By The Sword - Homepage

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I hadn’t even gotten a break.

There was no resting after we’d returned to Sarin. It had all happened in a blur. Walking in silence, we’d made pretty good time and arrived before the sun had descended below the horizon. But that kind of tireless travel hadn’t been rewarded with much relief. It hadn’t been rewarded with a bed or some downtime. No. After returning to the lodge and bearing through the greetings of whichever rangers had happened to be in the training room, we’d been thrust right back into action.

Lorah had called for a report of our trip immediately. Kye had taken that opportunity wordlessly, doing the gracious thing and letting me stay back to recuperate. I was the one who’d been injured more severely, after all.

But almost as soon as she’d disappeared, my respite had been cut short. I had barely let my body relax for half an hour before a guard in light armor had barged into the lodge requesting me. Or, more accurately he’d requested the package Arathorn had sent us to retrieve in the first place. But we didn’t have it. So I went in its place.

Whatever Arathorn’s reaction was going to be, I would have face it.

Cobblestone dragged under my feet as I walked through Sarin’s square. All of the activity since I’d arrived back had passed by nearly in a haze. It had all blended together in a sea of discomfort and disappointment. Before I’d known it, I was on my way to town hall. Back to the office I’d been called to only days before. I doubted Arathorn would be anywhere near as cheerful this time.

A metal clang struck my ears. I twisted, shaking my head as I was ripped back to reality. Looking up, I squinted in the fading twilight at the source of the sound. A young woman picked a pan up off the street a moment later. She eyed me, yawning as she continued to haul her stuffed bag back to her house. I forced myself to smile and nodded at her. She gave me a half-hearted wave before simply turning away and walking on down the hill.

Brisk air cascaded over my skin. I took a breath of it, letting it swirl in my lungs. I flicked my gaze to the side, watching the large centerpiece of town slowly becoming enveloped in shadow as the light faded. Town hall. I would’ve recognized the sturdy stone base and sweeping roof anywhere. It solidified the dread in my chest.

I didn’t want to go in.

But, well, I didn’t have much of a choice. So I pushed back on useless thoughts and shook my head, feeling the sore strain through my body. With another breath, I started up the steps. It didn’t matter what I wanted, after all. I was a part of this town. I was a protector of it. Arathorn was my world’s damned lord, and I would respond to his summons.

For a brief moment, memories of my past life flooded back—memories of loyalty and discipline. My honor won out over fear, standing triumphant above it on the field of my mind. I furrowed my brow, held my head up high, and pushed my way in the door.

The difference in temperature was stark as the door slid shut behind me. The cozy, fire-warmed air felt good against my still-bruised skin. It felt better than the brisk autumn wind I’d been walking through all day. Sparing a glance back to the door, I considered if it even was autumn anymore. Perhaps winter was already on its way. On this continent, I had no way to know.

I tore away from the door and curled a fist. I couldn’t keep stalling, I reminded myself. So cementing my resolve, I flicked my gaze around the room. The same well-crafted planked floors greeted me. The same cozy array of tables. The same soft, wood-burning fireplace. I shifted my attention to the last of them, staring at the flames for a moment. I let their warmth wash over my body as I thought. It was nice, I realized, still standing in the entryway. The cozy, welcoming feeling. The community. The warmth. After days of travel and too much time spent fearing for my life, it was a change of pace.

“Agil!” a voice called, grinding my pleasant thoughts to a halt. I turned.

A tall guard gestured me over from the other side of the room. He wore a fake mask of cheerfulness that disguised his obvious concern. But as I walked over to him, I barely cared about his expression. He’d remembered my name.

“Yes?” I asked, keeping all edge out of my tone. Despite how bitter I felt—something my aching body wouldn’t let me forget—I wanted to sound calm.

“Arathorn is in his office,” the guard said, glancing backward. “He wants to see you immediately.” The voice came strained, as if it hadn’t been used in days. And as I approached, I noticed the bags under his eyes and the lines on his forehead.

I nodded at the man, all confidence slowly bleeding out of me as I stepped toward the door. A long second of silence passed as I stared at the handle. Dread taunted my mind. It wasn’t too late to back out, it told me. It wasn’t too late.

No. I shook my head. I pushed away the unfamiliar fear that rose up like bile in my throat. And I walked through the door.

Cold air. It washed over me as a wave when I stepped over the threshold. For a moment, I furrowed my brow and tried to inch out, but the door was already closed. It had already sealed me away in Arathorn’s office. His cold office, for some reason. Glancing back, I could barely make out wood grain in the room’s dim light. I swallowed, my throat drying like a desert. Then I did my best to shrug it off, clenched my fists, and turned forward again.

I squinted in the dark, scanning across the office that I had been in only days before. It was all still the same. But it was also all different. The torch lighting up the room was almost completely burned out, and the single window at the back of the room was boarded up as well.

A shiver crept down my spine as my eyes moved to the desk. The organized, perfect, polished desk that was burned into my memory. Even in the dim torchlight, I could see how much it had changed. The stacks of papers weren’t stacks anymore, only scattered messes on the wood. The organized baskets weren’t organized anymore, only thrown astray across the wood. One, even, was broken clean in half.

Something had changed since the last time I’d been here, I told myself. My dread screamed it loud enough to rattle my skull. An issue in Sarin, maybe. Something Arathorn wasn’t keen on dealing with. I didn’t know. All I did know was that—

A glint of something red. I twisted, blinking as the color caught the corner of my vision. My eyes widened a fraction as I realized what it was. The memory flashed back, forcing itself upon me.

The knife was there, seared into my mind. Its ornate decoration. Its eerily sharp blade. Its steel covered with dried blood at the edges. I shuddered at the thought. Its image brought up fear—deep, dark, and unnatural. Something hailing from the back of my mind. Fear that I didn’t even recognize.

I stepped forward still, trying to shake the unnerving atmosphere of the space. I poured over the desk in front of me, hoping that it would revert to its organized state. Hoping that it wouldn’t carry the bloodied knife. But I couldn’t hope that. I saw it—crystal clear in Arathorn’s right hand.

Arathorn stared at me. His sparkling blue eyes bored into me with acute interest, betraying a completely different emotion than the smile across his lips.

Shaking my head again, I took a breath. “I was told you wanted to see me?”

The Lord of Sarin twirled the knife in his hand. Now-clean silvery metal gleamed in what little light there was in the room. Whatever remnants of a smile left on my face faded instantly.

“Yes,” he said finally, keeping his gaze on me. “I wanted my package delivered. But”—he inclined his head while keeping a careful smile—“you don’t seem to have it, do you?”

“Well,” I started, “you see—“

Arathorn’s sniff cut me off. His gaze stayed on me, unmoving. And after a few moments, his lips curled into a grin far more wicked. “Well. What I need you to see is that I sent you off on a mission. And you weren’t able to complete it.” I swallowed hard. “I trusted youto do something as simple as retrieving a package from a town only a day’s travel away. And you came up empty-handed.” He twirled the knife once more through his fingers before stabbing into the desk. “I want to know why that is.”

I gritted my teeth and forced calming breaths through my lungs. “We tried to get the package. We really did. But—“

“But?” Arathorn asked, his tone sharp.

“But, there were complications,” I continued, tightening my fists until I was sure I would’ve seen white in the knuckles.

Arathorn’s brows snapped up. “Complications?” he asked as he pushed out of his seat. “There were complications?” He eyed me. “What kind of complications?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and relaxed my shoulders as memories rose up. “Firstly, we had an unexpected altercation on our way to Norn.” Arathorn’s fingers drummed a deafeningly quiet rhythm on the wood of his desk. I steadied. “It left me quite injured before we even arrived to collect the package.”

Arathorn chuckled softly. The sound echoed through the room. “That is something you should have expected.” He snapped to me. “Do you know where we live? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter anyway. That has nothing to do with my package.”

Color drained from my face as his words struck my ears. I straightened up, trying to ignore the way he was glaring in anticipation.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. Arathorn may have been erratic right now—he was certainly angry. But he was also still my lord. “It doesn’t have anything to do with your package.” I swallowed my anger like a dry pill. “But we did have further issues when we arrived in Norn.”

Arathorn tapped his foot, still glaring. “Like what?”

“Most immediately, we had an issue with the knights there.” I cracked a dry smile. “They seemed to hold a grudge against us for some reason.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Arathorn said. “Most people wouldn’t immediately trust two questioning rangers who they had just met. But you had my imprint, didn’t you?”

I nodded, my expression faltering. “We did.”

“Did that not clear up the issues?”

I cringed. “Well. It did, but—“

“Again, not surprising,” Arathorn said. He cocked an eyebrow at me, patience visibly running out in his strained eyes. “I gave you my imprint so that there would not be these issues. Yet, you have still returned to me without the package I sent off for.”

My eyebrows dropped. I sighed, nodding slowly and swallowing the rest of my comments on the matter. The imprint had helped our relationship, but it had still been sour the entire way through. Even after we’d been attacked, they hadn’t cared much. And I knew they had no obligation to be our friends, but they were knights, dammit. They had an obligation to have a little more integrity.

“Of course,” I eventually got out. My breaths slowed as I kept myself composed, a technique reminiscent of ones I’d used as a high-knight during diplomatic missions. “However, there were more troubles ahead of us after that.” Arathorn furrowed his brow. I nodded. “After Norn’s knight commander agreed to retrieve your package, the city was struck with a quake that—“

“A quake?” Arathorn asked, tension lining the underside of his tone. Looking up, his smile was gone. There was no longer any charm. No careful cheer. He simply showed bare frustration and concern. Though, I knew better than to assume that concern was for me.

“Yes,” I said, my voice softening. “A quake.”

Arathorn cursed something foul under his breath. “Is that what destroyed my package?” he asked without even an ounce of compassion.

I wheeled backward at his statement, my foot barely catching me. He wasn’t concerned about the quake or the destruction it caused. He only cared about his damn package. My resolve of honor was starting to crack.

“No,” I said, pushing the words through my teeth. “I’m still getting to that part.”

He returned to the facade of a smile, his pale lips doing more harm than good. “Ah. Alright. Continue, then.”

I did, my eyes sharpening on him. “Your package had been held in a magically secured room in their apothecary’s guild. After the quake, Lady Amelia led us to it.” Arathorn’s eyes flashed with hope. I had to fight back a sneer. “But when we arrived, it was gone.”

Arathorn snapped up, sliding from behind his desk and walking toward me “What do you mean it was gone?”

I threw up my hands both to reassure him and to keep him from coming any closer. “I’m getting to that.”

My reassurance appeared to calm the irritated lord only the slightest bit. But it stopped him from approaching. That was enough for me. I nodded to myself, letting out a light breath. “Okay. We didn’t know it was going to be gone. When we got there, it had been stolen by a rogue pyromancer named Keris.”

Arathorn tilted his head back in interest. The intensity of his glare didn’t waver. “How did he steal it?”

I clenched my jaw just thinking of the pyromancer’s smug face. “I don’t know. As soon as we entered, he attacked us. Even with the extra protection we had gone with, we almost died.” My efforts to keep frustration out of my tone were failing.

Arathorn blinked. “You had the two of you, Norn’s knight commander, and extra protection as well… Yet you still couldn’t recover my package?”

There it was again. His package. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about Kye, or even the knights for that matter. To him, it didn’t matter what we’d done or what we’d gone through. All he cared about was his own interests.

“He was strong,” I said, trying not to spit the words out. “A more powerful mage than I’ve ever seen. He kept telling us we were weak and that we shouldn’t have been taking such actions before her ire.” I cringed at myself, throwing up a hand. “The possession of dragon’s blood sounded really important to him.”

Arathorn took a step back, his face paling further. In a speechless moment, he glanced back at the knife stuck into his desk. I bit back a growl that had built up in my throat. He hadn’t reacted when I’d told him about my injuries. Nor when I’d told him about the quake. Nor when I’d mentioned the fact that we had almost died. But as soon as I’d said something about his precious package, he’d reacted.

“What?” I asked. Arathorn jerked his head toward me, fixing me with wide eyes before his face morphed into a scowl. “There was nothing we could do. We really tried, but all that got us were burn marks and pain.” My fingers tightened even further. “I even lost my sword for you.”

Arathorn froze, his scowl deepening. The mask of charm and restraint faded from his eyes, only letting anger shine through. He stepped forward with flaring nostrils. “You lost what?”

I stood, stock-still for a moment. “My sword.”

Arathorn took another step toward me. The last remnants of worry fell from his expression. His crooked smile came back with a vengeance that made my nose scrunch up. “You come into this town. You join one of Sarin’s own organizations. I ask a simple task of you out of sheer hope that you’ll complete it.” I cringed, already seeing where he was going. He stepped closer. “You go on the journey, don’t complete the task, and return empty-handed.” Another step. “And you still have the nerve to complain about losing a fucking sword?”

I scowled. “Yes. Do you know what we had to face in Norn? Just for your package, we had to—“

“Do you know how important that package was?” Arathorn asked. Rage coated his tone plain and clear, but I didn’t miss the underlying concern. Neither stopped him from stepping close enough that he was right in my face.

I felt Arathorn’s breath on my neck. I stiffened, my nose twitching. Tilting my head, I averted my eyes from his burning glare. And I tried to take a deep breath. Tried to process the situation rationally. But when a faint but instantly recognizable smell caught my nose, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Blood.

My heart nearly stopped. Ice-cold fire flooded my veins and I stared at the previously bright-faced man. The previously charming, handsome lord I’d come to somewhat respect. But as I scoured over his pale skin, I disregarded the elegant suit. I disregarded the gleaming black hair peppered with flecks of silvery grey. All that I saw was an object of disgust that set a horrible taste on my tongue. Wave and waves of abhorrence washed up from the back of my mind and crashed over me until it was all I could think about.

It was like I’d eaten something vile. Except it was worse than that.

It was like I’d killed someone. Except it was worse than that too.

It was like my entire family had been killed. That thought echoed in my mind.

I froze, my eyes fixed on the man who I’d considered my lord. The pale, sniffing, rage-filled man who I’d given my honor to. The furious, selfish man who was staring at me with perfectly piercing blue eyes that were slowly slipping from control. Him? No, I realized. He was not my lord.

His nose twitched, taking a long whiff of the air one more time. Movement shifted in the back of my head, only providing more disgust as it tried to hide away. As it tried to conceal whatever scent Arathorn was searching for. His smile grew as he watched me, his interest completely captivated. Staring into his eyes, something shined through again. Something I recognized. A part of him that I didn’t stare long enough to figure out the nature of.

I scrambled backward, focusing all my energy on putting each foot on the floor. Arathorn eyed me curiously, blinking to himself. In an instant as he watched fear grow across my features, he straightened. He regained his poise and quelled the anger to a light frustration. Then he raised his head and sniffed.

At once, control slipped from his eyes again. I saw it in the erratic twitching of his fingers. He was fighting. Fighting something. And losing, I realized far too slowly. He didn’t have the awareness left to stop his feet from following me forward. And before I knew it, his arm had flailed out.

I dodged, scuttling back farther. Wood flew under my feet as I leapt against the polished door. I fought my eyes not to stay wide and pushed away panic as I reached for my sword. If I grabbed my sword, I would be able to defend myself. That was what went through my head. A stifled curse was all the reaction I was allowed as I realized my mistake.

Arathorn lurched, his fingers swiping at me like claws. I shuffled, throwing an arm up to block as I twisted away. A slight, burning scrape raked across my skin before I got away and looked up. The previously handsome man stared at me, his eyes wavering. Words rose to my tongue. But when his body surged with newfound energy, I knew there was no talking left. There was no him left.

Briefly thanking the world for my body’s crystal eyesight, I ducked. Arathorn’s arm flew wide over my head, striking through the air like it was nothing. Turning, I scoured his feral form for a weakness. It didn’t take long to find. I kicked the back of his knees without another thought and pushed away before he could react.

Arathorn stumbled, knees buckling as his fingers scraped against the wooden door. After only a moment, he was back on his feet. The rage was bubbling back up. He turned slowly to stare at me. His fingers curled into fists and he took a step.

Then he stepped back.

I froze, halting the motion to dodge I’d almost initiated. Arathorn stared at me, wide-eyed. He clenched his jaw and fought again—the charismatic sparkle shined anew in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said. But even those words were barely more than a hiss through his teeth. Before he could stabilize himself, the hunger had returned. It fought against his control and consumed him with fuel from his rage. The wicked smile grew back. The creature lunged at me, and I knew he was gone.

I barely got a moment for the sympathetic part of me to mourn. It was on me again. I turned and threw myself to the side to avoid its first strike. The second, however, came quicker than I’d imagined. It charged me with inhuman speed and slammed into me hard, not even wasting energy with finesse.

My body reeled, blunt pain ripping through the soreness as the lazy guard of my forearms broke. Grimacing, I staggered to a stand. I stared back at the the creature wearing Arathorn’s skin, and I raised my fist for a strike.

Attacks and maneuvers—simple ones this time—played through my head. They processed with the scatted books over the floor and the shelf I’d almost slammed into. Yet, even as I returned to its pale form with a smile on my face, I couldn’t act. I wasn’t fast enough. It was already on me, and all I could do was dodge.

So that was exactly what I did. Only acute fear and instinct saved me quickly enough. My body fumbled through an erratic sea of motion before I caught on something. Before I brought my brow together and forced myself upright against Arathorn’s desk. More fire trickled into my blood as I stared back, baring my teeth in battle-fueled rage.

Still, however, I couldn’t keep up. The thing was flailing still. In a flash of movement that I only barely tracked with my eyes, it came swinging at me. It flexed its fingers and grabbed for my arms. On pure, fluid instinct, I twisted away and brought my own fist up under its savage guard.

I allowed myself a smile as my strike connected, the fine cloth of Arathorn’s clothes straining under the force. For a second, I felt like I had a chance in the fight. My hope, however, was all too short lived.

Ara—the thing’s arm came down and knocked mine away like a pebble. I teetered, anchoring myself on the desk to prevent from falling. Papers slid across the wood behind me, sending the room even further into disarray. I wasn’t quite in a state to care.

After stepping backward, it rushed toward me unthinking. It didn’t slow as it forced me back against the desk and scraped into my arms with nails that felt far too sharp to be human. A muffled yelp escaped my mouth as pain shrieked through my sore muscles. But I didn’t put down my guard. I didn’t let it break through. It wanted at my neck—I knew that much from experience. And I wasn’t going to make the task easy for it.

I pushed it back. It resisted, forcing its foot into the ground and leaning toward me even harder. Then, however, its foot slipped, and it scrambled to the side in an effort to maintain balance. I twisted away, flying across the desk’s polished wooden edge and glaring back at the creature before it could attack again. In an instant, I turned attention inward. I turned it to the source of the disgust crashing over my skull.

The thing in the back of my head shifted, shying away. It scurried deep enough that I couldn’t even feel it while it only piled more and more fear on. More and more revulsion. I gritted my teeth and pleaded with it—tearing up images of the white flames that had engulfed my hands before. That was the last time it had helped me in a desperate situation. Well, I was in a desperate situation again.

But it wouldn’t listen. It was too scared. It blocked me out, and by the time I tried to get at it again, the pale creature was charging me.

Another swipe. Another block. Twisting, turning, dodging. The routine was solidifying as Arathorn’s body kept up with tireless rage. Each time it got close, it lunged for my neck. Each time it lunged for my neck, I would twist away. It was a game of cat and mouse, and I was tired of being a rodent.

I couldn’t keep it up. That fact was becoming too clear. Despite the cold fire burning in my blood, I was slowing down. My body was still sore—and it was uncoordinated on top of that. I was stumbling more, and in the disorganized office, my movement was limited. All the while, the burning pain tearing through the cloth of my uniform was getting worse with each cut. The agony was ramping up. And I was getting tired of sticky blood. I couldn’t keep dodging forever. Eventually, something had to give.

And as I leapt back, my foot slipping on a stray piece of paper, I knew exactly what it was. Color drained from my face as my guard became all but useless. And with its inhuman speed, the vampiric creature took full advantage.

Before I knew it, I was sliding like rag doll across the wide wooden desk.

I gritted my teeth as I held to a halt, keeping my head above the wood. If there was one thing I definitely didn’t need, it was another head injury. In a moment of rest, I felt the cold air sting my skin where the blood was now showing. The fatigue pulled me down and taunted me with the opportunity of closing my eyes.

I didn’t listen, of course. I knew that I couldn’t. My moment of relief was short-lived at best, and there was no way I would let the barbaric thing get at me. Though, as my thoughts ran on a fraction of a second too long, it loomed over me all the same. I stared up at it—up at the newly blood-stained suit Arathorn had worn. I cringed while watching it, wishing that I would’ve seen it sooner. Wishing that I would’ve disregarded the conceptions held up by my honor and seen the truth. I wished I could’ve seen past Arathorn’s weak facade and put more stock in the fear he sparked within me.

Now, though, spending time wishing anything wasn’t a wise idea.

It clambered onto the desk and snarled. Its lips slipped open and bared the pearly whites that looked more like fangs in the dim light. They threatened me with their existence as the creature hunched over. And before my eyes could even track the movement, its claw-like fingers were grabbing again.

I pushed them away purely on instinct. But my movements were lazy. My body was slow, sore, and useless. The creature only redoubled its efforts to get at my neck—and my attempts to stop it were becoming weaker in weaker.

A shaky breath fell from my lips, one carrying far too much weight. My eyelids flitted, feeling heavier and heavier as blood spilled out over my arms and stained the cloth of my clothing. As darkness flickered in and out of my vision, the beast’s image returned. It taunted me like it always did, spawning from the depths of my psyche to remind me of the rage I felt. Of the way the reaper had ripped me away from everything I loved only to put me here. It had put me on the corrupted continent, destined to die. A place where even the lord I was supposed to be faithful to was deceitful. It was sickening.

And it appeared I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Movement in the back of my head. I focused on it. I tried to track it. But I couldn’t. It was moving too fast. Or was I moving too slow? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t need to tell. My blood was draining so fast. The beast was coming so fast. It would take me away for good this time—rip me from the world just like it had done to my parents.

My parents?

The question didn’t even have time to process before a white-hot presence surged to the fore-front of my mind. I snapped my eyes open, stretching them wide and noticing the white haze at the corner. At once, control fled from my muscles. Something else took the reigns. Something different yet close, scared yet just as rage-fueled as I was.

“Not again,” my voice screamed even though I hadn’t ordered it too. The creature above me swiped one more time, darting its fang-like teeth toward my neck. My hand snapped up, catching it with a fiery sort of ease before pushing the thing away.

The creature wearing Arathorn’s clothes growled, wrenching its arm out of my grip and glaring down in horror. Following its gaze, I saw the searing burn I’d left across its skin.

In a moment of clarity, I realized what was going on.

The white haze flared brighter at the edge of my vision. I took a deep breath, curling upward and watching the feral creature retreat from the desk. It scurried away through air. Air that I could feel, that felt untapped and powerful. It felt malleable. Changeable. Light enough to twirl on my finger. And as I focused on it, my hands grew warm. They sparked into flame that swirled around me in peace. They weren’t working against me. The flames were part of me, through and through.

The kanir—as my mind forced me to think—stared at me in confusion. The hunger was still there, I noticed. Even if its erratic movements had slowed. Even if its wicked smile was gone. All color had drained from its face now, and as it stared, it licked its teeth. Only the hunger was left.

It lunged at me. I could feel it in the light air. I didn’t even need my eyes to see it. My body dodged to the side easily, raising ready hands in an instant. I caught it before it could think twice about its action.

My burning hands tore into the quality fabric, leaving only charred bits. I pushed it away with all the force I could muster. It stumbled back, tripping over a book for the first time in the fight, and similarly to what it had done to me before, I was on it before it could react.

The flames worked through perfect, fluid motions in tandem with my instincts. The image of my attack solidified in my mind only moments before I took it; I brought my hands down. I struck the kanir with more force than I’d thought possible. But it didn’t stop there.

Blow after blow, my body worked in perfect synergy with my mind. I lorded white fire over the creature that had threatened my life and rained hell upon it. The thing that had almost cut my second chance short, I remembered. The thing that had almost forced my rematch with the beast. My hands tossed it to the floor, scorch marks covering its shoulders and chest, and it spat a dark red substance onto the floor.

Blood.

Its eyes darted to me. Its nostrils flared. It stared with only primal emotions that were all dominated with hunger before pushing up and lunging at me again.

I dodged to the side with a smile still on my face. That was all it ever did. It charged and it swung. There was no finesse to its actions. No skill or technique. There was only rage and hunger, fueling the most brutish of attacks.

My smile dropped in an instant when a hand grabbed my arm. I snapped my gaze to it, immediately moving away when I saw the pale fingers. But it didn’t let go so easily. The kanir latched onto my arm, digging its nails through the cloth and deep into my skin. I screamed in pain, bringing up my hand to do the same. In a motion faster than I thought possible, my fingers wrapped around its arm as well. A growl slipped between its lips.

My mind worked on its own. The plan only became clear to me as it was executed. I shook off its grab, holding my own grip tight enough to keep it in place. My other hand latched on to the thing, gripping it with all I had.

The air lightened even further. Every particle of it flowed past me, carrying all latent energy provided by the world. I moved that energy and changed it with my soul. My vision flooded with white. Flames licked at my skin but didn’t burn. And by the time the movement was over, I saw the kanir sprawled in a half-crouch on the floor near to the door. Its pale skin was covered in burns and scrapes. Part of Arathorn’s hair had burned off, and when my eyes met its gaze for only a moment, I saw something new.

Fear.

A plan flashed in my head, clear and wrapped in flames. My eyes widened instantly, rebelling against the idea. I tried to bring my hands up to stop it. But no matter what I did, it was already too late.

The air became slick and I felt power surge through my bones. As I helplessly stared, a passenger in my own skin, heat erupted through the air. It jumped from particle to particle until white fire erupted within Arathorn’s body. The kanir shrieked one last time before it was scorched from the inside out.

The fire fled as quickly as it had arrived, leaving only dim torchlight once more. The smoked, charred body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. White flames receded from my fingers and settled off my neck. They let me gain control of my hands again, but I didn’t bring them up. It was too late for that. All I could do was stare.

I’d wanted to defend myself. I hadn’t wanted to die… But I hadn’t wanted to kill it. Not while it was still in Arathorn’s skin.

The thought played back in my head, echoing and echoing. Images of what had just happened flashed, skewing and tearing as my mind tore them apart. As the consequences of what I’d done came crashing down on me. Each moment that passed was agony—a searing, burning pain against my empathy. I hadn’t died, but all I’d done was give the reaper another soul. I’d tossed it one that I knew, even. My lord. Or… former lord, at least.

That distinction didn’t lesson the bitter taste in my mouth.

Pressure rose against the back of my eyes. I pushed back on it, sniffling and trying to maintain composure. It wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be. And before I knew it, burning tears were running down my cheek, blurring away the image of Arathorn’s body frozen, lifeless body.

I shook my head, wiping the tears away and forcing myself to be calm. I’d killed before. It wasn’t a matter to cry over. I’d only killed because it had been necessary, and I didn’t—

My vision shifted. The air around me warped, freezing to an unnaturally frigid cold before it stopped. And when it settled, a horrible sight consumed my attention.

In front of me, standing over Arathorn’s body with its scythe still touched against his burnt chest, was the beast. Its pallid, bony form draped in a tattered cloak.

I stopped, all thoughts screeching to a halt. The white haze at the edge of my vision wavered, twisting and twitching in frozen horror. Standing stock-still, I watched the beast. It moved in slow, fluid motions as it lifted its scythe and stared at me. Barely resisting my primal fear, I stared back at it, recognizing the familiar expression painted across its skeletal features.

Surprise.

My breathing quickened in tandem with my pulse. The beast stepped forward, nearly floating over the floor toward me. Step after step, its expression morphed back into the neutral confidence it had displayed before. And when it got close enough, it stared me right in the eyes. I fought it, trying to scramble away and tear it from my eyes. But it was useless.

The darkness flared up to consume my vision. To finish the task it had set out to do all those weeks ago.

Except this time, the darkness didn’t spread. It didn’t swallow my soul in its deathless maw. No. The white haze rebelled against it, flaring in bright flame. The light fought against the darkness almost out of my control, holding my soul hostage in a void to wait until it stopped.

Eventually though, it did.

The beast stopped its efforts and looked toward the ground. Confusion descended upon its face, nearly burning against the bone as though it was being scolded by something more powerful than even it was.

Letting the white haze calm, the reaper echoed a low, hair-raising growl before taking another step back. It vanished in a stream of black mist, taking its lifeless presence along and leaving the room in pure silence.

For a moment, I only stood there and stared. My mind worked uselessly to try and piece together what I’d just seen. It was a futile effort. The stillness of the room caught up to me far too quickly. As I looked to the body again, a long breath slipped from my lips.

The flames faded from my eyes. The cold rushed back. The exhaustion set in, dragging my body to the floor.

And in a moment of pure humanity, I fell to my knees.