Power sourced from the void is not inherently evil; instead, it is the essence of destruction channelled by the will of the living. While the power of destruction is often stronger than our power to create, the cost of casting void magic is your life energy itself. Yet, the power of the void is seductive, and blood magic can enable some safety from the price.

  Lord Magician Katrina Amaea Tracana

  as she explained the sources of power

  in the Mage Academy of Pacryle

  The stillness of the nighttime air belied the danger hidden within the shadows of the forest. A veritable army of orcs and their allies lurked amongst the trees and shrubs – including the dark elf Det from house Shalresh. For all Solomon knew, they could have other allies… Other than their advanced combat abilities and proficiency in magic, dark elves often were seen in positions of command over races they saw as lesser. They were also known to associate and form pacts with demons.

  While the defeat of the demon Tichaz’ama had been skillfully performed and executed in concert with Kastytis, encountering a demon could not be considered lightly. Tonight, Solomon would be alone in the dark.

  Perched on the edge of the wall protecting his sanctuary, Solomon activated the search magic he had used earlier in the day. Little flickers of life illuminated his mind’s eye and allowed him to sense the creatures prowling the night. Ignoring the radiance from Zaria and her friends, he dug deep into his energy to fuel the spell. He expanded the range to cover mile after mile, spreading himself thin as he searched for hints of the enemy or the king’s search party.

  Minutes felt like eons as the spell drained Solomon of his energy with no results. Suddenly he felt a surge of life at the far edge of his magic. He narrowed the search by throwing the last of his power in that direction. With a satisfied sigh, Solomon released the spell. He had found a large camp of orcs and other lifeforms about twenty-seven kilometres away.

  Solomon’s satisfaction was short-lived. The moon was high into the sky, but it would soon start its descent. His magic use had left him exhausted, and even in top form, it would take him several hours to make it to the orc encampment.

  There was also the size of the camp to consider. Based on what Solomon had been able to sense, the orcs numbered in the hundreds, possibly even more than a thousand. With the distance involved, it was challenging to accurately count hostile enemies. His earlier tactics would not be enough to aid in an escape. There would be few, if any, opportunities to burn out too many of the orcs. A flicker of despair polluted Solomon’s spirit at the thought of the momentous task.

  “Damn,” Solomon said, whispering to the trees.

  With a glance back at his tower, Solomon vaulted down from the wall and into the forest. He wobbled, his legs weak with fatigue and his spirit drained. Solomon thought of the captured princess and the king’s threatening words. Grimly, Solomon shook away his doubts and fears. He had little choice but to attempt Emily’s rescue, even if he ended up dying as a result. The king had placed the responsibility for the princess’s welfare on his shoulders, and Solomon faced death with anything other than a successful rescue. He set one foot in front of the other repeatedly, first walking but soon sprinting through the underbrush. Each step’s impact sent shudders up his spine.

  Solomon cast a detection spell to keep himself aware of nearby lifeforms even as drained as he was. He needed to avoid other search parties led by the kings’ men – including groups with Lord Ulric, Felix, or Kastytis. They would interfere and likely restrict his movements or even imprison him. The trouble was that Solomon could be easily detected by nearby humans or orcs at his current velocity.

  The strain of sprinting through the forest combined with the energy drain of his spellcasting caused the back of Solomon’s neck to throb and his hands to tremble. The forest flashed by as the moon drifted towards the horizon again. As the moon sank, the light within the forest faded.

  Solomon leapt over fallen trees and dashed across rocky streams that had run dry over the summer. Rotting logs decomposing under beds of moss left treacherous traps for Solomon as he traversed through the thickest parts of the forest. Shrubs clawed at his armour and cloak as he passed.

  Suddenly Solomon became aware of several lifeforms surging towards his position through his magical enhancement. He quickly halted his pace and scrambled up a nearby tree. As Solomon rested up in the tree’s branches, he threw his energies in the direction of the approaching hostiles. Solomon realized that he was at the edge of the orc’s encampment. The group of orcs heading towards his position were likely a scouting party or a patrol that had heard his not-so-quiet approach. As he perched in the tree branches, he felt his vision darken and blur for but a moment.

  Solomon started to wakefulness, nearly falling out of the tree’s branches. He had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Luckily the orcs had missed spotting his body in the treetops. The light had started to return to the forest, the sun beginning to crest the horizon. The time of the demon was over. Dawn had arrived.

  Although very little time had passed since passing out, Solomon felt mentally and spiritually refreshed. He had accomplished a difficult feat even without considering the constant magic usage enacted as he travelled. It had been a long day. Glancing around, Solomon jumped down from the tree and landed nimbly, gracefully, with cat-like reflexes. Planting his hand firmly into the soil, he reached out with his magical energies to verify the orcs’ location and the hostages.

  He recoiled, shocked, as he realized that the encampment itself was massive. It was more akin to a well-populated village than a mere raiding campground. There were close to ninety-five hundred orcs and other humanoids present. It would be difficult to pinpoint the princess’s life signs in the chaos.

  “Guess it is the good old way,” Solomon murmured, feeling a touch of despair. He would need to search for Emily on foot throughout the village.

  Solomon used his powers to wrap his body in shadows. It would not prevent anyone from spotting him. Still, it might help deter unwary eyes from realizing he was there as he searched.

  Spell complete, Solomon jumped to his feet and ran towards the encampment. He took care to rustle no leaves as he ran, trying to remain silent and avoid detection. He quickly arrived at a makeshift wall that appeared to surround the village. It was patchworked together from various materials to form a barrier. The wall was not designed to prevent entry by attackers, and there were easy handholds everywhere. It was likely constructed to deter wildlife from attacking or irritating the inhabitants.

  Solomon managed to get his hands over the top of the wall with a quick scramble and a bit of stretching. He pulled himself up and over the edge with graceful ease setting his eyes on the orcs’ homes. The village was designed with a similar style as the outer wall – ramshackle huts and shacks were stacked on top or against each other, providing a complex multi-level maze of homes and pathways intertwined. Solomon started as dawn’s rays warmed his body, and his eyes took in the design of the orcs’ structures. He realized that at the top of a guard wall was a poor spot to take in the sights like some sort of tourist. There was no time to waste as the illuminating light weakened the shadow magic that hid his form from probing eyes. Waiting too long in the open would risk discovery by watching eyes. His shadow magic required other shadows to be effective, and on top of a wall, there were few shadows to hide in.

  There were plenty of shadows near enough, just inside of the guard wall. Solomon leapt into the shadows cast from the ramshackle buildings that formed narrow alleyways – perfect cover for a skilled enemy to navigate throughout the village while limiting the number of orcs Solomon would encounter at once. Solomon quickly scaled the sides of a few of the shacks, reaching the third level. He darted into an alleyway, starting to make his way into the village. The deeper he got, the easier it would be to use magic to search for Princess Emily. If she lived.

  The thought of the princess being dead or badly harmed sent a shiver through Solomon’s spine. Her death meant his own. Solomon took several calming breaths to push that thought away.

  His extrasensory magic was still active, and Solomon used it to navigate his way around wandering orcs. Solomon shook his head as he observed the orcs, reminding himself that few orcs were walking randomly. They were just going about their business as usual. Quickly, Solomon quickly picked up on traffic patterns and discerned what the various orcs were up to. Many were returning from the market with food. Still, soldiers or conscripts regularly patrolled the streets below, with the occasional group wandering through the alleyways inspecting and questioning the orcs they encountered.

  Solomon settled in a nook to wait. Before making any moves, he would need to observe the orcs’ movement and decide on the best approach to navigating deeper into the village. Solomon tracked them as he observed that some lifeforms could not be orcs. They were either too large, too small, or too slender. Focusing, Solomon tried to detect more about these strange variances. After a few moments of studying one of the more giant lifeforms’ shapes, Solomon concluded that it was an ogre. After a moment, he realized there were a handful of dark elves and the occasional goblin.

  Watching the interactions between the various races told a story about how the village hierarchy functioned. The ogres were military in nature, typically moving with set groups of orcs and a single dark elf. The dark elves seemed to be in leadership positions commanding the squads. The goblins, few as there were, showed every sign of being treated as slaves by the larger, more powerful races. Solomon sighed, realizing the same was true of Lord Ulric’s domain – just with the rich discriminating against the poor and fewer other races present.

  Solomon adjusted his illusionary magic to give him the appearance of a goblin. There were benefits to being beneath others’ regard in the village that he could use to his advantage. From his short scouting session, he felt confident that while a twisty shadow that was hard to focus on would draw more attention than he was inclined to entertain, a lone goblin wandering about the village would raise no eyebrows.

  Nor, for that matter, would a missing goblin.

  Struck by inspiration, Solomon narrowed the focus of his search to strictly goblinoid lifeforms. A tiny flicker tickled his senses nearby. Solomon calmly turned a corner and walked down an alleyway to discover a wounded goblin lying amongst the trash and garbage. The pitiful creature was clearly on the edge of death, abandoned and forgotten. Hatred twisted the goblins’ face as it writhed in pain and agony. Its end would not be long coming. As Solomon watched the goblin, he realized that a live goblin might provide additional value over just taking on a dead goblin’s appearance.

  Stepping forward, Solomon let his camouflaging magic fade away. He invoked magic that would enable the goblin to understand his words. The goblins’ eyes widened at the sight of Solomon, gurgling in fear.

  Solomon spoke softly. “Do you wish to live? I can heal you if you promise not to expose me to your friends.”

  “Friends.” The goblin spat the word in disgust. “I was poisoned, stabbed, and left for dead by my so-called friends. Why would you, a human, help me, though?”

  “Honestly?” Solomon quipped. “I am here to rescue a princess that ran off to have fun with a bunch of merchants through a secret tunnel that I may have accidentally shown her. If I fail to rescue her, I will be put to death by other humans since I aided in her fun.”

  The goblin snorted, then grimaced in pain. “You are insane.”

  “Do I not know it,” Solomon said. “You want a heal?”

  “I want more than that. I want revenge.” The goblin rasped. “Heal me, and I will aid you in your rescue.”

  Solomon placed his hands on the goblins’ wounds, closing his eyes to concentrate on healing its’ wounds. He was stricken by a sudden awareness of her – he hadn’t realized that the goblin was female until the moment that his healing magic started to permeate her form. Solomon was very good with self-sustaining and self-healing magic but very weak with healing others' wounds. He healed each stab wound from the inside, repairing damaged flesh and organs. A few organs resisted the healing magic due to the poison the goblin had referenced earlier. Solomon focused on purging the poison by manipulating it out of the organs, extracting it into her bowels as concentrated materials, then compacting it with excrement to protect the goblin from reabsorbing the poison through her intestinal lining.

  The goblin sighed in relief as the healing finished. “Thank you, human. I owe you my life.”

  “My name is Solomon, and your life is your own,” Solomon said as he opened his eyes. “I am just glad you did not decide to yell for help or stab me while I healed you.”

  “The thought did cross my mind.” The goblin said, grinning wickedly. “I have seldom been shown kindness, even if you are just healing me for information on how to get to your princess.”

  “My name is Sess,” Sess added.

  “Thank you, Sess,” Solomon said, with a noticeable tint of exhaustion in his voice. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

  “No. I am completely fine for the first time in my life. I do not think I even have a single bruise.” Sess said. “So, what is your plan? The girl would be near the cliffs in the center square of the citadel. There are about seven and a half thousand orcs here with more below, plus thousands of ogres and a handful of dark elves.”

  Dread filled Solomon’s heart at the information, but he quipped a response anyways. “I am going to set the city on fire, stealth into wherever the princess is, grab her, and bolt out, killing and setting on fire everyone and everything I pass. Pretty straightforward, really.”

  “You are going to die. You know that, right?” Sess said, with apprehension in her voice.

  “I give myself decent odds of success,” Solomon stated indignantly. “At least eighty percent!”

  Sess shook her head. “You really are concerning. It is more like eight percent. If that.”

  “Well, how would you make your way to the citadel in my place?” Solomon asked. “If I were you, I would get out of the city and find a view for the fireworks.”

  “Fly?” Sess said jokingly. “You could go through the sewers, but they are patrolled too. Slogging in the muck would not be advised since vicious monsters lurk in the dark. You could also take a wrong turn and end up deep beneath the earth.”

  “Noted, thanks,” Solomon said. “Stay well and get out of here quickly. I will find somewhere to rest before I make my move, so you will have time to get out. If you care to do so, set some fires on your way out.”

  “Gladly,” Sess said, slinking off into the shadows.

  Solomon sighed, sagging into the shadows. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself from the energy drain. Flying wrapped in clouds and careening into the center of thousands of enemies while setting fires and not being noticed… would take a lot of energy. And he would need even more power to escort the princess and any other prisoners out of the camp in a timely fashion.

  After a few minutes, Solomon could smell smoke. Sess certainly did not wait to set fires. Moments later, Solomon realized that Sess had set fire to the building he was on top of.

  “Well, that was artfully done,” Solomon murmured. He could wait for a bit longer and fly out into the smoke that was filling the air. While her intent was unclear, Sess had done as Solomon requested. Healing her had been worthwhile, especially if she set a few more quick fires.

  The orcs were swarming around the building, trying to contain the fire. The dark elves were directing the orcs forward with axes to break apart the connected surfaces to prevent the fire from spreading. Their frustrated and panicked yells echoed amongst the increasingly smoggy passages. As the smoke in the sky intensified, Solomon realized that Sess must have been faithful to her word and set more fires along her route. That meant he would need to move now. Tapping into his arcane power, Solomon wrapped his body in a shadowy mist with tendrils floating freely in the ashen air. He empowered his legs with speed, stamina, and durability while strengthening his arms with enough power to rip apart iron chains with ease. Lastly, he harnessed the power of the wind to grant himself the ability to fly.

  Solomon leapt into the sky with a sudden burst of energy with so much force that the burning building trembled before collapsing in on itself, flinging fiery embers and burning wood everywhere. Hair curling screams erupted from the remnants as orcs perished in flames. Ignoring their pain, Solomon flew in the only direction he reasonably could: the citadel.

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  As Solomon approached the citadel, he could not wave away his sense of foreboding. The fortress was out of place amongst the ramshackle huts and stacked hovels. It was ancient, undoubtedly built by a mixture of might and magic long ago… potentially made by the dragonkin for some purpose. The structure was lodged between sheer cliffs with a large tunnel behind it. The walls were tall and without flaws. Once, they undoubtedly sparkled with polish. Now they are covered in grime but nonetheless effective. The top of the walls is wide enough for several orcs to patrol side by side.

  Then there is the citadel itself. Large, defensible, with few avenues of direct attack. It was protected from most small- and large-scale attacks except possibly for the shadowy wisp that Solomon was currently. He zipped by these defences with barely a thought of how he would later escape. Realistically, escape would only matter if Emily was with him. Behind the citadel, but before the tunnel was the small courtyard that Sess had referred to. Once, the courtyard would have been beautiful. But the trees and shrubs had been hacked or burned, and poles and stakes were in their place. A large metal stake was implanted in the center stump, chaining Emily and several other captives to the location. Emily was tightly chained to the metal stack and blindfolded. With Emily located, alive and mostly healthy-looking, Solomon felt an immense sense of relief. The fact that she was still alive meant that Solomon had a chance to survive this whole ordeal. That is if he could get Emily back to King Nathair.

  As no orcs were in the courtyard, Solomon wasted no time emerging from his wispy form, shedding the shadows that had hidden him. The captives gasped, shocked when he approached them. Emily heard them gasp and started to rant at her captors – shouting insults. Grimacing, Solomon rushed to her and removed her blindfold.

  “Princess, if you could hold off on the insults until we are out of here, it would be appreciated,” Solomon said. “I may only be a peasant in your eyes, but I do like my life.”

  Emily just stared at him, flabbergasted. It took her several moments to gather her wits enough to speak. “Are you genuinely here?”

  “I am here enough to do this,” Solomon said as he drew a sword and smashed the chain clasps anchoring all the captives. “We need to go now, and as fast as we can manage.”

  “Is it just you here?” Asked one of the captives, a former merchant, based on his appearance.

  “Yes,” Solomon said. “The shacks and huts in their city are on fire, so you can probably make it out if you are careful. Once you are out, head west. If you are lucky, you will make it to a small river. Follow it south to make it back to the town.”

  “You cannot be serious!” Said a different captive. “You are not escorting us out?”

  “Emily, I will need to carry you out of the city. When I set you down, I will need you to run as fast as you can,” Solomon instructed, sweeping the princess off her feet without waiting for her acknowledgement. He ignored the other captives. Hearing a slight click, he dodged to the side.

  A steel bolt tore through the air where Solomon had been standing moments before. Det stood on the top of the courtyard wall, the dark elf carefully reloading for another shot. Solomon cursed softly before launching himself and Emily towards Det at blazing speed. He could feel the strain in his muscles, his body screaming for release. They leapt up the wall, landing momentarily beside Det – shocking the dark elf from his precarious position – before launching forward over the flaming rooftops. Emily screamed as another bolt whipped through her hair, flames roaring all around them. Solomon kept moving forward, the immense force from his magic-powered leaps causing the buildings to collapse as they progressed. They were quickly out of the city and beyond the reach of Det’s crossbow.

  Landing on the grassland between the orc city and the forest, Solomon put the princess on her own feet. Wavering, he nearly collapsed as he released the many enchantments that had fueled their escape at the expense of Solomon’s body.

  Emily stumbled a few steps when he released her before turning on him. “Why did you leave them to die?”

  “Do not scream at me,” Solomon snapped. “Use your energy to run. I know that is what I am going to do now.”

  Solomon started to move at a slow jog. Emily quickly caught up to him and continued to yell. “Those merchants are dead now because of you. Why did you not save them?”

  “Do you think I wanted to leave them?” Solomon huffed. “In case you have not noticed, it is just me here, and that is a city of many thousand orcs with goblins, trolls, dark elves, and whatever else. I did not have enough power to properly rescue you, let alone them as well.”

  “Why are you here alone then? Where are Robert and Incinera? Where are my guards?” Emily asked as they jogged towards the forest as fast as Solomon could move.

  Solomon could feel the exhaustion trying to pull him down into an eternal sleep. “They are not here because they did not know where to look. I saved Zaria and a few others earlier… yesterday now, I guess. Feels like a lifetime ago. I ran here once they were safe and just rushed to save you. I am not omnipotent nor all-powerful. I did not even know if you would be alive still.”

  “You ran here? On foot?” Emily said incredulously.

  “Yes. I did not have much choice.” Solomon said. “If you die, I die, so I figure I should try to make sure you live to see another day even if you are an entitled princess.”

  “What do you mean?” Emily asked.

  Solomon looked back towards the city. “I think that will need to wait. We need to run faster!”

  Emily looked back to the city and saw why Solomon was pushing her to run. A war party had emerged from the city to pursue them. Orcs riding battle-hardened wolves streaked towards them. There was no way they would make it to the forest before they caught up. Behind the mounted wolves were several ogres and trolls accompanied by a giant carrying two dark elves. A mob of orcs surged around them.

  “We are not going to be able to outrun them,” Emily panted.

  Solomon heard her. “We are buying time by running.”

  “Meer moments!” Emily retorted. “Those wolves will be on us any second.”

  “I know,” Solomon said.

  “We are going to die,” Emily stated. A melancholy sadness permeated her statement. Defeat, momentarily lifted from her petite frame, had once again settled on her shoulders.

  “We will not die here,” Solomon snapped. He stopped, spinning to meet the enemy head-on. Emily screamed and tripped, falling into the long grass. Solomon’s hands moved like a blur, drawing his swords and slicing through the lead wolves with so much force that their riders were hewn as well. Solomon whispered a quick enchantment, and his blades glowed green with the power of the wind. Moving quickly, Solomon hacked apart most of the orc wolf riders before the rest of the war party caught up to them.

  Emily had, by this point, moved to a half-standing half-squatting position. She could only stare at the carnage reaped on the field before her. Corpses, both humanoid and beast, were heaped in mangled piles here and there. Body parts lay cast about the ground where Solomon had hewed them. Solomon wasted little energy between movements, moving to intercept the horde. Tapping into his innate power, Solomon shouted out his spells. “Firebolt! Firebolt! Meteor strike!”

  At that last spell, a fireball was flung forth, a tiny flicker of life. The fireball multiplied, becoming a sea of fire burning all. The fiery magic crashed into the war party. The trolls ignited as if they were overdry kindling. Many of the orcs fall where they stood, now just smouldering corpses. Two of the ogres survived, as did the giant carrying the dark elves. Solomon staggered a little, feeling drunk with exhaustion. Adrenaline surged through his wearied form and snapped Solomon to readiness. He rushed forth, cutting orcs and ogres to ribbons, dancing erratically between their thrashing forms. In mere moments Solomon had managed to make light work of the war party. Once lost in the shadow of death, hope began to flicker once more in the princess’s eyes. She might live yet if Solomon did not falter. Yet he was beginning to flounder, to hesitate. Even a half-second of hesitation was too long in battle.

  As the dark elves leapt from its shoulders, the giant swung its club with a roar. At four and a half metres tall, the giant was on the small side for its race, yet no less potent. The club smashed into Solomon’s hastily raised defence sending him flying across the battlefield. He landed awkwardly, spinning as he tumbled across the meadow. Solomon thrust his sword forward as he drew upon his magic again. Switching elements, he called out a simple ice spell. “Ice lance!”

  The water on the ground and in the air immediately became frosty and surged forth to form an icicle. Solomon’s sword tip quivered in the air with effort. The giant and icicle collided, tearing through the giant’s rough skin and piercing its torso. This wasn’t quite enough to kill the giant; it continued to lumber forward and took a swipe at Solomon. Dodging, Solomon desperately stabbed upwards and managed to pierce the giant’s skull. Releasing the one blade, he stumbled backward from the giant’s torso, flinging himself to the side when he noticed Det’s companion swinging his axe. Solomon was too slow to entirely dodge the blow, and it clipped his cloak, renting through some of the chainmail. The companion pressed his advantage, swiping at Solomon as he attempted to reset his footing. Solomon slammed his foot into the ground as he retreated backwards. His magic flowed outwards and caused the earth to tear upwards with a spike. By luck and not by design, the dark elf stood at the perfect angle to be gutted by the unexpected spike.

  Solomon skipped back several feet, his eyes alert and searching for the remaining dark elf. Det stood apart from them and was holding up a dark purple stone. A stone that was glowing. Solomon cursed his luck.

  “A present for you, dragonkin,” Det said, tossing the stone to the ground where it crumbled into dust. The silence following his action was awkward as Det stood there, stammering.

  Suddenly, with an ear-shattering boom and purple-ish flames, a demon ripped itself from the shadows of the netherworld to join their reality. The void flames consumed Det, devouring even his essence. This demon was smaller than the previous one, barely larger than a regular human. It appeared as if male but with horns and purple skin.

  “This is not as I instructed.” Said the demon, turning to look for Det. It seemed surprised to see the smouldering corpse of the dark elf. “Looks like he betrayed me.”

  Solomon backed way slowly, warily, from the demon. “What are you called, demon?”

  “I am a servant of Mincatu. I am one of his dragon hunters.” The demon said. He paced back and forth like a lion stalking its prey. “I am known as Vanir.”

  Vanir smiled at Solomons’ apparent discomfort. And then noticed Emily finally managing to stand upright at the end of the blood-soaked field. His face twisted in anger and outrage. Yet, when he spoke again, his voice was calm, measured. “What is she doing here?”

  “I rescued her,” Solomon said.

  “You, what?” Vanir said, clearly shocked by this information. “I bound her and her companions myself at the dark lady’s command. Not even one of the dragonkin could have rescued her from that citadel alone.”

  “Yet, here we stand,” Solomon said. He adjusted his grip on his remaining sword. He would not have time to retrieve the other from the giant’s skull.

  It seemed as though Vanir was finally absorbing the entirety of the situation. The many mangled corpses, the dead ogres and orcs and dark elves. The smoke rising from the city around the citadel. The distant sound of screaming, born as whispers in the wind, as many lost their lives in the fires raging in their homes. Vanir’s face twisted, quivered, and… rippled as animosity and hatred overcame Vanir’s logical thoughts.

  “You have ruined me,” Vanir said, each work dripping with hostility. “Neither Lady Elessa nor Mincatu will allow me to suffer this failure.”

  Solomon stepped backwards, adding space between him and Vanir while positioning himself between the demon and the princess. Vanirs’ form transitioned from its humanoid shape to something distinctly less humanoid and much larger. Thin hairs sprouted from his body, and his legs appeared to melt together into a large bulbous mass. Six legs emerged from the demon’s lower body while his torso bulked out, straining at the constraints of his skin. As the last transformation was completed, Vanir stood tall and foreboding as a hybrid cross of centaur and arachnid. In his hands, he held a giant double-bladed axe coated in toxic yellow-green slime.

  With an angry yell, Vanir surged forward, swinging his axe to batter through Solomon’s defences. The blow struck Solomon’s sword with significant force. Solomon grunted with the effort of holding back Vanir’s advance. Vanir continued to press his advantage in size and strength, beating down on Solomon.

  Solomon’s body ached from the constant abuse and strain. Despite the pain, he continued to deflect the demon’s blows. Marshalling his remaining reserves of strength, Solomon started to re-engage enchantment magic throughout his body. He increased his speed so that he could begin to anticipate and push back on Vanir’s advance. He reinforced his muscles, strengthening them and shoring up their durability to parry each blow. Bit by bit, Solomon gained ground, breaking through Vanir’s defences and landing grazing blows that seemed to irk the demon.

  They flowed back and forth in their fight, each gaining and losing the advantage. For every strike Solomon managed against Vanir, Vanir would manage to return the favour moments later. The fight quickly shaped up to be a battle of endurance when Vanir did something Solomon did not anticipate. He spat a wad of venom directly towards Solomon’s face. Solomon blocked with his sword, but as the exchange blocked his vision, Vanir sidestepped around Solomon to throw venomous filaments of webbing at the defenceless princess.

  Emily’s eyes widened as she took in her approaching death. Solomon burst into action, burning through his remaining strength to intercept and block the demon’s attack. His blade tangled the strands of webbing and stopped the attack. Vanir’s axe cut short Solomon’s sense of relief as the devasting strike caused Solomon to collapse. Solomon was gutted by the blow, his strength failing. Vanir turned to the princess, having seen his foe crumple before him.

  Solomon writhed in agony in the muddied grass. Vanir’s strike had cut deeply from his hip to shoulder and sliced through his armour and organs. His vision receded as the pain slowly lessened. Yet his rage burned still. Solomon’s mind screamed its’ fury, resisting the urge to fall silent, to rest forever.

  To Solomon, time appeared to slow down as the world became tinged with gray – a colourless world. Solomon drew upon his rage and despair, urging his body to obey him. To stand. To fight. And to live.

  “Your life is fading, young mageknight.” A voice echoed around him, shredding his mind with reverb. Colourless light sparkled in Solomon’s twilight world as a figure materialized. “Yet, while even a spark remains, so too does the hope that you can survive this.”

  “Who are you?” Solomon said.

  The shadowy figure wreathed in light seemed as if to smile. “I have been known by many names over the years. The dragonkin called me the goddess of time, or less politely the reaper of souls.”

  She stepped forth from the shadows and continued. “You may worship me as Kruonis, the goddess you and your sister were named after.”

  “What?” Solomon’s mind reeled, overwhelmed by the goddess’s words. “My name is Solomon. I do not have a sister.”

  “That is a name that you bear now, yes,” Kruonis told Solomon. “Yet once you were known by another name. At least until your mother triggered a spell of protection beyond her power. The spell failed her even as she was murdered, twisting the spell into a curse.”

  “I do not suppose that my name matters, given that I am dying and will not last long,” Solomon snarled, his anger raging even as his body failed.

  “The spell she cast leveraged magic based in time and space, fueled by the power of the arcane,” Kruonis said. “She did not pray to me, yet she invoked my power. There are forces at play here that would enable me to loosen the threads of fate that bind your mother’s curse to you. Bereft of the curse, you could strike down Vanir as if he were nothing.”

  Solomon hesitated. “At what cost?”

  “You would need to surrender yourself to me,” Kruonis said with a half-smile. “While every moment lived exults me, few still live that worship me as their goddess. I would make you my avatar, a conduit for my will. A sword of vengeance against the other celestial beings, those who have cast me into the shadows as a thing to fear.”

  While dark, the words spoken by the goddess rang true to Solomon. Her words resonated with him. He had heard stories of brave heroes chosen to be the avatar for a particular god. As an avatar, he would be able to use greater magics than before. And if her statement about him being cursed by his mother was restricting him, then by freeing him, she would be unleashing his full potential. Yet this freedom came with its own chains.

  “What do you require of me… my lady?” Solomon asked her.

  “Simply live and spread my name,” Kruonis said. “Do you accept my offer?”

  Taking a steadying breath, Solomon did the only logical thing he could do if he wanted to live. “I accept.”

  The goddess snapped her fingers in delight, her smile lighting up her face while a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. Suddenly colour surged back into the world as the image of the goddess faded away. Solomon felt like an enormous pressure had been lifted from his shoulders. Intoxicating power flowed through his veins.

  Vanir continued his advance on Emily, blissfully unaware of the significant change that had occurred to Solomon. Solomon tore himself from the blood-soaked ground, summoning Morgana, the arcane elemental, to his hand in sword form. It was the first time he had thought to try and wield an elemental as a weapon.

  “For the goddess!” Solomon shouted, charging at Vanir with reckless abandon.

  The demon grunted in annoyance as it turned to swat Solomon once more with its’ axe. Vanir’s eyes widened with shock as Solomon batted away the attempt with strength that wrenched the axe from the demons’ hands. Solomon moved with inhuman speed, leaping upwards and driving his blade downwards. His sword cleaved through Vanir’s shoulder straight through to his abdomen. Vanir screamed and seemed to contort, becoming enveloped in purplish flames. In Solomon’s vision, the fire seemed to pulse with power, and he realized that this was how the demons managed to transition back to the nether to recover their strength. Through his sword, Solomon channelled all of his skill with magic to seize the void energies and contain them as Vanir’s body disintegrated into a dark purple orb at the tip of Solomon’s sword.

  The void energies were too much for Solomon to contain or truly control. It needed to be released. Solomon could feel the energies slipping from his grasp as Vanir struggled to escape. He pointed the blade back towards the orc encampment and intoned, “Meteor storm!”

  An enormous fireball erupted from Solomon’s sword. As it streaked upwards above the city, it split apart to look like meteors of fire but twisted and darker than it should have been. In a purple frenzy of flames, hundreds of fireballs crashed down upon the orc city. The fire smothered the landscape, burning everything as fuel – melting even the rock and stone. Seeing the devastation he had caused, Solomon dropped his sword in horror. He could feel the void flames snuffing each life within the ramshackle huts, even the innocent children.

  He looked down at his shaking hands and recoiled in shock. His hands glittered lightly, armoured with scales. Solomon held back bile at his changes while sweeping the princess into his arms. The screams were just starting when they entered the woods, and Solomon moved faster until the scenery was just a blur as they blitzed by.

  It felt like hours before Emily spoke. “Solomon, you are bleeding.”

  “I will deal with it when we get to my sanctuary,” Solomon said, not slowing in the slightest. “We will need shelter for tonight, and the others are there. It is closer than heading straight for town. Zaria will be able to alert Zaldimere and the others that you are safe.”

  “Okay, but should we take a break? Or can you set me down so that I can walk? You do not need to carry me the whole way.” Emily said.

  “Sorry, but no,” Solomon said. “We are in a hurry. And I might just pass out if we stop.”

  Silence enveloped them again as Solomon carried the princess through the forest. The sun travelled across the sky. Solomon noticed that his skin had reverted to normal non-scaly skin as twilight cloaked the land as the curse wrapped its tendrils around him. The goddess had not broken the curse, merely started its unthreading. As the sun fell below the horizon once more, they arrived at the stone walls fencing in Solomon’s sanctuary.

  Glancing over the meticulously maintained land, Emily commented. “It is gorgeous here and more tranquil than any place I have ever been, almost as if it has been blessed.”

  Grunting, Solomon let the princess down. She staggered a little, unprepared for suddenly being responsible for her movements after being carried by Solomon for hours. Together they meandered towards the tower where the others awaited. Solomon escorted Emily to the door and walked her in to join everyone.

  Zaria gasped as she took in Solomon’s appearance. His armour was perforated, and his cloak was in tatters. Blood had soiled his clothes and pervaded his boots to leave faint burgundy impressions on the stonework of the tower. A slight scrape on Solomon’s scalp had bled into his hair, forming bloody mats.

  “Solomon, you look awful!” Zaria exclaimed. “What happened?”

  Solomon looked down at himself and then back up at Zaria. Sporting a sad smile, he fainted, overwhelmed by his injuries. As he fell, he could hear Zaria’s scream.