ã€ŠThe Way Forwardã€‹


 The Orchard

    The old orchard was green and alive, the trees heavy with bright red apples. No matter how many apples

    the branches held, none ever fell to the ground. The early morning light shone brightly through the

    trees, and the air was crisp, stirring the morning fog.

    Two boys, no older than fifteen, crouched behind a small gap in the crumbling stone wall.

    ¡°Look at ¡®em, James! So many, and dey¡¯re ripe for da pickin¡¯,¡± Max whispered, his copper hair catching

    the sunlight. He pointed through the gap, his dark eyes gleaming. ¡°We sneak in, you climb one o¡¯ dem

    trees, grab a few apples, and we¡¯re out before anyone notices.¡±

    ¡°I dunno, Max. We ain¡¯t supposed to be here; it¡¯s forbidden,¡± James said, wiping sweat off his brow.

    Despite the cool morning air, he felt hot all over. ¡°We could get in a lot of trouble just bein¡¯ here. I don¡¯t

    wanna think what the Master would do if he caught us.¡±

    Max¡¯s eyes gleamed with mischief. ¡°Where¡¯s yer sense o¡¯ adventure, James? Everybody¡¯s scared o¡¯ dis

    place, but nobody ever tells me why.¡± He grinned wide, and James knew exactly what that look

    meant¡ªMax was ready to get them both into trouble. Like that time he let all the hens loose in Ser

    Edwin''s forge. The poor birds hadn¡¯t known what was going on, and it took nearly half the town the

    better part of a morning to catch them. Even after, Max had laughed until his sides hurt, even as Ser

    Edwin made him carry water to the forge for the next fortnight.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go first,¡± Max said, already darting toward the gap. ¡°If somethin¡¯ doesn¡¯t want me here, dey¡¯ll turn

    me back¡ªor strike me down, ¡®kay?¡± He squeezed through the narrow opening, causing a few rocks to

    shift, sending a small tremor through the wall. But there was no bolt of lightning, no warning, just the

    soft murmur of the morning birds.

    James hesitated only a moment before stepping through the gap, running after his friend into the

    orchard, praying nothing would catch them.

    The apple trees were enormous¡ªtwice, nearly three times the size of normal apple trees. Oddly, none

    of the lower branches had apples. Only the branches near the top sported the bright red fruit. The

    lowest branch was still too far out of reach, but Max had a plan. He cupped his hands and waved them

    toward James.

    James understood. With a quick burst of speed, he stepped into Max¡¯s hands, who half-lifted, half-threw

    him upwards. James, fingers outstretched, barely managed to grab the lowest branch, which creaked and

    swayed slightly beneath him.

    ¡°Wahoo!¡± Max cheered, jumping in circles below. ¡°Get us some of da big ones! Bet dey taste amazing!¡±

    ¡°Shush! Someone¡¯ll hear ya,¡± James hissed, putting a finger to his lips. Max shrank back sheepishly.

    ¡°Right, forgot,¡± he muttered, then pointed upward. ¡°Is dat apple gold?¡±

    Sure enough, three branches above James¡¯ head, a golden apple the size of a grapefruit hung from a

    branch, its gleam as bright as the noon sun. James thought it odd¡ªit hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago.

    As he climbed higher, reaching for the golden apple, he plucked a red one, nearly as large as his head,

    and tossed it down toward Max, who caught it with a grunt. Slowly, carefully, James worked his way

    higher, his own stomach growling with hunger.

    ¡°Just a minute more, and we can eat too,¡± he thought to himself.

    The golden apple came free from its branch with the slightest tug. It was warm in his hand, and the smell

    of it made his mouth water. Apples were always a treat at the fall festival, and he couldn¡¯t wait to take

    that first crisp, sweet bite. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the branch, wrapping his legs around it,

    trying to balance as he prepared to savor the apple.

    Then, without warning, a strange sensation washed over him, like a door inside him had opened. His

    veins felt on fire, as though a thousand tiny bees had stung him all at once. The feeling surged for a

    heartbeat before fading, leaving him shaken and confused.

    One moment, he was sitting safely in the tree, and the next¡ªhe was falling. His hand still gripped the

    golden apple tightly as he plummeted to the ground.

    Thud!

    ***

    "Miss Silvia! Miss Silvia!" The boy¡¯s voice rang out, desperate. Each cry was followed by a series of loud

    bangs against the wood of her cottage door. "Miss Silvia, please! Ya gotta open da door!"

    "What is it, Max? My morning tea has not even been brewed yet, and you are banging on my door." Miss

    Silvia¡¯s voice was sharp as she pushed herself up from her chair. The cottage was simple, with a hearth

    that still smoked faintly. Her hands, slender but firm from years of tending to the village''s needs, brushed

    through her dark hair, which already carried a touch of grey. She opened the door with a swift motion,

    her hawk-like features set in an unamused frown. Her green eyes locked on the copper-haired boy

    standing there, and her heart tightened. Blood smeared his hands, and an expression she had never seen

    before¡ªone of raw fear¡ªmarked his young face. "What has happened?"

    "James, he fell from da tree. He ain''t talkin'' right, mumblin''... his words ain''t makin'' sense. I tried to get

    him here, but he was screaming at me to stop. I dunno what to do. Can ya help him?" Max''s voice

    wavered, and tears streaked his dirt-smeared cheeks.

    "Hurry now, lead the way." She projected a calm she didn¡¯t entirely feel, grabbing her bag of medical

    tools with the same efficiency that came with years of experience. Her eyes flicked to the small fire

    heating her tea¡ªshe sent a brief magical thought to snuff it out, then closed the door behind her. "Do

    not dawdle, boy. Let us see if we can save your friend."

    As they hurried toward the orchard, the air grew cooler, and the familiar scent of ancient trees filled her

    lungs. Her pace slowed only slightly as she saw the boy¡¯s body, just as Max had described, sprawled on

    the ground, twisted in unnatural ways. The lack of blood was a small comfort, but it did not reassure her.

    "They should not have been in here, in the temple orchard. The rules were there for a reason." The

    words left her lips before she could stop them, though she did not expect Max to understand. Her

    thoughts, however, lingered on the foolishness of the boys¡ªwhat had they gotten themselves into?

    "Max, go and fetch Ser Edwin. Tell him I need him here at once. Do not let him dawdle. And if he

    hesitates, tell him I will put a hex on his forge for a month." Her tone had sharpened, the urgency of the

    moment clear. "Then go to my cottage and fetch me the small silver bottle¡ªthe one from my deck, the

    one that sparkles. You will know it when you see it. Do you understand?"

    Max nodded and was off before she could say another word. She let out a sigh of relief, glad that he had

    not lingered. Miss Silvia had feared that seeing his friend like this might scar him in ways she could not

    undo.

    Turning her attention back to James, she knelt beside him. Slowly, carefully, she extended her magic

    toward him. The boy¡¯s breathing was shallow but steady¡ªthankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, alive.

    As she reached deeper, her heart sank. His organs were intact, his spine and brain unharmed, though

    shaken. Yet the magic she sensed told a darker story. His magical pathways had been torn open, his spirit

    exposed. He had made a terrible, dangerous mistake. The boy had reached too far into the power of the

    orchard, opening himself to something that mortals should never do.

    "What is so pressing that you threaten a hex on me, old hag?" The rough bark of Ser Edwin¡¯s voice

    interrupted her thoughts. She heard his heavy steps as he approached. "And you drag me out to this

    cursed place, blessed be her name."

    "Edwin," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of fear and grief brewing inside her. "I will have to

    heal this boy¡¯s spine, put it back into place. But when he wakes... I fear the change will already be

    irreversible."

    Miss Silvia paused as Edwin¡¯s worn leather boots appeared before her. She couldn¡¯t help but notice how

    his presence¡ªsolid, reassuring¡ªalways steadied her. His grey eyes met hers, a shared understanding

    between them.

    "He did not..." he said softly.

    "He did." Her words were a mere whisper. "And the change is already beginning. We must stop it. But I

    cannot. My oaths bind me."

    "I will do it," Ser Edwin said quietly. His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before he knelt next

    to James, his touch steady, his movements precise. "I will put him right. You focus on healing him."

    Miss Silvia nodded, giving him space as she turned her attention back to James. She poured her magic

    into him, steadying his spine, healing his bruises and a growing infection on his leg. As she worked, James

    stirred. His blue eyes opened slowly beneath the wild mess of sandy hair.

    "Miss Silvia? Ser Edwin?" His voice was soft, confused. "I don¡¯t understand... What are you doing here?"

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    "We are here to protect you, James," Miss Silvia said gently, offering a smile she hoped was as warm as

    she could make it, though her heart was heavy. "We are here to make sure you stay who you are."

    James relaxed a little, resting his head back against the grass. But in that moment, Ser Edwin¡¯s hand

    moved with swift, precise motion. His dagger sank deep into James¡¯ chest, piercing his heart.

    Miss Silvia turned away before she could see the light leave his eyes, or witness the shift in his

    expression from trust to betrayal. The boy did not scream, did not cry out.

    Silvia''s breath hitched in her throat as her tears fell silently, stinging her eyes and burning her cheeks.

    She could not bring herself to look back.

    Ser Edwin wiped the blade on the grass and stood, his posture sagging with an unspoken weight. He

    stared at the sky for a long while, the world around them eerily silent.

    "I will fetch Max before he returns," he said quietly. "Good thinking, sending him off to your place. This is

    not something for a boy to witness."

    Silvia squeezed his hand gently, her fingers trembling, before he walked away. She set out the stones and

    tools needed to begin the difficult and painful work of bringing James back. The quiet of the orchard

    surrounded her, thick with the weight of the task ahead.

    ***

    James felt cold. A cold that wasn¡¯t the chill of night, but the absence of warmth itself. The world around

    him seemed wrong. The moon hung high and pale in the sky, casting an eerie light over everything,

    making the ground beneath him feel too hard, too uneven. The air carried a smell¡ªsterile and

    acrid¡ªthat burned in his nose, sharp and stinging his eyes. It was a scent he knew, one that reminded

    him too much of the place where his grandad had died, a place that had haunted his thoughts for as long

    as he could remember.

    The orchard stood around him, barren and lifeless. The trees, once full of rich green leaves, were now

    stripped bare. Their bark was no longer the warm brown he knew but pale, grey, and sickly to the eye.

    Everywhere James looked, the world had taken on a blue hue, as though reality had been twisted, as if

    the world had been turned inside out. His hands were clammy, sweat running cold down his spine, and

    each breath seemed to draw the chill deeper into him, as if the cold was coming from within him rather

    than the world around him.

    He stepped forward, his foot crunching down on something brittle. He looked, his heart thudding in his

    chest. Bones. Bones everywhere¡ªhuman, animal, and monstrous. The stories he had heard¡ªhis

    mother¡¯s warnings, the old tales¡ªcame rushing back, those things he had always believed were just

    that: stories. Yet here they lay, scattered across the ground in all their grisly, twisted glory.

    "This is a nightmare," James thought desperately, trying to force his mind to accept it, to make sense of

    the impossible. "It has to be. I cannot be here."

    A massive skeletal hand slammed down beside him, sending the bones beneath him skittering across the

    ground. The impact tore deep furrows in the earth, knocking James from his feet. The air itself seemed

    to shake with the force of it, and he lifted his head to see it¡ªthe creature. A skull the size of Miss Silvia¡¯s

    cottage, bull-like in shape but wrong in a way he could not comprehend, loomed over the trees. Where

    eyes should have been, there was only a red, glowing void. But there was something else there

    too¡ªhunger. The hunger of a predator. James'' stomach turned as his heart raced.

    He scrambled to his feet, his breath quick and shallow, and ducked behind the nearest thing¡ªa fallen

    apple tree, twisted and hollowed by age. The creature¡¯s clawed hand followed, massive bone fingers like

    spears, sharp and cruel, drove into the trunk of the tree. With an explosion of splinters, the trunk

    shattered. Pain lanced through James as debris¡ªsplinters and jagged shards¡ªpierced his skin. He

    grunted, feeling the blood pour from his wounds, thick and dark.

    The creature¡¯s maw opened wide, revealing broken teeth, sharp and jagged. A grey tongue flicked over

    them, tasting the air. Its red eyes locked onto him, and James knew, without a doubt, that he was its

    prey.

    "By the Light. Blessed Mother. Bring him back!"

    The words reached his ears, distant but familiar¡ªMiss Silvia¡¯s voice, clear and unwavering despite the

    chaos around him.

    Warmth flooded James, and the world burst back into color: greens, reds, yellows, and blues. The pain

    faded, the sticky black blood vanished from his hands, and his injuries slowly healed, as though the earth

    itself were stitching him together. James blinked, his heart steadying, his breath easing. He met the tired,

    weary eyes of Miss Silvia.

    Her grey-streaked hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. Beads of it dripped down her nose. Her face,

    pale and unnaturally gaunt, spoke of the strain she had endured to bring him back from the brink.

    "Miss Silvia, are you alright?" James jumped to his feet, wrapping his arms around the older woman.

    "You look sick. Let me help you."

    "I am fine, James. Just a little spent. Are you alright? That was quite the fall you had." Silvia chuckled

    softly and pushed herself up off the ground, leaning slightly on James for support.

    "I feel fine," James said, shaking his head. "I don¡¯t even remember falling, to be honest."

    "That is normal after a fall like this," she replied, the color returning to her face as they began walking

    slowly back toward the village. "You will be right as rain after a few days'' rest."

    The walk back was slow. Miss Silvia pretended not to lean on James, and he pretended not to notice. The

    birds, which had been strangely silent, resumed their morning calls. The sun burned off the last

    remnants of fog. By the time they were halfway back, Miss Silvia stood on her own, though her pace was

    still slow. James couldn¡¯t understand why she was so tired¡ªhe¡¯d fallen from trees before, after all¡ªbut

    she didn¡¯t seem eager to discuss it, no matter how much he asked.

    "Let it be, James," she said with a weary smile and a pat on his back. "Things that used to take me little

    effort now tire me out. I¡¯m not as young as I used to be. That is all." She gave a small chuckle. "You must

    be hungry if you went to the Orchard to steal an apple. Why don¡¯t you come back to my place? I can

    probably find enough oats for both of us, or maybe the chicken laid an egg. How does that sound?"

    Almost on cue, James'' stomach growled loudly. He flushed with embarrassment, and Miss Silvia laughed

    softly, her smile warm. They shared the moment as the sun fully burned through the fog.

    Her cottage stood at the edge of town, nearly consumed by creeping vines. The shutters were thrown

    wide to catch the morning breeze, and the scent of fresh ground herbs filled the air, greeting them as

    they approached.

    James had always found it strange that, though it was summer, Miss Silvia¡¯s garden seemed to hold

    plants that were out of season¡ªFrostleave, Widdow''s Bark, and a dozen others he couldn¡¯t name,

    sprawling in every direction.

    Miss Silvia hung her bag of tools just inside the door and, with a thought, lit the warm coals in the

    fireplace. The interior of the cottage was like nothing James had ever seen. The small room was

    crammed full of things. There were nearly as many plants as there were stones in the walls¡ªsome in

    pots, others growing through cracks in the stone. Tables were stacked high with books, vials, metal

    objects, and mortars and pestles in various stages of use. Near the hearth stood a small bed and rocking

    chair, a quilt draped lovingly over it. A small table beside the chair held a single book and a pair of

    reading glasses resting neatly on top. Beneath the table sat a small basket of yarn, tucked away.

    The largest tabby James had ever seen lay stretched out near the warmth of the fire, its steady breathing

    a rhythmic lullaby.

    "Go ahead and sit in the chair. Don¡¯t mind Whiskers," Miss Silvia called from the other side of the room.

    "He will not scratch you unless you are a Dark Spawn or a Ghoul come to get me after all these years."

    She moved gracefully through the clutter, her movements fluid, like a dancer on stage. James doubted he

    could do the same.

    "I¡¯m fine right here. I don¡¯t want to knock anything over."

    "Nonsense," she said, barely glancing at him. "There is more room than you think." She pointed to the

    chair as she opened drawers and cabinets in the small kitchen. To James¡¯s surprise, there was plenty of

    space as he walked. The tables didn¡¯t feel as close as they had seemed, and he could easily move

    between them. When he looked back, it seemed as though the room still should have been crowded, but

    he hadn¡¯t knocked over a single thing.

    The chair felt perfect as he sat down,neither too tall nor too short, the arms perfectly positioned. "It¡¯s perfect. I could sleep

    here."

    "Go ahead and put the blanket on, dearie," Miss Silvia¡¯s voice was soothing, almost melodic. "It will be a

    few minutes before I get the oats cooking and the tea ready."

    James pulled the blanket from behind him and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was warm, like being

    hugged by his grandad or tucked into bed as a child. The aches from his fall and the tension in his

    shoulders melted away. The large tabby raised a single violet eye, glowing faintly, before yawning and

    turning back to watch the fire.

    "That cat¡¯s the size of Farmer Gorgie¡¯s mastiff. I didn¡¯t know cats could get that big." His thoughts were

    growing fuzzy.

    He fell asleep before his eyes had even fully closed. Silvia knew the chair and blanket would work their

    magic¡ªthey always did. Still, she went about preparing the tea. She knew she didn¡¯t have the oats she¡¯d

    promised, but Edwin would be along soon to check on her¡ªand the boy.

    Sure enough, just as the kettle whistled, there was a firm knock at the door. Whiskers circled the room,

    his tail twitching, his eyes trained on the sleeping boy. The sound of heavy boots approaching announced

    Edwin¡¯s arrival.

    "Well," was all he said as the door creaked open. Silvia had to admit she was taken aback by the grizzled

    old man¡¯s appearance. He crossed his arms over his leather smith''s apron, his nearly all-grey hair

    showing only a few black strands in his neatly trimmed beard. His eyes, the color of morning fog, met

    hers over a nose that had been broken more times than either of them could count. She saw the

    weariness in his gaze, but also something softer, something unspoken.

    He towered over her, standing nearly six and a half feet tall, his arms as thick as most men¡¯s legs. Yet his

    Bulk was soothing in this moment.

    "We seem to have stopped her magic in him, as we hoped. But it hasn¡¯t gone away," she said, her voice

    low. She grimaced as she poured two cups of tea and handed one to him. "He will always have her touch

    on him now, and anyone who cares to look will see it."

    "So, do we tell the Master?" Edwin sipped the tea, his eyes flicking over to the sleeping boy. "Poor kid."

    "It would only put him in more danger. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s wise... not just yet."

    "I¡¯ll ask the Master if I can take him on as an apprentice. I¡¯ve been meaning to get one since Kurt ran off."

    Edwin set his cup down on the table. "That way, I can keep an eye on him, at least until he¡¯s ready for

    whatever she¡¯s planning."

    "Okay," Silvia murmured, still watching the boy. She let out a quiet prayer, sending her thoughts to the

    gods above. "Please," she whispered, "bright and worthy ones, keep this foolish child safe from your sister."

 Smith and Hammer

    James woke, not the slow waking, but all at once. His body snapped to wakefulness. The world was vibrant; he could smell something good. His stomach let out the loudest growl he had ever heard. He took a moment to adjust. He wasn¡¯t in the boys'' quarter at the Master¡¯s house, nor was he in the rocking chair at Miss Silvia¡¯s. This was something new. It was a small room, nearly a cupboard. If he reached his arms out, he could just touch either wall. Most of the room was taken up with the bed, small chest at its foot, a washbasin and stool. The walls were whitewashed plaster, chipped and cracked with age. The wooden crossbeams ran perpendicular to the room and supported the thick wooden roof. Fresh clothes had been laid out on the chest with a pair of clean, if not new, leather boots. The shirt was made of a lightweight tan material, and the pants of a thicker weave. The boots fit nearly perfectly, if not just a little big, but with the woolen socks, it was perfect.

    ¡°I hear you moving. That means you''re up. Let''s get started before you waste more of the morn,¡± came the familiar bark of Ser Edwin. ¡°I ain¡¯t got much, but I have some fresh eggs and some toast down here. Now get a move on, boy.¡±

    James did as he was told, all but running down the ladder, pretending to be a set of stairs. Ser Edwin sat, one hand reading a folded note and the other holding a large metal stein. There was a plate with eggs and toast on it. James launched himself onto the stool and began devouring the food, barely pausing to breathe. Ser Edwin laughed, a hearty, rich sound, setting his stein down on the table with a heavy thunk.

    ¡°I forgot how hungry growing boys can be. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make do. Here, you can finish mine.¡±

    He handed James his metal plate. As James shoveled the food into his mouth, Edwin leveled a look James had never seen. Gone was the good humor, and James got the feeling he suddenly was being weighed and measured down to his very soul. But as soon as it had come, it was gone, and the sparkle in the older man¡¯s grey eyes had returned.

    ¡°I spoke with the Master yesterday. I told him it was about time I took a new apprentice, that I had made up my mind, and that it should be you. He fought the idea, of course, being the stubborn old crow he is. But he saw it my way sooner than later. So you¡¯ll be staying here from now on, and I¡¯ll be teaching you the craft. But the Master would only let you go if I promised to dust off my blade and continue your sword work. I won¡¯t teach you like the so-called blade masters they got there. Imma teach ya real blade work, and it ain¡¯t gonna be easy. Got it?¡±

    James simply stared, mouth open, the toast halfway eaten, forgotten in his hand. He was simply stunned. His mind spun back up, the gears moving once more.

    ¡°Live here with you? What about Kurt? Isn¡¯t he supposed to come home any day now?¡±

    James both wanted and didn¡¯t want the older boy to come back now. Kurt had been gone for nearly two years, sent off as part of the enlisted ration every town had to provide to the Imperium¡¯s war effort in the south.

    ¡°It¡¯s summer. If Kurt was coming back, it woulda been in the spring. He ain¡¯t coming back.¡±A look of sadness crossed the old man''s face before it was gone. ¡°Best not dwell on it, eh.¡±

    Ser Edwin stood and took his plate to the basin with the water pump, washing and putting the plate away, moving to the door to leave. Looking over his shoulder, it was clear that breakfast was over. James inhaled the last few bites of eggs before following Ser Edwin out the door.

    The small, plaster-covered home was tucked away from the forge. It was a huge building, much akin to the barns James had grown up around, but it had six sides. Three sets of double doors spaced with a wall in between. A roof built around a tall chimney with two tiers of slanted roofs. Before James was born, the old forge had been built into the home, but a fire had claimed both forge and home.

    James snapped his fingers three times, in superstition at the thought of the old smith¡¯s ghost.

    Ser Edwin didn¡¯t go to the forge, though. He went to a small fenced area of sand. James¡¯s shoulders tensed. It would appear that it was time for bladework. Ser Edwin grabbed a pair of worn leather gloves and bracers from where they hung on the fence. Opening the gate, his weathered face motioned for James to do the same. Two worn but well-taken-care-of practice blades leaned just inside the fence. James was surprised at the sand; it was loosely packed, not enough that you would sink into it but loose enough you¡¯d have to watch your footing. The smells of sweat, sand and old leather brought a sense of calm to James. He knew this place even if he had never set a foot into it.

    ¡°Time to show me what those so-called Blademasters have taught you. Let''s start with your basic Kata.¡± Ser Edwin handed James the smaller of the two blades. The warm, worn leather handle felt good in his hand. He moved the blade from hand to hand, trying to find the balance. He thought he saw a hint of approval in the older man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°My what?¡± James tilted his head to the side. The approval he thought he saw evaporated.

    ¡°You¡¯re Kata, a series of movements to warm your body and prepare your mind.¡± Ser Edwin moved, the blade twirled from one hand to another, a fluid motion as it cut the air. Left, right, up,and down. Each movement controlled, coming to a clear point before turning and moving back along a different path. It was hypnotic, like a dance, each swing a step to a beat only Ser Edwin could hear. After a moment, the blade stopped just an inch from James¡¯s face, not wavering, completely controlled. James had no words. He was not, for the first time this morning, in utter shock.

    ¡°I haven''t learned something like that. That was incredible!¡± James raised his blade over his head, its point aimed downward in what he hoped was a mimic of Ser Edwin¡¯s starting pose. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°Blessed be the mother, what have they been teaching you over there? Show me the five basic forms, Boy.¡± Ser Edwin slapped the flat of James¡¯s blade, the vibration nearly knocking the blade free.

    ¡°The what? I¡¯m sorry, Ser Edwin, I do not know what those are.¡± James let the tip of his sword dip into the dirt, the slap to the back of his hand stung. Any harder and he feared his bone would¡¯ve broken.

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    ¡°Never lower your point, Boy! You¡¯ll be dead by the time you raise it to defend. Show me a basic ready stance!¡± This was something James knew. He brought the blade up, not quite parallel with his body. ¡°Good, at least you know this much. I guess the only way for me to truly see what you have is for you to attack me.¡±

    ¡°What, sir? You have no armor, no padding. I don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°If you manage to hit me even once, I will shave my beard. No, stop wasting time. We have work that still needs doing.¡±

    James lunged faster than Edwin would¡¯ve thought, the blade coming down in a clear, if not perfect, Hammering of the Nail. Edwin parried with Sun over the Hills, a move to bring the blade low to high, throwing the attacker off balance. James adjusted his feet, allowing the blade to be pushed and redirecting the tip downward once more, this time driving it towards Edwin¡¯s exposed torso. Fish through Water. Edwin slapped the side of James¡¯s blade with an open palm, spinning on his heel to drive the hilt into James¡¯s stomach with Rock of the Mountain. James folded in on himself, letting loose a groan, as Ser Edwin knew all the air had been driven from the boy. Edwin took a step back and let the boy gasp for air before offering him a hand up.James took the hand and resumed his starting stance, Mountain Waits. Ser Edwin held his blade to the side, The Joker¡¯s Bluff, and waited. The slash was a swift horizontal cut across what should''ve connected with Edwin''s chest, but James cut only air. The return of Ser Edwin¡¯s blade down in a wide arc nearly caught James in the shoulder, but fancy footwork, more stumbling than grace, saved him.

    Crack, crack, crack, went the blades as the rhythm of swords took them both, James lost in the simple moment of block, attack, parry, counter, attack. The world was just a small circle, and for a moment, everything was right. No matter how he attacked, Ser Edwin¡¯s blade was there. Dog Jumps the River, Crane Dances Slowly, Ser Edwin met each blow. James¡¯s foot slipped, and Ser Edwin capitalized with a kick to James¡¯s chest, sending him sprawling.

    ¡°Enough. You have some skill, but you lack the basics to make you great. Here, drink this.¡± Edwin handed James a waterskin before taking a long pull from his own. ¡°That is where we will start. The five basic forms, Earth, Sky, Water, Fire, and Heart. Once you have mastered a form, we will add the next till you can weave them like I did in my Kata. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ser Edwin.¡± The words came as a harsh whisper, as James had yet to get his breathing back under control.

    ¡°Good, put the blades and the equipment away in the chest over there, and meet me in the forge. It''s time we got to work.¡± Ser Edwin pointed to a large box nestled under a table just outside the fenced area.

    James hurried to comply, he still couldn¡¯t believe his luck. The box held more training equipment as well as a swathed sword in an old lacquered sheath. The handle was covered in finely woven bands, and the hilt was square. James¡¯s hand rested softly on the lacquer; it felt cold and smooth to the touch. He wanted to pull the blade out, but something told him that it was a bad idea to do so. Everything in the box had an air of disuse but well-loved.

    ¡°I am learning from Ser Edwin of the Blackwood, Knight of Arrowsfall. This is unreal¡±

    James smelled the acrid smoke long before he saw the flames. As he stepped through the wide doors, pulled open to either side, a wave of heat washed over him. In the short time it had taken him to walk over, Ser Edwin had already stoked the coals, the fire roaring back to life. Sweat beaded across James¡¯s forehead, and he had to wiped it away before taking a spot just to Ser Edwin''s side. The older man gripped the large bellows beside the forge, pulling down with steady, practiced motions. With each pull, the coals brightened¡ªorange to red, then to a brilliant yellow, nearly white.¡°Grab here and pull!¡± Ser Edwin pointed to where his hands were. ¡°Even pulls. Count in your head: one, two, three, four¡ªpull. One, two, three, four¡ªrelease. Got it. Keep it steady so I can work.¡±

    James pulled and tried to keep the same rhythm as Ser Edwin, but after only a few minutes, his arms and back were burning from the effort. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and his head was beginning to spin. Ser Edwin pulled the glowing metal from the fire, quickly moving to the center of three anvils.

    Clang, clang, clang. The hammer fell and rose, with each strike, the block of metal moved. Slowing, it grew longer and longer. The rhythm beat with James¡¯s heart. Clang, clang, clang. He slowed, pulling the bellows, and watched¡ªstrike, rise, strike. The metal soon cooled, the bright color fading to a deeper and deeper red. Ser Edwin brought it back to the fire, then. To James¡¯s surprise, the metal had nearly doubled in length.

    ¡°Keep pulling, boy!¡± Ser Edwin barked. ¡°Don¡¯t let the coals cool.¡± Before he disappeared outside. Every muscle James had was protesting the work as the older man returned, the water skins from earlier now filled. He handed one to James, taking over the bellows work and pointing towards the double doors. ¡°Go duck your head in the barrel outside, and down all that water before you come back.¡±

    James hurried outside, his body rejoicing in the reprieve. Sure enough, there was a barrel of water just outside. James didn¡¯t hesitate and ducked his head down to his shoulders into the barrel. The water was cool but not cold, just enough to wash away most of the heat that had baked into him. He could smell it all¡ªthe heat, the water, the sweat. This was perfect.

    ¡°I never dreamed I would be here. After grandad died the Master took me in like he did.¡±

    ¡°Boy! Get in here. Ain¡¯t take you that long to drink?¡± The shout brought James back to the moment. He downed the water skin and set it beside the barrel with the others. James didn¡¯t have much time to think after that. His world had shrunk in a moment to a set of bellows, a fire, and the rhythmic beat of a hammer. Before he knew it, Ser Edwin had called a stop to it, banking the coals and setting down the large hammer. It was time for the afternoon meal. A surprise to James, because even at the Master¡¯s, meals were only in the morning and evening. The meal was more water, some bread, and a thick, hard cheese that tasted tart and made James¡¯s eyes water. Ser Edwin laughed, a loud, deep barrel of a laugh.

    ¡°Never had cheese from the Wylds have you? It¡¯ll grow on you.¡± The older man slapped at his knee and carved another thick slice for himself. ¡°I get it from the trader who comes through every season. Cost me some of my best knives for it, worth every cent, I say.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I like it,¡± was all James could say, but he finished every bite.

    ¡°I need you to take the shoes we just made down to the Master¡¯s place, I¡¯m sure you know the way. But don¡¯t linger too long. We still gots lots of work to do, got it?¡± Ser Edwin slapped the back of James¡¯s head and brought the boy¡¯s attention back to the older man. ¡°Where you go just now?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, just thinking about the others back at the Masters. They might not like that I¡¯m here with you now.¡± James¡¯s eyes sank down towards the ground. He was sure they¡¯d all have heard about him by now. ¡°They might not be my friends anymore.¡±

    ¡°None of that,¡± another slap to the back of the head. ¡°That boy Max saved your life, you owe it to him. If ya two aren¡¯t as thick as thieves, boy, I don''t know anyone who is. Now git!¡±

    The road into town was worn, and the oaks on either side grew to form a canopy that let just the right amount of light in. The dust of the hard pack earth, and the rich smell of the bark of these ancient trees, was peaceful. Dust motes danced in the light beams, the pack of horseshoes slung over his back, jingled softly. He heard the village before he saw it, the sound of people talking, the ring of the river and bell, the sounds of different animals; it all made James smile. In a way, he was home.

    Oakwood¡¯s main building, the tall, imposing mansion of the Master, came into view first, its third and fourth floors clearly visible over the top of the stonewall. Next was the front gate, open, so that all could pass through the only road in or out as it ran through the whole town. There were not many people on the road at this time. James headed straight for the Master¡¯s mansion, a knot formed in his stomach as he knew most of the kids there would be jealous of him. Still, he couldn¡¯t believe he had been given his opportunity, something he didn¡¯t even dare dream about before today. The Master¡¯s mansion sat squarely at the center of town. A gaudy thing of all black and purple and silver littered rooftops, staring down menacingly at all who approached the iron fence that wrapped his property. The laughter of the children that live there could be heard, as James approached. A single older gentleman stood at the gates.

    ¡°Good day, young James, it seems that you have returned to us. Already cast out from Sir Edwin¡¯s service? Oh, be it that you wish to return to the Master¡¯s service already.¡± The man standing watch was not much older than James, and always acted superior, but now that he had been given a uniform and title, it had gone straight to his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m just here to drop off the horseshoes,¡± James went to hand the sack to the older boy, but the older boy turned it away. He pointed inside the gates.

    ¡°No, the master wants you to come see him personally. I was told that if you show up, I should send you to his study. You know he doesn¡¯t like losing his toys.¡±

    The knot inside his stomach grew. There was one thing in this world that James was afraid of: it was the Master.

 The Study and Learning

    The walk up each step to the third floor filled James with dread, his foot falling heavier and heavier. The polished floors were clean enough that he could see his reflection in the shining wood. Reflexively, James tightened his hold on the bag of horseshoes.

    I do not want to be here. I do not want to see him.

    But each step took him closer and closer to the Master¡¯s study. James passed portraits of the Master, of the few graduates the Master was proud of, his accomplishments. The feeling of dread grew like a rock in his stomach, heavier and larger with each passing moment. The joy of the morning and the glimpse of a new life felt so far away.

    I was so ready to give this up, to accept what Ser Edwin was offering. Is there something wrong with me?

    James reached the first set of large double doors into the study. He just stood there, doubt and fear locking his knees and gluing his feet to the ground. The carved owl of the knocker taunted him, judged him. James knew he could not leave until he had at least dropped off the horseshoes, but even knowing that was not enough to push him through the door. With a deep breath, he summoned all his courage and pushed the door open.

    The study was well lit. Large bay windows dominated the west wall and poured light into the room that took up nearly half of the second floor. Most people were astonished at the Master¡¯s study. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves required ladders to reach the uppermost sections. Small owl coves built into the shelves held small tables and cushioned chairs for reading or studying. None were occupied at the moment, and James got the distinct feeling they had been cleared out for this meeting.

    The Master stood, arms crossed, staring out the middlemost of the five windows. The Master¡¯s blue coat was thrown open, its tails waving in the breeze.

    James slowly approached, setting down the bag of horseshoes on the large desk that dominated the middle of the enormous room.

    The Master turned at the sound. He scowled, his blue-green eyes alight with anger. Seeing it was James, he visibly relaxed and ran his fingers through his blond hair.

    ¡°James, please sit. We have lots of things to discuss.¡± The Master gestured to the empty seat.

    ¡°Thank you, sir, but Ser Edwin said I really must be getting back quickly. There is, uh, more work that needs doing.¡± James shuffled his feet, unable to meet the Master¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°You are lying, James.¡± The Master walked around the desk, placing a firm hand on James'' shoulder. ¡°I do not like it when the children lie.¡±

    ¡°I am not. I must be going.¡± James did not look at the Master.

    I am finally free. He just wants me to stay, to go to the Emperium like all the others.

    ¡°You should continue your lessons here. Ser Edwin cannot prepare you the way you need. The way the Emperium needs. Do you not want to help, to protect your brothers and sisters? I see the Dark ahead¡ªit is coming for us all.¡±The Master¡¯s hand grabbed James'' face and turned it up toward him. His eyes were cold, like looking into a deep lake.¡°You know I brought you all here, clothed and sheltered you, fed and taught you. In doing so, I have protected you from the cruelty of the Wyld Lands and the creatures that live there.¡±

    ¡°I must go, sir. Please let me leave. Ser Edwin will worry.¡±James tried to pull away, but the Master¡¯s fingers were locked tight around his face. The dark center of the Master''s eye bored into James.

    After a few painful minutes of silence, the Master released James¡¯ face, throwing him back. James stumbled and grabbed at the desk to steady himself.

    ¡°Be gone, you ungrateful child. You will not be welcome back. I suggest you say your goodbyes.¡±The Master turned back to the open window, folding his arms once more.

    James rushed from the room, tears stinging his eyes. He could not tell who he ran past; the uniforms blurred together. He slipped more than once on the slick floors, only barely managing to catch himself. He could hear the whispers as he ran.

    ¡°Is that James? Where is he going? I heard the Master expelled him.¡±

    ¡°James! Stop! I not keeping up with ya. You always be fasta den me!¡±Max¡¯s voice was frantic and breathless. It cut through the pain in James'' chest.

    James was outside the door to his old dormitory. His frantic run had taken him down the path it remembered, even if he did not. He shared the space with the other older boys. A few were sprawled on their beds. Some stood or sat, going about the business of the day. He walked slowly down the aisle to where he had spent most of his life and flopped onto his old bed.

    ¡°Er, you okay?¡± Max said, sitting down next to James. ¡°Master bit much, ya? It we do fine. We survive. Annie like he hit ya dis time.¡±

    ¡°He did not have to, Max. He threw me out.¡±James held the tears back, but his voice cracked all the same.¡°I will not be here to cover for you.¡±

    ¡°Dontcha worry ''bout me, I be fine. In six months, I be outta dis place anyways. Emperium gonna come through and snatch us screwups up, ya know.¡±Max stood up and kicked James'' boot, extending a hand to help him up.¡°Whatcha say we go say a proper bye to the littles? Think dey will miss you da most.¡±

    ¡°You''re probably right,¡± James said, taking Max''s hand. ¡°Maybe Ser Edwin or Miss Silvia can take you in. Before the Emperium.¡±

    ¡°Ser Edwin only ever takes one apprentice, and that¡¯s you. I ain¡¯t got da witch''s magic. Master woulda seen to that.¡±Max pulled James to his feet.¡°True enough, I guess. Imma still ask them.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    The walk to the area where the littles were learning was not far from the dorms. James always found the small room comforting, with its bright colors and simple shapes. There were only two littles at the moment¡ªa small boy named Luke and his twin, Maria.

    ¡°JayJay! JayJay!¡±

    They screamed as he walked into the room. No older than three, the two threw their little arms around James'' legs. He bent to grab each of them in a hug.

    Max snuck inside during the commotion and knelt next to Luke.¡°I got somtin'' for you and your sister, but don¡¯t let Miss Abby see.¡± Max pulled two sugar cubes from his pocket and handed them to the twins. The grins they gave Max lit up their whole little faces, and James and Max laughed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ya be giving those two more sugar, Maximus. They are already hard enough to be getting to sleep now.¡±Miss Abby smacked the back of Max''s head, having seemingly appeared from thin air.¡°James, dear, give me a hug.¡±

    ¡°Heya, Miss Abby.¡±James stood, the littles still twined around his legs, and gave Miss Abby a hug.¡°I will be leaving today, won¡¯t be able to come around anymore.¡±

    ¡°So I heard. Good on you, lad, for getting out of here. The Master does what he can, but it not be for everyone.¡±She held him tight for a moment longer than what was proper before pulling away. Still holding onto his shoulder, she gave him an up and down, dusting off his shirt.¡°Ser Edwin¡¯s already putting ya to work. Good for him. A little honest work would be good for ya.¡±

    ¡°He is. There''s something to making something from nothing, ya know.¡±James grinned.

    ¡°Can¡¯t say that I do, but I know you boys, and that seems just like the thing you be needing. Come here, you two.¡±Miss Abby picked up the littles, carrying one on each hip to the cribs at the side of the room.¡°It be time for your naps.¡±

    ¡°Naps aren¡¯t for an hour,¡± Max said, checking the cuckoo clock on the wall.

    ¡°Naps be now, Maximus, so you both best be going.¡±She pulled a wooden spoon from her apron. The gulp of panic Max let out signaled that it was time to leave. Miss Abby gave them both one more hug.

    ¡°Be safe out there, lad. May the Mother watch over you.¡±They walked in silence down to the first floor and out the side entrance before either said a word. The gates loomed up ahead, and Max kicked at the dirt.

    ¡°I see ya tomorrow. Master can¡¯t keep all the doors locked.¡±Max¡¯s voice was hopeful, but his head was down, his shaggy hair hanging in his face.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that, Max. Ser Edwin will probably have me working sunup to sundown.¡±James kicked at a dirt clod, not wanting to meet his friend''s eyes.¡°I am sure I will see you, though.¡±

    ¡°You will see me tomorrow.¡±Max''s words were more confident. He grabbed James by the shoulder just inside the gate.

    ¡°Promise me!¡±James met Max¡¯s eyes, his own face mirroring the goofy grin the other boy was sporting.

    ¡°Okay, fine. I will see you tomorrow,¡± he said, grabbing hold of his friend and squeezing tight.

    ***

    Ser Edwin was waiting for James. His arms crossed and hammer in hand. The older man¡¯s face relaxed with relief at the sight of James kicking a rock down the road. Ser Edwin walked to James and placed his hand on his shoulder. The light was low and cast Ser Edwin¡¯s shadow large against the forge.

    ¡°Good work, boy, thought you got lost or something happened to you. Was about to come looking. Meal¡¯s on the table.¡± With a pat on the back, he pushed James towards the house. ¡°I¡¯m glad you''re back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir. The Master he¡­¡±

    ¡°None of that now! Food ain¡¯t getting any warmer, I put it on the hearth to keep it warm.¡± Ser Edwin didn¡¯t wait for James and pushed into the house. James was taken aback by the kindness once more, as he slowly followed the older man. True to his word, there was a plate warming on the stone hearth. Mashed potatoes, a green leaf-shaped vegetable James hadn¡¯t seen before, and a whole sausage. James¡¯s stomach growled at the feast before him. Ser Edwin let out a bark of a laugh, and James nearly jumped from his skin. Ser Edwin pulled another sausage from the fire, this one still popping and sizzling, and placed it atop James¡¯s potatoes. The smell of which sent James¡¯s stomach growling once more.

    James watched as Edwin cut a new sausage from where they hung and skewered it over the fire.

    ¡°Eat up. We still have your schoolwork that needs doing before bed.¡±

    ¡°My what?¡± James said around a mouthful of sausage.

    ¡°Your reading and sums, history too if we have time,¡± Edwin said, squatting by the fire, slowly rotating the cooking meat. ¡°Your mind is as much a weapon as your body or the sword you wield, boy.¡±

    James began to wolf down his food, nearly choking. It was all so good.

    ¡°Slow down, boy, it¡¯s not a race.¡± Ser Edwin pulled his stool closer to the fire to warm his hands.

    ¡°Sorry, sir,¡± James said around a mouthful of potatoes.¡°If you didn¡¯t eat fast, someone else would take it off your plate.¡±

    Ser Edwin simply grunted at that, filling his own plate with a heap of the potatoes, retrieving the sausage from the fire. They ate in silence for a time, James willing himself to eat slowly, to not break the trance Ser Edwin seemed to have fallen into. After what felt to James like an hour, Edwin finished his meal and stood, his eyes not leaving the dancing flames.

    ¡°Okay. Back outside. I¡¯ll light the lanterns.¡± Edwin moved slowly, grabbing a long coat off the hook by the door and hung up his apron in its place.

    James shoveled the last bites of potatoes into his mouth and followed. The spring cold bit at James¡¯s arms and neck. True to his word, Ser Edwin had lit small lanterns all around the sandpit they had trained in earlier.

    ¡°Sir?¡± James said, not sure what he was to do, or if he had done something wrong at dinner. ¡°I thought we were to learn maths and things.¡±

    ¡°We are.¡± He tossed James the same training-blade from earlier. ¡°But I want you to work through the motions I showed you, while I ask you questions.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Do as I said!¡± Ser Edwin¡¯s words were a bark, his grey eyes fixed hard onto James, who nearly dropped his blade.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± James took what he hoped was the first position.

    ¡°Good. Tell me the sum of five and five, boy.¡± Ser Edwin circled James, adjusting James¡¯s stance with the tip of his own practice blade.

    ¡°Ten, sir.¡± James moved to the second position.

    ¡°What is six groups of six?¡± THWACK, Ser Edwin slapped James¡¯s knee that was bent awkwardly out of position. James let out a small whimper of pain.

    ¡°Um. Thirty-six, sir.¡± James adjusted his stance to bring his knees more in line with the movement to the third position.

    ¡°Good. Spell your name.¡±Ser Edwin kicked James¡¯s foot, and he fell to the ground, the wind leaving his lungs and the practice blade falling from his hand. Edwin was over him in a heartbeat. His own practice blade swinging down, James flinched. Something tickled the back of his mind. THWACK. Pain brought him back to the moment.¡°Spell your name.¡±

    ¡°J. A. M. E. S. Sir.¡±There were tears in his eyes and pain radiated up his side from where Ser Edwin had struck him.

    ¡°Good.¡± Offering him a hand up, Edwin pulled James to his feet.

    ¡°Why¡­¡± James cut off the question before he could ask it.

    ¡°Because the movement should become second nature. When we are done, your body should know these movements without any prompting from your mind. So if we can distract your mind, your body will be forced to learn it on its own.¡±Ser Edwin¡¯s eyes were dark as they locked with James¡¯s.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±Was all James could say, dropping his head. Not sure what Ser Edwin meant.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, you don¡¯t have to understand. Do the full pattern ten more times before you come in.¡±Turning, Ser Edwin put his blade away and returned to the house, leaving James to work through what had been said.

    The motions were hard to get right, each one needing control. Swing step, swing step, swing step. James imagined he was fighting a monster from the stories, a ghoul come to take him away to a horrid fate.

    He heard it before he saw it.

    A figure, hunched, hooded, and covered in blood. It reached out a hand with fingers that bent in the wrong directions.

    ¡°James¡­¡±

 A Night of Panic.

    Ser Edwin!¡± James raised the practice blade to a ready stance, his voice cracking with the panic he felt.

    Ser Edwin burst from the house with a hooded lantern in hand. The light shone bright across the small yard. The figure walked a few more steps towards the light, raising their arms to shield their eyes from it. Red hair caught the light from under the hood as the figure collapsed.

    ¡°Max!¡± James yelled, tossing the blade to the side and running to his friend. ¡°Max, what happened? Max.¡±

    Ser Edwin was there a beat after James, his strong arms scooping the broken boy¡¯s body in a fluid motion. James couldn''t tell the look in Ser Edwin''s eyes, there was something there, was it doubt? The older man only paused for a moment before taking the boy towards the house.

    ¡°James, fetch Miss Silvia. Better hurry¡ªyour friend is in rough shape.¡± James lingered, his feet not wanting to move.

    I did this, I caused this, it was the Master. He couldn''t hurt me, so he hurt Max.

    ¡°Boy! Now, you can waste time on what-ifs if we save your friend''s life¡ªnow move!¡± Ser Edwin''s eyes were furious, a look James had never seen. No longer frozen in place, he moved his feet, running before his brain could catch up.

    The road was dark, the only light that of a crescent moon, barely piercing the canopy of trees. James¡¯s mind whirled as his body ran.

    I did this, I hurt Max, I shouldn''t have left. I shouldn''t have been so happy.

    ¡°James, what are you doing here, dearie?¡± Miss Silvia¡¯s voice cut through the panicked thoughts. Her frame outlined in the doorway, Scratch circling her feet, the cat¡¯s tail twitching back and forth.

    ¡°Max is hurt. I think I got him killed.¡± The tears streamed down his face for the second time that day. His voice cracked on every word. ¡°He showed up, he''s all bloody, and his fingers¡­¡±

    ¡°Take me to him,¡± was all Miss Silvia said, grabbing her bag for the second time in the same amount of days.

    The frantic walk back was a blur. James pulled at all his willpower to stop the tears, to hold the thoughts at bay, until Max was safe. Miss Silvia stopped at the door as James opened it, rushing in. A look of confusion crossed his face.

    ¡°I must be invited in.¡±

    ¡°Get in here, you old crone!¡± The bark was more order than invitation. Silvia slowly brought her foot across the threshold, then pushed James out of the way.

    Ser Edwin had pushed the small table and stools to the side and laid Max down in front of the fire. Blood covered the boy¡¯s clothes. One eye was black and swollen to the size of an orange. Dried blood ran down his cheek from his hairline and seemed to cover most of his face. One of his arms bent the wrong way above the wrist, and at least every finger James could see was bent oddly.

    ¡°Can you fix him so soon after patching up James from the fall?¡± Ser Edwin''s voice was flat. There was a controlled evenness to it. Ser Edwin''s gaze did not waver from Max¡¯s face.

    ¡°I can fix the hand, the head wound. The arm will have to heal on its own, as well as the bruised ribs and other spots.¡± Silvia had knelt next to Max, her hand lightly on his head. ¡°I won''t be in any state to get home though.¡±

    ¡°You can sleep in my bed, I have a feeling I won''t need it tonight.¡± The evenness was cold, detached. The spark James had seen growing in Ser Edwin¡¯s gaze was gone. Silvia put her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. They met eyes for a moment, and James got the feeling that there was some unspoken conversation between them. Ser Edwin''s shoulders sagged then, like air let out of a festival balloon. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m needed here. We will let you work.¡±

    Miss Silvia removed several small objects from her bag and began setting them up around Max. James felt the shove more than saw it. Edwin had positioned himself between James and Max. His bulky frame blocked the other boy from James¡¯s view.

    ¡°Upstairs now.¡± Ser Edwin crossed his arms, clearly not moving, no matter how James tried to peek around him. The slap was so quick and hard it nearly sent James to the floor, his face stinging from the force. ¡°Now. This is not something boys should see.¡±

    James thought about trying his luck one more time as the light in the room began to dance and flicker. But Edwin¡¯s raised hand said clearly he would not like the results of that. Slowly, James backed up to the ladder and climbed up to his room. As he climbed, he saw something his mind would replay over and over until the blackness of exhaustion finally claimed him.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Miss Silvia¡¯s face was all wrong over Ser Edwin''s shoulder, the skin had been grey and pulled tight against her face, her raven hair colorless and brittle. She had seemed in pain, her head tossed back and mouth open wide in a silent scream.

    The next morning, he came awake to the events of the night before springing to life in his mind. James all but fell down the ladder to the sound of laughter and clanking of plates. Ser Edwin and Miss Silvia sat over the small table, bowls of oats forgotten and smiles on their faces.

    ¡°You know you are supposed to climb down the ladder,¡± Miss Silvia said, taking a drink from a small glass cup. The color had returned to her face, and her hair was thick and dark once more, but James swore there were more lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. ¡°You are staring, James. Some women might find that rude.¡±

    ¡°Give it a rest, Sil. He must be nervous for his friend. Come eat before the oats get cold.¡± Ser Edwin scooted his stool a bit closer to Miss Silvia, leaving enough room for another stool at the table.

    ¡°Max is fine, he¡¯s sleeping it off in the forge. I didn''t have another bed here, so I put him out there in my hammock. Here, take a bowl to him.¡±

    James all but bolted from the room, a bowl of oats in each hand, the sound of laughter chasing after him. Sure enough, Max sat on the hammock slung neatly off in a corner. Despite the fire not being lit, the forge was still rather warm. Slowly, his feet grew heavy, and his gaze plummeted to the floor.

    ¡°Heya, Max. I uh, got breakfast.¡±James held out the bowl to his friend. Max tried to reach for it with his broken arm, but it was bound against his chest to keep from moving. Clumsy Max took the bowl with his left.

    ¡°Tanks,¡± was all Max could muster, awkwardly trying to hold the bowl and eat with his left hand. ¡°Sorry I scared ya last night.¡±

    ¡°What, I wasn¡¯t scared. I, I, I wasn¡¯t scared.¡± James said, pushing down the guilt he felt.

    ¡°Ha, ya were totally scared. Ser Edwin help!¡± Max pitched his voice high and raised his free arm, nearly spilling the oats.

    ¡°I was not.¡± James sat down on the hammock next to his friend. ¡°What even happened, Max?¡±

    ¡°Eh, be honest, I don¡¯t remember much. Da older boys, da ones about to graduate, dey say da Master wanted to see me. So I followed dem down to da basement. Next thing I knew, there was a bag on me head, and one of dem said da Master was disappointed in me and that dey were to make sure I understood. Then it all was kinda a blur. Till I get outta there, and I¡¯m walking the road here. I can¡¯t tell ya why I knew to come here; I just did.¡±

    Max scratched at his head, the bowl of oats finally falling to the ground. Both boys just looked at it, horrified, then started laughing.

    ¡°Guess a part of you knew you¡¯d be safe here,¡± James said, wiping tears from his eyes.

    ¡°Guess so. I think part of me knew ya always had my back.¡± Max elbowed James, causing the hammock to rock and James¡¯s bowl to fall to the ground next to Max¡¯s, and another round of laughter.¡°Guess we betta clean dis up.¡±

    ¡°Probably. I don¡¯t think Ser Edwin would want rats in the forge.¡±James said, hearing a commotion outside the forge. Both boys jumped up and made their way to the closest set of forge doors, the spilled oats left behind, forgotten.

    ¡°You are allowed one apprentice, Ser Edwin. Per our deal, you got James. Max is to return with me to the school, where he can complete his training and join the Imperium like the rest of the teens. It is his duty.¡±

    The Master stood nearly toe to toe with Ser Edwin, his sky-blue coat flapping in the morning breeze. The Master, a whole head shorter than Ser Edwin, jabbed the larger man¡¯s chest with his finger, emphasizing each word.

    ¡°The Imperium demands sacrifice, and it is our honor to provide it.¡±

    ¡°If you don''t take a step back and stop poking me, I''ll break that finger, sir.¡± Ser Edwin pulled himself up to his full height, his thick arms held tight against the sides of his body. The look he gave the Master was what James¡¯s teachers had called the killing gaze. A single determined look of detached emotion. Miss Silvia pushed her way between the two men.

    ¡°Now we cannot be breaking agreements, gentlemen, it would be unwise for us to do so.¡± Miss Silvia turned, putting her back to Ser Edwin and fully facing the Master. ¡°I would like to take Max as my apprentice. The boy has shown promise the last two days¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut your mouth, witch! I will not hear a word you have to say.¡± The Master tried to push Miss Silvia out of the way.

    Smack.

    The sound was like thunder. James had thought Ser Edwin''s smack on him had been hard, but this left no doubt in his mind Ser Edwin had held back. The Master¡¯s head barely moved, but when Ser Edwin had pulled his hand back, there was a large red patch visible even from where the boys watched.

    ¡°That was unwise, blacksmith. Fine, keep the boy, consort with the witch, I will be back.¡± With that, the Master turned with a flourish of his coat and stormed back up the road.

    Nobody moved for a long moment. Ser Edwin''s hand still held out, he looked at it as though he had never seen it before.

    Miss Silvia hugged him. It was only for a moment before she pulled back and straightened her clothes.

    Ser Edwin moved then, slowly lowering his arm the rest of the way and resting a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°Come on out, boys,¡± he said, rhythm returning to his voice, and the spark returning to his eyes. James and Max slowly made their way to the adults, their feet shuffled along the ground.

    ¡°I hope I don¡¯t get ya in trouble, Ser Edwin.¡± Max¡¯s eyes were firmly searching Ser Edwin¡¯s boots for something.

    ¡°I can go back to the Master, Ser Edwin. I don''t want him to hurt the other kids.¡± James heard the pleading in his voice, even though he tried to hide it. ¡°It¡¯s been a dream being here with you, but I can¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°None of that. Get the fire going, we got work to do. I''m going to walk Miss Silvia back to her place. By the time I get back, I want that fire to be roaring and the metal to be heating up. Do it right or I''ll take it out on you at sword-work this afternoon.¡± The gruffness was back, and his tone left no words for argument as he and Miss Silvia walked away.

    ¡°Ya know how to start da forge?¡± Max asked.

    ¡°No. But I think we better figure it out.¡±

 Fishing

    ¡°Switch,¡± James called, ducking out of the way as Max moved in to take over the bellows. James ran outside and dunked his head into the water barrel, and downed a large gulp of water. James could feel the smile pulling at his lips as he walked back into the forge. The fire roared, and the clang, clang, clang of Ser Edwin¡¯s hammer felt more and more like home in these last few days since Max had arrived.

    Stepping back in to take back over the bellows, James said, ¡°Okay, I got it.¡±

    ¡°Keep it steady, this is tricky work. The temperature needs to be just right or the metal won''t bond to itself.¡± Edwin¡¯s bark of orders came. This was their second attempt bonding a stack of different pieces of metal together. Last time, something had gone wrong in the billet, causing the end to bloom open like a flower. ¡°Steady, boys.¡±

    One-Two-Three-Four, Pull. One-Two-Three-Four, Release.

    ¡°You¡¯re going too fast. It''s gonna open again,¡± Max said, counting out loud with James¡¯s pulls.

    ¡°I got it, Max, we got this.¡± James said, keeping count in his head.

    Ser Edwin pulled the billet out of the fire; it was a bright red, nearly glowing white. Ser Edwin moved it to the anvil fast, raising his hammer in an even rhythm. Each strike on the metal was followed by a tap on the anvil. Bang, tap, bang, tap, bang, tap. The metal grew with each powerful strike before he placed it back in the fire, wiping sweat from his brow.

    ¡°Good work, boys, the bonds are holding.¡± Ser Edwin¡¯s grin was genuine as he nodded in approval at the boys.

    The billet came out again and again. Each time, following the same pattern¡ªbang, tap, bang, tap. The rhythm itself, hypnotic, Max switching in and out as James¡¯s arms cramped. Slowly, little by little, the billet became a flat, long piece of metal.

    Edwin moved quickly, dunking the glowing hot metal into the barrel of oil. James crossed every finger he had.

    Please let it be straight, please let it be straight.

    The bubbling was so loud, but there was no telltale tink that the metal had cracked or warped. Slowly, as it was still hot, Ser Edwin pulled it from the oil, holding it at eye level.

    ¡°It''s straight,¡± Edwin said, the joy dripping with each word. ¡°Good work, boys.¡±

    ¡°Whoo-hoo.¡± Max jumped up and down, his free hand slapping James on the back. James placed his hand on his knees, the exhaustion of the last few hours overtaking him.

    ¡°So, it''s a sword now?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, Max, there is still work to be done. But this part is over, now we shape it, sharpen it, and put a handle on it.¡± Gingerly, Ser Edwin set the not-sword down on the anvil. ¡°But for now, I believe that it''s time for you boys to show me Earth stance.¡±

    Both boys let out a long groan but quickly moved out to the pit as they had come to call it. Max taking up a one-armed stance, and James picking up his blade. Ser Edwin followed behind the boys, circling slowly as each boy moved from one pose to the next.

    Thwak.

    Pain lanced James¡¯s bicep.

    Thwak.

    ¡°Ouch.¡± Max jumped nearly a foot in the air. ¡°Dat hurt.¡±

    ¡°Pain is an excellent teacher.¡±

    ¡°But I got a broken arm,¡± Max said, fixing his footing.

    ¡°Your legs still work.¡± Ser Edwin circled, twice more, his grey eyes watching every little movement.

    The boys had practiced each movement nearly non-stop when not in the forge for the last few days. Miss Silvia pushed through the gate, a large basket slung over one arm.

    ¡°Enough. Time to eat.¡±

    ¡°Still working them to the bone, I see. Will you not let up, Edwin?¡± Miss Silvia pulled up to the house, waiting patiently at the door. ¡°They are boys, they need rest to grow properly.¡±

    ¡°They sleep.¡± Ser Edwin held the door open for her. ¡°Will you come in?¡±

    ¡°Thank you. And rest is not just sleeping. Tomorrow is Sunday. Let me take them to the river. I am in need of fish, and I fear I am not much of a fisherwoman.¡± Miss Silvia smiled, a look that reminded James of a cat who had cornered a mouse. Ser Edwin let out a sound somewhere between a harrumph and a growl. She slowly patted Ser Edwin¡¯s cheek. ¡°I will take that as a yes, since words have seemed to fail you.¡±

    The food was wonderful. James had never eaten so much fresh fruit and vegetables. He had never known such things existed¡ªpears, raspberries, strawberries, carrots, and more.

    Tonight was a stew made with fresh herbs and potatoes. James¡¯s mouth watered at the earthy smell. She also brought a loaf of fresh-baked bread and a thick cut of butter.

    ¡°Miss Silvia, I ain¡¯t never had such nice food,¡± James said around a chunk of bread that had been dipped in the stew.

    ¡°I am merely taking care of my boys,¡± she said, rifling his hair. ¡°It has been a long time since I had anyone to take care of. It feels nice.¡±

    The grunt Ser Edwin made seemed more an acceptance of fate than an acknowledgment that he wanted someone taking care of him, but James had noticed that Ser Edwin¡¯s eyes seemed to soften when Miss Silvia was near. He wasn¡¯t as short with them either, it¡¯s almost like he liked when she was around.

    ¡°Boys, I need the forge scooped out before bed, make sure you pile the ash safely in the boxes so it doesn¡¯t catch in the wind and set fire to anything. Then off to bed with ya,¡± Ser Edwin cut himself another slice of bread, looking thoughtful. ¡°I¡¯ll take the ash to town tomorrow and sell it, see if I can get ya boys your own aprons, so we can start your training properly.¡±

    The look the boys shared over matching faces full of food set Miss Silvia to laughing, and Ser Edwin trying not to laugh. James had to try hard not to spit his food from his mouth. Max was not as successful, which set a whole new round of laughter.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    James was so tired when he finally climbed the ladder to his room, each limb heavy and slow to move. His muscles protested with each rung he climbed. He could hear Ser Edwin and Miss Silvia below, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not make sense of what they were saying. All his mind wanted was to close his eyes and fall into the darkness of a dreamless sleep. James didn¡¯t remember climbing into bed, but it was so warm and the pillow so soft. He was asleep before he could even pull the covers up.

    The dark swirled around James; all at once, his awareness came back to him.

    ¡°Hello, James,¡± the voice was soft and ephemeral. ¡°I have waited a long time to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Who are you? Is this a dream?¡± James turned his head, trying to find the voice. No matter where he looked all he saw was black mist. ¡°Where are you?¡±

    ¡°So many questions. I guess it''s only natural.¡± Long, elegant, graceful fingers clasped either shoulder; he could feel the warmth of each word on his cheek. ¡°I had a name long ago, but I fear in my slumber I have forgotten it, and yes, this is a dream.¡±

    James¡¯s shoulders relaxed. In dreams, things couldn''t hurt you. He was safe. The dark grew around him, a deep cold sank into his bones.

    ¡°You are no more safe here, little seed, than you are in your body,¡± the woman whispered in his ear.

    With each word, the voice became more clear and more feminine.

    There was a long silence. James nearly spoke, but each word froze in his throat.

    The voice giggled. ¡°I can touch you here far more than I can reach you out there, little seed.¡±

    ¡°W-W-Why are you calling me that?¡± James tried to turn to face the voice, a shiver running up his spine, but all he saw was the mist.

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what you are. My little seed, growing to be something much better than human.¡±

    No matter which way he turned, the voice and hands stayed fixed just over his shoulder.

    ¡°Rest now, little seed. I will see you again soon. I wake a bit more each day.¡±

    James jerked awake, cold sweat rolling down his brow. He could hear the morning rooster calling the start to the day. Slowly, James sank back down to the bed. He could still hear the whispers and feel the lingering touch on his shoulders. He closed his eyes against the morning light and thought hard at himself.

    It was only a dream, only a dream.

    ¡°I hear ya, boy, might as well come down and help with breakfast. Miss Silvia will be along shortly,¡± Ser Edwin called up the ladder. ¡°Get a move on.¡±

    James washed his face, trying to scrub away the nightmare, slipped on his boots, and hurried down the ladder. He could hear Max doing the same from the other room; he and Ser Edwin had converted from a storeroom.

    ¡°Fishing,¡± Max yelled, getting to the bottom of the stairs. ¡°It be a long time since we gon fishin.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± was all the response James could muster, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

    The smell of morning oats and toasting bread hit him then, all tiredness evaporating from his body.

    ¡°Morning, boys,¡± Miss Silvia said, standing just outside the door. ¡°Something smells good.¡±

    ¡°Come in, Miss Silvia,¡± James and Max said at the same time. ¡°Jinx.¡±

    ¡°You should not jinx your friends, boys. It is bad luck,¡± she said, wiggling her finger at them.

    ¡°Sorry, Miss Silvia,¡± James said, following his nose to the little kitchen they all seemed to share.

    The kitchen was full of activity as Ser Edwin moved to serve the oats, cut the bread, and drink from his stein. James got the feeling he was trying to show that he could take care of himself just fine.

    The smell of something burning hit them then, and the string of words Ser Edwin let out James had never heard before. James thought they might not be in the common tongue.

    James quickly pushed past the larger man, scooped up the burning toast, and tossed it to the side, cutting four new slices and leaving them to toast next to the warm fire.

    ¡°Thank you, James, that was mighty thoughtful,¡± Miss Silvia said, to a flushed-looking Ser Edwin who just grunted and took another drink from his stein.

    ¡°I¡¯m off to town. I got the ash and other orders loaded. No need to wait for me.¡± Ser Edwin pushed out the small kitchen door, leaving the boys to gape and grin at Miss Silvia. Their excited energy was almost palpable.

    ¡°Grab the toast and you can eat it while we walk,¡± she said, turning to the door. The boys leapt to their feet and marveled only for a moment as the fire in the cook oven dimmed and went out. They still found these little magics wonderful. ¡°Come along now. The fish will be out for their morning meals as well.¡±

    The walk from the forge to the river was peaceful in the morning air¡ªthe crisp grass underfoot, the songbirds singing to the new day¡¯s sun. Even the fog had started to blow away, the first sunbeams glowing through the canopy of trees.

    Today is going to be a good day.

    The river was slow-moving, but deep and wide during the summer months. When it got warm, the kids from the town would often sneak away to come swimming here in the small pools that formed on the edge of the river.

    James could hear it before he saw the river, the slap of the current against the rocks, the bubbling that never seemed to go away. He breathed in the scent of fresh water, the fishing pole slung over his shoulder feeling lighter, the ache in his neck and back easing just a bit.

    Miss Silvia led them to just off the worn path to a little pool created by a circle of rocks. Fish the size of James¡¯s arm swam there, nibbling at something just under the surface. Slowly, the boys lowered their lines into the water, not wanting to spook the fish. But a small rock was knocked free and fell into the water, scattering the fish.

    ¡°Drat,¡± Max called, stomping his foot. ¡°Dey were good ones.¡±

    ¡°Patience over haste, Maximus. You will have plenty of time to catch us fish today,¡± Miss Silvia said, spreading out a large blanket on the bank of the river. ¡°Today is about more than just fishing.¡±

    Max moved a bit more downriver, casting his line out into the river before taking up a cross-legged seat and starting to whistle tunelessly. James let his line rest in the pool, lost in thought. So much had happened over the last week, it was hard to believe such little time had passed. He didn''t quite believe it.

    ¡°I know that look. Where have you gone off to?¡± Miss Silvia called, a small book in her hand.

    ¡°Nothing, just can''t believe all that¡¯s been happening. Ya know?¡± James tossed his line back out into the river. ¡°Seems like only yesterday I was practicing to go off to war. Now I might get to stay here with Ser Edwin, Max, and you.¡±

    ¡°You know Max may still have to leave and I can not stay forever.¡± Miss Silvia''s face turned dark for a moment. Before she smiled at him.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± James turned his head to look at her. ¡°I thought he was safe now like me.¡±

    ¡°He is and he is not. Max is safe from the school and the Master¡¯s grip. But Ser Edwin is only allowed one apprentice by law. So if the Imperium pushes or the Master does, he will have to go.¡± She gave him a weary smile. ¡°But that is still a ways off and I pray each day that does not come to be.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s not fair.¡± James said, the fishing pole and line were forgotten as he stood to face her. ¡°It¡¯s not right.¡±

    ¡°The world is not always fair, James.¡± Miss Silvia looked sad as she reached up to touch the locket she always wore. Just then there was a splash as something fell into the water. James¡¯s fishing pole was just inside the water, quickly being pulled downstream.

    ¡°Shoot.¡± James screamed, kicking off his boots and diving in after it. The river was strong today, but James was a good swimmer. Soon he caught up to the pole and grabbed hold of it, but whatever had grabbed the other end was strong too. He wrestled, trying to get a hold of something, but whatever was on the line kept pulling him deeper into the middle of the river. His head was pulled under as he gasped for breath. He held tight to the fishing pole and didn''t want to lose it. Ser Edwin had entrusted it to him. James thought Ser Edwin would be so disappointed if James lost it. Somewhere in his mind he knew he should let go, but he didn''t want to. James reached deep down inside him. To that dark spot the voice in him lived and pulled. It was like he had been stung by a lightning bug; a small jolt of energy shot down his arm, and he watched a small glow surge down the fishing line. Then, all of a sudden, the line went slack. James swam for the surface, his lungs burning and legs aching. Strong feminine hands grabbed him, hauling him to the edge of the river. Air poured into his lungs, as he gasped for air.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Miss Silvia¡¯s tone was stern, her hair-dress damp and hair clinging to her face.

    ¡°I don''t know,¡± he said sheepishly, ¡°I just reached¡­¡±

    ¡°You could have died chasing that stupid fishing pole. You should have just let it go.¡± She pulled him from the water, her eyes sparked with anger. He didn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°Did you at least catch the fish?¡±

    James pulled at the line, there at the end was the largest bass James had ever seen. It took most of his strength just to lift it to shore. James could hear Max¡¯s shout for joy, but something inside him felt wrong, felt off, like a door had been left slightly ajar.

 Shadows of Doubt

    ¡°Come on, boys, let us get that fish back to the forge.¡± Miss Silvia called. The branch snap drew her attention ahead where the shadows were too deep for the midday sun. ¡°Boys, stay back.¡±

    ¡°Now, now, witch, give us the God Seed, and you and the other boy won¡¯t get hurt.¡± The voice scraped against her mind like nails dragged across stone, sharp, grating, and impossible to ignore. Two large beasts, the size of a pony, prowled out of the dark shadows. Their bodies were made of a thick, dry material, as though a tumbleweed had come to life. Glowing red eyes atop a muzzle of snarling teeth locked on Miss Silvia. ¡°I don''t have the patience to wait.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Fire erupted from her outstretched hand, sweat beading across her forehead. The beast leapt to the side, circling to pin Miss Silvia between them. ¡°The boy is under my protection. Whiskers, I need you.¡±

    Crack

    The sharp snap of breaking wood rang through the air. James barely had time to cover his ears before he and Max dove behind a blackberry bush, hearts hammering. Whiskers had fallen atop one of the Wicker Beasts as though from thin air. His claws dug deep cuts into the thorny lattice that made up the creature¡¯s body. It howled in pain, bucking and thrashing to dislodge the feline. Miss Silvia circled the other creature; this one bore a large scar over one eye, a deep cut where the vines had not grown back.

    ¡°I know you,¡± Silvia said, her hands stretched out in front of her, waiting. ¡°You came for me last year. I gave you that scar.¡±

    Scar lunged, his jaws snapping shut with a vicious clack¡ªbarely missing Miss Silvia¡¯s fingertips. She jerked back, the rush of air from his bite cold against her skin. But Scar was already shifting, pressing forward before she could fully recover. A wall of thorn-laced muscle slammed into her, driving her off balance. The ground rushed up to meet her as she hit the dirt hard.

    Smack

    Miss Silvia''s head hit the ground, the wet sound like a melon cracking open. She saw stars, and the world fuzzed around her.

    <hr>

    James didn¡¯t think; he just moved. His legs pushed off before he fully realized what he was doing. He crashed into Scar¡¯s side with everything he had, the impact sending a shock through his shoulder. Knocking the creature airborn. It twisted midair, its unnatural, jerking movements like a puppet cut loose from its strings. Scar landed lightly, too lightly, on all fours, his glowing red eyes locking onto James like twin burning embers.

    ¡°I see you, little seed.¡± The sound hurt, unnatural, as though each word was being forcefully shoved into his head. ¡°My master wants you dead.¡±

    James was frozen in that stare. He grabbed at his head, pain bloomed just behind his eyes. He reached for the door inside him. He could feel it, the power there. But the pain of the words, the glowing red eyes; he couldn''t quite reach it. Scar lunged, his jagged maw stretching wide. James¡¯s pulse slammed in his ears, but the instant those burning eyes broke away; his body reacted. He dropped low, twisted, and drove his fist forward as hard as he could. His knuckles met Scar¡¯s head with a dull, splintering crack. The creature recoiled, a shudder rippling through its form as though it was struggling to hold its shape.

    James spun on his heel, shifting his stance just as Ser Edwin had drilled into him a hundred times. It feinted left and lunged, this time trying to knock James down like it had with Miss Silvia.

    James ducked and rolled to the side, coming up with a large stick in his hands. His body flowed into a defensive stance, stick out in front of him.

    ¡°I will tear your throat open boy.¡± The words in James¡¯ mind stung but he pushed the pain down deep, ignoring them. Scar circled, trying to catch James in a moment of distraction. James waited, each step slow, moving to follow the large predator as it prowled around him. ¡°You¡¯re not as good as you think you are.¡±

    Scar rushed in low, striking with his claw up toward James¡¯s chest. James brought his stick down, cutting at the arm of the claw.

    Crack.

    Scar leapt back, snapping at James¡¯s overextended stick, trying to wrest it free. James brought the point back up, resuming his defensive stance once more. Scar landed uneasily, the claw hanging loosely from where James had connected.

    Loud cracking came from where Whiskers was fighting the other beast, the sound as though something was being crushed. Sure enough, the Wicker Beast had collapsed under the weight of the large cat, and the pile of vines and thorns was quickly losing its shape. Whiskers went to stand defensively over Miss Silvia, the hair on its back sticking out, and letting out a deep hissing sound. Miss Silvia seemed to be stirring. All the hair on James¡¯s arms stood up at the sound Scar made, like two massive boulders grinding against one another. Scar turned with one last glare at James before sinking back into the shadows and disappearing into the woods.

    Tossing the stick aside, James ran to Miss Silvia as she started to sit up, rubbing at her head. Shakily, she got to her feet, leaning heavily against Whiskers. There was an unfocused look to her eyes.

    ¡°Miss Silvia?¡± James¡¯s voice was uncertain. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡±

    ¡°Those are beasts of dark magic. They were here for me,¡± she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Can you walk me back to the forge? I fear my legs are too wobbly for me to do it on my own.¡±

    ¡°But I heard it in my head,¡± James said, letting Miss Silvia lean on him for support. ¡°It called me¡­¡±

    ¡°They lie, James. It was here for me,¡± Miss Silvia said, her voice pleading. ¡°Maximus, can you handle the fish? I fear James will have to help me walk.¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°eh, ''ight, I can do dat.¡± There was rustling as Max crawled out from his hiding spot. ¡°It¡¯s gonna needa washin¡¯ though.¡±

    ¡°That is fine, Maximus. Let us just get back to the forge.¡± Whiskers was circling James and Miss Silvia¡¯s feet, the cat seeming to have shrunk down to the size of a normal house cat.

    ¡°Miss Silvia, why has Whiskers gotten smaller?¡± James gingerly pushed Whiskers out of the way with his foot.

    ¡°It takes a lot of energy to fight off a Wicker Beast as a familiar, James. You would be tired too, if you did not have the energy of youth.¡± James could feel the energy of the moment already leaving him.

    James glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting glowing red eyes to emerge from the shadows. His skin still prickled from the memory of Scar¡¯s voice in his mind, the way it twisted his thoughts like moss strangling a tree. But nothing followed them. Just the hush of wind through the leaves.

    The rest of the walk to the forge was peaceful. The sun kept moving forward, shifting the shadows along the ground as the group walked. Occasionally, they would sit to let James or Max rest. Whiskers would dash off at these times to either side of the path before coming back just before they got up to leave. James tried not to jump at every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves, but it was slow going. It felt like he was on his last nerve by the time they reached the forge.

    ¡°Blessed Mother, what happened to you?¡± Ser Edwin leapt from the cart and ran to pick Miss Silvia up in his arms. She tried to protest, but her movements were uneven, and each strike of her fist was weak against the large man''s chest. For the first time that James had seen, a genuine look of panic ran across Ser Edwin''s face. ¡°Get that cleaned up. I¡ªI will take care of Miss Silvia.¡±

    Edwin pushed into the house, the cart and boy left outside. James watched as a light lit up Ser Edwin¡¯s room. Max and James just stared at each other, neither one of them wanting to break the silence.

    ¡°That was so cool.¡± They said in unison.

    ¡°I can''t believe you hit dat thing with a stick. You were like, whack, and bam, and¡ª¡± Max dropped the fish in his excitement, mimicking each sound effect with a swing of an imaginary sword.

    ¡°I know, and Whiskers jumped on that other thing like¡ª¡± and was clawing at it.¡± James swiped at the air, fingers stretched out into claws. ¡°Miss Silvia was like¡ª¡±

    Both boys turned, their excitement draining away in a moment as they looked to the lit window of Ser Edwin¡¯s room.

    ¡°Is she gonna be okay?¡± Max said, picking the fish back up.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Max. I think she hit her head on a rock.¡± James held the door to the kitchen open for Max. ¡°I guess we should do what Ser Edwin asked.¡±

    ¡°Ya, okay.¡± Both boys solemnly walked into the kitchen and set about cleaning and cooking the fish.

    <hr>

    ¡°Miss Silvia, are you awake?¡± James couldn''t sleep. A knot had formed in his stomach during dinner, something Miss Silvia had said at the river coming back to him. But there was no answer as he snuck into Ser Edwin¡¯s room.

    Miss Silvia lay on the bed, her head wrapped in bandages. Ser Edwin had said that he had seen head wounds like this back in his days as a knight. The look of determination that had crossed his face did not bring James any peace.

    What if I can help her? I don''t want her to die.

    James crept along the floor, slowly inching his way to the bed, unsure of where Ser Edwin was. Miss Silvia was still, her chest barely rising and falling. Cold sweat ran down James¡¯s spine.

    ¡°Please don''t die, Miss Silvia. I still need you. Max still needs you. Ser Edwin still needs you, even if he won''t say it.¡± James placed his hand on her forehead, like she had done for Max, and reached down into the power that was growing inside him. Pushing that door open just the littlest more. Pain lanced up his arm, as an orange tabby launched itself onto it. Claws dug deep cuts into his skin. James pulled back, blood running down his arm. Whiskers hissed, tail twitching back and forth, guarding Miss Silvia¡¯s still-sleeping form. James pleaded with the cat, grabbing a spare bandage from a pile on the nightstand. ¡°I¡¯m trying to help her, Whiskers.¡±

    The cat only hissed, violet eyes locked on James.

    Ser Edwin burst into the room then, candle in hand. The small light caused the shadows to jump and dance.

    ¡°What are you doing, boy?¡± A furrow formed between his eyebrows as he saw the bandage and the blood that started to seep through.

    ¡°I couldn''t sleep, I just wanted to check on her.¡± James met the older man''s gaze, willing him to believe him.

    Ser Edwin¡¯s shoulders slackened, and he motioned for James to follow him out of the room. Whiskers relaxed as James stepped away towards the door, circling and laying down on Miss Silvia¡¯s stomach. Those glowing eyes never left James till he was out of sight.

    ¡°Let me see what the blasted cat has done to your arm.¡± Ser Edwin motioned for James to take a seat at the kitchen table. ¡°It tried to keep me from wrapping her head. Thought it was going to claw my eyes out.¡±

    James sat down and peeled back the bandage. Four deep cuts ran down half the length of his forearm. Ser Edwin let out a long whistle.

    ¡°That¡¯ll need stitching. Wait here.¡± James looked down at his arm. He knew he should feel pain¡ªit had hurt originally¡ªbut as he watched, the wound slowly stopped bleeding, and the flesh knit itself together, long silvery scars forming where the scratches had been. When Ser Edwin returned, a small sewing kit in hand, James swore a look of fright crossed his face before the larger man squared his shoulders and pulled James to his feet, dragging him outside. ¡°It''s about time you told me what happened today.¡±

    ¡°I-I-I don''t know, Sir.¡± James spluttered, the words not wanting to come out. ¡°We were attacked by these things.¡±

    Ser Edwin tossed the boy into the middle of the practice area. James rolled with the impact, the rough sand scraping his hands as he came up to his feet, hand raised in the air.

    ¡°I don''t want to fight you,¡± James said.

    ¡°Good. I don''t want to fight you,¡± Ser Edwin said, the moonlight adding an ethereal glow to his grey hair. Ser Edwin stalked James. ¡°Tell me honestly, boy. Has she spoken to you?¡±

    ¡°Miss Silvia, no, not since you scooped her up.¡± James backed away frantically, hands still raised.

    ¡°Not her. Has she?¡± Ser Edwin clenched and unclenched his fists, as though trying to grasp something that was not there. He closed the gap between them, grabbing James by the front of his shirt, lifting the boy with ease. The way he had emphasized the word she brought the dream from last night flooding back into James¡¯s mind. His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar tightness growing within him. His breath came in short, panicked gasps.

    ¡°Don''t lie to be boy. Look at your arm.¡± James could see his silvery scars, they almost glowed in the moonlight. Ser Edwin slammed James into the dirt, driving the air from his lungs. James beat frantically at the fist holding him. Gasping for air, tears streamed down his face. James stared into the face of the man he trusted, but there was only cold anger staring back.

    ¡°The only woman I have seen is Miss Silvia. Please, Ser Edwin. Please.¡± James''s voice cracked; he couldn¡¯t meet Ser Edwin¡¯s gaze. He clutched at Ser Edwin¡¯s arm, his fingers digging in as if anchoring himself to a world he suddenly feared to lose. ¡°I promise you.¡±

    Ser Edwin took a breath, slow and controlled. The moonlight highlighting the tears sparkling on the boy''s face. Ser Edwin released James and set him on his feet, turning his back on the boy in an attempt to hide his shame. For a moment, he gazed at the half-full moon rising above the trees, his shoulders sagging in quiet defeat, before finally turning to face James.

    ¡°Blessed Mother, boy. I am sorry. I let my worry for Sil get the best of me. I¡¯ve lost too many friends to the dark, and I am scared. Can you forgive an old man?¡±

    He reached out a hand toward the boy. James ran past the extended hand, wiping tears away, and embraced Ser Edwin. Who stiffened in surprise, unsure how to respond. After a brief pause, he returned the embrace, a soft chuckle escaping him as James pulled away.

    ¡°Of course, Ser Edwin,¡± said James, a smile spreading from ear to ear. The soft, silvery glow of the moon illuminated Ser Edwin¡¯s tired face. ¡°That¡¯s what family does.¡±

 The Summons

    The forge had become home, its heat and rhythm as familiar as his hands. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, as James settled into his new normal. Miss Silvia recovered, though something in her movements had changed. She was still quick, still sharp, but the fluid grace that once defined her was gone, replaced by careful, deliberate steps. Max had grown like a weed, shooting up nearly two feet in what felt like days, his voice cracking between deep baritone and boyish squeak. Ser Edwin drilled them both from sunup to sundown, alternating between blacksmithing and swordplay until their hands were raw and their muscles ached.

    James welcomed this pain. It meant he was alive. It meant he was earning the life he had been given.

    The nightmares hadn''t stopped. He would wake in a cold sweat. A lingering feeling of a beautiful woman bathed in light, silver hair falling down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes, lacking pupil or iris, were just filled with a field of endless stars.

    Her words slipped away before he could remember them, only the phrase ¡°little seed¡±¡ªringing in his head, sometimes in her voice, sometimes in Scar¡¯s.

    James never shared this.

    He didn''t want to tell Ser Edwin.

    Or Miss Silvia.

    Or even Max.

    They would look at him like they did when the light of the fire grew brighter as he walked into a room, or when his bruises and cuts healed, leaving small silver scars. Looks of concern, of worry, then they would smile and tell him things were okay.

    James pushed it down, down inside, near the place where the door of power still lay ajar, ever so slightly.

    The morning air was crisp, still holding the last bite of night, but the forge had already stirred awake. The coals in the banked fire glowed faintly, sending wisps of warmth into the early dawn.

    James moved through Earth Stance, slow and deliberate, the wooden sword an extension of himself. Step, pivot, strike. His feet slid into place without thought, his body flowing through each movement as if he''d done it a thousand times before.

    Across from him, Max was struggling.

    ¡°Ah, dammit.¡± The taller boy stumbled mid-step, nearly tangling his legs before catching himself.

    ¡°Grew too fast, didn¡¯t ya, boy?¡± Ser Edwin let out a quiet snort from where he sat near the porch, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

    Max shot him a glare but didn¡¯t stop moving.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t my fault I woke up one mornin¡¯ and me legs was two inches longer.¡± He reset his stance, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Maybe if ya let me sleep instead of runnin¡¯ me ragged, I¡¯d get used to ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°Excuses, Maximus.¡± Miss Silvia chuckled into her tea.

    Max huffed but tried again, stepping into Sky Greets the Mountain like James had¡ªexcept his stance was too high, and when he swung, his balance tipped him forward.

    Thump.

    His wooden sword hit the dirt.

    ¡°Damn dis be too short now,¡± Max muttered, rubbing at his wrists.

    ¡°A sword doesn¡¯t get shorter, boy. Your arms got longer.¡± Ser Edwin sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡°Perhaps it is time you adjust his training, rather than berate him.¡± Miss Silvia raised an eyebrow at Edwin.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Edwin took a long sip of tea.

    James tuned them out, continuing through Fire Meets the Storm, the sequence rolling off him like water. Quick slash, jab, slash, movements. His body moved without thought. One movement moving to the next, each sequence smoother, more fluid.

    He had noticed it lately. How his strikes landed sharper, his steps lighter, his body faster. He had grown too, but it wasn¡¯t just his height or the muscle he had earned under Edwin¡¯s brutal training.

    It was something else, he felt the door, the energy there leaking, spreading out through his body. James feared what would happen if he pushed it open even a bit more.

    <hr>

    ¡°Ya overthinkin¡¯ again.¡±James blinked, coming back to the moment. Max was watching him, arms crossed, his own wooden sword slung over his shoulder.

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, ya are. Got dat look again.¡± Max smirked. ¡°Da one where your face gets all scrunchy.¡±

    James frowned but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he reset his stance. Back to the basics. Back to what he knew.

    ¡°Ya dat one.¡± Max, still wobbly, mimicked James as best he could. His footwork was sloppy, his swings still slightly off but James could tell he was trying. And that was enough.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough for now. Get cleaned up before breakfast.¡± The scent of cooking oats and fresh bread drifted from the house. Ser Edwin stood, stretching with a groan.

    ¡°Thank the Blessed Mother.¡± Max dropped his sword with an exaggerated sigh.

    James smirked but didn¡¯t say anything.

    Miss Silvia gathered the empty cups and glanced at him, her gaze lingering a fraction too long.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    James caught the look and hesitated. Pausing in putting away the practice blades.

    She sees it too, the way I move, the way I improve too quickly¡­

    ¡°C¡¯mon, Max. Before Edwin eats all the bread.¡± He swallowed hard and forced a smile.

    ¡°Ya old man, dontcha even think ¡®bout it!¡± Max perked up.

    ¡°Move faster, and maybe you¡¯ll get a piece.¡± Edwin snorted.

    The boys took off toward the house, leaving behind Miss Silvia and Edwin, who watched them go, each lost in their own thoughts.

    The scent of fresh bread and warm oats filled the small house, the kind of smell that made a place feel homey. The crisp morning air wafted in with the promise of another long day ahead.

    James and Max stormed in, fresh from practice, still half-covered in sweat. James wiped his brow with the back of his hand before grabbing a slice of bread off the counter. Max all but collapsed onto the stool.

    Ser Edwin sat down across the table, one hand lazily turning a knife over his knuckles, the other holding a bowl of oats. Kicking his boots out in front of him, a picture of ease, but James knew better. Edwin was replaying the morning practice in his mind. Always pushing the boys to improve.

    Miss Silvia moved slowly around the kitchen, her steps. Though she never said a word about it, James could see the stiffness in her frame, the moments she favored one side over the other. She had healed, but something in her had changed. She saw him watching and gave a warm smile.

    "Good training?" Edwin asked, voice muffled as he shoveled another bite of oats into his mouth.

    "I think I broke Max," James said, smirking. ¡°He keeps falling over himself.¡±

    Max shot him a glare.

    "I think I grew another inch since this morning," he muttered, rubbing his leg.

    "Good." Edwin took another bite, chewing slowly before continuing. "Maybe by next month, you''ll finally have some balance. Your Kata is sloppy, you need a better overhand swing into the quick upper cut we were working on."

    ¡°I ain''t that bad.¡± Max let out a low groan, slumping forward against the table. "I'' m doin¡¯ the movements, my arms just don''t do what I tell ¡®em.¡±

    Ser Edwin gave him the look.

    "You''re all limbs, Max. Like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time." James grinned.

    "Yeah, well, at least I''m not perfect all da time.¡± Max stuck his tongue out at James.

    "Not my fault you keep tripping over yourself. Have you tried just being perfect?" James took a slow bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully before giving an exaggerated shrug.

    "If you two spent half as much effort on your studies as you do on antagonizing each other, you''d both be master blacksmiths by now." Miss Silvia chuckled softly, setting cups of tea on the table.

    ¡°So¨C¡± Max nudged James, ignoring Miss Silvia¡¯s words. "Ser Edwin, ya said we¡¯d start makin¡¯ our own real swords soon."

    ¡°Yeah, you promised. We¡¯re ready.¡± James spoon fell back into his bowl, forgotten. His eyes met the older man¡¯s gaze.

    "I did say that, didn''t I?" Edwin glanced between them, swirling his spoon through the last of his oats and leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "And you will. Soon enough.¡±

    Max nearly knocked the table over jumping up from his stool.

    Then the bell rang.

    Clang

    A deep, resonant toll that carried over the town, cutting through the moment like a knife.

    Clang

    James¡¯s hand froze halfway to his mouth.

    Clang

    Miss Silvia¡¯s grip tightened around her cup.

    Clang

    Ser Edwin let out a slow breath, setting his knife down carefully on the table.

    Clang

    Max swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the door as if expecting someone to walk through it.

    Five tolls.

    They all knew what it meant.

    The Imperium was coming.

    "They''re close." James was the first to speak, his voice quieter than before.

    "They will be here by tomorrow." Miss Silvia nodded, barely above a whisper.

    "And the recruiters?" Max shifted uncomfortably. His gaze locked on the floor.

    Ser Edwin sat up on his stool, arms still crossed, his expression unreadable. But there was something hard in his voice when he spoke.

    "Straight to the Master''s house," he said. "To count his stock."

    Max¡¯s spoon slipped from his fingers, clattering against the wooden table. Tears forming in his eyes.

    The silence stretched between them.

    James felt the ache he knew was coming bloom in his chest. He glanced at Max, whose usual easy grin had faded, replaced with something tight, something frightened.

    James knew that feeling well.

    He clenched his hands beneath the table, forcing himself to stay still. He had spent months learning how to fight, how to move, how to shape things from metal; but none of that would stop what was coming.

    "Eat. Ain¡¯t no use starin'' at each other like ghosts. Maybe the Masters forgot about Max "  Ser Edwin breathed heavily, taking a deep pull from his tea.

    ¡°Eh, maybe If pigs flew.¡± Max picked up his spoon again but didn¡¯t take another bite.

    James wasn¡¯t sure if he was hungry anymore.

    <hr>

    Midday brought with it a thick, oppressive heat, the kind that made the air feel heavy and sluggish. The forge roared, the rhythmic clang of Ser Edwin¡¯s hammer beating against metal filling the yard like a heartbeat. Max worked the bellows, sweat dripping from his brow, while James wiped soot from his face, setting another piece of iron onto the coals. The worries of the morning before were forgotten for a time.

    Then James heard it¡ªalmost in opposition to Ser Edwin''s hammering¡ªa steady rhythm of hoofbeats.

    James paused in his task to glance towards the road. A rider in the white and gold of the Imperium thundered forward like a storm cloud. His white mare stretched out in a trot and tacked with a short bow and messenger bags.

    Ser Edwin stilled at the anvil, shoulders squaring. Max hesitated, the bellows half-pulled, as they both followed James¡¯ gaze.

    The rider slowed as he reached the yard, reining in his mount with practiced ease. His gaze swept over them, lingering on James and Max before landing on Ser Edwin. In a flourish, the rider dismounted, his small half cape swirling in the movement. The Imperium¡¯s Messenger¡¯s crest brazened upon it¡ªa falcon clutching arrows and bound scrolls above a crown of golden laurel leaves.

    ¡°Ser Edwin of Arrows Fall:¡± His voice was crisp, formal. ¡°I bear word from Justiciar Cornelius Rholl and Master Declin Garp.¡±

    ¡°That so?¡± Ser Edwin set down his hammer and wiped his hands on a rag, taking his time before meeting the rider¡¯s gaze.

    The messenger pulled a sealed parchment from his belt. The wax bore the Imperium¡¯s sigil: a sword balanced on the scales of justice. James¡¯s stomach twisted at the sight.

    ¡°The Justiciar Rholl assigned to the Twelfth Legion has agreed to hear the Master¡¯s grievances against you,¡± the messenger said, his tone flat, uninterested as he clicked his heels together. ¡°You, along with the boys¡ªMaximus and James¡ªare to appear before him before sundown for judgment.¡±

    Max stiffened beside James. Both boys were wiping their hands on their aprons.

    The Master never lets his toys get away. We should¡¯ve known. I should¡¯ve known.

    James forced himself to breathe evenly, keeping his hands loose at his sides. He could feel his dread of the moment pressing down, settling into his bones.

    Ser Edwin took the letter, turning it over in his hands. He didn¡¯t break the seal, didn¡¯t need to. He already knew what it said. He exhaled, slow and controlled. Then, without a word, he ripped the parchment in two.

    "That is an official order¡ª" The messenger blinked, aghast.

    "I heard you the first time," Ser Edwin said, his voice calm. He tossed the torn parchment onto the forge¡¯s embers, watching as the flames devoured the wax and paper whole.

    "Disobedience will not go unnoticed." The messenger¡¯s jaw tightened, and he straightened his back.

    Ser Edwin''s eyes darkened¡ªthe same cold steel, the look of a man who had stared down armies, monsters, and more. The messenger recoiled a step.

    ¡°I said, I heard you,¡± Edwin repeated. ¡°We¡¯ll be there.¡±

    The rider simply nodded and didn¡¯t run, but walked, just short of a run, back to his horse, mounted and galloped away as fast as he could.

    The boys'' whole bodies relaxed, shoulders sagging as they let out identical long breaths.

    ¡°What¡¯s gonna happen, Ser Edwin?¡± Max swallowed hard, voice coming out quieter than usual.

    Ser Edwin rubbed at his face, a long sigh pushed out of his lips before meeting Max¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Nothing good.¡±

    The forge crackled behind them, the flames hungrily licking at what remained of the Master¡¯s summons. And despite the noon heat, James felt cold to his core.

 The Right of Judgment

    The town was alive with the kind of energy James had only ever seen during festivals. Banners of white and gold hung from windows, their edges fluttering in the warm breeze. Merchants called out, their stalls overflowing with fresh bread, good food, ribbons, and little wooden trinkets carved with golden laurels¡ªthe mark of the Imperium¡¯s favor. Mothers and fathers stood proudly, some holding back tears, as they watched their sons and daughters prepare to leave.

    This was a celebration.

    It always was.

    And James hated it.

    The Master¡¯s mansion loomed ahead, its iron gates wide open, the path leading up polished and clean. A welcome and a reminder of the lengths the Master would do to impress the Imperium.

    James walked beside Max, boots kicking up dust from the well-worn road. He could feel the eyes of the town on them. Watching. Measuring. But not with fear, not with pity, or shame, but with pride.

    Proud of the Master.

    Proud of the Imperium.

    Proud of the children sent to serve. To die.

    By the well, a small group of boys James¡¯s age stood together, their uniforms freshly washed, their hair neatly combed and dress caps tucked neatly under their arms. Volunteers. Their excitement buzzed like insects in the summer heat.

    One of them grinned wide. ¡°Come to sign up, James?¡±

    James didn¡¯t answer. His eyes fixed on the Master¡¯s gates.

    Max did.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t servin¡¯ the Imperium,¡± Max snapped, fists clenching at his sides. ¡°I ain¡¯t leavin¡¯. I got a trade now.¡±

    The boys¡¯ smiles faltered. One of them scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°Ungrateful, runaway,¡± he muttered under his breath.

    ¡°They''re not worth it,¡± he murmured, low enough that only Max could hear. He grabbed Max¡¯s arm, pulling him forward.

    Ahead, Ser Edwin marched forward with purpose, his broad frame cutting through the crowd like a blade. He hadn¡¯t spoken much since they left the forge. His jaw was set, his hands loose at his sides¡ªbut James knew better. That was the stance of a man ready for a fight.

    Miss Silvia had wanted to come. Edwin had forbidden it. The first real fight James had ever seen between the two. Ser Edwin had argued that her presence, that of a witch, would only make things worse.

    Miss Silvia had shrunk back, as though the words had struck her, James had never seen her look so hurt.

    The closer they got to the Master¡¯s mansion, the heavier the air became. James could feel it pressing in, coiling around his ribs like a snake. A very real weight in his soul.

    The memories.

    The endless lessons. The cold halls. The weight of the Master¡¯s gaze, heavy as the chains he would use for disobedience. The ache in his fingers from switches, broken bones, the bruises and cuts from the blademaster''s steel when he made a mistake. The lonely night locked away, hungry, for forgetting a task.

    He felt it all. Like a boulder atop his shoulders.

    But he was not alone this time.

    James stole a glance at Max. He was pale, but Max stood tall.

    If he can do this, I can do this. Fear is a part of me, fear can not be bigger than me if it is a part of me.

    <hr>

    The iron gates stood open, flanked by soldiers of the twelfth legion in their white uniforms. Their halberds held high and reflecting the fading sunlight.

    The Master, in formal robes of blue and gold, think and far too heavy for the heat. His blond hair bound in a tight bun wrapped in a matching ribbon, raised his hands in greeting towards Ser Edwin and the boys. A cruel smile crossed his face.

    ¡°Ah,¡± the Master said, voice smooth as polished glass. ¡°Ser Edwin, I see you¡¯ve brought my wayward child home. Just in time for him to do what is right.¡±

    James felt Max stiffen. His own body reacting to the barbed words.

    ¡°We¡¯re here for judgment.¡± Ser Edwin didn¡¯t break stride, didn¡¯t blink. He walked past the Master to the man who towered just behind the Master.

    The Master¡¯s smile darkened. His blue eyes sharp and cold, flicked to James, to Max, lingering just long enough to remind James of who he was. Who he had always been.

    The Justiciar gleamed in the setting sun, his platemail armor almost glowing. A deep contrast against his dark skin and curls. His golden eyes, deep with a weight of years, looked over Ser Edwin, then Max, and settled on James.  Though he spoke to Edwin, words of legal code, of laws and punishments, James heard a rich baritone, in his mind.

    ¡°Unexpected. That I should find you. The first god-seed in a thousand years. But I see you and your magic that has yet to fully take root. I can help you with that, I can train you as my brothers and sisters trained me.

    James shifted uncomfortable with someone speaking into his mind. But he couldn''t tear his eyes away.

    "I can see your unease. Fear not. You will seek me out, I can see the path before us now, the light shows me the way.¡±

    As quick as it had come, it was gone, the golden eyes shifting back to Ser Edwin, and the spoken words returning.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Your blasted laws be damned, Sir. The boy has lived in my house and eaten my food for months now. By the laws of hospitality, he is my kin, and I do not agree that he releases him to serve.¡± Ser Edwin had drawn himself to his full height. pointing a finger at the Master.  ¡°I request formal judgment.¡±

    ¡°I can grant that, Ser Edwin, but should I rule not in your favor you will be bound to the ruling. Is this a risk you are willing to take?¡± The rich tone of the Justiciar''s voice resonated with power and his irises glowed on the last words.

    ¡°Of course I do. Does that weasel?¡± He pointed at the Master again. A look of triumph dancing across the Master¡¯s face.

    ¡°I do, indeed.¡± The Master''s words dipped like honey, the smile on his face never wavering.

    ¡°Then let my tent be readied for judgment.¡± The Justiciar clapped in the air twice. ¡°Make way, judgment comes.¡±

    ¡°No, Justiciar, you misunderstand me; I move for Formal Judgment, by combat.¡± The gathering crowd gasped at Ser Edwin''s statement, the words cold as steel.

    <hr>

    The air was thick with tension, with an energy, of the moment. James just stared, mouth slack.

    The growing crowd pushed forward, shoving for an inch to get closer to see what was to happen. A murmur of voices went up like a wave, growing  to a cacophony of sound, that seemed to press in from all sides.

    James couldn''t believe what he had heard. A judgment by combat. Edwin was to fight the Master, a man who took his slap full force and did not flinch. James''s mouth went dry, his lips sticking together as he tried to talk.

    Max did not move; his whole body was rigid, as though if he so much as twitched, the world might come crashing down around him.

    Ser Edwin only smiled, a wild wicked thing, rolling his shoulders and standing the tallest James had ever seen.

    This isn''t happening, I have to stop, Ser Edwin could die, I have to stop this.

    He reached down for the glowing light that was his power, determined to push it fully open to drag it kicking and screaming to save his friend and the only father he had ever known. The Justiciar''s eyes locked on James in the instant, his glowing iris weighing, then with a slow shake of his head, James got the distinct feeling he should not follow through with his plan.

    The Justiciar let the excitement grow, his eyes moving from James to the crowd, to Ser Edwin, before landing on the Master. The Sun dipping lower till it seemed to James, and the crowd, to just rest behind the Justiciar¡¯s head. Casting his figure in shadow, all but the glowing eyes.

    "Silence.¡± The Justiciar raised his hands and the roar of the crowd stopped in an instant. His golden eyes matched the halo of sunlight around his head. ¡°The Right of Judgment has been called. By the Law, the combat will be set tomorrow at noon under the Light of Regillius the Father. The rules are simple, no weapons, no armor, and no outside assistance. The conclude when one of the combatants can no longer continue. There will be no appeal, as though Lord Regillius judged, so be it.¡±

    His golden eyes flicked to Ser Edwin, then the Master.

    "Do you both accept these terms?"

    "Aye. I accept." Ser Edwin squared his shoulders once more, cracking his neck and knuckles, with deliberate ease.

    The Master looked to the sky as though in prayer, his ice blue eyes falling hungrily on Max, before locking on Ser Edwin''s face. With a single motion, he shed his ceremonial robes, letting them fall like discarded trash. Beneath, his sleeveless tunic fit snug across his frame, the lean muscle of a man who trained his whole life. Rich tattoos of gold and red wrapped around each arm, displays of dragons and other monsters defeated in gory combat.

    ¡°Of course I do.¡± The Master said, a wide grin that didn''t quite reach his eyes, stretching across his face. James had never seen the Master fight.

    But he had seen the aftermath.

    Bruises. Broken bones. Boys left kneeling on cold stone floors, heads bowed, waiting for permission to rise again, to even speak.

    ¡°I must ask, do either of you need to name a champion.¡± The Justiciar splayed his hands before the two men.

    ¡°I can fight my own¨C¡± James''s body moved before he knew what was happening. He grabbed Ser Edwin''s shoulders and spun the older man to face him. A look of surprise crossed Ser Edwin''s face before his gaze hardened.

    ¡°Let me fight for you.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Ser Edwin tried to turn but James forcefully held him in place. ¡°I said no, boy.¡±

    ¡°You saved me from this monster. Let me save Max.¡± The hard look on Edwin''s face softened for a moment. ¡°Please.¡±

    Max stepped up, stoic resolve on the taller boy''s face. He placed his hands next to James on Ser Edwin¡¯s shoulders. The tears were gone, but there was a spark in the boy''s eyes.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let either of you fight this fight.¡± Ser Edwin''s normally loud voice, all but a whisper. ¡°He can''t hold back with me, and with you if he fought all out, you would die.¡±

    The boys gasped.

    ¡°That¡¯s not allowed,¡± James said. ¡°He would get punished.¡±

    ¡°It is allowed, death is one way a combatant can not continue," Max whispered, his voice cracking. ¡°Easiest way to win, really.¡±

    "Under Imperium law, a champion may be named. Ser Edwin, do you wish to appoint one in your stead?" The Justiciar stepped forward, eyes unreadable, voice even. Placing a hand on each boy''s shoulder. "But they must be considered an adult by the Imperium. This judgment is to name these boys your wards, thus not an adult."

    ¡°But¨C¡± James''s words were cut off at the look Ser Edwin gave, the look.

    ¡°No Justiciar, I will fight my battles.¡± Ser Edwin tore free of the boys'' grip to face the Master once more. The Justiciar''s gaze seemed sorrowful as he looked down on the boys.

    ¡°Master Declin, do you choose a Champion?¡± The Justiciar called.

    ¡°No Cornelius I will fight for my judgment as well.¡± Those blue eyes lingered on Max before falling to James, they seemed to say I¡¯m about to take everything you love from you.

    ¡°Then the Judgment is set, tomorrow at noon.¡± And with a clap of his gauntleted hands like thunder the Justiciar turned to the gathered crowd. ¡°Let us now celebrate the heroes who have joined the ranks of the Imperium today.¡±

    James¡¯s breath came in sharp gasps. His vision blurred red tinges on the edges of his sight, heart pounding in his ears like war drums.

    ¡°You old fool. You stupid, stubborn old fool.¡± He shoved Ser Edwin, hard. The older man didn¡¯t budge. James¡¯s fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. ¡°No wonder you didn¡¯t let her come! She would¡¯ve stopped you! She would¡¯ve called you on your shit¡ª¡±

    ¡°James¡ª¡± Max grabbed him from behind, arms locking around James¡¯s waist.

    James lashed out. His boot shot back, catching Max square between the legs. Max grunted, doubling over, the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze.

    Ser Edwin turned just in time for James¡¯s fist to crash into his jaw.

    It was like punching a stone wall. Pain jolted up James¡¯s arm. Edwin didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t flinch. His eyes held something James didn¡¯t understand¡ªnot anger, not disappointment. Something quieter. Something like regret.

    In one swift motion, Edwin yanked James into a crushing embrace.

    James fought against it, hands pushing at Edwin¡¯s chest, but the fight was already leaving him. He clenched his jaw, chest heaving. Tears stinging his eyes.

    The scent of sweat, steel, and forge oil filled his lungs¡ªthe scent of the man who had saved him, who was basically a father to him. A man who, come tomorrow, might be dead.

    Ser Edwin exhaled deeply. With a soft voice, so low James could barely hear it over the sounds of celebration.

    ¡°He won¡¯t kill me, boy.¡± His grip tightened, desperate and fleeting, for just a moment before releasing James. ¡°Not yet, anyway.¡±

    James staggered back, and Max having recovered from the cheap shot, yanked him further away. A flicker of unease in his eyes, Max stepped between the two but saw quickly the fight was already over.

    Ser Edwin sighed, rubbing his jaw and tugging on his beard. The fire in his eyes dimmed, and he looked as though he was staring at something far in the distance. "Not yet. hopefully." The words all but a whisper, as though speaking to himself. Ser Edwin drew himself back to his full height.

    ¡°I guess¡­¡± he said finally, voice rough, ¡°it¡¯s time I told you both why I came to Oakwood in the first place.¡±

    A pause as he seemed to look for something.

    Then, he motioned toward one of the cider stalls. ¡°Come on. We¡¯re gonna need a drink.¡±

 When Iéˆ¥æª“ Not Around

    The scent of cider and roasted apples hung thick in the air, but James barely noticed it. His stomach was still twisted into knots, his hands shaking at his sides. The rush of adrenaline had left him drained, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with the day¡¯s heat.

    He sat stiffly on the bench, watching as Ser Edwin wordlessly handed a few coins to the vendor. Three clay mugs of cider were set on the table, their golden contents sloshing slightly.

    ¡°Drink,¡± Ser Edwin said, sitting across from them, his broad arms resting on the table. His voice was gruff, taking a long pull from his own mug.

    James and Max didn''t move; they just stared at Ser Edwin.

    The older man let out a long sigh and took another slow sip from his mug. The fire in his eyes was dimmer now, replaced by something James couldn¡¯t quite name.

    Regret. Resignation. Sorrow.

    Maybe all three.

    For a long moment, the only sound between them was the muffled noise of the celebration beyond¡ªlaughter, the ringing of bells, the occasional clank of armor as an Imperium soldier passed by. The town celebrated the recruits they were sending away.

    James gritted his teeth, gripping the cider mug just to keep his hands steady. Ser Edwin tapped his fingers against the clay, eyes flickering between the boys before settling somewhere on the horizon.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t always a blacksmith,¡± he said finally.

    James knew that. Everyone did. The scars, the way he moved, the way he fought¡ªhe was a soldier once. A knight in the big city far to the west. But Ser Edwin wasn¡¯t looking at them like he was about to tell them one of his old war stories. He looked at them like this was a story that would break him.

    Max shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Eh. We know dat.¡±

    Edwin¡¯s jaw tensed. He exhaled heavily through his nose, swirling the cider in his cup before setting it down.

    ¡°I came to Oakwood because I failed for the first time,¡± he said. His voice was quiet, steady. ¡°Because I lost when I was supposed to win.¡±

    Ser Edwin hung his head before draining what was left in his cup.

    James¡¯ breath caught in his throat.

    Max¡¯s expression flickered. ¡°Whatcha you mean, lost?¡±

    Edwin¡¯s fist slammed against the table, sending the cups bouncing, the undrunk cider spilling slightly. His knuckles went white.

    ¡°I mean,¡± he said, ¡°that tomorrow won¡¯t be the first time I¡¯ve fought the Master for someone¡¯s life.¡±

    James felt the pounding in his ears, heavy and even like the forge¡¯s bellows. His mouth was so dry¡ªhe wanted to speak, but the words just lodged in his throat.

    He had done this before. And lost.

    What if he loses this time?

    ¡°You fought him before?" The words barely left his lips, raw and hoarse. James drained half the cup of cider, thankful for the sour-sweet taste.

    Ser Edwin didn¡¯t answer right away. He just stared at his empty mug, fingers drumming against the clay like the distant echo of a forgotten war drum.

    ¡°Ah, I did,¡± Edwin finally said, voice low, raising a hand to order another cup of cider.

    The sounds of the celebration faded, drowned beneath the weight of those two words. Edwin ran a hand down his face, breathing slowly, the weight of those memories visible on his shoulders. ¡°She was a runaway, like you, Max.¡±

    Max stiffened at the mention of his name. ¡°Like me.¡±

    ¡°Aye. First one I''d seen. This was back in Arrow¡¯s Fall, the Master¡¯s first home. Before it fell back to the Wyldlanders.¡± Ser Edwin paused for a moment, letting a teen no older than the boys drop off a fresh mug of cider. He paid the teen and let them get a good way off before continuing. ¡°She was a small thing, twelve¡ªmaybe thirteen. I had seen her ¡®round town. Always smiling, always helping the littles¡ª But something went bad. I was on patrol, rain thick as a sheet. Dere she was, barefoot in a nightgown, bloody in all the wrong places. I knew then what that monster had done.¡±

    James froze, the air around him suddenly growing frigid. Ser Edwin took a long pull from his mug.

    He had seen the Master¡¯s punishments before.

    He had felt them.

    But no one ever ran.

    No one.

    ¡°She stood over the river there. Not the small thing we¡¯ve got, but a big one¡ªruns straight through town. A dangerous one, I tell ya. People would fall all the time, and we¡¯d find their bodies.¡± He hiccuped, eyes gaining that slightly unfocused look. ¡°Miles down the water, all broken and such. I knew she was gonna jump¡ªdon''t know how, but I knew. So I stopped her. I pulled the broken little girl into my arms and held her. She fought at first, weak little hits, but something broke in both of us. Then she was hugging me back¡ªthe warmest little hug I have ever had. Then he showed up.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°What happened?¡± James¡¯s voice was barely a whisper.

    Ser Edwin¡¯s jaw clenched. He didn¡¯t answer right away. Max shifted, glancing between them, shifting uncomfortably on the bench.

    The silence stretched as another round of drinks was brought and paid for. Each of them drank deep of the amber liquid.

    Edwin¡¯s hands were shaking. An earth tremor barely contained.

    ¡°He wanted his plaything back.¡± Edwin downed the last of his second mug, raising his hand for another. ¡°The girl all but hid behind me. Scared to even look at that monster.¡±

    ¡°What happened to her?¡± Max¡¯s voice was pleading.

    ¡°She didn''t make it.¡± Edwin¡¯s eyes were far off again, the boiling anger fixed on a point on the horizon.

    James felt his stomach drop.

    The cider on his tongue turned sour.

    Max dropped his mug altogether, the clay shattering against the floor.

    ¡°She almost did,¡± Edwin continued, his voice quiet, distant, like he was seeing something long past. ¡°I had the monster where I wanted him. Pinned against a wall. He wasn¡¯t nearly as strong back then. He was reckless. Cocky.¡±

    The sneer beneath Ser Edwin''s beard was a cruel thing¡ªa monster itself.

    The boys waited, the silence growing, as Edwin was caught in the memories. James tried to imagine it¡ªa younger Ser Edwin, fighting the Master in the rain.

    ¡°I told her to run, to flee, and never look back.¡±

    The air was still. The words hung there. But the boys knew¡ªthe aches in their muscles, the bruises half-healed told them what had happened even before Ser Edwin spoke again.

    ¡°She hesitated.¡±

    Max closed his eyes, breathing deep.

    James¡¯ fingers dug into the table¡¯s edge before downing the last of his cider.

    ¡°She looked back,¡± Edwin murmured. His voice barely carried over the noise of the town. ¡°He twisted out of my grip like a damn snake and threw her into the river. He laughed the whole time. I still can see her face, the panic strewn across those little features.¡±

    The world felt too quiet to James. Like all sound but the beating of his heart had gone. Something tickled at the back of his mind, the edges of the world going pale. Before it all snapped back.

    Max was on his feet, head turning this way and that, like a deer trying to bolt. Ser Edwin was slumped, shoulders rising and falling in silent tears.

    James grabbed Max as the taller boy started to run, yanking him back and forcing him down on the bench.

    ¡°Where the hell do you think you are going?¡± James'' words were harsh; he knew it even before he heard them.

    ¡°To get Miss Silvia! She can help us¡ªmaybe magic, maybe we can all escape.¡± Max¡¯s words were pleading, genuine panic in his eyes.

    ¡°No, boy.¡± Ser Edwin had gathered himself, bloodshot eyes glaring at them both. ¡°I will win tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°How do you know this?¡± The words left James'' mouth before he could catch them. ¡°You couldn''t stop him last time.¡±

    ¡°Last time, I was fighting to stop him.¡± Edwin stood, slamming his meaty fist into the table. The sound of snapping wood echoed through the square. The long table had snapped in two, sending James sprawling.

    ¡°This time, I''m fighting to keep someone home.¡±

    Everything was in pieces¡ªthe table, the peace, the future James had envisioned. He sat there in the dust, not wanting to stand. Max sat next to him, his gangly legs pulled up to his chest, fingers tapping frantically.

    Edwin was trying to explain to the guards and table owner what had happened, handing over a gold coin and apologizing loudly¡ªtoo loudly. Everything was too loud. The sound was assaulting him, pushing in from every direction.

    Ser Edwin¡¯s last words sat with him, like a stone at the bottom of a river of sound.

    This time, I''m fighting to keep someone home.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Edwin muttered, motioning for them to follow. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

    They walked through cheer and revelry. It seemed wrong to James.

    My world is crumbling, and they are singing, dancing, and celebrating. If time just stopped, tomorrow would never come.

    A year ago, he would have been one of them. He would have cheered, would have danced, would have leapt at the chance to serve the Imperium.

    But now he saw something else¡ªa glimpse of something better.

    The walk to the forge was solemn. The moonlight danced between the trees. None of them spoke. They all knew tomorrow would come too soon. And that it would change everything.

    The forge was dark, the fire that should have been roaring all but embers left to cool in the night air.

    Miss Silvia had left food, but none of them touched it. A small note was left for Ser Edwin. He threw it into the fire upon reading, storming out the door.

    James and Max just sat, staring at the kitchen fire, slowly warming their hands and souls.

    ¡°I¡¯mma miss you,¡± Max said, not meeting James¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°He¡¯s not gonna lose.¡± James tried to force more confidence into his voice than he felt.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you.¡±

    ¡°None of that. Here.¡± Ser Edwin had returned, two bundles in his arms. He gingerly set them on the table, unwrapping each one.

    Swords.

    Beautiful things. Simple things. Folded steel, each with a crossguard and pommel.

    ¡°I made them for you boys, for when you completed your training.¡±

    James gaped at the craftsmanship, gingerly lifting the blade and testing its weight and balance. It was perfect, every inch, every ounce, was made for him. Ser Edwin must''ve put every trick he had into these blades.

    Max did the same. His was slightly longer, with a larger crossguard. The awkwardness of the practice blade was gone. The two boys shared a look, an eagerness sparking between them.

    Ser Edwin met their eyes.

    ¡°They are not for tomorrow, but give me your word that no matter what happens, you will not interfere.¡± The boys nodded, but James was already planning, swinging the blade in a practiced motion. "James, your word."

    James hesitated. The blade fit his hand like it had always been meant for him. He could see it, feel it¡ªthe weight, the balance, the swing. A perfect extension of his will. Of his duty. Of his need. I can make it more than just a blade little seed. The voice crept into his mind, unbidden.

    "But Ser Edwin¡ª"

    "Your word, boy. Give me your word.¡± There was no negotiating with that tone. ¡°I want you boys to have these... for when I¡¯m not around.¡±

    James¡¯s stomach twisted.

    When I¡¯m not around.

    The words sat between them, unspoken but heavy.

    Max placed the blade on the table, walking over to the older man and wrapping him in a hug.

    ¡°Thank you. For all you¡¯ve done.¡± James came up behind Max, wrapping his arms around them both.

    ¡°Yeah, Ser Edwin. Thank you.¡± James said.

    Ser Edwin pushed them back, familiar wetness in his gray eyes.

    ¡°Get some sleep,¡± he murmured.

    The boys slowly backed away taking theirs swords, and each climbing the ladders to their rooms.

    James sat awake long after the others had gone to bed, fingers gripping the hilt of the sword.

    Ser Edwin had made him this sword. For later. For after.

    James hated the way it felt in his hands now.

 Judgment

    James couldn''t sleep. He didn''t want the nightmares to return, tonight of all nights, but the worry in his gut ate at him. Soon the faintest hint of morning light crept in through the window, and

    James got out of bed. Quickly he moved down the ladder, sword firmly in hand.

    He hated the thing, hated the care and love he knew had gone into it, but it was a tool, and you used a tool no matter how much you wanted to throw it away.

    He stomped into the practice pit, boots kicking up sand. Breathing deeply, he inhaled the crisp morning air that smelled of pine and sand.

    With a grunt of effort, he struck the air with the blade. Turning and pivoting on the balls of his feet. Earth stance flowed to Water, to Air, and to Fire. James forced his body to avoid the heart, the stance to guard others, to protect. It seemed wrong to practice that today, a day where he had given his word to turn away, to simply watch.

    The Fire stance was filled with fast brutal sequences, slash, step, slash, step. Each one meant to come harder and faster. His world narrowed, vision tunneling to a small awareness of only each movement, nothing more. His blade met something hard and firm. Opening eyes he did realize he had closed, Max stood in front of him. Sword crossed in a defensive stance. James struck. A swift uppercut with his fist and pommel of the sword.

    Clang.

    James spun the blade around him in a flourish, slashing at Max''s center. Skates on Ice.

    Clang.

    Max parried the blow to the side, Rock in a Storm.

    Clang.

    Fox through the Woods. A move to spear Max.

    Clang.

    Max blocked the tip of the blade, countering with Swatting a Fly, a move to off balance the attack of your foe.

    Clang.

    Max stepped inside James'' guard, driving a fist into his stomach. Rock of the Mountain.

    The breath left James'' lungs in a rush. He collapsed to the dirt, sweat pouring off him. He could feel the gritty sand, the leather of his hilt, the stare of Max as he looked down at him. He could feel it all, and it was too much.

    James beat at the earth, a scream ripping from his throat.

    Grabbing a handful of dirt, he rose, throwing it into Max''s face, and the judgment he thought he saw there. He lashed out with his boot, kicking Max square in the chest, sending the taller boy cartwheeling backward, sword skittering to the side. James was atop him in a moment, fists grabbing Max¡¯s tunic, lifting him up before shoving him back into the ground with a thud.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this, Max.¡± He screamed, ¡°I can''t let him¡ªyou go.¡±

    Max just lay there with his hands wrapped around James'' wrist.

    ¡°You have to.¡± James slammed him down again.

    ¡°No. I¡ªI can stop it.¡±

    ¡°No, you can''t, ya gave ya word, I did.¡± Max tightened his grip, months at the forge had strengthened them both, but Max had always been the stronger. Slowly he pried James¡¯ hands away. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna leave either, but I got dis feeling I will.¡±

    ¡°Then go.¡± James climbed off the taller boy spitting at the ground in front of him. ¡°Run to your fate if you''re so sure it¡¯s coming. At least then, he won¡¯t have to fight for you.¡±

    ¡°Boys?¡± Ser Edwin stuck his head out the kitchen door. ¡°What¡¯s all this now?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± They both said, picking up their swords.

    ¡°¡®Ight, time for breakfast.¡±

    The three sat in silence over a meal of cold cheese and bread. There was no fire in the hearth, no smell of a cooking meal. Ser Edwin was in his best, well made shirt and pants, a dark coat he only wore to days of thanks after the harvest. James could see his beard and hair were freshly trimmed as though he was heading to a funeral, and James thought he might be.

    James couldn''t take it, couldn''t sit there, he stood knees knocking against the table. The growl that escaped him was one of frustration and anger. Ser Edwin reached out a hand but James didn''t see it in his rush from the kitchen. Half eaten meal left behind.

    James stormed up the road, dust filling the air in his wake, he couldn''t go to town, he could go to Miss Silvia, before he knew it he was at the Orchard, the tall almost impossible apple trees looming over the crumbling wall.

    James didn''t care if he wasn''t supposed to be here, everything had started here, the good, the bad, the painful.

    James climbed over the wall in one smooth motion. The trees around him, silent in their prayers, to the temple they haunted.

    James screamed.

    He pulled at his hair, banged on his chest, and screamed.

    The trees listened, and did not judge.

    Finally his voice, horse, and muscles, taught with frustration. A single apple fell.

    Thunk

    It landed next to him where he lay on the ground, bright and red, its scent sweet.

    James reached for the apple and threw it into the nearest tree, the apple bursting apart.

    ¡°I don''t need your help.¡± James screamed to the trees around him.

    ¡°Okay.¡± The soft voice from his dreams said. ¡°I am here when you need me, little-seed.¡±

    James'' breath came in ragged gasps. The trees whispered above him, shifting with a wind he couldn¡¯t feel.

    Clang

    James'' chest tightened as ten more times the bell rang. One hour to go.

    He ran, with all the rage and pain he ran, back to the forge, to an empty house, an empty table, all but a hand written note, resting on the scabbard to his sword.

    James, I know you have to work through this on your own, and while he will never say it. Ed needs you there. He needs your support, your strength. Please, go to the fight please go to him. Make amends before it is too late.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ~Silvia

    He folded the note and tucked into his shirt, buckled on the scabbard, and ran

    Clang.

    Two quick rings. The half hour toll.

    The trees that lined the road rustled in the breeze as though calling out to James as he ran.

    You''re too slow, You wont make it in time, You ran when you should''ve stayed.

    That rustling said.

    The town grew in the distance, the large gates growing larger and larger.

    He could hear them, the roar of the crowd, the wave of cheers, at the spectacle unfolding.

    James tripped, his foot caught on a rock, and sent him sprawling pain lanced his hands, but he couldn''t stop he was so close. The gates were just ahead.

    He pushed himself up, pushed through the pain, pushed through the crowd.

    The gleaming white armor of the Justicar greeted him with the golden eyes framed by a dark face.

    ¡°I wondered if you would make it.¡± The rich tone vibrated through him. He is just ahead. ¡°I suggest saying your peace quickly as we will not keep the Lord of Light waiting.¡±

    He saw that Ser Edwin had shed his fine coat and shirt. Max wrapped the older man''s fists, carefully checking each pass around the knuckles and wrist.Edwins gaze was far off once more, as though seeing through time and distance. James ran.

    ¡°Edwin.¡± James called. Just as the bell tolled noon. His call got lost in the ringing and Edwin stood and walked into the ring, where the Master waited.

    The Master stood in the ring, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms¡ªunhurried, unconcerned. His expression was the same cold amusement he always wore, as if the fight ahead was just another lesson, just another child to break to his will.

    His tunic, sleeveless and fitted, showed the tight cords of his arms, the coiled strength in his stance. The golden tattoos of dragons and monsters twisted over his skin like specters, a reminder of every battle he had fought.

    Ser Edwin walked forward, fists wrapped in thick linen, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. He carried no smugness, no arrogance. He simply stood, adjusting his stance, rolling his wrists. A soldier, a blacksmith, a man who had never stopped fighting.

    The two men stood before the Justiciar. The air was thick with heat, with expectation.

    "The Rite of Judgment is now enacted," the Justiciar¡¯s voice rang out, deep and commanding. "The fight ends when one of you can no longer continue. There will be no further appeals. Do you both understand?"

    Ser Edwin nodded once. The Master gave a slow, condescending bow.

    "May the Lord of Light¡¯s Judgment commence."

    The Master moved first.

    A blur of muscle and force, his first strike came fast, aimed straight for Edwin¡¯s ribs¡ªbut Edwin was ready. He caught the blow on his forearm, pivoting to roll the impact along his shoulder instead of his side. The ground shuddered beneath him. A lesser man would have staggered.

    Edwin didn¡¯t. He struck back.

    A short, brutal jab¡ªstraight into the Master¡¯s stomach. A sound like a hammer on steel. The Master grunted, stepping back a half-inch, his teeth bared in something between a grimace and a smile.

    James could barely breathe. He could feel the force of each hit in his chest, in his bones. The fight had just started, and it was already a war.

    "Come on, Edwin," Max whispered, fists clenched white-knuckled at his sides

    The Master came again, faster. Left. Right. Left. A flurry of strikes, each one designed to break a rib, to cripple. Edwin took them. One to the ribs¡ªhe grunted. One to the shoulder; his body barely moved. The last came for his face¡ªEdwin ducked.

    Then he countered.

    A right hook. A heavy, punishing thing, like the swing of his hammer. It connected hard.

    Crack.

    The Master¡¯s head snapped sideways, spittle flying from his lips.

    James'' breath caught.

    He hit him. He actually hit him.

    The crowd roared.

    The Master stumbled¡ªonly for a heartbeat. He turned back to Edwin with a slow, awful grin. His lip was split, blood running down his chin.

    The Master laughed. Raising his hands in the air, the crowd roared.

    Then he came forward again. And this time, it was brutal.

    His fists rained down like falling stone, calculated, precise, each one aimed to break Edwin apart piece by piece. Edwin blocked high, low, took a hit to the ribs, but he stood firm. He didn¡¯t move.

    Then Edwin stepped in close, inside the Master¡¯s guard.

    The Master¡¯s eyes flashed¡ªhe tried to backpedal¡ªtoo slow.

    Edwin¡¯s forehead slammed into his nose.

    Crack.

    The Master reeled back, blood gushing from his nose. His expression twisted, the amusement gone and rage took its place.

    James felt a thrill of hope.

    He¡¯s winning. He can win.

    The Master wiped the blood from his face, eyes narrowing. Then he took a deep breath and smiled.

    Something in James'' gut twisted. He knew that look, that was the look the Master gave when he was about to deal out a special punishment.

    The Master stepped forward¡ªand Edwin wasn¡¯t fast enough.

    A low punch, straight into Edwin¡¯s side¡ªan explosion of pain. James saw his mentor''s whole body seize. Edwin tried to block¡ªanother hit, same spot.

    James'' stomach dropped. The Master had found a weakness. And he relentlessly punished it.

    Edwin couldn''t get his arms in place to block.

    Left rib. Right rib. Left again.

    Edwin coughed, a wet sound that made James'' stomach turn.

    No. No. No.

    Max¡¯s breath hitched beside him. His eyes darted to James, desperate, as if willing him to do something¡ªanything.

    Edwin swung wild, trying to create some distance.

    The Master stepped inside Edwin''s guard again, a single crushing blow into the same ribs again.

    Something cracked. James saw the way Edwin''s chest buckled.

    James felt the blow in his own bones.

    Edwin dropped to one knee.

    The crowd gasped then roared.

    James'' hands shook.

    Max stepped closer. "James¡ª"

    "Don''t," James whispered, eyes locked on the ring. He felt it. The power inside him, the door that was barely cracked open, begging to be unleashed. To be ripped for its hinges. He could feel it in his fingertips, in his bones.

    The Master circled Edwin, breathing steady, measured. A predator over wounded prey.

    Edwin forced himself up.

    James'' heart slammed against his ribs. He could taste sick in his mouth.

    "Stay down," the Master murmured, just loud enough for Edwin to hear. "Know when you''ve lost, dog."

    Edwin spat blood onto the dirt. He lifted his fists. With a small wave he seemed to say. Bring it on.

    The Master sighed. Tossing back his head and laughed.

    Then came the final blow.

    A single, devastating uppercut. That snaked through Edwin¡¯s guard.

    James felt the impact in his soul.

    Ser Edwin¡¯s body lifted from the ground¡ªlifted¡ªbefore crashing onto the dirt.

    His head lolled to the side, eyes rolled back in his head. James could see Edwins chest rise, fall¡ªshallow, as though struggling for air..

    The Master straightened. He wiped the blood from his mouth. Raising his hands high over head.

    And turned to the Justiciar.

    "It is finished." The Master smirked.

    The Justiciar looked down at Edwin¡¯s unmoving form, his expression unreadable. Then, in a low, solemn voice

    "Ser Edwin can no longer continue. Regillius has judged in favor of Master Declin Garp. The boy known as Maximus of Oakwood shall join the ranks of the Imperium."

    The roar of the crowd was the loudest James had ever heard.

    The Justicar¡¯s words slammed into James like a fist.

    Max¡¯s breath hitched beside him.

    ¡°No.¡± Max screamed the word laced with pain, and terror. He clung to James, as though the world had fallen out below him.

    Ser Edwin lay on the ground, chest barely moving.

    James saw the soldiers moving closer, and he couldn''t feel his legs.

 A Goodbye Left Unspoken

    James didn¡¯t think. He moved.

    His body launched forward before his mind could catch up, again. His boots digging into the dirt, fists swinging wild. His ears rang with the roar of the crowd, the deafening cheers drowning out the blood pounding in his skull.

    Ser Edwin wasn¡¯t moving. The skin of his face darkened, growing pale everywhere there wasn''t a bruise.

    James barreled toward the ring, but a soldier stepped in his path. James didn¡¯t hesitate. Didn¡¯t care. He swung, his knuckles cracking against the soldier¡¯s jaw. The man grunted, stumbling back, but another took his place.

    ¡°Wait kid.¡±

    A hand grabbed the back of his tunic¡ªJames ripped free. He lashed out, his boot connecting with the knee of another guard. The man cursed, staggering.

    ¡°Wait. Stop. Kid, Stop.¡±

    "James!" Max''s voice, sharp and raw, cut through the chaos.

    James barely registered it. As he plowed through another soldier. Head down, shoulder connecting to something hard.

    The only thing that mattered was getting to Ser Edwin.

    I have to get to him, I have to¨C

    A gauntleted fist slammed into his stomach.

    James choked, the air ripping from his lungs. Spittle flying. His knees buckled, his vision spun, but he stayed upright. Forced himself to.

    Another hand grabbed his arm¡ªhe wrenched free¡ªbut there were too many of them now.

    Too many hands. Too many bodies in his way.

    ¡°James!¡± Max again, but this time it was different. Closer.

    James twisted, barely catching the sight of Max, fighting just as wildly, just as desperately, his fists swinging at the soldiers trying to hold him back. One had him by the arms, another by the waist. Max thrashed, kicked¡ªhis voice breaking, his face twisted in fury and fear.

    ¡°Let me go! Let me¡ªJames!¡±

    James tried to reach for him¡ªtoo slow.

    The soldiers drove him back. Back against that hard thing, that immovable object. He snarled, shoved, tried to break free¡ªuntil a sharp pain exploded across the side of his head.

    His body hit the ground hard. His vision swam, the sky and the sand and the faces above him blending into a mess of colors and sound.

    James blinked, gasped for breath, the ringing in his skull drowning out everything else.

    Above him, towering like a statue of gleaming marble, was the Justiciar. His golden eyes burned down at him.

    James barely registered the Justiciar¡¯s massive fist before it came down.

    Then there was nothing.

    James swam in the black as a voice came to him.

    ¡°Are you sure you still don''t need me little-seed?¡±

    <hr>

    James woke to the scent of clean linen and blood.

    His body ached. His skull throbbed. The world felt wrong.

    The ceiling above him was pale canvas, the light shifting as the wind tugged at the edges of the medical tent. Somewhere nearby, metal clanked, boots thudded against dirt, voices called orders. Hurried. Focused. It was too loud, each sound like a knife behind his eyes.

    They seemed to be packing. Leaving.

    His thoughts snapped back into place. The fight. The Justiciar. Max.

    James bolted upright. Pain exploded through his skull. He hissed, clutching his head, vision swimming. The tent blurred around him¡ªrows of cots, doctors, nurses and medics moving with quiet efficiency, the scent of boiled herbs and salves thick in the air.

    A shadow loomed at his bedside.

    ¡°You should rest.¡± The voice was deep, calm, but James still flinched back, his breath hitched as he turned, gaze locking onto the man standing beside him. The white and gold of his armor gleamed in the muted light of the tent. There was a weight of command settled in every inch of him. But now, without the roaring crowd, without the spectacle, there was something softer in his face.

    James swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. The sick sour taste of it lingering in his mouth.

    "Where¡¯s Max?" His voice came out raw. Strained. Horse.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    "Preparing to depart with the Twelfth." The Justiciar exhaled slowly. The Justiciar did not look at James; he simply watched the medical tent as it prepared to leave.

    ¡°Then I need to¡ª¡± James swung his legs off the cot, ignoring the dizziness, the agony in his head.

    The Justiciar raised a hand, stopping him.

    ¡°You cannot.¡±

    ¡°Like hell I can¡¯t.¡± James¡¯ fists clenched. He surged forward, stumbling as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. Struggling against his own weight that seemed far too heavy. "He''s my family.¡±

    The Justiciar caught him, steady hands, unyielding grip. He didn¡¯t shove James back, didn¡¯t strike him down¡ªjust held him in place until James'' body inevitably gave up the fight.

    James trembled. His breath came in short, furious gasps. His knees felt weak, and a burning grew in his gut.

    ¡°Judgment was passed,¡± the Justiciar said, voice steady, firm. ¡°And it was final.¡±

    James¡¯ chest ached¡ªnot just from the fight, not just from the blows. From something deeper. Something that felt like breaking.

    ¡°You know this isn¡¯t right,¡± James whispered, voice shaking, his body on the edge of collapse, but he pushed back the weariness, forcing it to stand against the Justicar''s grip. ¡°You know he belongs here, with us.¡±

    For the first time, the Justiciar¡¯s face softened, his dark curls falling around his face. A flicker of something crossed his golden eyes¡ªregret, maybe. Then it was gone.

    ¡°I am an instrument of the law,¡± he said simply. Unshakable ¡°And Regillius has spoken.¡±

    James wanted to scream, to curse him, to fight him, wanted to break something, hit something, burn something.

    But his body betrayed him. He could barely keep himself upright. The fight was already over. He collapsed back to the cot.

    The Justiciar turned, stepping past him, stopping at the cot across the tent.

    Ser Edwin.

    James inhaled sharply, the world fuzzed around the edges.

    The older man lay deathly still, chest rising in slow, uneven breaths. Too shallow. Too weak. His face was pale beneath the bruises, his body wrecked from the fight.

    James lurched forward, grabbing the Justiciar¡¯s arm. ¡°He¡ªhe¡¯s¡ª¡±

    The Justiciar already knew. They both knew. Edwin was dying.

    Silently, he unfastened the white gauntlet from his right hand, setting it aside. Then, he lowered his palm to Edwin¡¯s chest.

    A warm glow bloomed from his fingers.

    James felt it. A kin to the power stirring inside him.

    A pulse of energy¡ªnot like fire, not like heat¡ªbut like light itself. Gentle. Steady. Comforting.

    The bruises on Edwin¡¯s face lightened, but did not go away. The tension in his body eased. His breathing deepened, evened out.

    The glow faded. The Justiciar pulled back. The glow in his eyes dimmed slightly.

    James swallowed hard. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    The Justiciar flexed his fingers, slipping his gauntlet back into place. ¡°He has a fighting chance now.¡± His golden eyes leveled on James. As though trying to say something unspoken. ¡°That is all I can give him.¡±

    James stared at Edwin¡¯s face, watching his chest rise and fall. Stronger now. Steadier.

    The burning in his gut, softened, faded, a sour heavy feeling was left in its place.

    When he finally looked back at the Justiciar, the man was already turning away, already walking toward the tent¡¯s exit¡ªtoward the Twelfth. Towards his troops. Toward Max.

    James¡¯ fingers curled into the sheets of the cot. Helpless. He wanted to scream, but there was no energy left in him.

    The Justiciar paused at the threshold, sunlight casting a halo around his broad frame.

    ¡°I will do what I can¡ªfor your friend¡± he said, voice low. A promise, but not the one James wanted.

    Then he was gone.

    And Max was going with him.

    <hr>

    James leaned against the fence for support¡ªits steadiness, its groundedness. His knuckles were white as he gripped the beam. Below, the camp of soldiers collapsed¡ªquick and efficient¡ªtents were stowed, packs were donned, and carts loaded. The white and gold banners of the Imperium stood tall, like pillars of something greater. And James hated it all. He could see Max¡ªfaintly, his red hair was shaved short and he wore the crisp grey uniform of a recruit¡ªbut he worked, helping the Twelfth''s blacksmith load the coal and equipment in the back of a wagon. Max straightened his back, wiped sweat from his brow, and seemed to look back, searching for something or someone coming from the town.

    I should volunteer; I could be a blacksmith; I could protect Max.

    But James could see the Justicar as he walked the camp, his white armor gleaming in the morning light. James swore the dark?skinned man was watching Max, and his words rang in James¡¯s mind: ¡°I will do what I can¡ªfor your friend.¡±

    There was a wet cough from behind him¡ªthe familiar rhythm of stomping feet. That sinking feeling, that weight in his gut grew, and he knew he had to stay.

    ¡°Watching over him?¡± The roughness of Ser Edwin''s voice was harder, as though he were struggling not only to find the words but to make this small hike up the hill.

    ¡°Saying goodbye, I guess.¡±

    They just stood there. Ser Edwin tried to speak, but a wet, horse?cough racked his body, and he placed a hand on James¡¯s shoulder, steadying himself. James tightened his hold on the fence and leaned into it. The world seemed to spin slightly less.

    The two men watched as the camp broke down further; James kept his eyes on the red?headed boy¡ªhis friend, his brother¡ªas the final packs were loaded. Max¡¯s head snapped up at a sound James couldn¡¯t hear, and all the grey?uniformed recruits ran into neat lines. Their clean uniforms are a stark contrast to the clothes they had worn just a day before.

    Max stood near the end of the line.

    Even from this far away, James could see Max shift his weight, unable to stand still like the other recruits. The Officer in White made a comment and Max abruptly straightened before looking back at the town again.

    Why won¡¯t he look up here? Should I call out to him? Would he even hear me?

    James leaned harder into the comfort of the wood; he feared it might break under the pressure of him and the weight he felt.

    A call rang out. The order to march.

    The line of recruits moved.

    Max took a step forward¡ªthen hesitated.

    ¡°Come on, Max, keep moving,¡± James whispered.

    ¡°Aye, boy, follow orders.¡± James felt the hand on his shoulder tighten¡ªjust for a heartbeat. Max frantically turned his head, his eyes scanning the town, the hill¡ªsearching.

    He saw them then, leaning against the old fence. James swallowed, his voice catching in his throat. His fingers dug into the wooden beam of the fence. His chest burned, his feet itched to move.

    Say something. Call out to him. Don¡¯t let him go like this.

    His lips parted.

    For a second, James thought he saw something break in Max¡¯s face¡ªthe same way it had when the Justiciar¡¯s verdict had been spoken. Max turned, as though he were going to make a break toward them¡ª

    A sharp, barked order. James could almost hear.

    Max flinched. His body stiffened. And just like that, he turned forward.

    He kept walking.

    The white and gold banners shifted in the wind, the glint of armor shining beneath the rising sun.

    The march moved on.

    The two stood there, watching until Max disappeared from sight.

    The hand on his shoulder tightened once more, then let go as the Twelfth disappeared into the morning light.

    Ser Edwin stood at his side¡ªbruised, battered, his chest bound in thick bandages. One eye swollen shut, the other dull with exhaustion. A bruise along his temple oozed slightly.

    But still, he stood.

    He gave James a small, tired smile¡ªthe kind that never reached his eyes.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. The words were gentle but firm. ¡°Sil¡¯s probably worried sick.¡±

    James¡¯s shoulders sagged as he glanced over them one last time.

    The final white banner vanished beyond the horizon.

    James turned back to Edwin and nodded.

    ¡°Aye. Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 The Shape of Home

    The forge was quiet, as though it knew something was missing. The chill autumn air whistled through the bellows, slipping through the cracks, rattling the tools that had once sung with Max¡¯s laughter.

    Whatever embers remained had long since cooled, now nothing more than dull, lifeless coals.

    Even the soul of the place felt Max¡¯s absence.

    James could almost hear him¡ªhis voice teasing, his laughter bright. "Hurry up, ya flop." Or a barked "Ya turn with da bellows." The echoes of memories, just out of reach.

    For the first time since James had come to live at the forge, Ser Edwin pulled the large smithy doors shut. The heavy creak of the hinges sent a finality through James¡¯ bones.

    Neither of them spoke as they made their way toward the house.

    Miss Silvia was waiting for them at the door, her face drawn with worry. The moment she saw them, she rushed forward, pulling Ser Edwin into a tight embrace before wrapping her arms around James.

    James pressed his face into her shoulder, gripping her tighter than he meant to. The warmth of her, the steady heartbeat beneath the layers of fabric¡ªit nearly undid him.

    ¡°There, there, dearie.¡± She ran her fingers through his hair, voice soft as a lullaby. ¡°Let it all out.¡±

    And he did.

    The weight in his chest cracked open. Silent tears turned into quiet, aching sobs. He wasn¡¯t even sure what he was crying for¡ªMax, Edwin, himself. All of it.

    Miss Silvia held him like a mother, like she had always been meant to. The steady beat of her heart was calming, reassuring, and strong.

    By the time he pulled away, his nose was running, his throat raw. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling almost embarrassed. But Miss Silvia only smiled, warm and knowing.

    ¡°Good,¡± she said, hands on her hips. ¡°Now, time to get to work.¡±

    James blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡±

    ¡°We have got beds to turn out, floors to scrub, a house to prepare for winter. Can not let the dust settle while we mope, now can we?¡± She clapped her hands together, already moving toward the kitchen.

    James opened his mouth to argue¡ªbut Ser Edwin was already rolling up his sleeves.

    And just like that, the house descended into controlled chaos.

    There was no time to stop, no time to think, no time to sit and wallow. They swept out the dust, scrubbed the wooden floors raw, emptied every closet and storage trunk, and refilled the woodpile. Before long, their muscles ached from work rather than grief, their minds too occupied to dwell on loss.

    At some point, Miss Silvia began humming as she cooked, a simple melody that filled the house like the scent of baking bread. Something warm. Something safe.

    By the time the sun dipped below the trees, they were all half-collapsed at the kitchen table, exhausted in a way that felt¡­ good.

    Miss Silvia piled their plates high with fresh bread, roasted vegetables, and a bowl thick stew. It all smelt wonderful.

    ¡°Eat up,¡± she ordered. ¡°Growing boys and healing wounds need fuel. They need food.¡±

    They ate in weary stupor from the day, Miss Silvia singing filling the small kitchen with a tune of joy, of family and friends. Before long she was shoving hot mugs of tea at them. James could smell the lavender, the honey in the tea. The mug warmed his fingers.

    James hadn¡¯t realized how hungry he was until he was scraping the last of the stew from his bowl. Ser Edwin downed the warm sweet tea in one gulp, giving James a look that said, What can we do?

    James finished his own drink, warmth settling into his chest. His eyes dropping, and arms feeling heavy.

    He barely remembered climbing the ladder to bed before sleep dragged him under¡ªa deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in months.

    The next day, and the day after, and the day after that, were much the same.

    Miss Silvia worked them from morning until night, her sharp eyes allowing no room for idleness. There was always something to be done, something to fix, something to prepare. She barely let them stop to eat, barely let them rest.

    Maybe that is her goal, to leave me too tired to even have feelings.

    James spent his days in the woods near the house, clearing trees, stripping branches, and hewing beams. His hands blistered, his muscles ached, but there was a steady rhythm to it, something grounding in the swing of the axe, the solid weight of the logs against his shoulder. The cool sweat on his back.

    Ser Edwin, still healing but growing stronger by the day, took up his place in the forge, hammering out nails, bolts, hinges¡ªanything that could be of use. The clang of metal on metal was a familiar comfort, the sound of life marching forward.

    The days blurred together, the work consuming everything else. But James noticed the smaller things.

    How Miss Silvia spent more nights at the house. How Ser Edwin¡¯s voice, once hoarse with pain, plagued with coughs, grew stronger. How purpose seemed to drive Ser Edwin as much as Miss Silvia did.

    At night, after the work was done and the fires had burned low, James would sneak to the kitchen door and listen, if just to hear their voices.

    ¡°I do not want to walk home.¡± Miss Silvia¡¯s voice, hushed but warm. ¡°But I should.¡±

    ¡°Don''t go. The weather¡¯s turning, you¡¯ll catch a cold.¡± Ser Edwin¡¯s low chuckle. A beat of hesitation, then softer¡ªalmost sheepish. ¡°Stay here. The fire is warm.¡±

    James swore she always hesitated, just for a second, before answering. ¡°I can not. You know this.¡±

    But something in her voice sounded like she didn¡¯t quite believe it.

    It was the same familiar conversation¡ªthe words shifted, but the feeling behind them never did.

    One night, he heard something different.

    ¡°I can build you a room.¡± Ser Edwin¡¯s voice, rough but steady. ¡°I need to give the boy a real one anyway.¡±

    And just like that, the house began to grow.

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    <hr>

    Ser Edwin, growing stronger each day, showed James how to break down a wall to build a new one. How to measure, cut, and brace the beams. How to turn the empty space into something.

    The hammer became familiar in James¡¯ hands, its weight settling into his palms like it belonged there. Like he was meant to build to create, and the power in him stirred.

    First, the foundation. A mix of stone powder, water, and ash. Strong and even. Then, the walls. A blend of wood and stone¡ªsolid, steady, the kind of structure that wouldn¡¯t falter against the coming storms. Then the roof. A slope of timber and glass, open to the stars and the night sky.

    Miss Silvia watched their work with something close to pride. James felt his spirits rise and each task was completed.

    ¡°Good work, my boys.¡± She kissed each of them on the cheek, lingering just a heartbeat longer on Ser Edwin¡¯s.

    Miss Silvia laughed, patting his cheek with a small, warm hand. James had noticed the lines around her eyes growing deeper,the ones made when she laughed or smiled at him. He felt warmth across his chest, he stood a little taller. Ser Edwin smirked, nudging her arm with his own.

    ¡°You need to shave, James.¡±

    ¡°I need to do what?¡± James blinked. ¡°no I don''t."

    He ran a hand over his chin, feeling the coarse, uneven stubble that had started to grow there.

    ¡°Oh, you are growing up my boy, becoming a man.¡± Miss Silvia grinned. Patting him on the chest now that he stood nearly a foot taller than her.

    James frowned, rubbing at the stubble again. He wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that.

    He turned his gaze to the house, tracing its new edges, its unfamiliar yet rightful shape. It had nearly doubled in size, not forced, but expanded¡ªlike something that had always been meant to grow. The second story stretched outward, its balcony wrapping around the two small rooms that had once stood alone. From there, one could see everything¡ªthe clearing, the forge, the dark line of the forest beyond. A home built with purpose, with care. With their family mind.

    A part of him had thought this place would feel emptier without Max.

    But instead, it felt fuller.

    He will come back, when his time is up, when he''s done serving, he will come back.

    Not the same. Never the same.

    But¡­Something closer to whole.

    <hr>

    The evening air carried the first bite of winter, crisp and sharp, but James barely felt it. Sweat poured down his body as he circled his teacher, his mentor¡ªhis friend. Ser Edwin did not strike, did not take the bait. He waited, patient as ever, sword raised high overhead.

    James no longer needed to think about the names of each move, no longer had to force himself to recognize what was coming. He could read the shifts in Edwin¡¯s stance, the small weight adjustments in his feet, the angle of his blade.

    James feinted left, hoping to draw the older man¡¯s attention¡ªit worked.

    Ser Edwin swung for his exposed legs, a quick, tactical strike. James caught the blade with a downward counter, steel meeting steel with a ringing clash. But the movement brought him too close¡ª

    Crack.

    Pain exploded across his forehead. The force of bone on bone sent James staggering backward. Warm blood trickled down his face.

    ¡°By the gods, that hurt.¡± He wiped the blood with his sleeve, never taking his eyes off the older man.

    Ser Edwin smirked. ¡°Gotta watch for the counter, boy.¡±

    James gritted his teeth and rushed forward. Already, the wound had begun knitting itself back together

    Another silvery scar, though this one, at least, would be hidden by my hairline.

    Their swords clashed in a flurry of motion. High, low, high. Parry. Block. Counter. Each strike faster than the last, each man pushing the other toward the edge of the pit.

    They broke apart, breath heaving, circling once more. Two predators, in perfect rhythm. Step. Move. Step.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting predictable.¡± Edwin¡¯s tone was sharp, but James heard the approval beneath it.

    Then Edwin moved. A blur of motion.

    James barely had time to react. The strikes came fast, relentless, no pattern¡ªwild and unpredictable. James scrambled to keep up, parrying, blocking, stepping back. He was on the defensive, each impact jolting his arms. He needed an opening. He needed¡ª

    Breathe.

    James exhaled, steadying himself. He reached inward, feeling the power in him. It called, and he pulled on it, just slightly. Warmed him, making everything feel lighter, the weariness washing away.

    His movements sharpened.

    Edwin¡¯s next blow came down¡ªJames pivoted, steel sliding against steel, twisting the momentum. He swung his blade wide, feinting¡ªthen drove his fist straight into Ser Edwin¡¯s jaw.

    Edwin¡¯s head snapped to the side, but he didn¡¯t fall. He spun back, eyes burning with the heat of the moment.

    James grinned, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, sword held loose at his side.

    Ser Edwin pushed forward, faster this time. Right. Left. Right. Each strike more precise, more brutal.

    James met him blow for blow. Parry. Block. Dodge. He wasn¡¯t being pushed back anymore. He was waiting. Watching.

    Then he saw it.

    A slip¡ªjust for a heartbeat. Edwin¡¯s boot skidded on the loose sand.

    James seized the moment. He batted Edwin¡¯s blade aside, stepped into his guard, and with all the strength he could muster, drove the hilt of his sword straight into the older man¡¯s gut.

    Ser Edwin exhaled sharply, his body folding inward.

    For a single moment, shock flickered across his face. Then, pride.

    James grinned, ear to ear, as Edwin collapsed to one knee, coughing.

    ¡°Blessed Mother,¡± Edwin wheezed, spitting to the side. ¡°You¡¯ve got a mean right hook, boy.¡±

    James wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath. His whole body thrummed, energy still crackling beneath his skin like an unspent storm.

    ¡°You were leaving too many openings,¡± James said between breaths. He sheathed his sword, flexing his fingers, still tingling from the impact. ¡°Figured I ought to take advantage.¡±

    Edwin let out a short, breathless laugh, bracing a hand against his knee. ¡°Openings, huh? You saying I¡¯m getting slow?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying you¡¯re getting old.¡± James smirked.

    A sharp thwap landed against the back of James¡¯ head. Not hard¡ªjust enough to remind him who he was talking to.

    ¡°Alright, alright¡ªlesson learned.¡± James winced, rubbing his skull.

    But Edwin was smiling.

    Then they both heard it.

    Footsteps¡ªquick and angry¡ªfollowed by the furious rustling of skirts.

    James barely had time to step aside before Miss Silvia was at Edwin¡¯s side, hands already on his arm, gripping tight.

    ¡°You stubborn, foolish, prideful¡ª¡± she hissed, cutting off her own words as she pressed a hand against his side. Her eyes went distant like they did when she used her magic.

    ¡°It''s nothing.¡± Edwin flinched.

    Her eyes narrowed.

    James took a half step back.

    ¡°You idiot,¡± she snapped, voice thick with frustration. ¡°What would you have done if that rib had broken, again. Throwing yourself with live steel against a man half your age.¡±

    ¡°Half?¡± Edwin scoffed. ¡°C¡¯mon, Sil, at least let me have a little dignity¡ª¡±

    She smacked his shoulder.

    Edwin winced harder this time, but smiled.

    James choked on a laugh.

    ¡°You think this is funny?¡± Miss Silvia turned on him, sharp-eyed, hands on her hips. ¡°Encouraging him like this? He should be teaching you how to forge a blade now, not wield one.¡±

    ¡°No ma¡¯am. I was just¡ª¡± James straightened, shaking his head quickly.

    ¡°Winning,¡± Edwin muttered under his breath. Before hiding it behind a cough.

    ¡°Yeah. Winning.¡± James tried not to laugh.

    Miss Silvia turned back to Edwin with a glare so sharp it could have cut through steel.

    "Get up,¡± she ordered. ¡°Slowly.¡±

    Edwin groaned, pushing himself onto his feet, hand lingering over his ribs as he steadied himself. The old bruises, the ones from that fight, had faded, but James could tell they still ached.

    Silvia clicked her tongue. ¡°Come inside. I will make something for the pain.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need anything,¡± Edwin grumbled.

    Miss Silvia ignored him, already marching toward the house.

    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t push yourself so hard, you know.¡± James watched her go, shaking his head before turning back to Edwin.

    ¡°Yeah, well. Ain¡¯t got time to sit around being useless.¡± Edwin exhaled, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders. The stiffness was obvious.

    ¡°You¡¯re not useless, Edwin.¡± James hesitated, then nudged him lightly.

    The older man didn¡¯t respond right away. He just looked down at James¡ªreally looked at him.

    Finally, he let out a long, slow breath.

    ¡°You did good today, kid.¡±

    James felt warmth bloom in his chest.

    Then Edwin smirked. ¡°Even if you do fight like a little shit.¡±

    James rolled his eyes, shoving Edwin¡¯s arm before walking toward the house.

    Edwin laughed, following.

    The forge stood quiet behind them.

    But James swore, for just a moment, it felt warmer.

    And as laughter faded into the night, the first cold drops of winter rain fell¡ªlight at first, barely a whisper against the earth. Then, the wind howled, the trees groaned, and the sky unleashed its fury.

 Shadows in the Rain

    The rain hammered as it had for three days, an endless drumming against rooftops and awnings. At first, it had been calming, the steady rhythm that made the world feel smaller, more distant. Now, it was maddening. A ceaseless, hammering cacophony that sank into James'' skull, pressing against his temples like a vice.

    James let out a sharp breath, rubbing his forehead, his fingers digging into the skin as he tried to block out the noise¡ªnot just the rain, but the voices behind him.

    The town hall was packed, the air thick with damp wool and frustration. The town''s people argued in circles, their voices rising over one another.

    The roads are impassable.

    The fields are turning to swamps.

    The carts are getting stuck.

    If this keeps up, we won''t have winter stores left.

    Complaint after complaint, but no solutions. No action. Just noise.

    James shifted his weight, his back pressed against the wooden frame of the open doorway, half inside, half out. Ser Edwin had insisted they come to show they were still part of the community and had a responsibility to the town.

    James wasn''t sure he agreed.

    He stared into the square, watching rainwater cascading off the awning, spilling in sheets onto the ruined ground. The dirt was gone, washed away into thick, sucking mud. The carts abandoned in the square were half-submerged, their wheels useless.

    This storm wasn''t letting up.

    Something prickled at the edge of his awareness. A pressure. A pull.

    James'' gaze flicked to the far side of the square.

    Two figures stood beneath the eaves of the butcher''s shop, shrouded in heavy cloaks. The rain ran off their hoods in steady rivulets, yet the downpour didn''t seem to touch them.

    James narrowed his eyes.

    They were watching him.

    Not the town, not the gathering in the hall¡ªhim.

    He focused, reaching inward, past the noise, the headache, and the weariness that had settled deep in his bones. The world sharpened, his senses stretching beyond the rain and the wind.

    The figures spoke, their voices low beneath the storm.

    "That him?"

    The one on the left tilted his head slightly, his hood shifting just enough for James to glimpse a thick, wild beard.

    "Aye, matches what the red-head was saying."

    James'' stomach twisted.

    The taller one shifted his weight, and for a fraction of a second, James saw something beneath the hood.

    A curved horn.

    James'' breath hitched.

    It was gone in an instant, hidden by the cloak, but he had seen it.

    Men don''t have ram''s horns.

    James swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. The familiar comfort of his sword hilt just at the tips of his fingers.

    The figures shifted more towards him.

    James'' breath caught. The rain ran down the back of his neck, his clothes sticking to his skin, but the cold sinking into his gut had nothing to do with the storm.

    And they were looking for him.

    The town hall doors banged open.

    James flinched, the tension snapping as Ser Edwin stomped out, throwing his hands in the air.

    "Useless! All of ''em!" Edwin barked, his voice carrying over the square, frustration thick in every word. "A whole room of grown men and not a single one with a damn solution!"

    James whipped his head back toward the figures¡ª

    Gone.

    A flicker of movement¡ªcloaks vanishing into the narrow alley between the butcher''s shop and the book-serller''s. James'' heart slammed against his ribs.

    Ser Edwin didn''t notice.

    "They''re just going to sit there, grumbling about the mud, and the roads like that''ll stop the river from rising," Edwin continued, shaking his head as he stepped off the town hall''s porch. Rain splattered against his shoulders, dripping from the ends of his beard, but if he cared, he didn''t show it. "By the time they decide to act, we''ll all be swimming in the square!"

    James turned, words already forming on his tongue, "Edwin, listen¡ª"

    "Can''t even agree on who''s in charge of what!" Edwin kept going, shaking out his coat as he adjusted the belt at his waist. "Mayor wants to leave it to the Imperium. The Master, bless his black heart, wants the town to fend for itself. -¨CBetter we be self-sufficient than call for aid from a little water¡ª" Edwin had pitched his voice up at the last part.

    "And the farmers¡ª" Edwin scoffed, waving a hand. "I''d bet half my savings they''ll still be arguing when their fields are completely washed out."

    "Edwin," James tried again, voice sharper, tugging the man''s sleeve.

    The older man finally turned, giving him a look. "What?"

    James glanced back at the alley. The figures were long gone, vanished into the maze of Oakwood''s side streets. He clenched his jaw.

    "I¡ª" He hesitated.

    What am I supposed to say? That he saw something impossible? That the storm and the river weren''t the only dangers creeping toward us? That something about those men, about how they had spoken, had left a profound, gnawing wrongness in my gut?

    It wasn''t that he thought Edwin wouldn''t believe him. But the older man was already so frustrated that James knew he wouldn''t hear him correctly.

    "Never mind." James exhaled through his nose, shaking off the feeling. He would keep this to himself for now.

    "C''mon, got things to do," Edwin grunted, not pressing further. He jerked his head toward the market stalls.

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    The rain showed no signs of letting up as James pushed wet curls out of his face.

    "Sil left us a list," Edwin muttered, pulling a slightly crumpled scrap of parchment from his coat. He squinted at it, muttering before handing it to James. "Get readin''. I left my good spectacles at home."

    James took it, unfolding the note. Miss Silvia''s neat, slanted handwriting stared back at him.

    <ul>

    <li>More salt, sugar, and flour for the winter stores</li>

    <li>Dried meat, if the butcher has it</li>

    <li>Two new oilskins¡ªyours both leak</li>

    <li>Three spools of black thread and decent wool, if the tailor has any left</li>

    <li>Candles and lamp oil¡ªdo not forget this, James</li>

    <li>Bandages, honey, and anything else that helps with colds and coughs¡ªEdwin is too stubborn to take care of himself</li>

    <li>If the herbalist has ginger or peppermint, get some. The good kind, not the twigs the apothecary tries to pass off</li>

    <li>See if the tanner has any decent scraps. I need new soles on my boots.</li>

    </ul>

    James sighed. "She''s got us running all over town."

    Edwin snorted.

    "She''s got you running all over town. I''ll handle the cider. I''ve been needing to pick up more." Giving James a hardy pat on the back.

    "So I get the whole market while you hang out with the craftsmen in the tavern?" James stumbled forward, fingers tightening around the list.

    "Aye." The older man said, pulling his coat collar up and stomping into the rain. "Gonna see if the other craftsmen have any actual plans for the flood too¡ªor if they''re just planning to drink through it."

    "You mean you''re going to drink through it." James huffed.

    "That too." Edwin grinned, adjusting his coat against the rain, and waved over his shoulder.

    Despite the storm, the town square was busy, people moving quickly between the market stalls and shops, bartering for supplies, preparing for the worst. The scent of muck, wet straw, and rain filled the air, mingling with the faint, lingering warmth of baking bread from the baker''s shop.

    James let his shoulders relax. The unease still sat in the back of his mind, but for now, he focused on the task at hand.

    He rechecked the list as a fat raindrop splattered against the parchment.

    James hissed, shifting the list closer to his chest, trying vainly to shield it from the downpour.

    Another drop. Then another. The ink bled, smearing into dark, useless streaks.

    "Sonadia''s Blade¡ª" he cursed, a phrase he wouldn''t have uttered if Edwin had still been around, shaking the ruined paper. He could still make out a few words¡ªcandles, bandages, boots¡ªbut the rest?

    Gone.

    James dragged a hand down his face, blinking against the rain as he tucked the list into his belt. Pushing his curls out of his face again with a harrumph.

    He''d have to remember. He couldn''t disappoint Miss Silvia, not after everything she''d done¡ªnot after how hard she worked to hold them together. And Edwin¡ªJames didn''t need the older man''s teasing if he forgot something important.

    Think.

    He ran through the basics.

    Flour, sugar, salt. Meat if the butcher still had any. Bandages, herbs. Lamp oil.

    The town square churned with movement, people pushing through the downpour, darting between market stalls and storefronts, heads ducked beneath cloaks and hoods. The usual lively chatter of Oakwood''s market was dampened by the storm, voices curt, transactions quick.

    James weaved through the crowd, mud sucking at his boots.

    Even through the rain, the town smelled of wet straw, damp wool, and the faintest trace of baking bread. The butcher''s stall was already half-empty, thick cuts of venison and rabbit wrapped in waxed paper, water beading off the slick surfaces. James paid for a rabbit and three of the venison stakes.

    Flour, sugar, salt. Bandages, herbs. Lamp oil.

    Everything felt normal. Or it should have.

    But the unease hadn''t left him.

    It clung to his skin worse than the rain, tightening around his chest like a hand he couldn''t shake.

    He caught himself glancing over his shoulder.

    Nothing.

    James shook himself.

    Focus.

    He pushed forward, ducking under the overhang of the general store, shaking out his cloak as best he could.

    The ink had run even more. James squinted at the blurred letters, trying to will them back into place. But they only ran more down the page.

    James liked the general store¡ªthe neat, orderly shelves, the way it was always clean, no matter the hour. And they were always happy to see him.

    He wiped the mud from his boots and glanced toward the back counter. Ashlynn sat there, reading, her dark hair falling in loose strands over her face. She brushed it aside, meeting his gaze with a genuine smile.

    James felt warmth rise to his cheeks despite the cold.

    "Ah, Master James, here for your monthly supply? A bit early this time, aren''t you?" The shopkeeper was a thin man, his frame bent slightly with age. Wisps of iron-gray hair clung stubbornly to the edges of his otherwise bare scalp¡ªtoo proud to shave it, too set in his ways to care. His eyes, dark and sharp despite the years, crinkled at the corners from a lifetime of laughter and knowing glances.

    A gust of wind howled against the door, rattling the frame. James blinked, snapping his attention back to the shopkeeper.

    "Yes, Mister Dai¡ªuh, candles, bandages, lamp oil." He counted them on his fingers, racking his brain for the rest.

    "And flour, sugar, salt," Mister Dai added, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he moved through the shop, gathering each item into a wax-sealed bag. "Give Master Edwin and Miss Silvia my love."

    James nodded. His eyes caught on a stack of waxed parcels near the counter. "Oh¡ªtwo new oilskins, if you''ve got them."

    "Of course. Ashlynn, grab two from the back?"

    "Yes, sir."

    James'' gaze lingered as Ashlynn disappeared through the door, dark hair swaying behind her.

    "Anything else, Master James?" James snapped back to Mister Dai¡ªonly to find a knowing twinkle in the old man''s eyes. His ears burned.

    Ashlynn returned, setting the oilskins in front of him before slipping back to her book.

    <hr>

    "Thanks, Mister Dai." James stepped out of the shop, pulling his cloak tight against the rain. The downpour had not lessened to a miserable drizzle, as he had hoped, but still the same terrible downpour. He adjusted the weight of the wax-sealed bag in his arms, ready to head home¡ª

    There they were, the two figures just outside the overhang, rain pouring down around them but somehow not touching them. James felt for his sword, the worn leather a comfort. He blinked to make sure they were real¡ªthey didn''t disappear. Slowly, he set the bag down next to the door and waited, hand on his sword.

    The taller one shifted, a gleam of something catching a hint of light,

    Fuck, that''s a knife.

    "Come with us," the shorter one murmured, voice low, calm, almost conversational. "Do not call out. Do not struggle."

    James'' grip tightened around his hilt. He glanced around¡ªno one was looking, too wrapped up in their own errands and worries about the storm.

    They think they can just take me.

    "Now." The taller one took a step closer. In a fluid motion, trying to grab James.

    James spun, catching the man''s outstretched wrist, the knife having disappeared back under the cloak. But the rain made his grip slip, and Taller was able to pull the hand back before James snapped the wrist.

    Shorter cursed, lunging forward¡ªJames barely twisted in time, the knife catching only air where his ribs had been a heartbeat before.

    Taller moved, jumping high, higher than James could believe, kicking down into James chest, sending him slamming back against the shop''s doors. The blow had hurt like being kicked by a mule.

    Shorter moved to cut James again. But James raised his blade just in time to parry the next strike, their blades moving in tandem, one high, one low, forcing him to shift, to react. His boots slid in the mud, the uneven ground making it harder to find balance.

    A feint. A real strike. A flash of silver aimed for his side¡ªJames caught it, twisting his sword to force the blade away, sending Shorter staggering.

    Taller pressed forward, relentless. James ducked and sidestepped, using the momentum of the slick ground to pivot. He aimed a kick low, knocking Shorter''s legs from under them, sending them crashing into the mud, with a wet smack.

    Taller snarled. Another strike, this one meant to end things quickly. A blow to knock James out. James barely managed to twist his sword up in time, steel meeting steel with a harsh scrape.

    Too close. Too strong. This guy is strong.

    James gritted his teeth, forcing their blades apart with a wild swing to create space. Shorter was already back on their feet, circling.

    I need to end this. People are starting to stare.

    Taller lunged¡ªJames didn''t parry. He stepped into the attack, twisting his body just enough that the blade skimmed his shoulder, pain lancing as the blade cut shallow. Then, James drove his elbow straight into Taller''s chest. Every bit of power he had went into that blow.

    The impact sent Taller staggering backward¡ªhood slipping¡ª

    James froze, and he could hear the gathering onlookers gasp.

    Taller had caught himself, breathing hard, rain running down striking features¡ªsharp cheekbones, scarlet eyes that gleamed even in the dim light, from under a mop of night black hair. Thick, curling black ram''s horns framed his head. A weary, almost sorrowful smile shone through his black beard.

    A satyr. James'' stomach dropped. He had heard stories, and Ser Edwin talked about satyrs from his days in Arrowsfall. But¡ª

    The satyr met his gaze, something soft in his expression. Like I wish you would''ve come with us. Then, without a word, he grabbed Shorter by the shoulder, yanking them back before turning and dashing down the alley. Now that James was listening, he could faintly hear the clop of hooves as they ran.

    James stood there, sword still raised, chest heaving. The rain dripped from his hair and down his face, mixing with sweat and adrenaline still pulsing through his veins.

    What in the hell was that?

    Behind him, the shop door creaked open.

    "James?" Mister Dai''s voice was cautious, concerned.

    James swallowed, lowering his blade, but his mind was already racing.

 Whispers in the Storm

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 Chase in the Mud

    Something had just shattered the window¡ªno, someone.

    A body lay twisted on the floor.

    James'' breath caught. The man, an Imperium soldier, was crumpled in a heap, limbs sprawled at unnatural angles, his armor dented, his helmet half-crushed against his skull. Blood pooled beneath him, already diluted by the rain pouring in from the storm outside.

    He was thrown through the window.

    James barely had time to process it before¡ª

    CRACK.

    Lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the chaos below.

    Shouts rang through the storm.

    "Cut it down!

    "The beast is heading for the Kettle!"

    "Quickly, men!"

    Bloodcurdling screams split through the rain. James staggered toward the broken window, hands gripping the frame as he peered out into the darkness.

    Lanterns bobbed in the streets, soldiers moving in frantic formations, spears raised, voices sharp with panic. The rain blurred their figures and turned them into ghosts against the night.

    CRACK.

    Another flash¡ªand he saw it.

    Towering.

    A hulking shape, easily twenty feet tall, a mass of muscle and stone-gray flesh, wreathed in the storm like it had risen from the depths of the earth itself. A single eye, wide and unblinking, locked onto the Rusty Kettle.

    Onto him.

    A guttural sound rumbled from its chest, rolling through the storm like distant thunder. James'' stomach turned to ice. His grip on the window frame grew tighter, and the wood bent and cracked under his touch.

    It''s here for me.

    THUD.

    The building shook as the creature took another step forward. Someone screamed. Another soldier''s body hit the wall just beneath James'' window with a sickening crack. A broken plea barely passed his lips before he slid down into the mud, unmoving.

    James saw as the Cyclops reached down and picked up another soldier. The man tried to fight back, but his sword bounced off the too-tough skin of the creature''s hand. It reached back and threw the soldier like it was playing darts, and the kettle was the board.

    James swallowed. As another bone-breaking thud shuddered through the building. James tore his eyes away as the Cyclops reached for another dart to throw.

    Ser Edwin stirred, groggy from sleep and cider, his movements sluggish. His eyes were unfocused as he looked about the room.

    "Sonadia''s Blade, boy. What is¡ª" His voice cut off the moment his gaze landed on the broken body sprawled across the floor. In a quick motion, Ser Edwin knelt by the soldier, placing his finger on his neck. "Dead. What happened¡ª"

    ¡°Cy-Cy-Cyclops.¡± James'' choked whisper cut through the storm. His hand came free from the frame to point out into the rain. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the massive shadow moving through the downpour. The ground trembled beneath the beast''s steps. James stumbled back from the window, heart slamming against his ribs, everything in him screaming to run. To get away. To hide until the thing passed.

    "Blessed Mother, have mercy," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the rain. Ser Edwin''s face had gone pale. Without another word, he grabbed his coat, wincing from the movement, and bolted for the door. James was on his heels in a moment and running in Edwin''s wake, feet pounding against the wooden floor, the chaos outside swallowing the sound of their footsteps.

    "What''s the plan?" James called over the rain, struggling to keep up.

    Edwin barely spared him a glance. "We get it out of town. It''s after something¡ªfind out what, then draw it away. Once we do that, we trip the damn thing. They are notoriously hard to kill."

    They burst into the standard room. The fires in the hearths had burned low, casting the room into a dark gloom. Sebastian was waiting for them.

    He stood near the bar, his golden robe pulled tight against his broad frame, the hem brushing against the floorboards. His expression was unreadable, but his orange eyes gleamed with something knowing¡ªsomething expectant. In one hand, he held something massive. Ser Edwin skidded to a halt, his breath catching.

    "That''s¡ª" His voice was almost reverent.

    James turned his gaze to the object and felt his own stomach drop.

    A war maul.

    No, that''s not just a war maul.

    The metal shaft was wrapped in thick, coiled bands, reinforced to withstand shattering force. It spanned nearly five feet from base to the brutal block of steel at its head¡ªa weapon made to crush, to break. Silver runes glowed faintly against the dark metal, with a spike jutting from one side like the fang of some ancient beast.

    Sebastian held it easily as if it weighed no more than a tankard of ale.

    "That''s Bow-Breaker." Ser Edwin swallowed thickly. The name settled heavily between them.

    James had only ever heard of its exploits in half-whispered stories. A weapon carried by one of the last adventurers to freely walk the world, a maul said to have cracked the spine of a wyvern in a single swing. It was said Sebastian had won it in a game of cards against the adventurer. But no one knew who this person was or what had happened to them. Only that Sebastian was not someone who you wanted to play cards against. It had hung above the fireplace of the Rusty Kettle for as long as James could remember, just another relic collecting dust. Now, it sat in Sebastian''s grip, its weight bending the air around it.

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    "Are you sure?" Ser Edwin looked at the innkeeper, almost disbelieving.

    "Does me no good hanging over the fire. Now, Go. Before that thing tears my roof off." Sebastian only smiled, something devious in his eyes. In a smooth movement, he lifted the maul and handed it to Ser Edwin.

    The blacksmith almost dropped it.

    James had never seen him struggle to hold anything. But it seemed like the maul was too heavy even for him to bear. Slowly, Edwin adjusted his grip, and something changed. His stance shifted, the hesitation melted away, and his fingers curled around the weapon''s handle like it belonged there. Like it had been waiting for him. Ser Edwin let out a slow breath, adjusting the maul over his shoulder, and turned toward the door.

    James moved to follow¡ª

    But a hand caught his wrist. Sebastian''s grip was tight. James looked up, startled, at the face he saw there. Sebastian''s usual humor had vanished. His orange eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were severe. Cold and Urgent.

    "Don''t let it grab you, promise," the innkeeper said, voice low and quiet. As if this was a matter of life and death.

    "I¡ªI promise." James swallowed, unsure why his chest suddenly felt too tight.

    For a flicker of a second, there was something else in Sebastian''s face. Regret? Concern? But then it was gone, replaced by a familiar grin.

    "Good," he said, releasing James'' arm in a flourish. "I''ll have a hot meal waiting when you get back."

    Then, as if the moment had never happened, he turned and strolled toward the kitchen, humming tunelessly as he disappeared behind the door. James lingered, staring at the empty space Sebastian had left behind.

    The unease in his gut hadn''t faded. If anything, it had only grown.

    But he knew there was no time to dwell on it now.

    James tightened his grip on his sword and ran out into the storm.

    The rain was terrible¡ªcold with winter''s bite. James felt like he had just gotten dry, warmed from the cider and the fire, and now all of it was gone. Stolen by the storm, the chill seeping into his bones.

    The Imperium soldiers shouted over the thunder, barking orders as they struggled to contain the beast. Spears flashed in the lightning, blades caught glints of pale fire before vanishing back into the dark.

    The Cyclops barely seemed to notice.

    It swatted a soldier aside with the back of its hand, sending the man flying into the side of a cart. He hit the wood with a sickening crack, slumping to the ground. Another soldier tried to dart between its legs¡ªtoo slow.

    Crunch.

    James saw it.

    The sickening moment when the massive foot came down, the lantern the soldier had carried sputtering out instantly.

    When the foot lifted, all that was left was broken flesh, sinking into the mud.

    James'' stomach twisted. He swallowed back bile.

    We have to move. We have to stop this¡ª

    Ser Edwin grabbed his arm, dragging him out of the beast''s immediate path.

    "Help me knock some sense into these lot," he grumbled, shoving his way toward the officer who seemed to be in charge¡ªa broad-shouldered woman with a silver crest on her armor.

    She was already shouting as they approached, her voice cutting through the rain. "Hold formation! Hold¡ªdammit, stop letting it push you back!"

    Ser Edwin didn''t wait for an invitation.

    "This isn''t working!" he bellowed, shoving a soldier aside to get her attention.

    "What¡ª" The officer whirled, fury in her eyes. "

    "We need to get it out of town." Edwin pointed toward the river. "You''ll lose more men if you try to stand your ground here¡ª"

    "I am standing my ground, blacksmith." The officer''s voice was tight with frustration, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword. "That thing is destroying the town. I will not be ordered by¡ª"

    Another flash of lightning.

    Another body hit the mud.

    She clenched her jaw.

    "You fought its kind before? Does it think? Does it feel pain?" Then, with visible effort, she turned to James.

    "Aye, long ago, Yes, and not really." Edwin''s grip on Bow-Breaker tightens.

    James hesitated.

    He didn''t know how to explain it. He had seen it searching, looking, seeking. It wanted something.

    Or¡­

    James'' chest tightened.

    It wants someone.

    "¡­ It''s after me," he said, voice barely above the rain.

    "What?" Ser Edwin''s head snapped toward him. "Speak up, boy."

    "I¡ªI think it''s after me, Edwin." James exhaled sharply, pulling Edwin a few steps away from the officers and soldiers. His throat was dry, but he forced the words out. He glanced at the beast. It still hadn''t moved past the town square. Still searched. Its single, burning eye flicked through the streets, ignoring the soldiers, the weapons, and the blood. "It''s looking for something, and it''s not stopping. I saw its face when it locked onto me¡ªit knew me. Like the satyrs did."

    Ser Edwin studied him, face unreadable, only the rain trailing down his beard. Then he did something James didn''t expect. He nodded.

    "Alright." No disbelief. No telling him he was imagining things. Just a quiet, steady acceptance that made James'' chest ache.

    "Then we give it what it wants." Ser Edwin smiled smugly.

    "Excuse me¡ª" James blinked,

    "We draw it out," Edwin interrupted, voice low. "I don''t like it, but you''re right. It''s probably after you. So you lead it away. Take it toward the river."

    "You want me to run straight at the monster trying to crush people?" James'' heart slammed against his ribs.

    Edwin''s lips twitched, the smile looking wicked in the dancing lights of the lanterns.

    "Not at it, lad¡ªaway."

    James sucked in a breath, cold and sharp.

    This is insane. But will it work?

    He glanced back at the officers, still shouting orders, still trying to push back something that didn''t care if they lived or died. They couldn''t stop it. Not here.

    James squared his shoulders and gave a nod.

    "¡­Okay then." Ser Edwin clapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the river. "That way."

    James tried to push the nerves back.

    Im gonna be bait, that''s fine, this is fine.

    "Listen up, we got a plan. We''ll lead it out!" Ser Edwin''s voice boomed over the commotion. The officer''s head spun to face the blacksmith, anger flaring in her eyes. But before she could argue, James was already moving. Ser Edwin only shrugged and pointed after James.

    James grabbed a torch from a nearby soldier and darted toward the side of the square, where a broken cart and scattered barrels littered the mud. He climbed onto the busted cart, balancing on the frame, raising the torch high overhead.

    The Cyclops'' head snapped toward him.

    Its eye locked onto his.

    James'' breath caught in his throat.

    "HEY!" James'' voice rang out, cutting through the storm. Waving the torch widely. "Come and get me!"

    The Cyclops roared.

    The force of it rattled windows and sent loose shingles skidding from rooftops.

    Then it moved.

    James barely had time to brace before the monster lunged forward, its massive foot slamming into the mud¡ªonly for it to slide, its balance tipping dangerously forward.

    It crashed into the side of the butcher''s shop. Hard.

    It''s working.

    The old stone and timber groaned under the impact. A support beam snapped with a sickening crack. The creature bellowed in frustration, pushing itself back upright and shoving through the debris.

    James didn''t wait to see if it was hurt. He ran.

    Boots splashed through puddles, mud clinging to his heels as he darted through the winding streets. The Cyclops followed¡ªstumbling, slipping, tearing through carts and market stalls in desperate pursuit.

    It clipped the corner of the baker''s shop, stone, and mortar fighting back, the force of the impact sending the beast sprawling onto its knees.

    Come on, stay down

    For a heartbeat, James dared to hope.

    Maybe it''ll stop¡ªmaybe it''ll give up¡ª

    Then, with a furious growl, it surged forward again.

    James cursed under his breath, forcing himself to move faster.

    The town seemed to be fighting back, every narrow alley, jutting beam, and rain-slicked step slowing the monster down. It smashed through a wooden overhang¡ªonly for the structure to collapse onto its back, tangling in its limbs. It roared in frustration, clawing free, slipping in the churned-up mud.

    Thank you, Oakwood.

    James took the opening, rounding a sharp corner and sprinting for the river''s edge.

    He could hear the rushing waters now, the white roar of the flood ahead. The rain pushed it into a monster all its own. The water was crashing and angry far past its banks.

    Lightning cracked the sky.

    Just a little further.

    Another crash, another splintering of stone as the Cyclops plowed into the side of a tannery, the impact sending ripples through the very ground.

    Just a little more, big guy.

    James risked a glance over his shoulder.

    The creature was limping now, breathing hard, soaked to the bone. But its single, furious eye never left him.

    Come on.

    James gritted his teeth, pushing forward.

    The river was waiting.

    His foot slipped¡ªmud-sucking at his boots¡ªand something yanked hard at his cloak before he could catch himself. A jolt shot through his spine as something strong dragged him backward.

 A Storm Yet to Pass

    "Get out of the way!"

    A rough hand yanked James backward just as the Cyclops'' fist crashed into the mud where he''d been standing. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, spraying water and debris into the air. James stumbled, his breath catching as he turned to see the Imperium officer, her short ruby-red hair plastered to her forehead, sky-blue eyes sharp and locked onto him.

    She had pulled him out of the way.

    "Good job, boy." Ser Edwin''s voice bellowed over the chaos. James barely had time to turn before the older man hefted Bow-Breaker, the massive War-Maul flashing in the stormlight. With a sound like mountains colliding, the hammer struck the Cyclops'' knee. A deafening smack echoed through the rain. The monster howled, staggering, mud churning beneath its weight.

    But it did not fall.

    The Cyclops snarled, its one massive eye narrowing in rage. It reached for Ser Edwin, its thick fingers stretching to seize him. Ser Edwin cursed, slipping back into the mud, barely dodging the grasping hand. James'' pulse pounded in his ears, everything in his screaming to move.

    No¡ª

    "Here! Here!" His voice carried through the storm, raw and desperate.

    James ripped his sword free swiftly, steel catching the flickering lantern light. In his other hand, the torch blazed, flame dancing wildly against the downpour. The Cyclops hesitated, and slowly, its gaze shifted. The single red eye locked onto him. James swore there was more than hunger there.

    "You sure about this?" the officer asked, stepping beside him. Doubt laced her words, but there was something else, too¡ªcalculated readiness.

    "Not even a little." James breathlessly exhaled.

    "Good." A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

    She unslung her shield and spear, the wicked-looking weapon gleaming in the storm. The crest of the Imperium was emblazoned on both, bright even in the rain.

    "Here, beast!" James swung the torch wide, the embers sparking in the wind. His grip tightened on his sword.

    The Cyclops let out a guttural snarl, muscles tensing beneath its thick hide. Then, with a lumbering step, it charged. James barely had time to move before the officer grabbed him again, shoving him sideways as a tree-sized fist slammed into the ground where he had just been standing.

    "Try not to get crushed, yeah?" she called, twisting away from another wild swing.

    James caught his balance, mud slick beneath his boots.

    "Not trying to, thanks." He shot her a glare, but she only grinned.

    She''s not much older than me, maybe a year or two at most. Isn''t she too young to be wearing an officer''s crest or barking orders?

    But there was no hesitation in how she moved¡ªjust confidence, sharpened like a blade. Attacking the Cyclops ankle with a series of jabs. Each one left only a tiny cut that didn''t bleed. She retreated, breath misting the air, looking at James. "Plan?"

    The Cyclops bellowed, shaking the ground.

    James swung the torch again, forcing the creature''s eye onto him.

    "Come on, ugly! You want me? Come get me!" James bellowed.

    "Bold strategy," the officer muttered, planting her feet, spear at the ready.

    "It''s working, isn''t it?"

    The beast growled and stomped forward, favoring its wounded knee. Ser Edwin had done damage, but it wasn''t enough to stop it. It reached for James, who ducked out of the way and came up into a defensive stance. Another lumbering, awkward step toward James sent mudding flying; the soldiers poked at the Cyclops from behind, trying to push it closer to James to the river.

    "Alright, any brilliant ideas?" James shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders.

    "Yeah," the officer said, flipping her spear in a practiced motion. "Don''t die."

    "Real helpful." James huffed.

    "Relax, farm boy." She smirked, adjusting her grip. "I''ve got your back."

    "Name''s James." He clenched his jaw.

    "Sofia." She said, smacking her spear against her shield.

    Another crash of thunder. Rain pounded against the mud. The Cyclops roared and charged again. James dashed to the side, out of its path. Sofia was right there beside him.

    The Cyclops turned and lumbered toward them, each step sinking deeper into the rain-soaked earth. The river churned just beyond, dangerous and wild, its surface a swirling mass of debris and whitewater.

    "We need to get it to the river," James shouted, shifting his stance as the beast roared.

    "No shit." Sofia spun her spear, blue eyes flicking between the monster and the mud pooling near the river''s edge. "How do you feel about playing bait again?"

    "Starting to think you just like watching me almost die." James let out with a sigh.

    "Maybe," she said, grinning. "You do it well."

    James didn''t have time to fire back. The Cyclops lunged again, a massive fist crashing between them, sending mud flying. They split apart, dodging in opposite directions. Think mud coated his left side as he came up with the river to his back.

    James could feel the river behind him now; its pull was strong even from here.

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    "Now or never!" he called.

    Sofia didn''t hesitate. She moved fast, sweeping in low, her spear flashing as she slashed across the beast''s bad knee. It bellowed in pain, The attack cutting deep into the wounded flesh. Staggering, its foot slipping in the thick mud.

    James took his chance. He threw himself forward, ducking beneath a wild backhand, his sword slicing across the back Cyclops'' ankle. The wound wasn''t deep, but it was enough, the leg started shaking uncontrollably.

    The beast wobbled.

    Sofia planted her feet and drove her spear straight under the kneecap. This time, something snapped, and the knee buckled.

    The Cyclops roared in pain, stumbling back¡ªits foot sank deep into the mud and churning water, and suddenly, there was nothing beneath that foot but the hungry pull of the flooded river.

    The massive creature tried to correct itself, clawing for purchase, but the ground betrayed it.

    "Bye-bye," Sofia muttered, taking a step back.

    With a final, deafening roar, the Cyclops tipped backward, its bulk crashing into the raging waters.

    James barely had time to move before the river sucked it under, the beast''s massive form vanishing beneath the churning current.

    Then it was gone.

    Only the wind and the rain remained, howling through the trees.

    James exhaled, sword still raised, heart still hammering.

    "Not bad, farm boy." Sofia let out a slow whistle, rolling her shoulders.

    "You did alright, too, Imperium girl." James snorted, wiping rain from his face.

    She smirked, flicking mud from her spear. "Come on. I think your old man''s about to keel over."

    James turned.

    Ser Edwin stood a few paces away, Bow-Breaker resting casually against his shoulder, his stance solid despite the rain-slicked mud. His expression was unreadable for a moment, and then he huffed a small, approving laugh.

    "Keel over?" Edwin arched a brow, shifting his grip on the hammer. "Girl, I could keep going another hour. You two are the ones standing around catching your breath."

    "Yeah, yeah. Don''t go pulling anything, Blacksmith." Sofia scoffed.

    James shook his head, sheathing his sword. Despite the ache settling into his limbs, he couldn''t help but smile.

    "You alright?"

    "Aye. More worried about what the hell that thing was doing here." Edwin rolled his shoulder. His gaze drifted to the river, where the last ripples faded beneath the dark water. Before flicking back to James, "Beasts like that don''t wander this far north. Not without reason."

    James swallowed. The same unease crawled up his spine.

    "Well, if you two are done staring at each other, I''m cold, I''m hungry, and I''ve traveled a long way," Sofia cut in, voice dry but edged with exhaustion. "Let''s get what''s left of the men back to the Kettle."

    Her eyes were grave now, the easy smirk from before replaced by something more problematic. The weight of command.

    "Michealson," she barked, turning to one of the soldiers, "gather the dead and get Smith to set up the wounded in the town hall. The mayor''s given us permission to use it while we''re here. Once that''s done, get everyone fed. Officers are meeting me at the Kettle. Got it?"

    Michealson saluted, already peeling off to relay orders. The remaining soldiers moved quickly, some dragging bodies from the mud, others helping their wounded brothers to their feet. The storm had lessened to a steady drizzle, but the weight of the fight still clung to them all.

    James'' stomach twisted as he stepped past one of the bodies¡ªa young recruit, barely older than himself, lying motionless in the mud. The crushed remnants of a lantern still clutched in his fingers.

    Sofia caught his glance, her expression unreadable.

    "Don''t dwell on it," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. "They knew what they signed up for."

    James wasn''t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. It wasn''t.

    "Come on, boy. Warmth, food, and strong drink await." Ser Edwin clapped him on the back, shaking him from his thoughts.

    James didn''t argue. His legs ached, his ribs throbbed, and the rain had seeped into every layer of his clothes. The thought of the Rusty Kettle, of firelight and warmth, was enough to make him pick up his pace.

    Sebastian had outdone himself.

    The tavern was packed, soldiers and townsfolk alike crammed inside, shaking off the cold and the attack, clinging to steaming mugs of cider or bowls of thick stew. The scent of roasted venison, fresh bread, and spiced mead filled the air, wrapping around James like a blanket.

    Sebastian stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled up. The night robe was gone, and a flowing purple top and green pants were in place. His Gold beard glinted in the firelight as he filled tankards with effortless speed.

    "Look what the storm dragged in!" he bellowed, eyes twinkling. "Bunch of drowned rats, the lot of you. Get in, get dry¡ªMelody''s got food waiting."

    Sofia barely had time to shrug off her cloak before one of her officers pulled her aside.

    "Later," she muttered to James, giving him a pointed look with those blue eyes before disappearing into the throng.

    James didn''t have time to dwell on it. Ser Edwin was already moving toward the bar, Bow-Breaker slung across his back like it weighed nothing.

    Sebastian''s eyes flicked to the weapon, his grin widening.

    "Ah. There''s the old girl. How''d she do?"

    Ser Edwin grunted, setting the massive hammer down against the counter with a heavy thud.

    "Nearly took my shoulder off, but she did the job." He pushed the weapon toward Sebastian. "Here. She''s yours."

    Sebastian didn''t move to take it. He just tilted his head, considering Edwin with that same knowing twinkle.

    "Now, now. No take-backsies. You needed her. You used her. What makes you think you''re done needing her?" Sebastian wiggled his pointer finger in front of his face.

    "She belongs here. Over your fireplace, where she won''t damn near dislocate my arm." Edwin scowled.

    "That arm of yours is still plenty strong. Besides, Bow-Breaker doesn''t belong to me." Sebastian laughed, the sound warm and rich.

    "Then who does she belong to?" James frowned.

    Sebastian''s gaze flickered toward the firelight, shadows dancing in his orange eyes.

    "The one who needs her most."

    James wasn''t sure he liked how the innkeeper looked at Edwin. Like he already knew something, the rest of them didn''t.

    "You always talk in riddles?" Edwin huffed, shaking his head.

    "Only when I''m drinking." Sebastian grinned.

    "Then get me a damn drink," Edwin muttered, rubbing his temple.

    Sebastian laughed again, already reaching for a bottle.

    "Aye, aye, coming right up."

    James shook his head, letting the warmth of the tavern soak into his bones.

    James moved off, wanting a moment alone with his thoughts.

    They were all here because of me. Why?

    The power stirred, glowing like a moonbeam beneath the branches of a large tree. A whisper, soft as the wind, curled around his mind.

    "It''s because of me, little-seed. My power in you draws them like moths to a flame. I wake a little more each day. Soon, you will need to make a choice."

    Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. Slumbering once more.

    James shivered. Not from the wet clothes clinging to his skin nor the damp chill that rushed in each time another soldier pushed open the tavern door. This was something more profound. A cold that settled in his bones coiled around his heart.

    His fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles paling. It couldn''t be a coincidence. None of this just happened.

    Across the room, Ser Edwin threw his head back in laughter, the sound deep and booming, his broad hand slamming against the bar as Sebastian shook his head, grinning. They were deep in some joke or story, the weight of battle already shrugged from their shoulders, lost in drink and firelight.

    James wanted to call him over. Wanted to say something. Anything. But what could he say? That the Satyr had looked disappointed when James hadn''t gone with them? That the Cyclops had ignored everything else just to come for him?

    "Heya, new me." The voice snapped James from his thoughts.

    A broad-shouldered man loomed in his field of vision, face familiar despite the dark beard and the jagged scar running from forehead to lip. His eyes¡ªkeen, knowing¡ªhadn''t changed.

    James blinked.

    No. It couldn''t be.

    "Kurt?"

    A heartbeat. Then James shot up, slamming into him with a hug.

    They both laughed, deep, hearty sounds that shook off the weight of the last day, if only for a moment. The tension, the fear, the questions¡ªgone. Just for now.

    "Ser Edwin will be so happy to see you," James said, pulling back, grinning wide.

    Kurt smirked, ruffling James'' damp hair like he used to when James was smaller.

    "Then what are we waitin'' for?"

 Left out in the Rain

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 Into the Storm

    James burst into the house, his legs aching, chest heaving. His pulse pounded in his ears, his hands shaking as he reached for anything they might need. He had no idea what they would need. His fingers hovered uselessly over a pack, frustration tightening his throat.

    Miss Silvia stood in the doorway to her room, worry carved into the lines of her face. Absentmindedly, she twisted a lock of hair, braiding and unbraiding it with restless fingers.

    "It is time, then." Her voice was quiet and distant, her eyes locked on the faded portrait near the hearth. The four of them stood frozen in paint, captured before Max had been stolen, before everything had shifted beneath their feet. It felt like a lifetime ago.

    James grimaced. Looking over the portrait, they were all so happy there, nearly two years ago now. Miss Silvia insisted on getting it painted. The painter took nearly a whole day to do the outline. Max Kept moving or poking James, sending them into fits of laughter, and the process would need to be restarted.

    "What''s that supposed to mean?" He forced a grin, though it felt thin, brittle. "You''re acting like I''ll never see you again."

    "None of that." She exhaled, a weary smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Slowly, she lowered her hands from where they had been worrying at her braid, stretching them out toward him. "Come here, kiddo."

    James hesitated boy his age weren''t supposed to need hugs. But right now he knew he did. He stiffened awkwardly before stepping into her embrace.

    The warmth of her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the scent of dried herbs clinging to her clothes. She grounded him. Her arms wrapped around him tight, pulling him in as though she could shield him from the storm that lay ahead. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, the touch soft, lingering.

    James closed his eyes, knowing he should step away. But something in him broke.

    "We''re gonna bring him back." His voice was firm but quiet, spoken into the fabric of her shoulder. "We''re gonna be a family again. They gave up on him. On the others, but I won''t. I won''t give up on family."

    Miss Silvia didn''t answer right away. She only held him tighter, her hand smoothing over the back of his head.

    And for a moment, just a moment, James let himself feel like a boy again¡ªsafe in her arms, in their home, before the weight of the road ahead could press down on him.

    Ser Edwin burst into the house, mirroring James from moments earlier¡ªhis broad frame filling the doorway, rain dripping from his coat, his chest rising and falling with urgency. His eyes, sharp with purpose, softened the moment they landed on them¡ªMiss Silvia and James, still wrapped in each other''s arms, standing in the doorway of the room he had built for her.

    She didn''t hesitate. She stretched out an arm, wordless, an invitation.

    Edwin crossed the space in two strides, sinking into her touch and pulling them close. His arms wrapped around them, strong and steady, warm despite the wet that clung to his clothes.

    They stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. The only sound the steady tap tap tap of rain against the roof.

    James wanted to stay like that forever. Wanted to pretend that nothing outside these walls existed. That they were just a family, whole, unshaken. But his family wasn''t whole. Max was out there, and they needed to go get him.

    "Get the large packs from my room," Ser Edwin finally murmured, his voice rough, quiet. "The ones sealed against the rain. Grab the tent and bedrolls, too."

    It was an order, but something was beneath it. Something James couldn''t quite place. A quiet demand for privacy.

    Still, James obeyed. He forced himself to step back, slipping free from their hold. Lingering momentarily, just past the doorway, pressing his back against the wall. Just a moment. Just long enough to listen.

    He had done this so many nights over the years. Sneaking from his bed to lingering just out of sight, eavesdropping on their quiet conversations over tea. It had always been a comfort, hearing them speak in hushed voices, knowing they would always be there. That he had a family again.

    If nothing else, it would calm his nerves. He closed his eyes, letting the moment sink into him.

    "We have to go," Edwin said softly.

    "I know." Miss Silvia''s voice was steady.

    James risked a glance peaking around the corner.

    Miss Silvia''s hand lingered on Ser Edwin''s face, fingers brushing along the roughness of his beard, memorizing the feel of him. There were unshed tears in her eyes. A tight smile on her lips.

    "He''s ready," Edwin murmured, his head lowering, nearly touching hers. He closed his eyes, seeming to sink into her touch.

    "I know." Her voice was so quiet that James barely heard it over the rain. "I told you this day would come."

    "I know you did." Edwin exhaled, long and slow. He pulled her against his chest, holding her like he would never get the chance again. She leaned into the embrace, resting her head against him. "Doesn''t make it any easier."

    "It was never going to be easy," she whispered. "Not since the orchard. But he''s a good kid."

    "I thought we had more time." Ser Edwin let out something like a breathless laugh, though there was no humor in it. His voice cracked at the edges, and James swallowed hard. Holding back tears of his own. "There are so many things I meant to do."

    "I know." Miss Silvia pulled away just enough to look up into Ser Edwin''s gaze, her hands cupping his face.

    Edwin''s fingers tightened around her waist, gripping her like a man holding on to sand as it spilled between his fingers. He opened his mouth and inhaled sharply.

    "I lo¡ª"

    Miss Silvia pressed a finger to his lips. She was smiling softly, tears flowing from her green eyes now.

    "None of that now." She kissed him.

    It was the first time James had ever seen it. The two people he loved most were locked in a desperate, quiet moment. There was no urgency, no frenzy, only the ache of something long understood but never given into.

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    When they pulled apart, she gave him a tired, knowing smile. Ser Edwin just placed his forehead against hers. Breathing in deep, her scent one more time.

    "Go," she whispered. "There isn''t much time."

    James felt like he had seen something he shouldn¡¯t, a private moment not meant for him and moved down the hall, hurried with the chaos of trying to give them space. A flush building in his cheeks. But before he could breathe, Ser Edwin had them out the door, packs laden with all they would need. With cloaks and coats wrapped tight against the storm, James looked back for just for a moment.

    I''m ready. They think I''m ready to do this, and I can do it.

    Then he ran back to Miss Silvia, pulling her tight, something in him screaming to run and hide, to stay here. But knowing in his bones, he couldn''t.

    "Go, dearie. Save Max, bring him home." She hugged him tight and then pushed him out the door. Tears glistening at the edges of her eyes.

    Ser Edwin began trudging down the road, and James had to hustle to catch up, boots sinking into the mud. Though he couldn''t see it, Miss Silvia waved one final and closed the door against the storm.

    The storm swallowed them whole.

    James adjusted his pack, its weight pressing between his shoulders, unfamiliar but solid. Rain lashed at his face, cold and relentless, the wind pulling at his cloak like unseen hands trying to drag him back.

    They walked silently, boots sinking into the thickening mud, the road barely more than a flooded path winding away from Oakwood. James couldn''t tell if it was the rain or tears running down his face, and he didn''t know if he cared. He risked a glance back. The forge was already lost behind the veil of rain, the warm glow of its windows barely more than a distant blur. Miss Silvia was there, waiting, hoping, and praying for them. James sent up his own desperate prayer to any gods that would listen.

    "I will do what I can, little-seed." The voice answered back.

    A lump rose in his throat, forcing him to turn forward. Each step taking him farther from home but closer to Max.

    They had a long way to go.

    Ser Edwin moved with steady determination, his broad frame cutting through the storm like a ship through waves. Nothing seemed to slow his march, not the cold, the wind, or the weight of his pack.

    The rain did not let up. Hours passed. Maybe more. The world was reduced to shades of gray, the road stretching endlessly beneath their feet. Water dripped from James'' hood, coat, and gloves soaked through until cold settled deep in his bones. He absent-mindedly checked the compass, its needle seemingly stuck pointing towards the forge, except sometimes it would briefly point towards Ser Edwin or off into the west, then snap back the way they had come.

    His fingers curled tight around the compass, flexing to keep the blood flowing. He could do this. He had to do this. The needle flicked north towards Max as thunder rumbled, low and deep.

    Ser Edwin slowed, tilting his head as if listening to something beyond the storm. James followed his gaze, though he thought there was nothing to see. Just trees, bent swaying in the wind, their dark silhouettes stark against the storm''s fury.

    "Need to find shelter," Edwin grunted. Shielding his eyes against the rain. "Get a little warmth into our bones."

    James grunted, unsure if Ser Edwin could hear him. His legs burned from the exhaustion creeping in with each step. But still, they walked. Searching the road and trees for anything that might provide a reprieve against the storm.

    James couldn''t tell if it was day or night, just the rolling black clouds, an endless churn above, dumping an endless fury upon them. The sucking of the mud at his boots, the biting of the wind against his cloak, the unrelenting beat of rain against his skin. It was as if the world had turned against him, clawing at him, daring him to stop.

    But still, the compass pointed north.

    North. To Max.

    A constant tug deep inside his chest, his heart aching to move his feet forward, each step a victory against the storm trying to hold him back.

    Are you there?

    "I am, little-seed." The voice curled around the edges of his thoughts. Parting his thoughts like the sun burned away clouds.

    We need shelter. Somewhere to sleep.

    "It has been a thousand years since I walked your land," the voice mused, quieting for a time. "My servant says there is a hunter''s hut just off the road ahead. Old, but sound."

    Can I trust you?

    The presence retreated, fading into the power in his chest, just out of reach. James let out a slow breath, feeling that strange pressure press against his soaked clothes, easing the cold from his bones just a little. Making the rain bothered him a little less.

    "I think I see something," James called over the wind. "A hut, just up the road."

    "You sure?" Edwin shouted back, shielding his eyes against the downpour. "Can''t see a damn thing in this blasted rain."

    James grabbed Ser Edwin''s shoulder, pointing ahead, and after a moment, Edwin grunted and stomped off the path. Sure enough, tucked against an old boulder overgrown with moss and ivy was an old hunting shack half-hidden in the storm''s wrath.

    Forgotten, it leaned to one side, the weight of years pressing heavily on its sagging beams. Rain had worn grooves into the wood, and ivy clung desperately to its rotting edges. But it was standing. James watched as a small white fox ran out from the hut, its silver eyes meeting James and nodding slowly before disappearing into the forest''s dark shadows.

    "Blessed Mother," Ser Edwin called. "it was dry."

    James dropped his pack, rolling his shoulders, his eyes sweeping the small space. Three walls, a sagging roof, and barely enough room to stretch out, but it would do. The air was thick with damp wood, oak, and vaguely animal-smelling.

    Ser Edwin crouched, already pulling flint and steel. He worked in steady, patient movements, striking over and over, coaxing tiny sparks into the dryest bits of kindling he could find. James watched as Edwin shielded the flickering embers, whispering soft encouragement as if speaking to a skittish colt. Occasionally cussing in words, James couldn''t understand as the flame would go out at the slightest gust of wind. The older man smiled the whole time as if he had done this before.

    Slowly, the flame caught again. This time, James saw as it took root in the driest of tender. It grew hungry, embers licking at the sticks, building until a warm, steady glow filled the small space.

    "There we go." Edwin sat back, wiping his hands on his coat, a wide grin splitting his face. James inched closer to the flames, feeling the heat soak into his bones, chasing away the worst of the storm''s chill.

    Something heavy hit him in the chest. He blinked, catching it before it hit the ground. It was a thick, well-worn blanket, patched more than whole.

    "Wrap up," Edwin muttered, already rummaging through his pack. "We need to get moving in a few hours."

    James pulled it tight around his shoulders, letting its weight settle over him. Already, his eyes were drooping; never had he walked so far at a time. Every inch of him was tired. He tried to wiggle his toes in his boots to ensure they were there, but the effort alone made him want to curl up and sleep.

    Ser Edwin stretched out his bedroll, grunting as he leaned against the uneven ground. Then he hummed, low and steady. A familiar tune.

    James froze.

    Miss Silvia''s song. A soft lullaby that had always scared off the nightmares and brought a deep calm over James when he first came to live with Ser Edwin.

    His chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He closed his eyes, his body sinking deeper into the warmth of the fire, the cocoon of his blanket. Tonight, at least, the nightmares would be kept at bay.

    "Good night, Ser."

    Edwin just kept humming.

    James smiled just a little bit more and, finally, sleep pulled him under into the deep black of dreamless sleep.

    <hr>

    A sharp thud jolted James awake.

    The fire had burned low, the embers pulsing like a dying heartbeat. The wind howled through the trees, rattling the half-rotted walls of the hut, but something else had woken him.

    James'' breath hitched. His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, still belted at his side. Then, the smell hit him. Wet fur. Copper. Slowly, he sat up. A small, limp shape lay just inside the doorway, fur matted and stained, water and blood pooling beneath it.

    A fox.

    White as fresh snow, its lifeless silver eyes staring up at James. Panic rose in him as his pulse pounded in his ears.

    Then, he heard the creak of something shifting beyond the doorway, just outside the reach of the dying firelight. A shadow stretched against the storm, hunched, unnatural.

    A wolf, but not of flesh and fur. Its body was woven from dry vines and jagged branches, twisted into something almost alive. The brambles cracked as it moved, shifting like they were breathing. Like the dead vegetation itself had risen up and decided to hunt.

    James'' breath came sharp and fast, heartbeat hammering in his chest. As a voice, like a nail scraping across slate, forced itself into his mind.

    "Miss me, little seed."

    The breath in James'' lungs turned to ice.

    Scar had returned, and he wasn''t alone.

 A Light in the Storm.

    Scar lunged, jaws snapping, broken teeth bared in a awful grin.

    James barely had time to raise his sword. The impact rattled his bones, steel meeting rotting fangs with a sickening scrape. Scar twisted, snarling, pushing against the blade, his breath reeking of decay and damp earth. James braced, muscles burning, the sheer unnatural strength of the beast pressing down on him.

    Scar feinted left, then right¡ªa blur of twisted limbs and thorny sinew.

    James held, but he wouldn''t last long.

    A movement in the corner of his eye¡ª

    Ser Edwin, Bow-Breaker already in hand, moving like a force of nature. He took one heavy step forward, war maul raised¡ª

    CRACK.

    A massive, clawed arm tore through the hut''s wall, splintering wood like it was paper. James barely had time to register the attack before it snatched Edwin¡ªdragging him bodily through the rain-rotted wall out into the storm.

    James turned just in time to dodge another swipe, rolling hard, slick with mud. He hit the ground near the dying fire, coming up with a smoking branch in one hand and a sword in the other.

    The hut groaned.

    The walls, weakened by time and Scar''s assault, buckled and cracked. The roof sagged dangerously, fighting against the wind and its inevitable collapse. Scar''s muzzle twisted in amusement, his red eyes glinting in the firelight.

    Then he was gone. A streak of black thorns and jagged limbs darted through the gaping hole where the wall had been. James dove. The hut collapsed.

    The air filled with the splintering of wood, the storm''s roar, the choking scent of wet earth. Mud coated James from head to toe, thick and suffocating. The smoking branch hissed as it drowned in the filth, embers dying instantly. The voice came like a knife in his skull.

    "Smart. Going for the fire. Too bad it''s all gone now."

    James barely had time to register the words before Scar slammed into him, claws raking down his chest. Driving him deeper into the mud,

    Pain flared hot and sharp. His coat saved him from the worst of it, but he felt the fabric tear, felt the burning sting of fresh wounds.

    I have to get up. If I stay down, I am dead.

    Crunch.

    Something massive collided with Scar, sending the beast tumbling off him. Too-long limbs, wickedly curved horns, burning red eyes¡ªthe thing was made of the same twisted and writhing thorns as Scar. The two rolled a tangled mass of limbs and brambles, shrieking and clawing at each other.

    A roar of rage.

    Deep. Human. Familiar.

    Ser Edwin.

    James looked up just in time to see Edwin charging back into the fight, Bow-Breaker raised. The war maul gleamed in the near-constant flashes of lightning, the silver inlaid along its head pulsing with an eerie glow. His silhouette was massive against the storm, unshaken and unrelenting.

    James scrambled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. His lungs burned, mud weighed down his limbs, and his wounds throbbed with each movement. But he knew they would be healing. The pain was just a reminder to keep moving. Scar struggled to get upright, snarling.

    "It''s me!" James screamed before Edwin could bring the full weight of Bow-Breaker down.

    Shock flickered across the older man''s face. He shifted his momentum, turning the swing into a brutal sideways strike. Slamming it into one of the creatures. Sending it flying back against a tree with a sickening crack.

    Another one of the creatures lurched toward them, its movements unnatural and jerky, like something quickly formed for this task. It growled with a maw too big for its body. And James saw them all now.

    Three more.

    Lightning flashed, illuminating the horror in stark relief.

    They were like satyrs, but wrong. The skulls of rams, but elongated, stretched, grotesque mockery of the things they had once been. Their bodies writhed, made of the same dead thorny vines as Scar, their limbs too long, lit from the glowing core in their chests. Their fingers were tipped with wickedly curved claws.

    The storm crackled above, the wind screaming through the trees. Stretching and warping the shadows. The thunders boom like drums of war.

    The creatures shifted, their heads cocking at unnatural angles, moving in slow, predatory steps. They were surrounding them.

    James'' fingers clenched around his sword and brought the blade out in front of him, Ser Edwin to his back.

    All at once, the creatures screamed. The sound ripped through the air, high-pitched, a harsh, chittering screech that made James'' skin crawl.

    Scar finally recovered, pulling himself from the mud and muck. Straightening, his red eyes burning with something cruel.

    "I will rip your throat from your neck," he rasped voice jagged, broken, too many mouths speaking at once. "Then I will drag your corpse to my master. And watch him feast on your flesh. On a god-seed''s flesh. His ascension will be glorious."

    James was taken aback. Scar had spoken, not in his mind but with the broken maw; he blinked, trying to adjust to the change. Scar took advantage of the distraction, and like the storm itself, they attacked.

    James barely got his blade up before claws raked across his chest again. He twisted, the strike glancing off his coat''s thick, soaked fabric, but the force sent him stumbling, boots skidding in the slick mud. A second beast lunged, claws outstretched. He barely ducked in time, slashing his blade across the creature''s exposed stomach. Something like a hiss came from the wound as it twisted away from James.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Ser Edwin met them with a roar like thunder. Bow-Breaker sang, crushing through vines and thorns like brittle bone. One beast reared back. Its chest caved in but didn''t fall. The flickering light inside pulsed with the storm. It twisted unnaturally, the snapping of brambles and vines reforming itself, even as Edwin swung again.

    James had no time to think before another beast was on him. Hooked claws lashed out, teeth snapping too close to his face. He ducked, twisted, and rammed his blade up through what he thought was the thing''s heart. It shrieked, its body writhing; ichor dripped down the blade, hissing and smoking. It collapsed inward, pulling itself free of the wound. The vines knitted back together, closing over the blade before James could fully wrench it free.

    "What¡ª"

    Pain exploded across his ribs as the creature kicked him, sending him sprawling into the muck. Cold. Wet. Mud poured into his open mouth.

    James gasped, spitting what mud he could out, rolling to his side just as a clawed foot slammed down where his head had been. He lashed out with his boot, connecting with the creature''s knee. It staggered just enough for him to scramble to his feet and yanked his sword out the rest of the way. He risked a glance at Edwin.

    The older man was fighting like a man possessed. Bow-Breaker swung in wide arcs, each strike meant to break, to destroy. One beast had its arm hanging uselessly from its shoulder. Another had half its chest caved in. But they didn''t stop. They just kept moving, kept coming, their unnatural limbs pulling back together, reshaping. They worked as a pack to drive Ser Edwin and James closer together, and they weren''t dying.

    Scar circled the edges of the fight, red eyes gleaming. Maw opening and closing with loud snaps, as if he was issuing orders.

    "Struggling?" he crooned, voice curling through the chaos. "You can''t kill what is already dead."

    James gritted his teeth, breath coming in short, hard gasps. His fingers tightened around his sword. He was close to Ser Edwin now. If he could get back to him with the older man. Something slammed into him from the side.

    James crashed into the remnants of the collapsed hut, splintered wood biting into his back. His vision blurred, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. The creature that had struck him didn''t wait. It leaped forward, claws raised¡ªBow-Breaker crushed its skull mid-air.

    The beast collapsed instantly, thorns and branches scattering across the ground like discarded kindling. Ser Edwin loomed over James, eyes dark with focus.

    "On your feet." His voice was steady but strained. He was tiring. James could see the air mist before him, breaths coming in short gasps.

    James swallowed back bile, forcing himself up. His body ached. Everything was soaked and heavy, the cold sinking into every inch of him.

    They were losing.

    For every injury they seemed to inflicted, the creatures reformed. Even when Edwin''s struck true, the bones should have broken, when bodies should have crumbled. They didn''t.

    Scar had been right.

    "You can''t kill what is already dead."

    Lightning flashed overhead. The storm raged, but James felt something worse brewing. A flash across his vision, a man with red pupils and black eyes, a smile that tore open the skin of his cheeks.

    The creatures spread out again, reforming their circle. Herding them. They knew Edwin was strong, that James was fast. But the creatures were learning.

    Scar grinned, his jagged teeth catching the flickering light.

    "We could do this all night," he mused. "But we don''t have to, little-seed. Just come with us."

    James'' chest heaved. His vision swam as he blinked away the vision, bracing himself for an attack.

    The storm raged, wind howling through the trees, rain hammering down, but¡­

    Something shifted. A break in the clouds. A parting, slow and deliberate, as if something unseen peeled the storm apart with careful hands. And through it, just for a moment.

    A beam of silver light.

    James gasped. It cut through the darkness, through the rain, through the very air itself, and landed on him. Calm and steady, pulsing with his heartbeat. The moment it touched his skin, something inside him stirred. His power, the door barely opened, begged to be ripped from its hinges.

    His chest tightened.

    I don''t trust you.

    "But you need me, little seed."

    James took a deep breath and pulled the door open, not entirely, just enough.

    A rush of warmth flooded his veins, not fire, not heat, but light. It raced down his arms, pooled in his fingertips, and pulsed into the hilt of his sword.

    The blade shuddered at first. Resisting the magic, but James focused and pushed.

    It glowed. A bright, silver radiance, not flickering, not unsteady, but solid and unyielding. The light ran down the steel, tracing its edges, burning into its core. It hummed with power.

    Across the battlefield, Scar''s head snapped up. His red eyes widened.

    "No," Scar snarled, stepping back. "You don''t get to do that."

    Scar''s voice tried to force itself into his mind, James could feel the attempt, but it was turned back. As if a wall of light surrounded his mind. His gaze flicked to Ser Edwin. The older man was panting, mud streaking his face. His grip was white knuckled tight on Bow-Breaker.

    James reached for it. The war man shuddered when his fingers brushed the handle, drinking in the silver light. The runes along its surface, low and faded, blazed to life.

    Ser Edwin''s breath caught, and the glowing weapon reflected in his eyes. James met his gaze and nodded.

    "We can kill them now."

    Ser Edwin''s lips split into a wicked grin.

    "Then let''s get to work."

    The creatures hesitated. Scar snarled and barked something in that too-wrong voice. But now, in a language James couldn''t understand.

    The creatures charged, their gate uneven, looping. James moved. His sword cut through the first beast like a falling star. The blade didn''t glance off this time or catch against the vines. It sliced clean through. The hissing was louder, and where he cut, the vines glowed as if burned.

    The beast screamed, not the chittering screech from before, but something raw, broken, agonized. Its body shuddered, red light spilling from the wound as if something inside was being burned away. James cut again and again. Each blow drawing out more red light.

    It collapsed, but James had no time to marvel. Another beast fell upon him.

    He ducked and sidestepped the snapping jaws. Driving his blade up under its ribs. The silver glow seared through the vines and thorns straight to whatever cursed thing held it together. The creature let out a choking gasp, eyes flaring bright before its body crumbled into dust.

    Behind him, he heard a sound like cracking stone.

    CRACK.

    Ser Edwin swung Bow-Breaker in a brutal arc. As the maul connected with the nearest beast''s skull, the runes burned a blinding white. The thing''s head caved in. Unlike before, where it would reform, this time it shattered, eyes flaring silver as though burned from the inside out.

    "Oh, how I''ve missed this." Edwin laughed, a deep, booming sound.

    Scar lunged.

    James had no time to react before claws raked across his shoulder. The pain flared, and he spun, catching Scar across the side with a brutal slash. Dark blood poured from the wound, and the wolf-thing screeched, leaping back. Its vine-made body writhed, twisting in pain, its vine edges burning.

    James wiped the blood from his mouth. His breathing was heavy. But now they were winning. Only one of the twisted satyrs remained. It hesitated, glancing at Scar, at the bodies littering the mud.

    "Fall Back. Tell our master what happened." Scar snarled, his red eyes locked on the pair of humans.

    The remaining creature paused, glancing between Scar and the bodies strewn in the mud. But then, with an eerie, skittering screech, it turned and bolted, disappearing into the rain and the dark.

    But Scar, he stayed.

    James saw the flicker of hesitation in the beast''s glowing red eyes. Its vine-like body shuddered as though its form could barely hold together. Scar was afraid.

    "You don''t get to run." James tightened his grip on his sword as he moved.

    Scar lunged, jaws snapping, but James was faster.

    Silver light in James'' eyes flared. James slid under, Scar''s claws whistling past his head, and then he drove his sword straight up into the monster''s chest.

    Scar howled. The sound ripped through the storm, the glow in his eyes wild and burning; desperately he flailed to get off James'' sword. But James pushed it deeper. Scar Clawed at his arm. Pain laced his arm with each ragged scratch, but they healed as soon as they formed, leaving glowing silvery scars.

    The light from his sword seeped into Scar''s body, racing through the dark, tangled mass of thorns and brambles, burning it from the inside out. Scar twitched and convulsed, his form shaking, but he couldn''t break free.

    James could feel it, the pull, the power. He pushed it into Scar. His arms were trembling, legs burning under the weight of the beast. But he held.

    The silver glow swelled, pulsing through Scar like a heartbeat.

    "Y¡ªyou¡ªLittle¨CSh¨C" Scar choked, his voice splintering, his jagged teeth parting in something almost like a grin. But it was weak and dying.

    James twisted the blade. The light flooded into him.

    Scar let out a final, strangled scream as his body disintegrated, the vines unraveling, the thorns crumbling, the cursed shape of him burning away to nothing.

    James staggered back, sword still glowing in his hands, his breath coming fast.

    The storm raged on, thunder crashing overhead, but at that moment, all James could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

    Ser Edwin dropped Bow-Breaker into the mud with a thunk.

    "Well," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I guess it''s time we talk about the Orchard¡­"

    James turned to him, ready to say something, but his vision swam. The world tilted sideways as its body gave out.

    The last thing he felt was Ser Edwin catching him before he hit the mud.

 When the Bridge Breaks

    James woke, his whole body aching in protest. Every movement sent dull, throbbing pain through his limbs, and his muscles were leaden with exhaustion. His eyes refused to fully adjust to the dim light, the embers of a dying fire casting faint, flickering shadows against the walls.

    The ground beneath him was hard but dry. His clothes¡ªdry too. The air smelled of damp earth and stone.

    A cave. Or at least the mouth of one.

    Beyond the entrance, the rain poured like a waterfall, a never-ending curtain of silver against the dark. Wind howled through the trees beyond, but it was warm and safe inside. James pushed himself into a seated position, leaning back against the rough cave wall.

    Across from him, Ser Edwin sat, leaning against the rough stone wall. If James reached over the embers, he could touch him. But he didn''t.

    The older man''s chest rose and fell with a steady, deep rhythm. He was fast asleep. James stayed quiet. He didn''t want to wake him. Not yet. The fight replayed in his mind, each blow, each near miss.

    I did that. I killed Scar.

    The thought didn''t quite settle. It felt foreign, unreal, rattling around his mind like a loose stone.

    "We did that, little-seed." The voice curled through his thoughts, warm and rich, stronger than before. Almost audible. "It would be easier if you let me in fully."

    Something brushed against his cheek, soft and featherlight. A whisper of a touch. James'' stomach twisted, unease settling like a stone in his gut. He closed his eyes, and she was there.

    A gown spun of starlight draped over her lithe form, its shimmer moving like liquid silver. Her hair, long as a river, flowed with a light of its own, brighter than the moon. And her eyes were deep, endless, filled with stars like the night sky before dawn. She smiled, a loving smile. Tossing her hair over her shoulder.

    "You''re growing so fast, little seed." Her voice was a lullaby, gentle and sweet. She walked closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "But is it fast enough?"

    His eyes snapped open, the cave returning with its dim glow. His heart pounded in his ears. His hand slipped, and he lost his balance. With a loud bang, he and Bow-Breaker crashed into the cave''s floor.

    Ser Edwin jolted awake, his grip flying to the War-Maul, eyes alight, ready for another attack. Slowly, they relaxed when he met James'' gaze.

    "Finally." The older man ran a hand down his face, voice rough with sleep. "I was starting to worry. Thought I might need to march back and get Miss Silvia to shake you awake."

    Something landed against James'' chest with a hard thump. The scent of dried meat hit his nose, his stomach cramped with hunger.

    "How long was I out?" James ripped off a piece with his teeth, the salty-sweet taste melting against his tongue.

    "Hard to tell with all this damned rain, but at least a day." Edwin tore into his own rations.

    "A day?" James'' hand froze halfway to his mouth. He scrambled to his feet. We have to go. Trying to roll up his blanket and shove it into the pack.

    "Hold your horses, boy." Edwin held up a hand, tone firm but weary. "We''ve been moving. I carried you here from the hut. Nearly ten miles by my guess."

    James blinked. He looked around. Only his pack was in the cave.

    "Where''s your stuff?" Edwin shrugged, rolling his sore shoulder.

    "Left it behind. Was either you or the pack." His mouth curled into a wry grin, and something danced across the older man''s face. "And you''re heavier than the last time I carried you to safety. "

    James swallowed, glancing toward the cave mouth. Rain ran in long streams over the entrance, like a small waterfall they were hiding behind.

    "But that was yesterday," Edwin continued. "I feel like I marched another day''s worth before finding this place. If I''m right, we''re only a few days from the old fort."

    "Then we should go." James shoved the last of the dried meat into his mouth, swallowing quickly, the power stirring inside his chest.

    "We will. But first, I need to tell you something." Edwin sighed, rubbing his face again. There was something in his voice. Something tired. Something that sounded long overdue.

    James hesitated.

    Then he met Edwin''s eyes and felt the tugging in his chest pulling him forward. The power was nudging him forward. His legs buzzed with the energy to move.

    "You can tell me when Max is safe," James said, rolling his bedroll and attaching it to the bag. "Come on."

    Edwin stared at him for a long moment. Doubt weighed down the older man''s features, darkening them.

    "James." That single word carried urgency. It made James paused, waiting, but when he met Edwin''s gaze, the urgency inside him wouldn''t let him stop.

    "We don''t have time," he said in a steady voice. Shoveing the last of the blanket into the pack.

    Edwin studied him. Whatever he saw made something flicker across his face, something fleeting, something resigned. With a sigh, he got to his feet.

    "¡­Okay then." James turned back to his pack. He didn''t see how Edwin''s shoulders sagged slightly, the exhaustion creeping into his frame.

    The older man stomped out the fire with the heel of his boot, dusted the cave''s dirt from his hands, and hauled Bow-Breaker over his shoulder.

    They stepped out into the storm.

    The rain had finally let up. It wasn''t gone; it just became a steady hammering now instead of an endless downpour. Mist curled between the trees, clinging to the rocks and broken roots. The path turned rougher, climbing upward into the uneven slopes, the mud giving way to damp stone and patches of stubborn mountain grass.

    James'' boots slipped more than once. His breath came heavier now, legs burning from the relentless climb. Every step forward felt like dragging a weight behind him. He tried to steady his nerves.

    I can do this. Max is just ahead.

    He could feel it. That same pull in his chest. Stronger now. Leading him higher. Deeper into the mountains, into the storm.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I''m coming, Max.

    "Almost there," Ser Edwin muttered, adjusting Bow-Breaker against his shoulder.

    James glanced at him. The old man was moving slower than usual, his steps heavy, thudding against the stone. Breathing came in thick, gasping heaves. His face was red and unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood.

    The trees thinned this far north, and the mountain''s base quickly steepened. The look back revealed glimpses of the valley stretching behind them. Oakwood was a dark smudge in the distance, nearly swallowed by the storm. The road ahead wound higher, the jagged hills rising on either side.

    A bridge waited ahead. Suspended between two ridges of stone, stretching over a gorge that fell into mist and darkness below. The roar of the river could be heard, echoing up the walls. James stopped short, leaning on a tree to catch his breath.

    The bridge looked intact, with thick, sturdy ropes and heavy wooden planks built to withstand storms and all kinds of weather. Several of the boards seemed to be new, as though replaced before the storm. But there was something else off about it. James squinted through the gloom, heart picking up speed as he realized he could hear nothing but the river below and the relentless rain. No birdsong, no rustle of life.

    Ser Edwin slammed into James'' back against the tree.

    Thunk.

    A crossbow bolt struck beside him, embedding itself in the tree''s rough bark. James dove for cover.

    Thunk, thunk, thunk.

    Three more bolts slammed into the spot where he and Edwin had been standing¡ªthick shafts nearly as large as his arm.

    "Four of ''em. Two Satyrs, two Centaurs, by my count!" Edwin shouted, shielding his eyes as the rain mingled with sweat running down his face.

    James could hear the clomp of hooves pounding forward as the enemy surged into view with weapons drawn.

    The Centaurs came first, their massive curved two-handed swords slicing through the air. James ducked just in time, narrowly missing a blow that would''ve taken his head clean off. They galloped past, circling back to encircle the two men. The Satyrs followed, one taller, one shorter, with matching black beards and curled horns. They brandished daggers in slow, deliberate arcs. James recognized these two from Oakwood.

    "Come all this way, have ya," Taller spat, tugging on his beard. "Can''t say we thought you were dumb enough to follow us here."

    "Maybe he came for the others," Shorter teased, smiling wide to reveal sharp, pointed teeth.

    "No chance you''ll come willingly, is there?" Taller sneered, tossing his blade from hand to hand.

    "Depends," James replied wearily, eyes darting between the four attackers as he played for time. "What''s in it for us?"

    "No, us, just you. We don''t need the old blacksmith," Shorter barked, then dashed forward, aiming a dagger to skewer Ser Edwin in the gut.

    Edwin reacted with a strong swing that arced through the air and collided with the Shorter, sending him flying into a nearby tree with a dull thunk.

    "I guess the answer is no, then," James muttered, reaching for the power he knew lay dormant within him. But it stayed frustratingly out of reach.

    "Sorry, little seed," the voice whispered in his mind, its tone laced with regret. "I need more time before I can touch you again. Unless..."

    The voice was cut off as James slammed his fist into the Taller''s jaw, spittle flying. "I can''t open it more. I-I don''t trust you!" he yelled at the voice inside his head, his frustration and fear intermingling.

    In a blur of motion, James swung his sword just in time to parry the heavy, sweeping blow of a charging Centaur. The impact knocked his blade aside, the sharp edge slicing the air mere inches above his head. A few stray hairs caught in its wake fell, tickling his nose.

    "Shit, shit, shit¡ªthat was close," he muttered under his breath.

    James danced away, light on the balls of his feet, his speed nothing compared to the charging Centaur. The second one barreled forward, sword raised high; James rolled, slicing deep cuts into the creature''s exposed legs as it raced past him. Warm blood and thick ichor splattered across his face. He heard a centaur''s scream, followed by the sickening crunch of breaking bone and the shattering impact as it collided with a tree.

    James heard a shout of agony, a scream that made his heart nearly stop.

    "Boy!" Edwin roared. Before James could recover, the other Centaur''s sword landed a vicious, long gash down Edwin''s back, and blood flowed freely from the wound. Edwin''s voice cut through the chaos as the two Satyrs began to circle. "Help!"

    James roared. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and in that moment of frenzied desperation, he leaped high, higher than he thought possible, sword held pointed downward, driving his blade deep into the Centaur''s back. He felt it hit bone, pausing briefly before sliding through to sever the creature''s spine. James slid with the collapsing beast, wrenching his sword free as it came to a stop. James rolled with his momentum, rising up beside Ser Edwin, their backs pressed against the bridge.

    Taller and Shorter moved in perfect sync. A relentless, twisting rhythm of steel and shadow. One struck low, the other high. A blur of flashing daggers, a whirlwind of sharp edges. James couldn''t keep up. A point here, a cut there. They were small and shallow, but they burned, and they bled. His coat was slick with it, warmth spreading beneath the sodden fabric. He knew each one would heal, but he was getting increasingly tired with each blow that landed.

    Ser Edwin was faring worse. Every strike that slipped past his guard seemed to drain him more. His wound wouldn''t heal; crimson blood stained his shirt and pants. His breaths grew ragged, his steps heavier, his boots dragging over the slick wooden planks. The color had leached from his face, his grip on Bow-Breaker faltering.

    The bridge creaked beneath them.

    James stole a glance down. The river surged below, a churning, frothing void waiting to swallow them whole. The wind howled through the gorge, whipping the rain into a frenzy. The planks trembled beneath their weight.

    Then Edwin dropped. One knee slammed into the bridge, his free hand catching on the ropes, but his grip was weak. James moved without thinking, lunging forward, his body screaming in protest. His free arm locked under Edwin''s shoulder, pulling and dragging him to his feet. James bated away blow after blow with his sword; his movements slowed.

    I got to get him back on his feet.

    "Get up!" James'' voice was raw, desperation cracking through it. "Get up, old man!"

    Edwin gritted his teeth, Bow-Breaker shaking in his hand. He pushed up, forcing himself upright.

    Shhk.

    A dagger slipped between Ser Edwin''s ribs.

    James heard the sound before he saw it, a horrible, wet exhale, like air escaping from a punctured wineskin.

    Bow-Breaker slipped from Ser Edwin''s grasp, the massive weapon striking the planks with a dull, final thud. Slipping over the edge and down into the hungry river below.

    Edwin sagged backward against James; his weight always seemed so strong, so solid, but now was unbearably heavy. His head lolled, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

    "No¡ªno, no, NO!" The scream ripped from his chest, a sound raw with grief and fury. His mind locked in disbelief.

    Taller and Shorter stepped back, daggers twirling lazily over knuckles. They weren''t pressing the attack anymore. They were savoring the kill. Their smiles were slow, cruel, and relishing in the moment.

    "Run." The word was so soft and so weak that James almost didn''t hear it over the storm or the river below.

    A hand, cold and shaking, pried at James'' fingers. Ser Edwin''s fingers were insistent, peeled James'' grip from the sword hilt.

    "Run, my son." The words shattered something deep inside him. James stumbled back a step, head shaking, eyes burning. He couldn''t¡ªhe wouldn''t¡ª

    A memory, unbidden, crashed into him. Oakwood''s lights flickering in the evening. The scent of cider and baking bread. Ser Edwin''s low and rough voice telling him the story of the girl in the rain.

    "She hesitated. Just for a moment."

    James'' breath hitched.

    "I told her to run."

    Ser Edwin''s voice had been distant that night, his eyes far away.

    James could see it now. The rain, the bridge, the satyrs laughing, blood pooling between the wood planks. And Ser Edwin standing between someone and death, just like before. James'' fists clenched. His legs locked.

    No.

    Ser Edwin pushed him.

    It wasn''t hard. It wasn''t violent. Just a weak, final insistence.

    James ran.

    With every ounce of strength he had left, he turned and sprinted, pain lancing through his body with every staggering step. The wind howled in his ears. His boots pounded against the planks. Then he heard it.

    A single, sharp slice.

    James skidded to a halt just as the last of the bridge''s rope supports were severed. He spun, gasping for air.

    Ser Edwin stood at the center of the bridge, shoulders squared, head lifted. James'' sword, steady in his grip. The blade had carved cleanly through the thick ropes. The planks beneath him dropped. Edwin''s body plummeted like a marionette with its strings cut.

    James dove, his fingers sinking into mud, clawing to pull himself away from the falling bridge. He scrambled to his feet to watch as Taller and Shorter screamed, their hands grasping at the empty air as they fell with him, swallowed whole by the black churning water below.

    James staggered forward, nearly slipping over the edge. His hands clutched the splintered wooden post.

    Below was nothing but darkness and water. The last glimpse of Ser Edwin''s body limp, his eyes unreadable, had vanished beneath the raging current.

    James'' world stopped, his knees buckled, the strength in his legs vanishing. He hit the dirt hard, but he barely felt it. The river surged below, wild and uncaring. It had already carried everything away.

    He was gone.

    A choked shout left James ragged and uneven. His hands curled into the mud, oozing between his fingers. But there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing to ground him. Warm tears burned down his cheeks, mixing with the rain as he lifted his head to the storm and screamed.

 A Blade and an Echo

    James stumbled. The world had dulled to shades of grey. The rain, the cold, the wind, all pressing against him, relentless, uncaring. It pounded into his skin, soaked through his clothes, and pulled at his legs with each step. But none of it truly registered.

    His mind was elsewhere, replaying those last moments on the bridge repeatedly. The cut of the rope. The fall. The roar of the river below.

    Was it a smile or a frown on Ser Edwin''s face?

    James couldn''t tell anymore. He had been too far, too slow to see.

    It doesn''t matter now. He is gone.

    James'' breath hitched. He clenched his jaw, shoving the thought away, but it wouldn''t leave. It latched onto his ribs, wrapping tight, crushing him from the inside. He knew Edwin was dead. He knew there was no surviving a wound like that. A fall like that. But a part of him hoped. And that was the cruelest part.

    "Get to shelter, boy." James'' head snapped up, turning wildly, searching for the owner of the voice. But there was no one there.

    Of course, it was nothing.

    Just a voice in his memory, echoing through the storm. His own mind tormented him with the words Edwin would have said.

    He exhaled sharply, a shuddering breath, pressing a hand against his chest as if that would steady him, but It didn''t.

    His eyes burned. But he had already cried himself raw, already screamed into the dark until his voice had turned hoarse. There was nothing left in him. Only an aching silence.

    But I have to move. I have to go.

    Each step forward was a battle. The mud sucked at his boots. The earth itself seemed to be pulling him down, dragging at him, trying to bury him in the weight of everything. The pack on his back felt heavier than before, pressing into his shoulders, threatening to push him into the ground.

    Just one more step.

    Just one more.

    And another.

    And another.

    But no matter how far he walked or how many steps he took, the truth remained the same. Dry, silent tears wrecked his body, and James kept walking, although he wasn''t sure why. His feet moved on instinct, dragging him forward through the mire. The weight of the pack bit into his shoulders, and his body screamed for rest, but the storm didn''t care. The wind howled through the few remaining trees, the rain battered against him, and the world pressed in from all sides. But he climbed.

    The ground rose steadily beneath his feet, the thick mud giving way to slick, uneven stone. A ridge of jagged rock jutted out ahead, the darkness beneath it deep enough to swallow him whole.

    A cave. Finally.

    James stumbled toward it, slipping, catching himself against the rough stone as he pushed forward. The opening was narrow, half hidden by creeping vines and the gnarled roots of an old, half-dead tree, but it was deep enough to block the worst of the wind and rain. As he passed, he ripped free some vines and dug out some of the driest bark. It would have to do. The thought was slow, like being dragged through mud itself.

    James dropped his pack with a heavy thud, sinking back against the wall. His limbs shook, not just from the cold but from everything. The exhaustion, the weight pressing against his shoulders, the hollow ache in his chest that would not ease.

    I need warmth. A fire. Take care of what you can.

    Ser Edwin would have had a fire going by now. James'' fingers fumbled with the pocket as he dug into his pack, pulling out the flint and steel. His body shivered violently as he tried to hold them steady. He reached for the driest bits of kindling he had, hands shaking as he struck the steel against the flint.

    Sparks.

    But no flame.

    Again.

    Nothing.

    His breath came harder, faster.

    Again.

    His hands trembled, his fingers slipping against the tools. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. The cave was so dark, so cold. He needed light. He needed warmth.

    Again.

    Sparks flickered, teasing, glowing for half a heartbeat before fading into nothing.

    "Fuck." He screamed, his pulse pounding against his skull, frustration coiling in his gut, crawling under his skin like something alive.

    Again.

    The steel slipped from his grip, clattering against the stone.

    His body was trembling too much. He couldn''t do it. He couldn''t¡ª

    A strangled sound tore from his throat, half a sob, half a growl of rage. The world blurred as he grabbed the flint and steel and threw them.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    They clattered against the cave floor, bouncing once, twice, before rolling into the rain and disappearing into the muck.

    James slumped forward, pressing his hands against his face. His breath came in shuddering gasps, his body curling in on itself. The storm raged outside, the cold creeping in around him. He had never felt so alone.

    Slowly, he pulled his blanket from the pack, and the scent of beard oil and smoke hit him. Like a punch to the gut, he wrapped it around him, like a hug, trying to pull it against him as tight as he could.

    "Eat, boy." He heard the voice again but knew it was just the wind. Still, he pulled some dried meat from his pack and a cut of hard sour-smelling cheese Ser Edwin had loved.

    A new wave of slammed grief slammed into him like a hammer.

    "I''m here, little seed."

    "Fuck you," James screamed into the darkness. "I could have saved him."

    "No, you couldn''t. You never could." The voice was firm, confident, steady.

    "Fuck off, and don''t come back." The voice retreated. Not gone, but far enough that he could push all traces of it from his thoughts. Soon, the blanket warmed him enough that exhaustion did the rest, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

    James woke to cold. Not the bite of the storm, not the wet chill that had soaked through his clothes the night before, but something more profound. A hollow, aching cold that sat heavy in his chest. For a moment, he stayed still, curled beneath the blanket, breathing in the lingering scent of beard oil and smoke. If he didn''t move, he could almost pretend¡ªalmost¡ª

    But the ache in his chest, the stiffness in his limbs, the emptiness in the cave. They shattered the illusion.

    James was alone. He forced himself upright, pushing back the blanket and ignoring how his hands shook. He had to move. Sitting here wouldn''t change anything. It wouldn''t bring Ser Edwin back, and it wouldn''t save Max.

    The rain poured down, running off the cave mouth and the tree that hid him in long silver rivulets. James forced himself to eat the last of the trail rations, which were soggy and wet from the endless rain but edible. He couldn''t taste the thing, but he chewed it mechanically.

    "Get to the fort, save Max," he mumbled. Nodding as though he was convincing himself of what to do. James forced himself to his feet, shaking out the blanket and shoving it back into his pack. He took a long pull from his waterskin, barely tasting the stale rainwater, before slinging his pack over his shoulders.

    Max was ahead. The thought should have steeled him, given him purpose, but all it did was remind him of the missing weight at his side, the steady presence that should have been there. He glanced at the space where Edwin would have stood, where he should have been, just for a moment. Before he pushed it down and pushed out into the storm, into the climb.

    The terrain grew worse with every step. The muddy path from before was gone, replaced by jagged rocks and uneven slopes, slick with rain and treacherous beneath his boots. Roots jutted from the earth like grasping fingers, waiting to trip him. His calves burned with the climb, his breath coming in slow, heavy pulls.

    The storm had carved the land into something harsher, something cruel. James pressed his hand against the nearest tree to steady himself, fingers digging into the rough bark. No leaves clung to the wicked branches. The world stretched below him, a valley swallowed in dark and rain. He couldn''t even find Oakwood anymore.

    Even my home is gone. But I have to keep moving forward.

    James checked the compass. The dial was fixed northbound; it no longer flicked back and forth, just straight ahead.

    As he ascended, the trees thinned even more, their twisted shapes clawing toward the sky. The road, if it could even be called that anymore, was nothing more than broken rock and scattered patches of dead, damp grass. The higher he climbed, the more exposed he felt with each step.

    James tightened his grip on the straps of his pack, his fingers cold and stiff. He forced himself to keep moving, to ignore the way the wind howled like a living thing, pushing against him, trying to shove him back down the mountain.

    His foot slipped, and he barely caught himself, his knee slamming against the wet stone. He bit back a curse, pushing himself up, but the pain was dull and distant, buried beneath the weight of exhaustion. Head down, he forced himself forward, climbing higher, the storm raging around him, the wind screaming in his ears.

    Two figures in thick black cloaks stepped out from the nearest clump of rocks. Brandishing weapons. One had a dagger, and the other had thick brass knuckles. James'' hand shot to where the hilt of his sword should have been, but his fingers closed around the air.

    "Fuck." was all he could say before they were on him.

    The first strike came fast. James barely twisted in time, and the dagger''s edge kissed his ribs instead of sinking deep. The shock of pain jolted him, his sluggish body. He lashed out, grabbing the attacker''s wrist and driving his knee into their gut. The cloaked figure, a woman, smaller but coiled with wiry strength. Let out a sharp grunt but didn''t fall back. The second attacker came from behind. James reacted on instinct, pivoting, but he was too slow.

    A fist like a hammer crashed into his jaw. Stars burst behind his eyes as he stumbled backward, boots slipping against the wet stone. He barely kept himself upright, blinking through the haze of pain. The broad-chested man loomed over him, flexing the fingers in the brass knuckles, a predator waiting for the opening.

    James'' hand went to his hip again, but his sword still wasn''t there. Ser Edwin would have had my back. That single thought, sharp as a blade, nearly undid him.

    The woman lunged. James threw himself aside, rolling into a crouch as her dagger slashed the empty air where his throat had been. He grabbed a loose stone, hurling it at her face. She twisted, the rock grazing her temple, but it gave him the second he needed to scramble back to his feet. His footing was unsteady. The man didn''t wait for him to recover. A second blow slammed into James'' stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. He gasped, doubling over, but before he could react, a hand seized his cloak, yanking him forward. The hand came for his throat.

    James caught the wrist at the last moment, the fingers trembling inches from his skin. Rain dripped from the hood, covering the man''s face, but James could see his mouth. It was twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl.

    "Not bad," the man grunted, his strength creeping his hand closer. James gritted his teeth. His body screamed to move. With a desperate twist, James drove his elbow into the man''s ribs. He felt the breath rush out of him, and he felt the grip on his cloak loosen just enough. James shoved hard against the attacker''s chest, breaking free. Staggering back, slipping on the rain-slicked stones. His heart pounded. His breath came fast.

    He had nothing. No sword. No Edwin. Just himself.

    Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the fight for a heartbeat. The woman circled to his left, the man to his right.

    I''m trapped.

    James swallowed the coppery taste of blood. His fingers curled into fists.

    He was not going to die here. With a roar, he charged. James tucked low, driving his shoulder into the man''s stomach. The force sent them both hurtling sideways, slamming hard against the thick stone of the path''s edge.

    Crack.

    The sound was sickening, like a melon smashing against the stones of a market floor. The man went limp in his arms, but James had no time to process it. The woman struck. A flash of silver in the dim light, then fire along his arm.

    James hissed, pain erupting from the gash she carved into his flesh. The pain was sharp, real, grounding. The first thing he had genuinely felt since yesterday.

    Lightning split the sky, illuminating her face in a flickering, ghostly light. For a moment, just a moment, James thought he saw something wrong, an apparition lurking beneath her skin. Her blade moved. A feint¡ªlow, fast.

    James saw it too late. His hand shot forward, trying to grab her wrist¡ªonly for her other hand to whip around, dagger flashing toward his eye. He twisted, but exhaustion slowed him. The blade caught him across the temple.

    A shallow cut but deep enough that blood poured before his magic could seal it. She didn''t stop. The dagger dragged downward, splitting skin from temple to chin.

    James roared. The pain was blinding, white-hot. His vision blurred red.

    He lashed out, instincts overriding thought. The soul of his boot, slick with mud, crashed into her chest.

    The woman staggered, arms windmilling as she fought for balance. Her dagger slipped from her grip and vanishing into the rain.

    Then her boot skidded. And she was gone.

    Thud.

    Crunch.

    Splat.

    Each sound hit James like a hammer to the gut. Slowly, breath shaking, he stepped forward and peered over the edge. Far below, barely visible through the sheets of rain, lay her broken, misshapen body sprawled against the jagged rocks. He swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat.

    "Scarlet!" The man''s voice was raw, cracked with anguish.

    James spun just as heavy arms lunged for him. Instinct took over. He rolled aside, his hand landing on something sharp as it sliced across his palm.

    The dagger. He gripped it tight, coming up to face the man. There was something in the man''s eyes. A look James knew too well, loss.

    Hesitation spells death. Ser Edwin''s words burned through his mind, sharp and undeniable.

    James struck like a coiled viper, fast and lethal. The dagger sank between the man''s ribs. A sickening pop jolted up James'' arm, the resistance breaking as the blade found its mark. The man coughed a wet, ragged sound. Blood spilled from the edges of his mouth.

    "Good one." He swayed with a ghost of a smile. Then his foot slipped. And he was falling. James didn''t watch him hit the rocks. Didn''t even look back.

    The rain pounded against him, every raw edge of his fraying soul, and he wiped the blood from his face. Then he turned, forcing his feet forward.

    The fort couldn''t be far now.