Trendil carried me through the wind-swept streets, his magic pushing us off crumbling walls in gusts of air. We managed about three hundred yards before my weight became too much. We tumbled to the ground, crashing into the rubble of a broken wall. Dust and frozen ice flicked up in clouds, stinging my eyes.

The fall barely registered. My rage burned hotter than the freezing air, hotter than the sting of ice cutting into my skin. I had carried the guilt of Sophia’s death alone, weighed down by it like a chain around my neck. But Reece—he had joined the very people who put the sword through her back. And now, he had murdered a child. A child. My hands clenched into fists, the edges of my vision blurring with fury.

I scrambled to my feet, eyes fixed on the direction of the ruined clock tower. My breath came in ragged bursts, my sword still frozen to my hand, as if it had fused with my skin. Reece. He had to pay. He would pay.

But before I could make it far, Trendil barreled into me, knocking me off course, sending me skidding across the frozen earth. I hit the ground hard, snow and dirt biting into my side, but the rage drove me back up, barely feeling the pain.

“Now’s not the time, lad,” Trendil’s voice sliced through the haze.

I wiped the frost from my brow, fixing him with a glare that could kill. “Get out of my way, Trendil. I won’t ask again.”

He stood firm, sorrow in his eyes, not defiance. “This isn’t the time for heroics. Bendal’s back there—if the enforcers catch him, Desa and everyone at the Lock Pin are in danger. You’re letting your emotions rule you.”

“I don’t care!” My voice cracked, raw and jagged. “Move. Reece will pay for what he’s done.”

“I know it hurts,” Trendil said softly, but with a firmness I couldn’t ignore. “But now isn’t the time. I warned you about tapping into your Elithria.”

I flinched at his words, and the heat of my fury shifted, turning toward him instead. My chest rose and fell in quick bursts, my breathing out of control. How dare he lecture me? After everything, how dare he?

“If I hadn’t used it, Dashan would have been dead—frozen to death, cold and alone.” My voice broke. “How can you stand there and lecture me when you—” I cut off, my anger too thick to form words.

I could barely contain myself, my body trembling with the desire to lash out. The cold air stung my lungs as I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself. Trendil’s calm voice only added fuel to the fire raging inside me. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly understand.

“A thousand years,” I spat, my voice a mix of anger and despair. “You’ve been alive for a thousand years, sitting in your safe castle, while the world outside rots. You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything.”

“I’ve lost more than you can imagine,” Trendil said softly, the sorrow in his voice cutting through my anger. “I know the pain, lad. But there are bigger things at play here. We must see the whole picture.”

I shook my head, unable to process his words. "Villas," I growled, the name slipping from my lips like a curse. "What was he doing all this time? Watching? Waiting? While people die, while families are torn apart? He’s a god! He could have stopped all of this!"

Trendil’s face softened, the sorrow deepening in his eyes. “Villas... He has done something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He sent you, lad.”

I froze, the weight of those words hitting me like an avalanche. Sent me?

"But now is not the time," Trendil continued, his voice firmer now. “You know we wouldn’t stand a chance against the Ministry’s defenses, not here, not now. We must wait.”

I could feel the fire in my chest cooling, though it left a bitter ache behind. “Wait?” I spat. “Wait for what? For the Ministry to wipe out anyone who dares to show an interest in magic? For them to take everything and everyone, leaving the rest of us in fear? If not now, when?”

The cold pressed in around us, seeping into my bones as the rage dissipated, leaving behind nothing but a hollow ache. Trendil’s words echoed in my mind, slowly taking root. Why had I used magic? At the time, it had felt like the only way to save Dashan. But now... now I wasn’t sure. Had there been another way? Could I have acted differently? Could we have saved him without using Elithria?

“I don’t know,” Trendil admitted, his voice quiet, laden with the weight of uncertainty. “I don’t have all the answers, lad. But your powers... they’re still young. You’re just learning to control them. Give it time. Choose your battles wisely. Our time will come.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The words hung in the air, cold and sharp like the frozen wind. I shifted my feet, suddenly aware of the chill creeping back into my limbs as the heat of my anger faded. The cold gnawed at me, and I realized my sword was missing from my hand. I never dropped my sword. Ever.

I glanced around, spotting the hilt buried between the rocks and a small drift of snow. I crouched down, retrieving it with numb fingers. The cold metal felt foreign in my hand, and I stared at it for a moment, the weight of the blade suddenly much heavier. One word echoed in my mind, over and over again: Reece.

Trendil’s hand rested on my shoulder, his touch grounding me. “We need to move,” he said gently, but with an urgency that pulled me back to the present. “This night isn’t over. Revenge isn’t our path, not tonight. Right now, we need to make sure Desa and her people aren’t drawn into the Ministry’s gaze. If we don’t act, the enforcers will hunt them down. We can’t afford to lose them.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my sword. I wanted vengeance. I wanted Reece to suffer for what he had done. But I knew, deep down, that Trendil was right. Now wasn’t the time. That didn’t mean I would forget. I wouldn’t forget.

Silently, I sheathed my sword and nodded, my jaw clenched. “Let’s go,” I muttered, falling in step behind Trendil as we made our way down the dark, icy streets.

But as we moved farther from the scene, my thoughts remained fixed on Reece. The fire in my chest still smoldered, low and fierce, waiting for the moment it could ignite once more. And when that time came, I wouldn’t just fan the flames—I would stoke them, feed them until they raged like a roaring inferno, demanding crimson blood in return.

“All of this, over a boy?” Captain Kree snorted, leaning back in his chair as the first rays of dawn filtered through the narrow windows behind him. The light caught the sharp lines of his weathered face, deepening the creases in his brow and casting shadows beneath his tired eyes. His beard, once dark and full, was now streaked with flecks of grey. In the growing light, he looked older—more worn down by the weight of years and battles fought.

“A boy no one even remembers,” Kree continued with a bitter chuckle. “By Thassias’s cold heart, I don’t believe it. And you—” he gestured toward Ragan, chained to the chair—"you think I’ll help you, all because some runt was killed in a slum? That’s the world, boy. Unkind. You really don’t know me at all.”

The captain laughed—a hollow, knowing sound, as if he were sharing a dark joke only he understood. He stood, stretching, his joints creaking like the timbers of the ship beneath them.

“Don’t worry,” Kree said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not stringing you up just yet. You’ve got a good story, I’ll give you that. Entertaining, at least.” He looked out the window, the sun climbing higher in the sky. “The sun’s going to roast us alive today. Think I’ll sleep through the worst of it.”

He turned, heading for the door. “You stay put, boy. We’ll see how long your tale can keep me amused.”

Ragan didn’t react, sitting motionless, his face impassive. As the captain’s hand touched the door, he spoke, his voice calm but weighted.

“Captain.”

Kree paused, looking over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“For a single boy, yes,” Ragan said, his gaze steady. “A good man will wage an eternal war for just one soul.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into the silence that followed. Kree’s expression flickered—something unreadable crossing his face, just for a moment. He gave a sharp snort, masking whatever had stirred inside him.

“Sleep well, boy,” the captain muttered before leaving the cabin, the door closing with a soft click.

Ragan exhaled slowly, leaning back as far as the chains allowed. His body was stiff, the cold metal biting into his wrists, but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes, letting the rhythmic sway of the ship lull him into a restless sleep.

----------------------------------------

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the water. The Lady Val’shar swayed gently, her hull cutting smoothly through the calm sea. The distant hum of crew activity echoed faintly through the ship.

The cabin door creaked open, and Captain Kree stepped inside, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. He tossed a piece of fruit toward Ragan, who caught it midair. The fruit was bruised, far from fresh, but Ragan bit into it without hesitation, the sweet juice stinging his dry throat.

The captain poured himself a drink from a barrel of rum, filling his tankard before leaning back in his chair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. His mood seemed lighter now, almost jolly.

“Hope you’ve thought up a good tale for tonight, boy,” Kree said, swirling the rum in his cup. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity. “Remember, I might still string you up if I don’t like what I hear.”

He took a long drink, then grinned. “Now, continue.”

Ragan wiped his mouth, setting the half-eaten fruit aside. He looked up at the captain, his mind racing. He knew what story he needed to tell next, but it wasn’t time yet. The captain wasn’t ready. He’d need more than an entertaining tale to reach him.

But Ragan smiled, a slow, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, I have another story,” he said, his voice steady, deliberate. “But I wonder, Captain, how much of it you’ll recognize.”

The captain raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “I’m listening, boy.”

Ragan leaned forward, his chains clinking softly as he shifted, his voice low and deliberate. “But first, we must return. Back to the frozen streets of Elvensham, where the night pressed in like a weight, and the cold cut deeper than any blade. Trendil, Desa, and the Lock Pin... the Ministry’s shadow creeping ever closer. Time was slipping through our fingers, and every breath felt like borrowed air.”

The captain’s gaze sharpened, the quiet between them thick with anticipation. Ragan could feel it—the tension, the unspoken pull of the story about to unfold. He waited, letting the silence stretch just long enough, before continuing.