How many times had he been here, on the brink of death? He had expected pain, but there was none. A silent sting of the blade and his neck was split open, just like that. Taking a life was so disgustingly easy. So effortless. Leylin’s magic got to him a breath too late, pulling the dagger away. The blood spurted from his throat like an open dam, and his whole body felt cold. Yet as he died, he felt more powerful than ever before. He had mattered.

"You crazy bastard."

Rane blinked and Leylin was leaning over him, palming the wound to stop the bleeding. It was far too late, couldn’t he see it? He'd die and Leylin would have no more use for the slaves. What was he trying to do?

"Cartilage. Nerves."

Rane had never heard the words Leylin mumbled, didn't understand them. He saw the man’s arms bulge and grow, veins darkened and sickening. Foreign magic pumped inside him, calling forth a searing pain. He could feel the warmth of life returning and his head clearing.

"Arteries. Veins."

Something vile writhed inside, mending his body. Movement returned to him and he tried to struggle free of Leylin's grip. "Let me go!" He screamed through a clenched jaw. "You can't deny me even death!"

"Your muscles and skin are last." Leylin lifted him up by the neck only to slam him down once more. "I won't stop you again, but I can promise you this; If you die, they will all die with you." Leylin stood and blocked out the sun, like a giant, looming shadow. "Not just the other slaves. Your parents, your siblings, your friends. Everyone you ever cared for. Everyone wiped from your mind. I will find them all."

For the first time in his life, Rane felt empty. There was no anger, no regrets, and no sadness. The strength to resist left him as the strength to live returned. His hand found his throat. There was blood on his skin, but nothing else. Magic like that… It shouldn’t be possible. It defied common sense and everything he’d been taught. Resisting Leylin would only cause more carnage. No sane person would fight against that man… that impossibility.

“Do you understand?” Leylin demanded.

“Yes,” Rane replied, without looking up. For now, staying silent and obedient would be the way to save the most lives.

“Everyone inside!” Leylin hollered the order. His robe fluttered as he made for the hauling beast.

Rane pushed himself up with trembling knees and returned to the cage, seeking shelter in its shadows. The slaves that had been looking at him all the while were quick to distance themselves, piling on the opposite side of the cage. If they had chosen the sun over his presence, so be it. Perhaps it was for the best in the end. The less contact they had with him, the more likely they were to survive. As he sat with his back against the bars, he felt something slither inside him, dark and nauseating. It ran up his chest and along his arms, as if ghosts trailed their fingers over him. Part of Leylin’s dark magic remained in his soul, slowly becoming one with his own.

Just like Sydell’s nora.

He tried to draw the new power forth, but then he stopped, interrupted by a whisper. He looked around. The slaves had surrendered to the heat and fallen silent. The whisper sounded again from inside him, loud enough to be heard but too silent to be understood.

Rane reached for the darkness inside him, separated the foreign magic in his soul and pulled it out. The strands of darkness formed into a little girl’s visage. Her translucent, silvery skin shone with radiance no other slave seemed to notice, and her eyes were dark and hollow, smoldering with dark fog.

"Leylin?" Her voice spoke inside his head, brimming with innocence.

"No, his slave." Rane whispered back. Had he truly gone insane? First it was only voices, but now he was seeing things as well. “What are you? A ghost?”

“Only the fragment of a soul now.” She tilted her head and frowned.

He could feel the torment radiating from her, the pain she must have suffered. “What happened to you?”

"I was taken from my family." Her face hovered a hair’s width from his. "Just like you.”

Rane felt his blood run cold, anger swelling inside. There was some joy to thinking he was the only one to suffer this fate, some salvation. But now even that was taken from him. “Why does he do this?”

“He covets our power,” she said, form flickering under the sunlight. “Those of us who could understand emotion have always suffered such a fate. Many died by his hand.”

“Why does he keep me alive then?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Nora is born from emotions, and those with the gift to harness the magic of others for themselves are rare. Tens among billions, they say. Always empaths.”

“You’re like me…" He reached out for her and she floated away from his touch.

“I was, but now you took me from Leylin using that power. You saved me from that place of darkness.” She forced a smile on her face and the light that she was flickered. “Thank you.”

“Please stay,” he said. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her. So much he wanted to know.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but my pain is over.” Her voice lowered and her form grew dim, a mere outline of what she once was. “You have to run from him,” she whispered. “Run, run, run, until he cannot reach you.” The last wisps of smoke dissipated, and she was gone.

What little solace he felt from freeing her paled to the thoughts of what she’d suffered under Leylin’s hand. And what Rane would suffer in turn. His hands grasped the scorching bars. There were always chances to run, to slip under Leylin’s nose and vanish in the vastness of the desert. With the water made with his magic, perhaps he could survive, but at what cost? He glanced at the remaining slaves and knit his brows. No other person he’d ever met would even bother with this ragged bunch. So why did Rane? What was it that made him so damn unwilling to let even one die? Stubbornness, perhaps. Whatever the reason was, it only served to eat away at him.

Rane lay on his side awkwardly, the width of the wood not enough for him. He watched the desert pass them by in silence. Silence that lasted minutes, then hours, then days. Nobody spoke to him, and he didn’t feel like changing that. At least they’d conceded to the heat and spread out some more. The sand sifted between the bars and flowed around his ankles. At this point, he had lost all track of time. Leylin had said they were a fortnight away from Danira, but Rane had no way to know how close they were. Sandstorms came and went in sudden bursts, interrupting what fitful sleep he got. He would close his eyes whenever the storms subsided, not knowing when or if he’d wake up again. Sometimes there’d be slaves missing from the wagon when he did. He tried not to delve on it, but the thought was always there, lingering.

The weather mellowed out as the moons passed. Days became milder and nights warmer. Leylin would give the slaves time to shuffle around and relieve themselves while he scribbled away at a notebook. He would look up at times, observing, before sinking back down. Of the twelve or so adult slaves, only four remained. They were unwilling to talk, not just to him, but even to each other, as if their fates hinged on staying silent. Torien ignored him entirely. He probably thought Rane the cause of what had happened to him. In a sense he was right.

Rane spent his time gazing outside. Patches of green in the distance broke the monotony of red. He had already abandoned all thoughts of gathering up the slaves and escaping. Under the sun, they wouldn't last the hour. The wagon crawled to a stop and Leylin gave the slaves the afternoon meal. Despite their smaller numbers, the portions remained the same. Leylin rounded the wagon to where Rane was sitting.

"Do you hate me?" he asked.

"Yes." Rane reached through the bars for the bread. "Do you care?" He tried to remain calm, to not betray any emotion.

Leylin laughed. "I might. Not many people could do what you did. Sacrificing yourself to save the lives of others is a noble choice."

Was this another test? When Leylin wore that smile he seemed a different man, incapable of the anger and madness he had shown before. “Your sympathy won’t do me any good,” Rane said, digging his teeth into the loaf. Much to his surprise, it was warm and soft inside, tasted like actual bread instead of dry paper.

“It’s not sympathy, but respect.” Leylin opened the door to the cell. “Come,” he said. “I want to talk.”

Rane snorted as he stood. "Your respect can't bring back the dead." He passed the remainder of the loaf to the ashfen boy, then lowered his head to exit the cell.

"My respect can't feed the hauling beast either. Death is a necessary part of life." Leylin placed a hand on his shoulder and led him outside. "What makes their lives more important than the beast's anyway? Is it their intelligence, their age, or the fact that they've suffered? What determines the worth of each life? "

“Didn’t think you were the type that likes sophistries." Rane shook free of Leylin's arm, striding ahead.

The front of the wagon was only a wooden board fixed to the cage. Two poles were attached to its sides, tied with rope that vanished beneath the hauling beast’s fur. Rane gripped the wood with both arms and struggled to pull himself up. The months he spent starving showed in his thin, branch-like arms. He half-fell on the stage driver’s seat and crawled the rest of the way.

“Your thoughts intrigue me.” Leylin picked up the reins and hopped on next to him. “Perhaps there's more than childish naivety inside your head." He tugged on the reins and the beast began its march.

"Fine. I'll play your little game. What about the soldiers Sydell used to test me?" Rane asked. "Were their deaths necessary?"

Leylin stared ahead at the mountains that filled the faraway line of the horizon. In the distance, the ruins of a crumbled castle poked out of the sand like a rocky islet in the midst of a red ocean. "Yes," he said. "Because I deemed them so. Two dead are nothing compared to the lives you'll save."

Rane gave the man a sideways glance. “You’ve taught me magic, and you’ve taught me to kill. The saving, I did on my own.”

"And it’s admirable," Leylin said. "We're somewhat alike, the two of us."

The thought alone made him wince. "I don't see how."

"We both fight for what we believe is right." Misty darkness gathered around Leylin as he spoke. It swirled and intertwined like smoke. "Yet I can see the grand scheme of things, and I'm much, much more desperate."

"I certainly believe that last part," Rane replied. "Why else would you pick me to fight in a war?"

Leylin shook his head and sighed. "You'll understand your role soon. There is something only you can do." He tugged on the reins, earning another grunt from the hauling beast. The sluggish creature turned to the left and set course for the faraway ruins. "This peace is a lie that won't last much longer. Nothing in this world changes without bloodshed. That's how it's always been. As for your training in magic, you haven't even scratched the surface.”

If magic meant chaos and death, then that suited Rane just fine. He laid back on the fabric that separated the seat from the bars and didn't reply. The desert grew greener the more they neared Danira, with low vegetation and the occasional trees sprouting from the sand. The agonising speed of the hauling beast meant the journey for the nearest palm tree reached late into the afternoon.

“Eat up and recover some strength.” Leylin pulled the beast into a halt and handed him clean water and some fruit. “You’re gonna need it.”