“Your time of burying souls is at an end.” Lucius narrowed his eyes and whipped his blade free of Five’s heart.

A streak of black sludge stained the stone walkway. Only when all the Merchant corpses surrounding them sunk into black puddles, did Alan realize the battle was over. Five was the only one left, writhing every which way, fighting the embrace of death up to his last breath.

“My treasures,” Five wheezed. “May they join me in my next reincarnation. May they—” He fell into his own black puddle, which shot up a multitude of weaponry, essence, and tinctures the likes of which Alan had never seen.

Alan took a step back to make sure he wasn’t impaled by one of Five’s sharper loot items as they came shooting out. While removing himself, his eyes landed on Lucius… along with a flood of contempt.

Traitor, was all he could think. But when Lucius fell crippled to his knees – coughing up blood – Alan’s empathy took over.

“It’s fine.” Lucius held up his hand as the purple corrosive acid mixed into his wounds.

“The pain suppression is wearing off.” Alan activated his Green Saro in hopes to try and heal him.

“I must endure and strengthen my essence usage.” Lucius coughed, pulling a black essence from his bag. “I’m fine, really.” He shoved the essence into the wounds and took a strangled breath in.

Alan scrutinized him to ensure he was alright – which, after a few long exhales, he seemed to be – then lowered his gaze to the hodgepodge of items at his feet.

The tingling of a trance percolated, but he ignored it, because there among the mess was Yineera’s Peg. The item that all this fuss was over. Durger lay dead lodged through the top, making Alan’s heart sink into his belly.

Just then, the chain links riled from high above the crack in the sky, jangling like a long snake. Sounds of clunking metal resonated through the grey world as the links began reeling upward.

“That’s our ticket back to Ojin.” Lucius lifted his gaze.

“Well, aren’t you going to take as much as you can? You dealt the killing blow.” Alan yanked his dagger out of the Peg and shoved it into his magical sheath. It felt like nothing but a cold piece of steel wrapped in stale gum now, which further soured his mood. He threw the Peg into his bag next.

“Piling forbidden loot will only make our journey harsher,” Lucius spoke evenly.

“Like that living armor you wear?” Alan said coolly.

“Something like that. Choose carefully, Alan Right. You will not get another chance at a stash like this.”

As if the chain links heard him, they reeled faster toward the sky, lifting Five’s misshapen corpse from the dark puddle it fell into.

Alan shoved aside his contempt and rustled through the loot. Dropping into momentary trances of drowned kings and weapons carved using the scales of legendary sky beasts, he sifted. It was true he needed more practical weapons since his dagger was no longer the faithful companion he looked forward to learning from. So he lifted a double-bladed staff engraved with a dragon’s eye on each tip and let a quick trance pull him in.

Apparently, the steel was forged in the blood of a renowned mystic Dreamcatcher in Hightower Brack – where Durger was from – so Alan gave it a second look:

Blood-Vision Edge

Original Saro north blade – Blue

Original Saro south blade – Red

Since there was no Black Saro or anything like that attached to it, he decided to strap it to his back. The name and origin did give him the creeps though, and it made him wonder of Red Saro’s dual-purpose. If yellow was lightning and blessings, was red instinct and… blood?

No time to consider.

The rest of the eleven Merchant corpses were ascending from their shadowy graves. Soon, Lucius would be pulled by his chain, and Alan would have to grab on if he wanted out of here.

Lucius clutched a sword of white and yellow marble that looked way out of his comfort zone.

“To complement the Soul Collector?” Alan asked, still sifting through the contents.

Lucius grunted.

“What about these?” Alan picked up one of the essence-filled pearls dropped by Five. “Aren’t they the pride and joy of this kill?”

“Take them. They will do well in a Herald’s travels.”

“Hm.” Alan pushed his lips to one side, considering. Usually he’d push back and offer something like this to the people who helped him… but not Lucius. Not anymore.

Five Pearls of the Storm’s Gaze received.

Adaptable Saro

Ability – Wielder may entrap experiences into essence and unleash them unto their foes. Each pearl may be channeled close to the memory endured. The further away the experience, the less potent the essence.

The pearls suddenly began to revolve around Alan, which made Lucius smirk as his armor receded back into its compartments. Alan quickly coined the pearls – which all dissolved into a singular currency – and stuffed it into his bag.

UNIQUE TITLE UNLOCKED:

Title: Forbidden Merchant of the Shade

Affinity: Rare items attained through trade or combat are bolstered when this Title is active.

“A new Forbidden Merchant arises.” Lucius nodded his approval as the chain tethered to his armor tightened to lift him.

Alan scoffed and walked over to the shackle of the last dead Merchant – toward the end of the long slack. He wrapped his hands and legs around it as it lifted, doing his best to ignore the dangling body swinging back and forth below him.

Now that the time crunch was over, he wanted nothing to do with Lucius, so he rode the proverbial crane up in silence. Concentrating hard on serene memories to channel more Green Saro proved to be difficult, because the cranking noise accompanied by magical whispering winds overwhelmed the air. It fascinated Alan that the spell survived the Merchant, but he wasn’t about to ask any questions. He’d save them for Flint.

They were hoisted high into the grey clouds, where the ruined gothic castle below stretched for miles in every direction. From these heights, the portal at the center of it all appeared as an ever-spinning black eye.

Lucius was to be banished there forever after drinking the tincture, but he’d been preparing for this moment a long time. He exists in shadows like this one. Of course he’d be able to fight in them.

“Alan,” his deep voice rattled. “I am ashamed.”

There was nothing to say back. Any words now just made him angrier about Durger. The quietness at his hip spoke volumes of pain. It twisted his insides like a wet rag. Of course Alan understood the desperation that forced Lucius’ hand, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“On your first day in the realms, in my Orange cove, you told me of a life waiting for you. We made a pact to get there, together.” Lucius stared far into the clouds. “I have betrayed that pact this day. It’s only now, when I’m hopelessly far from my world once again, that I see the err in my ways.”

Alan sighed, still staring down at the black eye getting smaller and smaller below him.

“I let the prospect of home get the better of me.” Lucius peered down to the black eye too. “If I were to sever the chain now, I would swim in the expanse of nothingness in search of her. But how would I ever know if she were there unless I made it home first?”

Alan peered up, pulling Lucius’ orange eyes toward him. “There are those of your people who perished after you. Neesha is among them. Privy to the military’s secret news – including the fate of Luness Breniere Kiar.”

“And what if it’s a god’s ploy to drag under a prince?” Lucius tested. “Cerrain is a world of politics, god scouts, war and beauty wrapped into a sphere. I’ve learned at an early age only to trust what my eyes show me.”

“Yeah, well, my eyes show me a soul torn from its eternal encasement.” Alan unsheathed his dagger and stuck it between a link.

Lucius’ expression softened, then hardened again as he looked away.

The crack in the sky was approaching, where Alan hoped he’d be drawn back to the center of Osmi’s mountain. Though he didn’t know where to go from here. For the second time since he’d been reborn, he felt… lost.

Strangey Town, in all its oddities, would never be his home. The further away Mujungo’s pull, the better Alan felt. Following Neesha to the orange fog no longer seemed like the right road either. He’d be third-wheeling it to an awkward Saro bond he wanted nothing to do with.

Lucius would go on to chase the Pegs, but that wasn’t Alan’s fate anymore. He’d made a conscious decision to stay… to make change where he could here.

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Dread washed over him as he peered at his dagger.

What good have I done? I lost a friend and killed a foe. I’ve done nothing worthy in this life or the last.

“Hard times plague us all, Alan Right.” Lucius read him. “It is how we’re molded from there that defines us.”

The chain finally yanked them both up through the cracked portal – where Alan’s consciousness dispersed and reformed back in the dark alley of the center mountain.

Shloop!

The portal shut as soon as the last Merchant corpse sprang through, and with a poof, Five’s airy boundary dispersed along with the groups’ shackles.

“Alan!” Flint’s voice was hoarse from all the screaming. “Lucius!” He ran to hug them both. “We feared you’d be dragged under forever.”

Neesha came rushing in next.

“I’m alright,” Alan said.

“The Merchant of the Five Pearls is said to have been among us since the red fog blanketed the riled plains.” Flint glimpsed his corpse. “Now he rests.”

“An evil arm of Jaeger, Flint,” Alan assured.

“From our vantage point, it seems the Stalker took matters into his own hands.” Flint folded his arms.

“I have broken oaths and severed ties in the name of reunion.” Lucius drew his dark blade, prompting everyone to take a step back. “Whether or not I’ve been coaxed by Black Saro, I will make no excuse. I have failed.” He jammed the blade into the concrete floor – creating cracks all around it like King Arthur’s sword in a stone. “I lay this to you, Alan Right. Be wary of its pull to darkness.”

Alan shook his head. “I want no part of Farante’s blade.”

“Oh, but I think you do.” Lucius turned his back to the group. “Wolfgang Durghowler and his pet live within it. I swiped their souls before they could be cast to the deathly winds.”

Alan’s eyes widened.

“I do not know their state after being consumed by the Peg, but they are there.” Lucius peered over his shoulder. “Accessing him will not be easy. I’ve failed to connect with hundreds of souls claimed by Farante Del Sol. But this weapon has brought forth my army of mounts. So too will it bring you your companion.”

“What about yours?” Alan asked, crouching to inspect the blade.

Lucius tapped his pauldrons. “I’ve taken them with me. A forger can work wonders if she has the right tools. Farewell.”

“Lucius.” Flint stamped his staff. “Mujungo needs us.”

“He will make do without,” Lucius snarled.

“Where will you go?” Neesha asked.

“Into exile, on my own quest.”

Hope continued to flood into Alan’s chest. The prospect of finding Durger again erased all of his woes. He could forgive Lucius, especially after such a redeeming act.

“I can help you find the Pegs,” Alan blurted, taking up the blade.

Lucius stopped in his tracks. “You already have one, Alan. Which means we will meet again.” He continued on, into the darkness.

A prompt encumbered his vision:

Soul Collector Received

Saro: Black

Ability: Store captured souls within the blade and evoke them to do thy bidding. Beware, the tolls of a trapped soul echo to their captor.

He blinked it away and shoved the sword into a magical sheath on his back alongside his new staff.

All is not lost, he told himself.

“You must tell me all about what you witnessed down there.” Flint put an arm around him.

And so Alan did. He explained the portal where souls are to fall forever, Lucius’ insane skill as a warrior, the power of the Five Pearls that he now wielded, and the rollercoaster of emotion he experienced at Durger’s demise. On their way out of the forbidden shops, Flint explained that perhaps Durghowler would reform as the ghostly entity they all witnessed in the clairvoyant frog’s vision.

That would be a great surprise, if Alan could accomplish it somehow. But ever since he strapped the sword to his back, his thoughts grew a little bit darker – like a personal storm cloud was following closely overhead.

Eventually, the group reached a pink portal that zoomed them back up to the top of the mountain. Alan was surprised to see a smiling Lord Osmi reduced to a similar height as him, with the Mistborn tame at his side.

“I trust your visit was eventful? Yes, judging by your new weaponry. Good god, there’s immense power emanating from that bag. A familiar power. Hm.” The falcon eye bored into Alan – who was not in the mood to explain again.

So instead, Alan chose to change the subject by getting to one knee and beckoning the Mistborn. “You’ve tamed him.”

“Indeed. We have come to terms.”

It was weird to not hear Osmi’s voice blaring through the sky. Although, it was a nice change of pace, actually, and in some weird way, reminded Alan of that awful Mortal Kombat movie when Raiden lost his powers. He kept that to himself, though.

“The foul lord will excavate Grey Wolf’s body and fly him here, to be buried,” the Mistborn snarled. “On his first day of non-work. Isn’t that right, lord?”

“Quite so. Remember your place, pet.” Osmi bonked the Mistborn on the head, which made a clunk against Greywolf’s mask.

“So that’s all I had to do to keep you in line?” Alan rose to full height, smirking. “Lord Osmi, we are exhausted from dealing with the forbidden shops. May we have a room for the evening?”

“So long as you do not invite another Helldraken to fall from the sky.”

They both laughed.

“I can only hope not.” Alan shrugged.

“Alan,” Flint whispered. “Mujungo beckons us back to aid the town. Reparations are needed in case of impending attack.”

“Follow the road to the first group of signs, then continue left to the inn. Tell the keeper Lord Osmi demands a suite for esteemed guests. After all, I may now audit my shops with mine own eyes thanks to you.” He clunked the Mistborn on the head again, then suffered a splash of water in return. “Mm. Still getting out the kinks of our companionship. A falcon and a hound—”

Alan bowed graciously for the lord’s gratitude before turning and leading the way. “I’m sorry, Flint, but I cannot go back.”

“Mm.” Flint bowed his head.

“Don’t be upset, friend.” Alan rubbed his back. “I’ll be fine in Ojin. I like it here. And after a night’s rest, I think I’ll like it even more.”

Flint shook his head. “An adventurer, through and through.”

“I guess so.” Alan walked beside him. “There was a moment one night when we were scaling the red mountain. I saw groups far below fighting all sorts of beasts. This urge to help them washed over me – even though I knew I was in no shape to do anything but watch.”

“Aha, but you sell yourself short, Alan.”

“No, I don’t. I might be gaining power. But I’m not there yet. And now I know I have to remain in Ojin if I’m ever to achieve what the frogs think of me.”

They strolled for five minutes until they happened upon a wide, pink-bricked building with starry flags flapping from the pointed rooftop.

“Are you sure I cannot convince you to come home? You would be infinitely safer under my watch, in Mujungo’s care.” Flint dropped a hand on Alan’s shoulder, a rare moment of seriousness settling over the Wizard.

“I’m sure.” Alan smiled. “Hopefully Hyndole won’t realize the news of Five until I’m far away from here.”

Flint wagged his staff at Alan. “Hope is what keeps us alive.”

“In that spirit, hopefully the next time I see you, it will be at a Strangey Town festival, if there is such a thing.” Alan patted Flint back.

“Aha! There is! A great day all beings should see at least once. Until we meet again, great Herald. I am truly happy you are still among us. Remember, I’m just a Mujungo call away!”

A momentary portal zipped into existence that yanked Flint back home. And when it poofed away, an enormous presence was missing. There stood only Neesha and Gregorian now. A couple drawn together by oaths and magic… and Alan.

“Shall we?” Alan opened the door for them.

Gregorian grunted past him.

“Jeez, what’s his problem? Seems extra, even for him,” Alan asked.

“Of course the sly Archer is upset. His ego is hurt. Being confined to Black Saro shackles is not something that happens often to warriors of his caliber,” Neesha said loud enough to catch Greg’s ear.

“Pfft. Didn’t you hear Flint? Five was old as time… making him a powerful Merchant. Don’t be an idiot,” Alan’s tone was light.

They walked into a rustic wooden interior warmed by a grand fireplace far to the right and welcomed by a silky-haired woman awaiting them at the front desk. A lantern flame flickered beside her, illuminating moon-white skin.

“Welcome to the Shara-das Inn. How may I assist you?” She tilted her head curiously at Gregorian.

“Ahem.” Neesha pushed past them both. “Lord Osmi told us that the suite will be granted this evening to the three of us. Esteemed guests, were his exact words.”

“Ah!” Her eyebrows raised. “But of course.” The innkeeper delicately removed keys on a translucent ring. Pink dust puffed up into her face – which made Alan a little uneasy, given his prior experiences in the city. But he just went with the flow. “Here you are, three keys for three esteemed guests. You will venture beyond the fireplace, take the lift to the fifth floor, and make an immediate left to your quarters. If you would, keep rumblings to a minimum beyond the midnight hour, for there is a particularly exhausted party directly below you.”

“We will rumble as late as we please.” Gregorian swiped his key.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just pissy because someone flexed harder than he could.” Alan winked. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

The innkeeper refrained from outward fluster, even though her pink cheeks couldn’t hold the lie. “Very good, sir. Enjoy your stay.”

Alan handed over Neesha’s key and put an arm around her. “I’ll miss you more than I’ll miss him.”

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brow. “You’re not coming to the Orange? You owe me, Alan!”

“You’ll forgive me. Besides, he can obviously protect you. I’d only get in the way,” Alan said somewhat solemnly.

“Are you two fools coming?” Gregorian held open the lift’s accordion door encrusted in diamonds.

“Go get settled, Greg. We’ll meet you up there shortly.” Neesha turned for the fireplace and grabbed Alan by the hands.

Gregorian grunted his displeasure, but did as he was asked.

Neesha sat first, dragging Alan down on the couch beside her. As the warmth of the hearth prickled Alan’s skin, he realized this was no ordinary fire. There was a soothing embrace that lifted his tension – like a fresh hit of weed. He knew right then it was imbued with essence – it had to be, because now he could suddenly see an orange casing around Neesha’s heart.

He blushed immediately and turned away, because Neesha’s cleavage peeked through her robes.

“What? Oh,” she giggled. “There it is. The bond Gregorian and I share. It’s alright. You can look.” She opened her robes a bit more, which made Alan blush harder.

“It’s… orange.”

“What did you expect, pink?”

Alan wanted to say yes because of her nose, but knew the joke would be lost on her.

“It’s the dragon’s Saro that connected us when I saved his life,” Neesha said. “He has it too.”

“And will it go away once he repays his debt?” Alan asked.

“My stones say yes.” She held her head like she was staving off a headache.

“Still bad, huh?” Alan frowned. “I’m in your debt for straying you from your goal. I know the Answer Stone will give you that relief you seek, once you get your hands on it.”

“So then come with us.” She grabbed Alan’s hands again. “I… trust you.”

The way she coyly shied away made Alan think she meant something else. Truth be told – Alan’s crush on her brimmed even more because of Gregorian’s possessiveness, but he didn’t want to be the guy chasing something that may never happen.

“I trust you too, Neesha,” Alan was careful to say it in the same way. “But I’ll have to pay you back in a different way, when I’m stronger.” He scratched at his head. “Boy, for a guy who doesn’t like to be indebted… I’m really racking up a tab.”

Mwa.

Alan was startled when a perfect set of lips found his cheek.

“I will miss you, Alan, and hope to crash into you again soon.”

“Likewise.” Alan smiled.

“Come, let’s not keep grumpster waiting.” Neesha got to her feet. “I have to ask, though. Where will you go?”

Alan shrugged. “To clear Ojin the old-fashioned way.”

“Swinging sharp weapons? That’s a sure way to get yourself killed.”

“Yeah right. I have Yogi and now Gardstrife. I’ll be plenty protected.” Alan stood.

“Don’t die on me, Merchant.” She hugged him one last time before they headed into the lift.

When they got to the suite, both of them gawked at its beauty. An exposed woodwork ceiling was surrounded by grey stone that led all the way down to a fireplace of their own. The ambience was of the same warming serenity as the main hall, and the great window at the forefront overlooked the valley as far as the eye could see.

Alan took a load off, claiming his bed in the far corner. Resting his new weapons one-by-one against the dresser made him realize what a lucrative day this’d been. If only Durger were here to share it with him.

He gripped the Soul Collector.

One day, friend. I’ll find you in there.

After Gregorian got done bathing, Neesha went next, and when it was finally Alan’s turn, he soaked in the tub until his fingertips pruned. Replaying the events in his head, thinking of his family back on Earth, thinking of Trish – it all came barreling through while his body rested.

I could fall asleep here…

And he did. But the nap was shallow even with all the comforting auras around him. He delicately tiptoed back toward his bed, noticing Gregorian and Neesha snoring in their adjacent beds.

Alan thought he could stay the night, but he realized he couldn’t. His energy was already back to full – he guessed it had something to do with his Saro replenishing – but either way, it was time to depart. He carefully put on a fresh set of medieval style clothes left on a hanger and attached his weapons to his back.

Clang.

The rubbing of metal made Gregorian jolt awake.

“Sorry,” Alan said lowly.

“Leaving?” Gregorian hopped off his bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, it’s my time.” Alan nodded.

“Well then.” Gregorian extended his hand.

“The Archer.” Alan grabbed it. “You’re a great fighter and an awful friend.”

They smirked at one another.

“And you, the opposite.”

“Hopefully that will change the next time we meet.” Alan suffered Greg’s harsh grip. “Take care of her for me.”

“I will take care of her for me,” he assured, breaking the farewell and turning to fall back into his bed.

Alan took one last look at Neesha curled up in her bedsheets. “Until we meet again.”