Mom and Dad were already out, so he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up quickly. There was a pot on the fire, but the fireplace was just smoldering embers. David poured himself some leftover stew and sat with it at the table. It was lukewarm and fat had condensed on its surface.

  He heard his parents talking outside. It sounded like the type of conversation he'd like to be a part of, so he scarfed down the meal without grimacing, then scooted out of the house.

  They weren’t far from the door. Dad's arms were crossed. David caught him mid-sentence: “...anything this time.”

  “I didn't plan to.” Mom rolled her eyes. “And what even makes you think I'd fail again?”

  Dad shook his head. “Just don't. It should be calmer than—” He stopped when he saw David.

  Was he still mad about her secret ritual? David walked up to them. “I'm old enough to know what's happening, you know?”

  “Just stay safe,” Dad said to both of them and started toward the smithy.

  David looked to Mom for support, but she just raised her arms. He couldn't blame her, Dad was difficult sometimes. “Can I go and watch the knights fight?” he asked her.

  She tapped a finger on her lips. “We could also use the time to practice.”

  “I—” It was a tough one. David looked at her and then at the smithy. “I really want to see the knights.”

  Mom shrugged and walked toward her shed. “Ask your father first, but I think you can go. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  David felt bad for her. She had practically been under house arrest since her encounter with Calland, but they could always spend more time together the next day. He took a deep breath and jogged into the smithy. Heat blasted him in the face, and the smoke made his eyes tear up. Dad was pulling a red-hot chunk of iron out of the forge. He placed it on the anvil. David fiddled in place for a moment, waiting for Dad to see him, but he didn’t.

  “Dad, may I go to the gates for the Long Night?” He asked, weaving his words between hammer blows. “I’ll be safe there, and I can see how the knights fight.”

  Dad brought the hammer down, rattling the iron, then laid it on the anvil. He stared at David for a few second, the finally said, “Go ahead,” and picked up the hammer again.

  Just like that. David expected some resistance, but he wasn't about to complain. The dark part of the Long Night would last about sixteen hours, so he went home to grab some snacks.

  Even though he had just eaten, when he opened the cupboard, his mouth salivated. He grabbed a satchel from the wall and stuffed some jerky and a flatbread in it. Then he spotted the black notebook on the table and scratched his chin. Maybe he didn't have to choose between the knights and his practice. He grabbed it, shoved it under his waistband, and hid it under his shirt.

  -=-=-

  By the time David reached the gates, the yellow light was turning red. Villagers streamed in, carrying sharp sticks, shovels and other tools. Sir Viel was giving a speech to the knights near the gate, but David was too far away to hear it.

  David was mesmerized watching the knights polished armor darken from gold to crimson. Though they were there to protect the village, they looked almost sinister.

  Chief Brenn was talking with Darryl off to the side. Ever since the knights arrived in the village, Brenn seemed to be getting more tense. Darryl was harder to read, not least because he was always smirking.

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  David walked toward them at an angle, his eyes locked on the knights but stopped when Darryl glanced at him. Out of all the people in the village, Darryl was one to always give David pause. He acted as if he didn’t care about a thing in the world and yet was always looking around.

  “It will be a slaughter.” Darryl scoffed.

  Brenn said something, but his voice was too hushed.

  “Nah, don’t push it, old man. It's smart, and my armor isn’t even enchanted. I’d be a sitting duck.”

  “... kids. They're so ...”

  “Not my problem.” Darryl' said a little louder and started walking away.

  Brenn sighed heavily and his old, crinkled face seemed to get even older. It seemed quite obvious that Brenn wanted Darryl to help the knights hunt the predator, but what could one man do that thirty knights couldn’t? There were probably some amazingly powerful people out there, but if Darryl was one of them, he wouldn’t be living in Grainwick, would he?

  Sir Viel finished his speech and the knights spread out before the gates, most of them leaning on any vertical surfaces they could find. Calland was near the middle of them, laughing like an ass, with a small clique of seven female knights.

  David chuckled to himself. Stupid knight should get busy with one of them and leave Mom alone. He walked between two houses and sat on a crate. Cramped, but secluded. Just right for him and his notebook. Well, Mom’s notebook. Whatever.

  Mana was surging in the air just like it did the previous Long Night, so it was the perfect time to study. He moved the mana inside his body toward his fingertips and poured it into the notebook.

  He flipped it open, just to check, and smiled when he saw the letters appear. He didn’t even feel tired. Back when he first tried to use mana, it felt as if he had run a… marathon? He wasn’t sure what a marathon was, but the word came to him on its own and it sounded tiring, so it probably fit.

  He probably shouldn’t rush so ahead of what Mom was telling him to do, but when she did her alchemical stuff, she always made it look easy and continuous, wildly different from the small, short bursts he was capable of.

  So, David wanted to try. He willed the mana to move but then tried to simultaneously will it to leave his fingertips and enter the notebook. A pang of pain went through his head, but he didn’t stop.

  The pain grew and the skin of his fingers was on fire. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if the notebook started glowing. Finally, after about twenty seconds, he couldn’t feel the mana anymore. He retched and bent halfway. Blood filled his mouth. He spat it out, then swayed forward and fell from the crate.

  It felt as if all the warmth had left his body, leaving it frigid and hollow, but when he touched his skin, it was normal. It took him a while to catch his breath, but even then, his arms remained weak and he could barely get up.

  Mom did mention that there was some amount of mana in his body. Did it run out? Probably for the better. If he’d kept up the experiment longer, who knew what would happen to him. Worst of all, while the physical tiredness he felt was slowly going away, the coldness remained. Supposedly mana regenerated on its own, but was he supposed to just sit there in this miserable state and wait for it to kindly come to him?

  That wouldn’t do.

  He sucked in the air, exactly like he did at the earthworks, drawing in the ambient mana. His cheeks, throat and chest warmed up, forming the familiar ball of heat in his chest. He shivered and his tired body rebelled, but he stifled down the urge to stop. The coldness was vastly more unpleasant, anyway. Then, he willed the ball to move, spreading around his limbs.

  Sharp pain tore through his shoulder. He stretched open his collar and looked at it. A red, pulsing bruise spread across his skin. At least there was no blood. He leaned against the crate and tasted blood on his tongue. His arms still felt like cotton, his heart was beating rapidly, but he warmed up, just a bit.

  He rested, then tried drawing in mana again. Earned another bruise, this time on his thigh.

  By the time the light had turned dark red, David’s head was hazy, his chest and shoulders were covered in bruises, and the tiniest movement sent pain searing through his body. Nevertheless, he felt warm again. Warmer.

  Was the experiment a success? He didn’t die of overload, which had to count for something. Running out of mana wasn’t on the list of his concerns before, but it was a good kind of problem to have. Probably. He definitely had to figure out some way to track that before any further experiments. With neither strength nor will to continue practicing, it was about time to return to the gates.

  In the quickly fading light, People were lighting up dozens of torches at the gate. David walked up close and watched. Eventually, he heard growling coming from the red haze beyond the gate. The knights lined up. Sir Viel took the front and signaled them to march out.