, but they weren¡¯t looking at us. They were looking the way we¡¯d come, flinching in fear as the shadows stalked them.

    Penned prey in a den of monsters.

    There, shifting through the plane, were the Abyssals. They were largely shapeless, melding into the shadows of the mist. Occasionally one would grow wings and take the form of the horse when they were tracking down a wayward spirit, but it was never long before they caught them. I watched as their darkness swallowed fragment after fragment of soul, feeble lights buried in blackness.

    They didn¡¯t reemerge.

    A chill peaked my skin. So close. I had been so close to nonexistence. I¡¯d never considered myself lucky, but Gods. If I had been in the wrong area of the Abyssa€|I didn¡¯t want to finish that thought.

    The Abyssals, at least for the time being, didn¡¯t seem interested in us. They lurked in the plains of nothing behind us, never turning our way. The texture of the land where we were walking now was subtly different than where the other souls roamed. There were tall silhouettes of cliffs ascending beyond the reach of our eyes. There was a veil of cloud on everything, with other smaller shapes hiding them. Hills, and the hint of horizons beyond. Something beyond the nothing.

    ¡°What is this place?¡± I asked, making Love and Yared glance at me. We had continued walking hours ago, the crowd of souls getting thinner and thinner until we were nearly alone.

    ¡°The Abyss, my violence-happy friend. I thought you knew that,¡± Love said sourly, still in the form of my father. He seemed to have figured out Yared and I didn¡¯t like him impersonating our loved ones. A good punch to the gut had a way of communicating things like that very effectively.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, glancing around, ¡°the Abyss was back that way and far darker. This looks more like a gray desert with cliffs.¡±

    ¡°Is that all you can see, Little One?¡± Yared asked, a wrinkle between his brows. It dawned on me then.

    ¡°You¡¯re whole again. That¡¯s why you can see more than me.¡±

    ¡°Broken souls only see darkness. Broken mortal souls, that is. That¡¯s what keeps them trapped here,¡± Love said quietly, using a finger to press glasses up his nose. He had even been able to mimic my father¡¯s gadgetry glasses, with several lenses of varying colors and sizes. The effect was unsettling.

    That same sadness crept into Yared¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m nearly whole, and when I saw you I thought there was a chance¡­¡± Yared pinched the bridge of his nose, his thoughts far away for a moment, ¡°Perhaps we can find ourselves again and go to the Far Shore together.¡±

    Love stood straighter, the mask of my father¡¯s features turning down. Some deep thread of emotion, memory, pulled. A thread of pain. Loss.  I stepped away from Yared, frowning. His light shone brightly, and for second, it burned me. He was so close to being whole again. It was obviously just staring at him. I thought of the millions of people who had lived in the world so far.

    How many had made it out of the Abyss? Yared had a chance. His soul gave off a light so pure and vibrant that it was a crime he was here to begin with. What if an Abyssal attacked us? What if it was because he stayed for me?

    Love spoke as if in answer to my thought.

    ¡°You can move on, my dear sir. She will be safe with me¡ª¡°

    ¡±Together,¡± Yared said again, glancing sidelong at Love. Something passed between them, but whatever it was, Love let it go. I swallowed, my throat tight. I opened my mouth to argue, but Yared turned to me.

    ¡±I know the risks, but I promised her, Little One.¡±

    Love and I glanced at each other. Yared waved us away before we could ask, firm in his secrets.

    ¡±So¡ª¡± I said, breaking the silence that followed, ¡°How do we start?¡±

    Yared nodded, looking into the gloom.

    ¡°I had to call the other parts of my soul, but I could only do it with the help of an angel¡ª¡°

    ¡±Oh piss on that!¡± Love cried, crossing his arms.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need an angel. You have God,¡± he said, leaning forward and gesturing at himself.

    ¡°A God who needs to be put together as well, I¡¯ll have you know.¡±

    His eyes were growing darker, the clouded parts turning the color of a sky before a storm. I took a step away from him, not liking the sudden change. Love didn¡¯t notice, his fingers curling into talons and clawing the air.

    ¡°And when I get my hands on whoever did it, they will experience the most aggressive form of love I can provide.¡±

    Yared¡¯s head and mine snapped to Love, too stunned for words. Love was a fragment too?

    Ignoring our looks, Love walked past us toward the ascending cliffs, a strange aura suddenly vibrating around him. Until now, he had been annoying at best. But now I saws it. The primordial power raging around him. And maybe that¡¯s why it was so terrifying. What happened if a God of something like Love turned to hate?

    ¡°Who in nannie¡¯s sacred nether regions tore a God apart?¡± I asked, jogging to keep up with him.

    ¡°Sweeting, if I knew that, do you think I¡¯d still be here? But anywho, that¡¯s not the important part.¡±

    ¡±Sorry, but I don¡¯t follow¡ª¡°

    Love smiled, the look unnatural on my father¡¯s features. He glanced back our way over his shoulder, cloudy eyes unfocused.

    ¡°The important part is why someone would have attacked the God of Love, yours truly,¡± he said with a flourish, sweeping in a bow.

    ¡°And that can only mean one thing. Someone or something wants a lack of love and affection in the mortal realm.¡±

    Yared paled, stepping forward. His fists clenched and unclenched, as if looking for a weapon.

    ¡°You can¡¯t mean¡ª¡°

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Love said, turning toward the cliff again and starting up a steep incline on some path I couldn¡¯t see.

    ¡°War is on the horizon in the mortal realm, soulings. A war that will shape the material and immaterial planes alike. You¡¯re welcome.¡±

 Lesson Eleven: Two Constants. Taxes and a Madame

    Myra

    ¡°Myra. What in the hells is that thing?¡± Levi asked, eyes round as he saw the wringling animal in my arms.

    Glancing down, I smiled as the ball of fur turned and shifted in ever-flowing softness. As if sensing her new papa was looking at her, a small ¡®yip!¡¯ came from the swirling fuzzy skin.

    ¡±Go on,¡± I said, dropping our new baby to the floor.

    Levi started, his face paling as he watched me drop her to the polished wood floor.  A fuzzy body with violet eyes and coal-black fur landed with barely a sound on the floor, pointed ears jutting from either side of her head. She cocked her head to the side, body shivering as she glanced at Levi. She considered him, and then her legs were growing longer, the head elongating and becoming more angular. A few seconds  later, a hound of gleaming dark fur stood before Levi.

    I waved a hand at the creature like a magician revealing a dove from a hat.

    ¡°My Lord McAlister, meet our new daughter! Madame!¡±

    Levi blinked twice, looking her. As if on cue, she curled into a ball of fur and began to roll away, swirving this way and that to avoid the furniture.

    Please don¡¯t knock anything over, I thought, keeping my smile.

    Levi massaged the bridge of his nose, a brown curl falling over his eyes as he leaned on an elbow on his desk. But I didn¡¯t miss the smallest lift at the corner of his mouth when I used his married title. But the moment it appeared, it was gone again. Replaced with his new favorite expression. A scowl.

    ¡°You wanted a cat. I wanted a wolfhound. Is this an attempt at a comprise?¡±

    Stifling the urge to roll my eyes, I walked with my best glide toward the desk.

    ¡°She is. Does she make you happy?¡±

    Levi bridged his hands, resting his chin on them.

    ¡°Well Lady McAlister, Madame seems lovely, but she confuses me. Where did you find a schimb?¡±

    I batted my lashes at him.

    ¡±She is no mere schimb! She is our baby, my love. Our Madame!¡±

    ¡°But how¡ª¡°

    ¡°A lot of searching!¡± I replied, settling my skirt more evenly. A tuft of fur fell to the floor as I did.  I could hear my mother¡¯s cry of dismay, but somehow the fact that my silken dress was now adorned with fur didn¡¯t bother me. Many things that normally bothered me didn¡¯t anymore. Ever since I spent a few weeks in a rustic cabin with no servants and a growling bounty hunter.

    A bounty hunter that should have still been here, were it not for me.

    Levi gave nothing away apart from a  long and slow blink.

    ¡°You mean to say that you actively looked for a Nightmare? They¡¯re rare enough, but a schimb?¡±

    The furry ball finished her lap around the room, rounding back to my dress. She began to hop with maniacle yipping noises until she bounced into my arms again. I curled her into my chest, gasping as Levi spoke.

    ¡°How dare you call Madame a Nightmare!¡±

    An invisible hook pulled at the corner of my husband¡¯s mouth again. A husband who, for the last month, had categorically refused to be happy. Not that life had made it easy. Something loosened in my chest at the sight of that small smile. Every day since our wedding had been a battle against responsibility and memory. Of constant learning to live with a man who now had the fate of an entire company on his shoulders. At least my father was patiently teaching me to run the iron mines and steel refractories. But Levi¡¯s father had all but dumped the McAlister Pistol Company into his lap.

    Now I knew why Rowena had hated him. She had been his punching bag. But she wasn¡¯t here anymore. Just Levi.

    Lesson one of matrimony. Marriage was hard, but presents make everything better.

    Levi looked at Madame again.

    ¡±But a Nightmare is what she is. An Other spirit inhabiting a body of some poor animal and reforming the cells into-¡°

    ¡°Dearest, you don¡¯t need to explain what a schimb it. I¡¯m the one who bought her,¡± I said, letting Madame uncurl in my arms. She began morphing again, the fur shifting around the bones until a white cat was laying in my arms. I placed a kiss on her head.

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t agree on a pet, so I got every pet! She¡¯s perfect!¡±

    ¡±She¡¯s dangerous. An Other that strong-¡°

    ¡±She¡¯s paid for and they won¡¯t reimburse us. Does she really look that dangerous to you?¡± I replied, more sharply than I intended. Levi frowned and I felt a shard of annoyance go through me. Gods, what would it take to please him? He¡¯d gone from light-hearted to so serious in the past few months.

    Ever since Rowena. Since his father had decided to hand McAlister Pistol Company to him, but still hover. All criticism. No help.

    Levi stood from his chair, rounding his desk until we stood inches apart. He glanced down at Madame. The catlike eyes met the blue impassively as she continued to sit calmly in my arms.

    Slowly, Levi reached out and petted her head.

    ¡°That leads me back to the question of where exactly you found her,¡± he murmured, fingers curling around an ear to scratch. I painted on my best smile, looking up at him through my lashes.

    ¡±A farmer¡¯s dog got attacked in the ethereal forest. A few days later Madame walked out in his dog¡¯s form before shifting. Believe me, I saw the farm. He needed every Brill he could find.¡±

    Levi frowned.

    ¡°And how much did we pay for her exactly?¡±

    Batting my lashes, I grinned wider.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask the question if you don¡¯t want the answer, Dearest.¡±

    Something shifted in Levi¡¯s eyes, just as the door opened.

    ¡±My Lord,¡± came a calm male voice followed by the tall and lithe form of our butler, Archibald. He folded himself in a neat bow that would have made my mother proud. Levi flushed, motioning for him to stand.

    ¡°Is everything alright Archibald?¡± He asked as Madame curled herself into another ball, rolling on the floor until she was right by his side.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to remind you that¡ª¡° Archibald began before breaking off in a gasp as the schimb bounced again, limbs sprouting into another wolfhound. She pressed her nose into Levi¡¯s hanging hand, even as a tail elongated to curl around my hand, the fur turning white.  Levi¡¯s face relaxed, and his hand began to scratch her head reflexively.

    I suppressed a giggle as Archibald arched a brow. Recovering, he adjusted his tie and continued as if there had been no interruption.

    ¡°May I remind you sir that the Town Hall meeting begins soon and to be on time you need to leave within the hour. Shall I prepare the carriage for you?¡±

    Levi nodded, his mouth hardening. My stomach dropped. So close. We had been so close to being happy for more than five consecutive minutes.

    So much change in such a short time, What more could a wife do?

    I waved for Archibald¡¯s attention, and his pale eyes snapped to me attentively.

    ¡°Prepare the carriage for both of us, good sir.¡±

    It was Levi¡¯s turn to arch a brow at me.

    ¡°You actually want to come to a Town Hall meeting?¡±

    As much as I want to watch grass grow.

    ¡°Of course!¡± I said, looping my arm through his. My chest eased as another smile touched his lips. He donned a more posh accident, a glint in his eyes.

    ¡°My lady, I have yet to meet anyone beside Counsilman Terris that actually wants to attend.¡±

    His arm squeezed mine and I laid my other hand on his, heat coming to my face.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Then it sounds like I¡¯ll be in good company.¡±

    Archibald cleared his throat.

    ¡°Two seats in the carriage them, Madam¡ª¡°

    Madame perked her fuzzy ears at her name, sitting on her haunches and looking at Archibald expectantly. Archibald glanced down at her, blinked, then looked back at Levi and I.

    ¡°May I assist either of you with anything else?¡±

    Levi looked at Madame contemplatively, scratching her ears once more. A beat of silence. then two.

    ¡°Since you offered Archibald, I suppose,¡± he murmured quietly, ¡°We will need to get Madame a bed, food, and a collar.¡±

    The schimb tilted her head to the side as he spoke, giving another ¡°yip!¡± when he mentioned food. Without further prompt, she sank into another ball of fur, making two laps around Archibald. The ball then began to bounce, jumping as she leapt into the bulter¡¯s arms. To his credit, he caught her gracefully. Though he looked at her like a dirty rag. A rag he would have to clean.

    With a bow of his head, he left the room, taking Madame with him.

    Moments later, we heard him uttered a soft curse as the unmistakable sound of a furry body jumping onto a cashmere chair came from the front room.

    *******

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to call this meeting to order!¡± Called Councilman Terris from his podium. The general mumur of hushed conversation faded as his gavel came down on the polished wood. The other members of the counsel sat evenly on either side of Terris in a large semi-circle, their eyes stern.

    Taking the cue, everyone sat in the rows of wooden pews making a larger semi-circle in the room. A single other podium stood in the center of the space across from Terris¡¯s for anyone wishing to bring their grievances to light.

    Normally, Luradian Town Hall meetings were a multi-day affair of general complaints of the people, announcements, and trials.

    Tumblend, however, was a small enough town that the monthly meeting served all those purposes. The days were combined into one seat-numbing tribunal.

    I sat next to Levi, who held my hand in a firm grip. His father sat on his other side as my own parents sat on my right. Dash Eastmark sat across the aisle in our row, his large bulk noticeable along with his blonde hair. The Burlish man had just returned to Luradia to finally settle his business agreements with my father, and I was glad for his soothing company.

    Sheriff Stone was the last to sit in a small chair next to the council¡¯s table.

    I winced. No. Not Sheriff anymore. After the disaster of our wedding, Councilman Terris had launched a movement to demote Stone, and it had succeeded.

    So Stone was now a Tax Collector.

    Oh, the hell Rowena would have raised if she had been here.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, we have one grim announcement we shall save for last this evening,¡± Terris said, making everyone shift in their uncomfortable seats. Stifling the urge to groan, I sat straighter. If the announcement was so important, why wouldn¡¯t he lead with it? But it wasn¡¯t my place to comment, so I glanced at Levi. I frowned.

    Levi wasn¡¯t looking at Terris. He wasn¡¯t at all paying attention to him. He was watching a group of guards near the door.

    I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes.

    They weren¡¯t Tumblend soldiers or guards.  Their uniforms were different. Their armor was gleaming steel instead of  leather. Their helmets had an adorned plumage on them, and they wore  gray cloaks with the royal family¡¯s sigil. A flame encased in ice.

    Realization hit me all at once. I pressed my lips together, squeezing Levi¡¯s hand tighter.

    What were guards from Skywater doing here?

    ¡°However,¡± Terris went on, drawing my attention back to him, ¡°First we have a trial on our hands which we respectfully request you bear witness to. Tax Collector Stone?¡±

    Dragging my eyes back to the center of the room, I watched Terris gesture toward Stone.

    An awkward moment passed as Stone remained seated.

    ¡°Yes, Counciman Terris?¡± Stone asked calmly, his face impassive. Terris flushed, and I felt a smile pull at my lips. Clearly Stone had missed some sort of planned cue. Or chosen to ignore it.  Terris loosed a breath through his nose, his eyes narrowing at Stone. He considered him, then returned his attention to the congregation.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, tax rates have been regrettably increased in the past few months. We, the council, understand your frustration with these raises.¡±

    He took a theatrical breath as my father let out a nearly inaudible snort beside me.

    ¡°The only thing he regrets,¡± my father, Lord Beafountonte, breathed in my ear, ¡°is that he can¡¯t take more money from our pockets.¡±

    ¡°Please know,¡± Terris continued, ¡°that these taxes also have gone toward several incentive programs to ensure improved quality of life for all citizens of our proud town of Tumblend!¡±

    He raised his hands as if expecting applause. There were a few people who clapped indugently, but otherwise the room remained silent.

    ¡°However, one among us has declined to pay her taxes like the rest of us. Charges which she will be put on trial for today.¡±

    Another theatrical breath as people muttered in annoyance. Who was that entitled to not pay like the rest of us?

    ¡°Tax Collector Stone, has Levira Casanadii of the Blue Flame responded to our lawful order to pay the raised income taxe, for which she owes over eight-hundred thousand Brill?¡±

    My breath caught at Casanadii¡¯s name. The ancient succubus was definitely that entitled. And with good reason. I leaned forward in my seat again, anxious to see what Stone would do.

    The tall former Sheiff with snow-white hair remained in his chair. Slowly, he removed an envelope from his coat pocket.

    ¡°Levira Casanadii  of the Blue Flame has elected to not appear this evening, however she did give this statement in writing.¡±

    Terris frowned.

    ¡°The agreement was that she would either pay, or present herself here for trial. Did you not place her under arrest?¡±

    Stone¡¯s mustache twitched upward.

    ¡°May I remind you, sir, that I no longer have the authority to arrest someone? I am, by your order, no longer Sheriff,¡± Stone countered, his strong voice carrying in the room. People began to mutter to themselves again.

    Terris flushed, his gavel coming down to silence everyone.

    ¡°The council will hear Casanadii¡¯s statement, Tax Collector Stone. Read it,¡± he ordered sharply, reaching to pull at his collar.

    Another twitch of Stone¡¯s mustache.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the statement contains several words and phrases that are inappropriate for polite company,¡± Stone said, bridging his hands in front of him.

    Terris¡¯s face turned a shade of red I¡¯d rarely seen from him as a few chuckles rang out from the audience. Levira Casanadii. The Spider of Luradia and owner of the Blue Flame. She and the council had always had a contentious relationship if rumor was to be believed, and apparently that had not changed.

    ¡°Summarize it then,¡± Terris amended. Stone¡¯s teeth flashed in a brief grin.

    ¡°As you wish,¡± he said, opening the envelope and unfolding the thick paper within.

    ¡°She said she wishes to remind the council that the fact she pays taxes at all is a donation on her part to the incompetent¡ª¡° he paused, standing and clearing his throat.

    ¡±And she also wishes to remind members of the council, specifically Alura Lusk, Robert Perrier, and Lead Councilman Terris and his wife that their bill for services rendered at the Blue Flame is overdue.¡±

    I, along with several others in the audience let out a gasp. Levi, Dash, and my father let out snorts of amusement. The Blue Flame was, for lack of a better term, a cesspit of debauchery. If one wished a prostitute, or normally controlled magical elxirs, that was the place to go. Everyone knew it¡¯s business, but the place was essentially it¡¯s own island of rules the council had never dared to challenge. I¡¯d seen it for myself when Rowena dragged me there.

    And now, in black and white, Levira was revealing that the council was partaking of the Blue Flame¡¯s services despite outwardly condemning it.

    Several eyes swerved to Councilman Terris¡¯s and his wife, who sat in the front row. The poor thing looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

    Stone snapped the paper, now reading directly from it.

    ¡°Furthermore, Astar would like to express his particular grievance with the most esteemed Councilan Terris, who forgot to tip him at his most recent visit.¡±

    Stone kept his voice even, which made the message even funnier. He spoke over Terris¡¯s exclamations for him to stop.

    ¡°Please deliver your overdue balances to the Blue Flame directly. You may also make bank withdrawal slips out to Levira. S. Casanadii.¡±

    A grunt of disapproval came from the corner of the room the temperature seeming to drop in the area. I looked to see the Skywater guards standing at attention there. They weren¡¯t laughing. Not so much as a chuckle.

    Terris¡¯s gavel cracked down on the podium, but it did little to silence the inferno of gossip now going around the room.

    ¡±Levi, did you say Town Hall meetings were boring? I rather disagree,¡± I murmured in Levi¡¯s ear. He was still grinning ear to ear along with Dash Eastmark.

    ¡°One last thing,¡± Stone boomed as he read further into the letter, and his deep voice was louder than the gavel. People quieted at hearing him, despite ignoring Terris. I was fully smiling now. It did my heart good to see that even though Stone had to endure the public humiliation of a demotion to Tax Collector, he had lost none of his pride.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Terris boomed, further quieting the audience. His face was beet red now. Stone plowed on as if he hadn¡¯t spoken and the room finally settled down. His face turned more serious.

    ¡°If you want to fund your war, we suggest you get your money from somewhere else.¡±

    All mirth in the room died.

    Stone was lowering the paper now, folding it back into his pocket.

    ¡°With best regards, the collective staff at the Blue Flame. Enjoy your war. Leave us out of it.¡±

    The room was back to being quiet. Terris looked stunned as my mind whirled. War? Luradia? For what? I remembered the king and queen ordering a specialty gun from McAlister Pistol Company. A gun that only one successful model existed for, made by Yared¡¯s apprentice, Otta.

    A gun capable of wielding Elemancy.

    A gun powered by a crystal containing Elemancy souls.

    A gun that Rowena, thankfully, had destroyed.

    I shook my head as the silence stretched, the impact of the word ¡°war¡± making its way around the room.

    But there had been no further word about it since our wedding. Why was this coming up again?

    My eyes drifted to the circle of Skywater guards in their armor.

    Stone cleared his throat.

    ¡°Councilman Terris, can you explain¡ª¡°

    ¡±Enough.¡±

    The voice was quiet, but distinctive. The type of voice that drew attention regardless of its volume.  A predator¡¯s growl..

    Everyone looked to the source of the voice as two of the Skywater guards strode to the center podium, their armor gleaming. One had a captain¡¯s rank painted on his armor. It was definitely he who had spoken. I knew that just by looking at him. Sometimes a voice does not fit the person it comes from. But his? His did.

    The  captain reached into a bag at his side and drew out a large envelope with the royal seal on it. He eyed Stone for a chilling moment, the air crackling with challenge between them.

    ¡°It was inappropriate for the citizens of Tumblend to find out this way. It is not a Tax Collector¡¯s place to make such announcements,¡± he said, not breaking his glare at Stone.

    ¡°However given the state of your leadership, I, Captain Bullard,  shall deliver this news,¡± he continued, shifting his icy eyes to Terris, who found particular interest in  straightening his collar.

    Captain Bullard broke the seal of the letter, the snapping wax echoing off the walls.

    ¡±By order of  King Lorimor and Queen Aricella and in light of the abduction of multiple royal family members¡ª¡°

    Murmurs arose in the room again. Levi, Dash, and I met eyes. Elemancers abducted who? Why? When?

    ¡°Silence,¡± Captain Bullard said, his eyes seeming to look at everyone in the room.

    ¡°In light of the abduction of multiple royal family members, Luradia will announce its intent for war against the race of Elemancers for full submission of lands and eradication from Luradia. Their blight on this world will no longer be tolerated.¡±

    The captain paused here, letting his words sink in.

    ¡±Able-bodied citizens of Tumblend will submit themselves to a draft to the Royal army effective tomorrow morning.¡±

    A few gasps of outrage rang in the room, but the Captain just lifted his eyes again. They died away. Another beat of silence, and he continued reading.

    ¡±Furthermore, McAlister Pistol Company will submit its services for providing weapons of war, specifically technician Otta Tawanan under penalty of treason.¡±

    As an heiress to a prominent family in Tumblend, I was used to eyes being on me. In fact, part of me lived for it. But as Captain Bullard finished his order, and people heard Levi¡¯s name, all eyes swerved to us.

    And I had never been more uncomfortable.

 ANNOUCEMENT

    HELLO EVERYONE! Long time no see. I¡¯ve spent the past year editing the book and changing some story element I thought were lacking. I would love some feedback from all of you regarding my updates. They are more late-story, but I am posting the first 5 chapters today, and then 1-2 more each week! Thank you for your patience. I changed the characters for instance as my writing style was lacking in some of them.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    I hope you all enjoy, and please leave excellent feedback like you always do!

    Best

    InkEscape