A heartbreaking sight we must have been to stumble upon, the pair of us in a heap sat quietly at road's end. We were lucky death had found us there, and so too did he dutifully carry us to a place far removed from the hollow darkness of the mines. In life, I'd had my qualms, crude conjured images of the agent who struck my name from the list, all of them vanishing when I finally and willfully lent my hand. He was gentle to broken passengers, painlessly whisking us to and away from the surface. This journey, I was only semi-conscious; I couldn't see or hear where we were headed, but I prayed that what awaited us was someplace better, and I trusted him to bring us there.

White light. A distant, fleeting warmth against cold, benumbed limbs. We hadn't made it yet, but I was nearly ready to wake, and of the senses that made their slow return, these prevailed. These were what blossomed from the other side, merely waiting for me to cross. When the golden gleam intensified, and my thoughts focused with it, I warily cracked my eyes to see all that they'd been hiding. It was a resplendent glow, bleeding through the gap and bleaching my vision with a hazy pallor that I anxiously anticipated subsiding.

Meanwhile, following my sight was the return of feeling to my empty husk: the radiating warmth of blood in my veins, and the steady pulse of life through dead fingertips. Then there came a touch, ethereal hands laid across the skin—a soft caress to bring me back to being. They lifted away the mortal chains until gradually my body grew lighter than before, and my fists opened and shut.

It was an incredible feeling until the pain set in.

The heat that started in my palms had become an ember in my wrists, a searing venom that wrapped around my neck and sunk its hot teeth in. From there, it spread through the veins. It flooded my limbs and replaced the tingling with scalding heat, crawling the length of my back and burning a trail before it settled in my feet, beneath which I realized I couldn't find the ground to steady myself. My legs kicked under me, but I was treading air. I was suddenly in freefall—spiraling from grace—and the frigid winds of the fall cut deftly through the mental fog.

A whimper wheezed from my throat as I jerked from my stupor. I was awake, but I couldn't move. Even my attempts to lift my head were made fruitless by the paralyzing sting, and it didn't take long in that state for the memories to come rushing back, a timeline punctuated by every gash and bruise that agonized me so, and I realized myself a fool for believing in Elysium. Such a place could never open its doors to me, and while a dying mind made a convincing enough illusion, the pain was too unimaginable. It felt like every muscle fiber had been cut to ribbons under my skin, and that too seared in the sunlight.

"You're awake," spoke an unfamiliar voice, a placid whisper in the howling mountains. "I didn't expect you so soon. Still, best not to rush yourself, lest you reopen all those wounds I worked so hard to close."

Deaf to sound advice, I pressed through it, grunting again as I forced myself upright. My eyes would eventually adjust to the same familiar sprawl: snowdrifts piled along the mountainous crag, and a full view of the world among the clouds. Our rescuer sat across a meager bonfire, and to my other side, Cordella lay inert. One way or another, we were back, but concerns as to how fell to the wayside when I saw where she lay.

"What about her? Tell me she's okay."

"How sweet," he mocked. "Cut, badly bruised, but no worse than you. Best I can tell, the little bird needs roosting. Nothing dire. You, on the other hand..."

I fought against the pleas of agony. I wanted a good look at the man who had dragged us from the pit, but from this angle, I could only guess what he might have looked like. He wore a long cowl, all concealing, and though his back was turned, his voice carried an older man's timbre. Loose as the ensemble was on him, I imagined it didn't hide much but flesh and bone.

"How?"

"It's a marvel you were the first to rouse. You must be a hell of a light sleeper—fall like that, and at my age, I'd be well gone. Fortunate that I came looking, hmm? Battered, broken, and not but a whiff of ether to keep the pieces together. Although you might regret it for a time, you're both lucky to be alive."

"How did you do it?" I asked again. I was grateful to be where I was, and more so that Cordella joined me, but relief only paved the way for countless more questions.

"Pardon me?"

"How did you cross us? And how did you manage to get us out?"

His head lifted and then bobbed from a short, stifled chuckle. "Do you realize what I'm telling you? You were dead, within a hair's breadth before I breathed a little life into you, and that's your first concern?" He sighed. "I was in the area and saw your horse tethered down the way. Followed the trail of blood and feathers until I found you two sparrows, and from there, well, a man has his ways."

I didn't much enjoy vague answers, least of all the spurious kind, but I wasn't in much of a position to press him. I settled for something simpler: a name.

"Ha! Don't get the wrong impression of me, but, in your time asleep, this wasn't how I pictured our formal meeting. I anticipated some delirium followed perhaps by some loose form of gratitude. Not that I require it, mind you, but I would prefer it to whatever dynamic we have here. How about this: we'll take turns asking questions. That way we can have a little bit more back and forth. Does this sound fair to you?"

This time, I said nothing.

"Fair, then. As for my first question, what were the two of you searching for? Because, for the life of me, I can’t imagine what would compel you both into an abandoned quarry some ten miles outside of town." Before I could fill the dead air, he doubled back. "On second thought, that might prove difficult to answer—intentions aren’t always clear in retrospect. Instead, why don’t you tell me what you found?"

"We found nothing." the words blurted before I could consider them. I don't know what it was, but in that instant, something compelled me to withhold the truth. He had been friendly thus far, and I sensed his teasing was in good faith, but something made me uneasy.

“Ah, but of course,” he responded in that same droll tone, “the simplest solution to the riddle. Nothing! Nothing bid you descend into the tunnels, and nothing caused those grievous injuries of yours. Is that what you mean to tell me?”

"We were well on our way to the bottom when the way forward collapsed atop us, and we crawled away with the strength that we had left."

"And that's why you were carrying her? Because I don't believe that wounds like those arise from a little tumble. Deep gashes, lined with grease and most of them singed shut? That doesn't sound like a cave-in to me."

I was silent. My falsehoods were lost upon him; he knew the answer to his questions, and I was too astonished to concoct a believable supplement.

He exhaled a sharp breath, a thin cloud forming and rising from his nostrils. "Per our new rules—since you declined to answer my question—I'll ask another, and I recommend you be sincere given your state: what did you hope for? Seeking out the arch, just the two of you?"

Unable to refute the claim, I let him continue, but the words he offered now were all but meaningless to me. "I don't...the what?"

“The Arch, boy. What do you want with it?”

“I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

"Enough," he said, another spark of intensity, "I told you to—" He stopped himself before anger got the better of him, adjusting his posture and rearing his head to the mountain’s rising range. Fed up with me, he spoke into the breeze. "There I go, making something out of nothing. When did we get off on the wrong foot? And don’t think answering that will cut it; you’re two in the hole now friend. How about both of your names? Get back to proper introductions, why don’t we?"

“Still shocked, I stuttered out our names, first mine, and then Cordella’s. ”Does that entitle me to another question?"

"That it does. The debt is paid."

Although he had saved me, I remained wary. I still didn’t know that I could trust the man, and after his outburst, doubt only brewed stronger in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t plan on telling him anything he didn’t need to know. "How did you find us here?"

He laughed. "You called my bluff too? Maybe we're both poor gamblers, then. I was looking for it the same as you when I found you rag-dolls strung up along the way, and, seeing the chance to help, I sewed you both shut again. Is that better?" He didn't wait for a response. "Now, if you could the same question. What brought you here?"

"We were hired. Requested by someone in the village to search out the mine. We were informed of little more than its location when we stumbled into the monster's den and fought to our last breath."

I had spoken in earnest, though sparing the bloody details, and for the first time since our digression, he was content. His shoulders dropped, and his cloaked head followed. "So it's here after all? My old friend... just like you to litter the road with thorns," he whispered to himself. "You undertook a fool's errand, boy. Whatever the reward, I'm sure you've realized it wasn't worth the job. Monsters like those guard a truth the likes of which you'd be content not to burden yourself with.

He continued to speak in ominous riddles. I assumed that by ‘monster’ he was referring to the wyrm, but if that was the case, he must have been unaware of our triumph. At any rate, I started scanning the campsite for my steel should we come to blows. My muscles still ached, but with enough strain, they’d follow commands, and I suspected I could route the man if he became hostile; he was old and coarse, and his age would show in combat.

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"I answered another. Now tell me what you want with that behemoth." Face in the snow, I pushed up from the ground and stood shakily. He didn't turn to face me, but he had to have heard my straining, the clumsy crunch of snow, and the hiss from my firing joints.

"A good question, but you won't be satisfied with the answer. It's out of your depth, Kaiser.

I took a decisive step. "Then let's start with your name."

His neck twisted, drawing a path left of his lap. Only then did I notice the tool by his side, crudely devised. To the eyes, it was no more than a sharpened metal slab book-ended by a bare tang to support the flow of ether throughout. It was substantial for someone of his size, impractical even, shorter than the great swords employed by Adberan cavalry, but doubly broad. Sculpted into the polished metal were two deep fullers, but even then, it was much too heavy to make an effective weapon.

"I'm the last person you'd want to make an enemy of, I'll tell you that much. You've still many years between the both of you. Unless you want to see them waste away, you'd best concern yourself with better things and better people. Swim for shallower waters."

Now, I laughed. "You're right. I'm not satisfied."

"What is your goal here? You're weak and alone. If your combined strength couldn't fell the arch-wyvern at your peak, what chance have you to defeat me at your lowest? I offer a chance to walk away with your life before that ugly cretin strips it from you. Take it."

"Weak?" I growled, his patronizing burning my face red. "That's twice you've assumed we failed, but there's a reason we're alive, and it's not because of you."

He crooked his head and scoffed, "Haven’t we learned by now to stop lying? Each is worse than the last."

"I'm fooling no one. If you doubt me, then by all means, see for yourself, but I'll save you the trip." I hunched and picked up my blackened and bloodied brand, brandishing it underneath the sunlight. "There's nothing left of it."

Finally, he turned. The dark shadow of his hood covered most of his face, but I could see the way his eyes glowed, burning slits through the shroud. "You didn’t—You miserable runts, you don't know what you've done! This isn't about you or me, this is above us all!"

His arm shot from his robes to disarm me, but, having anticipated a rise, I shifted to my heels before he could reach out. He opted for his own armament, using momentum to hoist the colossal saber to his shoulder before lowering it to his waist. It had to be multiple pounds heavier than even mine, enough to significantly slow his pace. I wouldn't have trouble avoiding it normally, but I was still inhibited by sore limbs and would have to give him a wide berth.

"What difference does it make? What did you plan on doing with it?" I reasoned before he lurched. Ducking right, I swept my blade through the snow, striking a defensive stance as it lengthened and broadened with the icy accretion. It was enough the bridge gap in our weapons' lengths, but mine would remain considerably lighter. "Leave us. You won't win this fight as easily as you think."

"Please," he growled, then howled with laughter, "Like I'd leave a man be, a man who in exchange for my kindness took up arms against me? I'll bring you back to your knees!"

I ducked below a high swing and raised my blade to block the next, but I didn't foresee the strength of his slash, shattering my diamond edge into dust and sending me reeling. To even withstand the onslaught, I had to reinforce the flat side of the sword with my offhand, the force of it pushing me deeper and deeper into the snow bank with each successive strike. Passivity was not an option, but his constant hammering opened him up to parry. I stood forcefully, throwing away his predictable swing and giving myself a brief opportunity to riposte, just enough time to throw an elbow, a powerful shot to his gut to give me the space I needed.

While he sputtered and gasped, I positioned myself over Cordella. This wouldn't end well. A warm flow ran down my abdomen as old wounds became new, daggers piercing every muscle. I was already panting after our short bout, and I didn't know if I had it in me to stave off another flurry. I dug around my waist to find my knife clasped there. Maybe with a diversion, I could create another opening.

"You'll have to be more inventive," he breathed calmly after wiping his lip. "I won't be stopped by cheap tricks."

He approached, dragging the keen edge along the pitted terrain. A swipe, a swathe of sparks from the metal as he cleaved the wind in two and made it his own. It whistled softly while he held it in place, and the falling snow began to dance around the blade. He adjusted his posture, now leading with his left hand and removing his right. One hand now bore all of the weight, yet there was no dip in stance. Such a lofty instrument had been made as light as the air around it.

It soared in a great flash, catching the knife and ripping it from coiled fingers. I watched in vain as it tumbled from the rolling cliffs, and with it, my diminishing odds. Sporting this new ability, I had no chance. I was outmatched and further outclassed. He moved too quickly, and he carried more weight behind each swing than I could feasibly redirect. Even without it, he was a better swordsman than I could hope to be, masterfully placing each strike in my blind spot, and supplementing his dexterity by commanding the gale.

Given a window of grace, I returned to my prior stance. Still soaked in grease, a dim flame crawled along the soiled sword as my left hand returned to the hilt. It was a desperate intimidation tactic, like a moth flashing the spots of its wings, but I knew it wouldn't spare me—maybe from a griffin or trow, but not a monster. I had misjudged him, mistaking his courtesy for weakness, but he fought relentlessly. The great glaive swung like a whip, one after the other clanging, biting into my flimsy barricade until I thought for sure it would break. Flesh had narrowly been spared by a few well-placed and lucky steps, but my luck waned with my confidence.

Then, a mistake—a clear, wide opening to bring this skirmish to an end, and yet, as I grimaced at the end of his blade, mine never came. Had he missed it? Had his rage rendered him blind, or did he pull his blow? I realized then that it couldn't have been luck that kept me here. He had every opportunity to topple me, but I remained standing. Kindness was a vulnerability in the blood of battle, and I'd be the first to take advantage.

When the guillotine rose again, I offered my neck. He lunged, but I stood solid, and before he saw my head clean through, he pulled. It was all the time I needed to push away the flat of the blade and wrap my arm around his shoulders. Caught off guard by my gambit, he offered little physical resistance as we crashed into the airy fluff. He struggled momentarily, nothing but bone beneath those rags of his, but then his latching fingers wrapped and sunk into my arms like branding irons, burning the flesh in an instant.

I yelped, rolling off of him and scavenging for my still weakly burning blade. When we climbed from the dunes, he was ready to pounce, but his feet wouldn't budge. They were already bound by icy shackles.

My attention was drawn by Cordella's labored coughs. She knelt with her hands pressed to the ground, snow up to her elbows, and a line of blood trailing from her lip.

"And so one becomes two? Gah, I should’ve left you both to your sleep," he fumed. Then, under his breath, he murmured consolation. "No matter. This just a delay; the marshes still offer what I seek."

With a yank, he ripped one of his leather boots from the rime, and a stomp shattered the rest. He turned from us as though nothing had transpired here, indifferent to the result as he began his trudge down the mountain.

“That’s it? That’s all it takes for you to concede?”

“I only concede that you fools have wasted enough of my time. You’ll live: consider that your victory, but don’t expect the same courtesy if you involve yourselves again. Down that road is a path you’ll never see the end of.”

"Who are you?!" I broke out as he strode away. "You still owe me an answer!"

"Just an omen," his voice drifted back, nearly lost in the wind.

I took one last step, more than prepared to give him chase until I felt her tender hand in mine. "Don't," she pleaded. Normally I'd have shaken her away, protested and kept on, but I was disarmed by the sound of her voice, and further so when I saw her face. Her eyes glistened with fatigue and worry, and a gash ran down her flushed cheek. "What happened? Who was that?"

Her words rang, riding and returning on the breeze as I stood there numb. "What happened," I echoed emptily, forgetting about the encounter as something else rose to precedence. Before she could refuse, I buried my head in her shoulder and wrapped her in my arms. "I thought I'd lost you."

She resisted at first, winced as I prodded fresh wounds and squeezed out what little life was left in her, but then she raised her arms in return. That was the first relief I’d felt since she’d fallen, and in these frigid summits, I savored the warmth while I could; my shoulders loosened as I lost myself in the moment and forgot for an instant the imminent peril I had just been saved from.

"I promise I won't do it again," she smiled, but only a second before the moment passed, and I was again left to the coldness of solitude.

While the staidness had drained from my actions, she only grew more solemn. Even despite my interruption, I knew the question lingered in her mind. "We need to find my horse and get back down the mountain. I'll tell you everything on the way."