The constant ticking drove Emma insane. It had a cold, mechanical nature to it, meant to remind her. To never allow her a moment to forget. If asked, they would say it’s a clock, telling one the time, but Emma knew how these scumbags operated. They wanted her mind raw and nervous, ridding her of all mental defenses, so they could pick it apart. But she’d be damned if she gave those fuckers even a hint of where Liron could be. Not that she knew, though.

  Emma sat in a chamber. It was small and void of all color and life. The walls and ground were white and cold when touched. A Machina hung above her, spending light. She was not allowed to move, bound to her chair by her ankles. The white pressed against her, chipping away at her sanity. Nothing she could look at and kill time. Her mind was forced to ponder what would happen next. Even the door appeared as part of the wall. Without the slits, one would miss it.

  Having to wait here was bad enough, but the two Sinners standing behind her worsened the ordeal. At first, Emma was glad to have some company. Only as the two figures never responded to her, standing still as statues, did she realize what they were. Unlike their cousins in Sannara, they wore a plain form of an Inquisition’s uniform. Red leather robes, massive boots, and bird masks hiding their faces.

  Compared to an Inquisitor, their masks' beaks appeared tiny. Emma had seen Sinners like these once when the Inquisition had taken the former head of the forge. They had moved in absolute silence, more puppets than man. They had followed their Inquisitor’s orders without hesitation, an unspoken strength radiating from their appearance. All human was hidden underneath the leather, emphasizing their discipline and obedience to the greater hierarchy.

  Emma gnawed at her fingernails, growing uneasy. She left her right fingers in peace, needing the fingernails longer for picking the strings of her lute. She wouldn’t do much playing anymore. As soon as the vision had ended, the Warpriests had taken her and her parents prisoners. All the people of Eisenrahm had turned against them. Fucking cowards. How often had she played for those ungrateful bastards or helped them? How often had her parents endured their insulting comments? Not one had even tried to argue against their arrest.

  Ironic, considering their bootlicking in her dreams. Pointing a blade at their throat, they would have still sung her praises, calling her blessed by the big man himself. All of a sudden, her parents hadn’t birthed and raised a monster. No, they had created the next big hero.

  What a joke. Not for the first time, Emma wondered what had happened to her brother. Somehow, he had escaped the Promised Dawn. No one had told her directly, but she had heard the hushed whispers from her cell in Eisenrahm. But what now? What was her brother supposed to do? She had always known Liron had talent and a shrewd mind, but how would this help him get away? Only the Resistance would take him. She hoped he would do so. Now, he had to see the truth. He had to know what the Empire truly was and that it deserved the end he had brought to it in the vision.

  Her worries didn’t stay with him alone. After being captured, they had separated Emma from her parents. Since then, she hadn’t seen them once. The Warpriests had handed them over to the Inquisition, but even on the ride wherever she was, she hadn’t caught a glimpse of them. Had the Inquisition dragged them somewhere else? Had they already executed them?

  No, they would make a big spectacle of killing them. She would have died alongside her parents, punishing Liron for a crime he hadn’t committed. Yet, at least.

  Emma cursed, rubbing her temples. The dreams had started to annoy her. Liron, the moron, was drooling to go to war. The fool would get himself killed in the vain attempt to prove himself. Having Blackbone wasn’t enough. Not surprising. Nothing would ever be enough for her brother.

  If she had let him enter the fighting alone, he would die. So, despite her aspirations, she had begun training as a Wizard. Incredibly easy. Some lords of the nearest city had invited them to move there, promising a life of luxury for them. As she had proposed the idea of her becoming a Wizard, they had beamed with greedy joy at the idea. A Knight Dracon and a Wizard, twins fighting side by side. The stories wrote themselves.

  In her last vision she had contacted a representative of the Lorraine family. Unlike the rest of the Empire, they allowed their Wizard a freer choice of Conduits for their magic. In Nordland, Emma could have had the choice between whips and some religious symbols. The Lorraines, however, welcomed all artistry. They had turned Lorsos into the beating heart of the Empire’s culture and artistic output. This way, she could make her lute into her conduit and keep playing it. If she had to fight and drench the desert in blood, she would play her music. Expressing herself through art was the only thing she had. Her parents had taught her well enough that anything else would get her killed.

  A knock came from the door, and a woman walked in. She wore a lighter version of the Inquisition uniform. Instead of heavy leather, she had a simple red jacket and trousers. Still in the strict style of the Inquisition, but it appeared less battle ready. Meant for someone to stand behind, taking care of the organisational duties required to allow these blood hounds to do what they wanted. Unlike the two Sinners, she wore no mask.

  The woman had a gentle smile and an apologetic look. Like she had intruded in Emma’s precious break she spent in this torture chamber. “Hello,” she said, her voice as concerned as her demeanor. “You must be Emma. Thank you for your patience. I hope you can forgive us. The agent will be here any minute. I am here to explain to you what will happen and what you can expect. But before we begin, you must be starving.”

  She clapped her hands, and two Sinners walked in, dressed the same way as the other two standing behind Emma. They brought her a plate of food and a glass of water. Roasted meat, with potatoes and sauce. It smelled fantastic. She wanted to deny the food, shoving it off the table. The glass alone appeared more expansive than anything her family had ever owned. Only rich folks could afford stuff like this.

  But they hadn’t given her much to eat in days. And if they did, it was never enough to satiate her. They hadn’t even kept a clear schedule when they had given her anything, showing up by her cell at random. Smart. Never give her anything she could ground and orientate herself around. They wanted a constant reminder of who was in control. They could starve her or feed her well. All depending on the mood they were in and her cooperation.

  Emma’s mind was strong, but it wasn’t made from steel. She dragged the plate towards her, devouring the food. She must have looked and sounded like a pig. But she didn’t care. All she wanted was to become as full as one. The woman watched her eat, smiling. As Emma leaned back, the plate empty, pouring down the water next, the woman continued.

  “Our agent will be with you any minute. It is of the utmost importance that you answer all his questions honestly. He has been commissioned with your brother’s capture. We all work for the Empire’s safety. So, all you need to do is to help us, and everything will be fine.”

  “Ah-hah,” Emma said, whipping her mouth. “With fine, you mean I’ll be turned into a Sinner like them, right?” she asked, pointing at figures behind her.

  The woman’s smile wavered, but she caught herself with surprising grace. “All will be good. You just need to help us.”

  With that, the woman left Emma alone, taking the plate and glass with her. Though, she hadn’t lied.

  Faint at first, Emma heard a whistle. It had a simplistic melody to it, but it was performed flawlessly. The voice was rich and strong, accompanied by a metallic tone, enhancing the whistling by splitting into three separate voices. All sounding as each other yet different, perfect in their unison. Like three mouths acting as one.

  The echoing steps followed the rhythm, dance-like. A sharp clicking stood out, demanding the most attention. Emma’s skin crawled every time she heard it, clawing into her chair as it came closer. All sounds stopped in front of the door, and it swung open.

  “Greetings, my dearest lady,” the Inquisitor said, bowing. “It is a pleasure meeting you.”

  She had sworn herself to be brave, but the soulless black eyes of the mask proved her a liar. The Inquisitor wore a black hat and a black robe. His gloved hands held a walking stick in front of him, its head a golden lion, baring its fangs. The crimson leather of his uniform would have endured a sloppy sword strike, but anything beyond that would cut through it. But the Inquisitor’s uniform was supposed to offer him mobility as well as elegance. Sterile and efficient, yet its lack of any further decoration emphasized the masterful hand that had crafted it. An medallion adorned his chest, the open eye of the Inquisition, seeing all sins committed in the Empire.

  The bird mask of the Inquisitor looked similar to the ones of the Sinners. But its beak was longer, made from black, shining metal. It had a slight opening at the front and five slits at each side. They all opened and closed with minute motion, all following the wearer's demands. To hide even his hair, the Inquisitor wore a tight, black hood underneath the mask. As with all religious services, all followers of Harras would have to hide their appearance. And all Inquisitors acted in His name, veiling themselves. That, and so the Resistance couldn’t just assassinate them.

  The mask crackled, the Machinas inside doing their work. “I hope you did not have to wait too long,” the Inquisitor said, his voice altered by the mask. As with his whistling, it split his voice. But instead of gaining a greater melodic value, he sounded genuine and kinder than he would have normally.

  Emma had prepared a few clever insults, but they all failed her, her instincts shutting her down. She heard her mother’s voice, scolding her to be cautious. The Inquisition wasn’t known to make friends.

  “No,” she said. Brief and devoid of emotions.

  The Inquisition studied her… or so Emma thought. Thanks to the mask, it was impossible to say what went through his head. He leaned his walking stick against the table, taking a seat opposite to her. He had brought a case with him, sleek and neat as his uniform. He pulled several papers out, laying them out in front of him, starting to write down.

  “That is great to hear,” he said. “My name is Adenius Klang. I am an agent of the Inquisition. I am supposed to bring your brother to justice.”

  Emma snorted. Even her best instincts couldn’t keep her from doing that. Adenius looked up, his black eyes staring at her before returning to his writing. “Before we start, do you need anything else? You have eaten, correct? Do you need to relieve yourself? Any other needs?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “I hope you have not been treated too roughly? I know, plebeians can be… too eager in fulfilling their duties. No? And the journey here? All fine? Good. It can be… nasty out there.”

  Adenius laughed to himself. His mask made it sound charming, enhancing its friendly nature. A good friend would laugh like this, taking too much joy in their own jokes without appearing arrogant. The manipulation of his voice was so precise, Emma had to caution herself. He wanted her defenses down.

  She couldn’t allow this. She was doomed either way, but Liron still had a chance. No matter how slim, she wouldn’t betray her brother in any way.

  “Yeah,” she said, pressing her teeth against one another. “I know.”

  Again, Adenius watched her, writing.

  “We are in Kupferrang. A border city between Nordland and Lorsos. A vivid place, if I can say so myself. A lot of trade and many important people travel through or have residence here. Even the Grand Janloo Company stops here. Have you ever seen it yourself? No. Ah, a shame. It’s… quite a sight.

  “Well… with this much motion, the potential for heresy is frighteningly high. So, to combat Drom’s influence, the Inquisition has constructed a bureau in its heart. I am responsible for it, and you are sitting in it right now,” he said, tipping his finger at the table. He sounded so genuine and… fun. “In the cellar, to be precise. I will show you everything, don’t worry.”

  Emma worked her jaw, veins popping on her forehead. Her mother’s voice was silenced by her father’s, firing her up. “What’s with my brother?”

  Adenius tilted his head, his writing feather dancing over his paper without looking at it. His writing appeared beautiful, following a set form with absolute veneration.

  “Now, that’s a somber business,” he said, his voice turning mournful. “Your brother is in a… complicated position. The Emperor himself has confirmed the visions and his other self’s order. Unfortunately, this makes your brother guilty according to Harras Himself. I have to execute His will.”

  “And why the fuck should I help you?” Emma said. Her heart leapt, shocked the words had left her mouth. She had feared her tongue to be torn out, but Adenius rested his head on his left hand, his right one never ceasing to write. He laughed again, quiet and appeased.

  “Your brother is aided by the Resistance. They want him. For this, they will have to pass through the border between Lorsos and Nordland. My plan is to force them through Kupferrang, laying a trap for them.”

  Emma blinked, her guts tensing up. “Wh… why are you telling me this?”

  Silence, except the scratching of the feather. The black dots dug into her, her reflection staring back. She could see her fear in them. “I will not threaten you with your parents. Too obvious. There are several reasons why you should help me. First, for your brother’s sake.

  “I’m not the only one on the hunt for him. Should anybody else get to him, they will drag him through the entire Empire. They will make a show of your brother, Emma. With me, he will experience Harras’s mercy and love.”

  Emma’s nails scratched over the table. They lost their well kept edge, turning rigged and broken. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, I will sanctify him. He will be a Sinner, and he will fight in Sannara for…”

  “How is that better?!” Emma yelled. “You force him to fight and die for you! You want to turn him into one of these monsters?! Fuck you!”

  All the tension that had built up over the last few days released in one go. Her chest burned hot, her heart pumping fire through her veins.

  Adenius’s demeanor didn’t change. “But, Emma, don’t be unreasonable. Your brother is a young and strong man. He would have wanted to serve, correct? He is also faithful. Through this, he could gain forgiveness and fight for the Empire. He could still live his dream.”

  “Fuck off!” Emma yelled, hammering her fist on the table. “What sick ridden animal shat into your head, you dimwit?! You know nothing of Liron! Don’t spit out another lie about him.”

  Adenius giggled, holding his left hand in front of his beak. “Second,” he said, “should I fail, the Inquisition will send someone… rougher than me. This will not be to yours, or your brother’s benefit.”

  Emma snorted. “As if you Inquisitors aren’t all the same.”

  “And third, he might become a real threat to the Empire. And the Empire’s survival is also in your best interest.”

  “Why? So I can become one with Harras? If He’s real and likes what you fuck-heads are doing, I will rather go with Drom. He sounds like better company.”

  "Oh ho," Adenius laughed. “Such heresy. You are quite something, Emma. But no, I did not mean your eternal soul.”

  “What then?” Emma asked.

  “Of course, whether the eternal soul actually exists, I cannot tell.”

  Emma stared at the Inquisitor dumbfounded. “What? I thought I was supposed to be the heretic here.”

  Adenius waved away her objection. His mask worked again, shifting his voice to sound more intent, giving it an authority only a natural superior could have. Emma ground her teeth, getting angrier hearing his altered voice. “Harras is real of course. I can feel His will in all I do, but I do not care where I go after my service has concluded. Serving Him is reward enough. But no, I did not talk about your afterlife. Without the Empire, the Qilesh would overrun all of humanity.

  “No other faction has the resources we have. And even if you could bring down both the Empire and Qilesh at the same time, there would be chaos. The Sacred Houses hate each other. They would create another War of Ascension.”

  “Not if the Resistance takes over,” Emma said. “If they are the one cutting you down, they will take over. They will bring justice and peace to us all.”

  Adenius finished writing, cleaning his feather. “Of course. There we have the heart of all evil. How do you know that the Resistance would be able to improve anything? What kind of new system of governance would they implement? What kind of institutions would they get rid of and which would they keep?

  “Do you really think Elisabeth Ashburn cares about anything but reconquering the Red Tyrant’s throne? She would change nothing. She wants to replace the head, but the lion would remain.”

  “Y… you don’t know that,” Emma said. “She would… be better.”

  “Would she? How can you tell? You have grown up in a small town. Have you ever met a Resistance member? They only survive and flourish through betrayal and violence. The only thing you have in common with them is a shared enemy. And once you have run out of foes to kill, they will find a new one. And trust me, it would be you.

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  “Concering your other objections. No, we Inquisitors aren’t all the same. Many of my colleagues would not have this little talk. A session or two, and you would tell them all they needed to know. Once you feel the pain, see your body be turned into an useless husk, your conviction dies. There are those whose will cannot be broken, but a girl of fourteen isn’t among them.

  “And yes, your brother will be in better hands with me. They would gut him, let pigs eat his entails, making sure he stays conscious to feel every agonizing second. A Sinner is a better fate.”

  Emma panted, her rage screaming to be let out. But she had nothing to throw at him. Adenius had dismantled everything she had said. She knew he was wrong, but she didn’t find the words to prove it.

  Adenius put his papers back into his case, standing up. “You have my gratitude, Emma. Thanks to you, I have everything I need to hunt down your brother.”

  “I didn’t give you shit!” Emma said, but her heart skipped a beat.

  “No, you did. Asking directly is so… crude. Our little talk told me everything I wanted.”

  “Yeah, and what?”

  “Of course. First, you hate the Empire. To be expected, considering what has happened to you, but the anger you showed speaks to something older. You hate the Empire for quite some time now. But someone, likely your parents, has trained you to suppress this, knowing what would happen to you. You are bad at that. You're quick to anger, and you are impatient.

  “This makes it easy to lure you into a trap, as your emotions blind you. The easiest way to do this is with your family. They are your weak spot. Your brother, Liron, likely the biggest one at that. You’ve mentioned him several times but failed to ask about your parents once. Understandably, as I wouldn’t give you a straight answer, but this still indicated that you care more for Liron.

  “Despite your shortcomings, you are smart and headstrong. You love to rebel against authority. Probably, one of the reasons you favor the Resistance. They fight against the Empire, the absolute symbol of authority you would rather not acknowledge.”

  Emma gulped, rubbing her neck. Headaches emerged as Adenius's excursion drilled into her psyche, the pain intensifying with every word. “And… what does this have to do with my brother?”

  Adenius's mask shifted, his voice turning cold and mechanical. No friend to be found there. “First, considering your brother is a Ravenspawn, he was treated unkindly. Based on your overall demeanor, you must have been defending him his entire life. To be expected with siblings, but this intensity would only appear if you have a strong bond. This makes it very likely that you share several character traits.

  “He is smart, but also likely to have problems with anger. Furthermore, he will probably love to put people into their place. It will be worse with him than with you, though. His lived experience will cause him to develop a lot of resentment. Next, you didn’t disprove that he wants to serve in Sannara. This tells me that he intended to serve, indicating that he sought things like glory and acceptance through war. So, Liron is also likely to be rather ambitious.”

  Adenius watched, letting silence weigh heavy on her. She stared at Adenius, her heart hammering in her chest. Her face turned red, and her throat tightened up like the Inquisitor had wrapped a rope around it and pulled.

  “Of course, I did not figure all of this out through this conversation,” Adenius said, his voice cheerful again. “I had several reports on your brother. Some are more significant and trustworthy than others. I just needed some confirmation that what your parents told me was correct.”

  Emma felt lightheaded, the headaches giving way to a dreadful void, drowning out everything that could distract her. “My… parents?”

  “Yes. They were very cooperative. Honest people. They knew your brother can’t be saved. But you might have a chance. So, they told me everything they knew. For that, I promised to do everything I could for you. I did not guarantee your survival, but I am a man of my word. They showed so much love for you that I thought it unconscionable to separate you from one another. They wanted to keep an eye on you, so I fulfilled this wish, too. Isn’t that right, Leon, Marie?”

  Adenius looked to the Sinners behind Emma. They removed their masks in unison. Emma stared down at her hands, tears falling on them. If she didn’t turn around, it wouldn’t become reality. For a few more seconds, she wanted to live in the lie that they were among the living.

  But they deserved her to know what had happened. Emma’s breathing accelerated, short and shallow. She felt like she was suffocating in her clothes. Slowly, she faced her parents and screamed.

  …

  Kasper leaned against a tree, watching the town. What a pathetic place this was. No decorum. Only farmers that couldn’t count to five. They fulfilled their duty by feeding the Empire, but Kasper hated to be among the riffraff. And even for plebeians, they were particularly dull.

  Children stared at him from a distance, curious. One glare, and they were running. Kasper would have loved to announce himself, but he had to keep a low profile. To not give away their identity, they had switched their usual clothing, identifying them as Lockram, for something more plain. He kept a large coat, hiding his body, and a hat. He relished in the looks people gave him, failing to place him. Intriguing, yes, but he made them feel suspicious. Threaten, even. The way he wanted it.

  Kasper and Anna had patrolled the border between Nordland and Lorsos for days now. His sister had sent a few spies in the region, but they did nothing more than keep an open ear for anything. The Ravenspawn and traitor should have arrived near the border by now. While a large area, they couldn’t avoid all the attention. Some hunters, plebeians, or individuals authorized to travel would notice something. This left them with the long and boring task of visiting all potential places, asking around.

  This shithole offered nothing of value. Being at the border, it and all other towns and cities were a boiling spot of the cultures of Nordland and Lorsos. People showed a higher degree of knowledge and basic education through the constant travellers coming through. But they had somehow found the only town that hadn’t enjoyed this privilege. It had nothing but the downsides, constant tension between people leaning more towards Nordland or Lorsos. There have been several cases of towns attacking one another for their differences. Would be fun to beat down such a fight. He might kill a few of them without anyone asking too many questions.

  Kasper lowered his head, the tip of his head blocking his face from anybody that would see him. It allowed him to keep watching. What fools he was surrounded with. Nothing but sheep, helpless without the guiding hand of the ones above them. And for them he fought. For them he stalked through the shadows, hunting the wicked. He faced heresy and traitors alike, bringing their deserved justice. They would never know his sacrifice. They all could live out their lives thanks to him…

  The Sacer Hound sneezed, making Kasper jump. He squeaked, holding his hands in front of him. The damn beasts had been nothing but problems. Standing, the hound’s snout reached Kasper’s shoulder. It had no fur, with golden veins adorning its skin. It hadn’t as many as a Sinner, giving the beast its free will. Necessary, as a Sacer Hound’s instincts couldn’t be replaced by a human controlling it.

  The dog yawned, showing its five rows of fangs lurking out of its maw. Once a Sacer Hound had bitten into its prey, it wouldn’t let go. The Warpriest that gifted him the beast and promised it would be subservient. Kasper reached out to the mental link to the dog. It opened an eye, closing it yet again. It followed his command, but only if it had to.

  Without the dog’s sense of smell, they would never find the Ravenspawn, but it had to be reasonably close to find his scent. Apparently, their target wasn’t nearby. Kasper cursed to himself, readjusting his coat, ensuring he appeared as intimidating as before, and leaning back against the tree.

  Where was he? Ah, yes!

  These plebs had no idea what he gave them. The world had wronged Kasper and his family. They had judged Nag as a villain and treated him like all Lockrams shared his character. What they didn’t understand was that Nag lived by the world’s fundamental law, the strong take what they want. It was in Nag’s right to raid, rape, and kill as much as he wanted. Harras Himself had blessed him. Thus, all his actions were His.

  Kasper should march into this shitty town and take whatever he desired. But no, he kept fighting for them, despite…

  “Kaspy,” Anna said, appearing next to Kasper.

  Kasper jumped yet again, his shriek louder than before. “Anna! For Harras’s sake! What are you doing?”

  Anna had sneaked up to him, her head lurking out from behind the tree. She snuggled up to him, rubbing his shoulder. She had spent the entire morning in their camp, whipping herself. How else could she repent for them living in sin but by bleeding for Him? She refused to see an Alchemist, a tapestry of vicious scars covering her back.

  Anna had a sheepish smile on her lips. “Oh, Kaspy, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t!” Kasper said, his voice still shrill. He cleared his throat, letting her cuddle up to him. “What is it? Have you finished your…”

  “Yes. We are pure in His eyes again.”

  Every time they had sex, Anna was ashamed afterward, crying in her hands. Kasper had tried to comfort her at first, but it had made things only worse. “Have you not done enough?!” she would lash out at him. Now, he just let her sob, leaving her alone.

  “Great,” Kasper said. “Did anyone hear anything useful about the Ravenspawn?”

  Anna nodded. “I found someone. She said she saw the Cursed One.”

  Kasper blinked. “Wait, really?”

  “Yes. She told me to meet her at her house, and she would guide us towards where she saw him.”

  “Finally!” Kasper laughed, hugging Anna. He swung her around. He could finally return home and not sleep in another tent. Them keeping their identity hidden often meant they had to avoid any inn. Should anyone see their gear, their noble appearance, they might figure out who they were. Kasper had the harsh Lockram facial lines carved into his features, proving his divine origin. That this could become a downside.

  “Yes, I know!” Anna hugged him back. “We can finally marry and become a real family.”

  “Yeah… sure. That, too. Come on, Schatz, let’s not waste another second.”

  Anna gave the Sacer Hound one glance, and it jumped up, basically saluting for her. They walked hand in hand, Anna guiding them. She babbled about something. Kasper nodded, not listening. What a beautiful morning it was. Not long and…

  As they walked past a crooked tree, Kasper frowned. This one was familiar. As they stepped on a stone path leading to a hut, he knew where they were going. But it was too late. Anna’s grip turned into claws digging into his hand. Kasper massaged his jaw, looking around them.

  When they finally arrived at the hut, Kasper paled. She was such a sweet girl. She had made eyes at him, and he had stolen away from Anna. It was just once. Didn’t last longer than ten minutes.

  Anna had stripped the girl, tying her hands to ropes attached to the ceiling of the hut. She kneeled in front of the door, her head hanging, lifeless. Anna had whipped her all over, not leaving a single spot untouched. Anna had slit her throat, dried blood reached down from her neck to her stomach and ground. Whore was carved into her flesh, the writing flawless.

  Kasper struggled to breathe. She had such a beautiful smile. Imagining the agony she went through echoed through Kasper, making him feel a fraction of it. He hurried to a tree, throwing up. He bent over, holding on to the tree, retching after the vomit had left him. Kasper teared up, about to sob.

  As he turned around, Anna pressed a knife to his throat, pinning him against the tree. She grasped his collar, pulling him close, the blade pressing into his flesh. “You’ve fucked another whore?!” she asked, her voice shrill.

  “I… I didn’t…”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me! You betrayed me and Harras again! I should cut off your manhood! You are a Lockram! A lion isn’t supposed to fuck cattle! You’re with me. That’s already bad enough. And now you soil yourself yet again?!”

  Kasper glimpsed past Anna, seeing the girl’s tortured shape, and more tears escaped him. Anna followed his gaze, laughing. “What are you crying about? This is how Nag treated traitors and heretics. I thought you admired him and wanted to be like him. His deeds were bloody. Swear to me, Kasper. Swear to me you will never besmirch yourself like this.”

  Kasper nodded, barely holding a sob back. Anna took him in, slowly pulling the knife away. Kasper took a deep breath in, rubbing his neck. She stepped back. She wanted to reach out, but she didn’t. A dread dawned on her face as if she had begun to fathom what she had done, mirroring Kasper’s horror. But she had a stronger will than him, pressing it down.

  “Help me drag her inside. We need to destroy the evidence.”

  Kasper nodded again. He knew what this meant. Bloody deeds indeed.

  …

  On sailed through the air, Carran a knife that severed the sky itself. She stretched her head high, rushing through clouds. They drenched her face, the cold water waking her up again. She smiled, lowering her flight.

  She patrolled the area leading up to Casar’s Summit. Over a week had passed. By now, Liron should have made it here already. Gram called her every day, begging her to return to Sannara. But she had made her decision. Only after confirmation of Liron’s death reached her would she return to the battlefield.

  On sulked. She’d had higher hopes for Liron. The rider chosen by Everon should be someone extraordinary. That he had evaded capture up until now was impressive but not impressive enough. He could rot in some ditch, having died in a freak accident. Such a fate would be unfitting for someone like Liron. That is, if he had any greater potential at all. Everon had no contact with humanity in three centuries. Perhaps the dragon’s read on humans had weakened.

  Carran puffed, his presence stomping into her psyche. Everon is one of the greatest of our kind, Carran said into her mind. Thousands of years could not dull his sharp senses. He chose that boy for a good reason. Have trust. He ought to be special.

  On shrugged. Carran never lied when it came to his brethren. Unlikely he would start now. As she watched the ground, a hawk waiting for her prey to emerge, she noticed something else flying.

  The Grand Janloo Company hovered through the air. They were far off, nothing but a dot on the horizon, but the flying islands were unmistakable. If she could, On would have asked them whether they had seen anything. These merchants had their eyes and ears all throughout Ekon.

  But any agent of the Empire had to announce their visit long beforehand. One of the many rules they had to follow. Not even the Frederick-Tolbert-University had as many privileges as the Grand Janloo Company. The service the merchants offered to the Empire was too important and couldn’t be done by anyone else, though. Otherwise, the flying islands would have been torn from the skies long ago.

  On watched them go on. How fast they were. She continued her patrol, noticing something new after an hour. A caravan was moving forward until it stopped. There weren’t many towns and cities near Casar’s Summit, but the few that did relied on these caravans. On strengthened her connection to Carran, gaining his sight. She had to descend a bit to get a clear picture. It was a small caravan. Their leader, a lower noble based on his clothing, was scolding his plebeian. He took out a baton, beating them.

  On had seen all she needed to, flying towards them. They all looked up as the People’s Blade rushed towards them. With masterful control, she slowed down bit by bit, coming to a halt in front of the caravan. They shielded themselves with their arms from the air blown at them. On jumped off Carran’s back, walking straight to the noble man.

  He wore more colorful clothing, favoring purple and yellow, typical for a richer Lors. He whipped the dust off him, struggling to find the right words. “My… what do…”

  On channeled Carran’s wings into her, turning her right finger into a wing blade. With a flick, she severed three fingers of the noble man. He screamed at his missing fingers. On walked past him to the plebs he had beaten. She threw them a Nexus.

  “You know how these work?”

  The plebeian nodded. Had to work in the noble Lors’s house. “Good. Contact Mara. She uses the same Nexus. She will tell you the rest.”

  On turned around, grabbing the noble Lors by his collar, pulling him close. “Should you mistreat them again, I will hear of this. I will know who you are and punish you. Touch them again, and I gut you like a pig.”

  Carran growled, emphasizing On’s threat. The Lors nearly fainted, nodding. On letting him go, the noble man collapsed. He pressed a handkerchief to his bleeding finger stomps. On wasted no more glance on him, climbing on Carran’s back and flying off. The dragon laughed in her mind. That is why I’ve chosen you, girl. I knew you had some real grit in you. We dragons know you better than your own kind does. Think where you started and where you are now. Liron will fulfill your expectations. And he won’t be a fool or villain. Everon has chosen him for a reason.

  On smiled at that, feeling much better. She cleaned her finger of the Lors’s blood. Carran was right. Liron was chosen for a reason. He would reach Casar’s Summit. But the vision called for caution. She would make sure Liron was of good heart or not let him get to Casar’s Summit and strengthen his bond to Everon there.

  …

  The clock ticked again, closing in on midnight.

  Trisa hugged her knees, engulfed by darkness. Usually, the lack of light gave her comfort. No one could see her and her flaws and scold her for having them. Only when hidden from the hateful eyes of others did she find some peace. But now, she felt nothing but a tension spreading through her chest. It was different from the times she got punished. It was slower and more persistent. No technique she had developed to deal with such things worked, broken in the attempt.

  She hummed to herself. The lullaby her mother used to sing to her in bed. The one when she had nightmares or was still afraid of the dark. But even this, the last she had of her mother, helped not. Without noticing, she transitioned to humming the pub song Amor had whistled.

  As she thought of him, imagining him sitting in the rocking chair, knitting, the clock struck midnight.

  Trisa pulled off her Nexus. After all these years, killing whoever she was told to, she had thought herself to become numb to such things. But time healed things so they could die yet again.

  Amor was dead.

  Of course he would die. How could she ever expect anything good would happen to her? Cursed Amor. He had actually gotten to her. She should have known when she saw his too big smile. He had convinced her that things could change.

  Trisa pinched herself. No, that was not right. It was not right to think about him like that. He deserved much better. Surprised, Trisa noticed she had started to cry. She touched her cheeks, rubbing the wetness between her fingers. How long since she had shed her last tear?

  Trisa smiled at that. Amor had indeed gotten to her. She sat alone, letting herself go. The tears felt good. The familiar pain of losing yet another person stung her heart. Inside the darkness, it was easy to imagine. She wondered what life would have been like if they had stayed in that town. Would it have been better? Did she even know how to live a life of peace? One without blood?

  If only she had said no once.

  She whipped away the tears. Liron and Anginseran would die. She would finish their assignment. Amor’s death shouldn’t be in vain. This was the only parting gift she could offer him. The only way to commemorate him was by ending their lives.

  The thought alone made her sick. It had never gotten easy. No matter how many she had killed, seeing corpses disgusted her each time anew. She summoned pictures of Amor’s dead body to build up the energy for the battle ahead. Rage would come, but now she only found the strength to cry.

  As her body began to tremble, rivers flowing from her eyes, she thought of Mira. Her disgusted look. The way she beat her upon failing yet again.

  The tears stopped, and all hesitation ceased.

  Liron and Anginseran would die.