A grim atmosphere lingered in the castle as they sat down for breakfast the next day. It lingered throughout the day. People avoided meeting his gaze, instead preferred watching him when they thought he wasn’t aware.

  It was suffocating. He tried to focus his thoughts onto his work, but shovelling dirt all day did little to stimulate his mind, so his mind soon went to the Legion Commander and his challenge.

  I won’t let this be the end. He grunted with anger and struck the shovel into the dirt. His muscles ached, begging for a break, but he didn’t have the time to take a break. He had less than fifty days left.

  As the sun began to set, he and the others made it back to the castle.

  “Al.” Clara’s meek voice rang as he grabbed a bucket of water from the barrels in the courtyard.

  His heart sank as he turned to look at his little sister. Her eyes were red, with dark circles underneath. She looked like she’d cried quite a bit.

  Her lips parted. She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure of what to say. Her gaze darted off, looking all around. Anywhere but him.

  “I’ll find a way.” He forced a smile. “So, focus on what you need to do, alright?”

  Clara finally met his gaze. “You will?”

  “Of course I will.” I refuse to lie down and die. He couldn’t leave her behind. He had to stay, fight, and win. Somehow. “So, focus on the task at hand. We still need to prepare for the winter.”

  A faint smile flashed across her lips. “Yeah. We need to do that…” She wiped her eyes, spun around and left in a hurry as tears began to appear once again.

  I promise I’ll find a way. He headed up to his room, cleaned himself, then made his way to the Witch’s study. He hadn’t been here for a few days, and the books were as he left them. No one else could read them after all.

  “Right then,” he mumbled to himself as he opened the book about sigils. “You fought them and lived. I can too.” The more he read about her wealth of knowledge, the more he was surprised that they even survived her.

  He scowled and turned the page. He didn’t quite remember everything she said, but at some point she had mentioned waking up from her long slumber. Perhaps she was starved for blood. Perhaps that was why she kidnapped so many people, instead of killing them outright. Had she had her fill before they launched an attack on the castle… it was likely they wouldn’t have survived.

  With a sigh, he motioned to turn the page, then stopped. “… The sigil of frost?”

  A knock on the door startled him. He raised his gaze as Charles stepped inside. “It’s past midnight, you know.”

  Alaric glanced out the window. It was quite dark, and once again the stars were hidden behind a layer of thick, dark clouds. “Oh.” He hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.

  “You should get some sleep.” The other man added, then pulled a chair to sit across the desk. “What are you working on?”

  He pushed the small stack of papers toward the other man. “Sigils. We know where the fight will take place. Maybe I can try and give myself an advantage.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t give up.” He sounded impressed. “I was worried you had. You had the look of a dead man on your face yesterday.”

  I still do. He was just hiding it behind a fa?ade of focus. “I want to try.”

  “You have to.” Charles looked over the papers. “These are all great, but… Why not use the Mark of Command? It would end the fight instantly, and, well… I don’t have to explain all the other benefits.”

  You think I didn’t think of that?

  Alaric shook his head, prompting the other man to furrow his brows with annoyance. “I can’t. Plate armour – I need to touch their forehead. Touching the helmet won’t do anything.” He clenched his fist. “I thought the same thing at first, but unless I can somehow get the knight to remove their helmet mid-fight… It’s impossible.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Charles’ shoulders dropped. “Well… There goes my idea.”

  “Not exactly.” Alaric let out a sigh. “I have an idea about that, but it’s a very small chance, so if it does work, consider ourselves very lucky.” He pointed at the papers. “I need to prepare the materials needed for those. It will take time. I also need to learn how to use magic. That will take even more time. I’m bowing out of the waterway project. One man less won’t slow things considerably, and losing the wolves and Cinder isn’t something we – you,” he corrected himself with a grimace, “can afford.”

  “Losing you isn’t something we can afford either.” Charles gave the papers back. “Victoria should help you.”

  I wish. “She won’t learn. She’s tried, but there’s something that’s stopping her from learning anything beyond the most basic spell.” The only new spell she had learned was to find the herb they needed to treat Wyrdflame wounds. “I have to focus on things I can control.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “Can you learn fast enough?”

  Alaric smirked and pointed at the lit candle on the desk. “Took a few hours, but I did light it. I don’t need speed – I won’t be casting spells mid-battle like Victoria can. I just need to figure out how to activate sigils. Can’t be too difficult, right?”

  Charles stared at the candle for a few seconds before nodding. “No, I think you’ll learn that quite fast. And once this ordeal is over with, I’d like you to teach as many people as you can. I have feeling that this won’t be the last we see of the Profaned Legion.”

  They’ll never leave us be. Not as long as we’re pawns in a game of gods and demons.

  “We’ll find a way to defeat them.”

  Days passed agonisingly slowly. Cooped up in the Witch’s study, Alaric spent hours reading her books and notes on several different sigils and protective spells. There was so little time, and so much to learn. He wasn’t even sure if he’d found all the books on the subject yet.

  The list of ingredients he needed kept growing, but so did his list of ideas. People visited him often, though his most consistent visitor was Sarah. She occasionally brought her son along, who loved watching the forest from the window. That evening she once again arrived along with Arthur and let him pull a stool to watch outside.

  “I have an idea.” She declared as she pulled a chair and sat down, then put a leather arm guard on the desk. “Show me the sigils you translated.”

  Raising his eyebrows, he did as she asked.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Something that probably won’t work, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.” She muttered as she turned the pages, clearly searching for something. Her forehead was scrunched up, and her lips pursed as she grew increasingly annoyed. “Ah!” She finally exclaimed a few moments later. She put the stack of papers down. “I’ll be right back. Arthur, listen to Alaric if he tells you something!” She darted off, still holding onto a single piece of paper.

  “…you could have told me your idea…” he sighed and shook his head before turning his gaze to a wooden plaque on the desk. The simplest sigil he could find was drawn on it with a mix of ash, water, a few drops of his blood and a load of crushed flower petals.

  It was the first sigil the Witch had drawn. Three circles intertwined, and a few symbols drawn in each one. Very easy to draw, and according to the Witch, all of her thralls had been able to activate it with ease.

  So why am I having so much trouble?

  He glared at the sigil, focusing on it. Light up! Activate! Do something! He tried to force his mana to flow into the damn thing. Seconds turned into minutes before he gave up and breathed out a sigh of annoyance.

  “What’s wrong?” Arthur’s curious voice startled him. His head jerked to the side to see the little kid standing right next to him, holding onto the table and rising on his toe tips to try and see what he was doing. His big, blue eyes turned to Alaric, filled with curiosity.

  “I’m trying to learn something.” How was he supposed to explain this to the kid? He didn’t even know how to talk to a five year old.

  “What are you trying to learn?” Arthur tried to see better, but he wasn’t quite tall enough.

  “Magic.”

  As soon as the word left his mouth, Arthur’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, wide eyed. “Can I watch? Please? I’ll be good!”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. Vaguely remembering how curious Clara too was at that age, he smiled and pulled a chair for the kid “Alright. Sit here though.”

  “Thank you!” He exclaimed, climbed on the chair and quietly sat, his wide eyes watching his every move.

  Alaric turned his attention back to the wooden plaque. Come on, please. I can do it. With very little confidence, he focused on it once more.

  “Where is the magic?” Arthur asked sometime later.

  “I’m not very good at it.” Alaric let out a sigh. I even disappointed a child. How am I supposed to survive this? “If I was, then this symbol here would glow.”

  Arthur’s face lit up again. “Oh! Like a lamp. A magic lamp!” He exclaimed. “How do you do that?”

  Hesitant, he tried to figure out how much he was supposed to tell the kid. “I’m supposed to focus, but I’m not good at it.”

  Arthur’s small forehead scrunched up. “Focus? You picture it glow?”

  “No, that’s not what I-“ He paused, and turned his gaze towards the plaque. “I haven’t tried that.” He stopped trying to control his mana and closed his eyes. He could imagine the plaque glow with a golden light, just like how he could imagine a lit candle. He thought about the heatless light that would shine from it.

  The back of his right hand felt warm.

  “Whoa!” Arthur shouted! “Magic!”

  He opened his eyes to see the faintest glow on the plaque. It wasn’t even as bright as a candle, but even this was enough to amaze the little kid. He released the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. A wave of relief washed over him. His tense fists finally relaxed just a little.

  “Thanks for the help, Arthur.” He said softly. This was a first step. A tiny step, one he needed a lot of practice on, but it was something.

  “I helped?” The kid asked wide eyed, even more amazed than before. A huge grin settled on his face. “I helped a wizard!”