Vir had taken the entire day to journey the hundred fifty-five miles from the desert oasis to Brij. Fifteen miles an hour was a slow trot for an Ash’va, but Bumpy’s condition necessitated it. The trip had taken over thirteen hours, with several small breaks.

Though Vir loathed to remain in Hiranya even a moment longer than he had to, the journey south would be an arduous one. For him, but especially for Bumpy; he didn’t want to prematurely wear his friend out. Luckily, the clouds set in around noon, easing the heat for the hardworking beast.

It was deep into the night now. Perfect for Vir. While Kamna might’ve tailed him in the middle of a crowded city, out here in the middle of the night on open plains, none could hide from Prana Vision. Not when he was alert and ready.

Despite this, he’d detoured several miles around the village, leaving Bumpy in the Godshollow to avoid detection.

“Neel, protect,” Vir ordered, pointing at Bumpy. Neel quietly woofed, setting his haunches down near the Ash’va, keeping his head on a swivel.

Vir loathed to set foot in Brij—it was the first place Hiranya would look for him, and Vir knew Mina would have spies lurking in and around the village. He shouldn’t be here at all, but his journey required food, and as risky as it was coming back here, it was downright foolhardy setting out without proper provisions.

Daha might’ve been an option, but Vir didn’t know what the situation was like there. He’d have to pass through the checkpoint, and if Mina had seen through his disguise, she could do it again. It was a risk he didn’t want to take.

I really just should’ve bought supplies before heading out, Vir thought, cursing himself. At the time, adrenaline pumped through his body, and the only thing on his mind was fleeing that infernal city.

Besides, there was another benefit to coming to Brij. If he could make it look like he’d fled here—north of Daha—it’d throw off any pursuers the princess might send for him. Few would suspect him of doubling back to the south, after all.

Hoisting his rucksack, he alternated between Dance and walking, covering the half-hour walk to Brij in ten minutes.

As he approached his old home, which sat on the outskirts, Vir relied exclusively on Dance. Spies would no doubt expect him near his old home, so he was forced to. The Ash prana had fully recovered since he’d depleted it months ago, but even so, he had to ration his activations given the affinity’s dearth.

Though Prana Vision showed no signatures anywhere nearby, by relying on Dance, he ensured none would ever find him.

He paused inside the Shadow Realm to gaze at his old house, whose windows now shone with dancing amber light.

Someone’s moved in.

A surprise. Even ignoring the mess the prana gophers had made of the home’s foundation, the house itself had been rickety at best.

Yet now, the half-rotted wood had been replaced, and the holes through which drafts used to flow were patched up. Whoever they were took better care of the place than Rudvik and Vir had before.

Rather than feel upset, Vir was happy for the house. Like him, it, too had received a second chance at life.

He continued to leverage Dance of the Shadow Demon to cover ground, disappearing into shadows only to pop up thirty paces away. He never truly exited the shadow Realm, though—he’d learned how to chain the ability together. As his arm exited one shadow, he began sucking the prana and blood in his hands up, reactivating the ability.

To an observer, they might see an arm or a head pop up for an instant, though thatwould be all. Vir would be gone again by the time they blinked.

He only started easing up on the ability once he’d found shelter in the alleys of Brij. Here, the buildings hid him just as well as the shadows, and Prana Vision easily identified every human in the vicinity, even through walls.

His first stop would be the baker. Vir navigated the familiar alleys, rationing Dance where he could, disappearing into the shadows when he couldn’t. Soon, he came upon the old baker’s building—the only one in town who used to treat him with respect.

At least, he came upon what was left of it. The building had been burned to the ground, and now only blackened ash remained.

Vir ground his teeth. This was no accident; the buildings next to it remained untouched. Someone had intentionally torched this building.

Was it the villagers? Had baker Jaisal risen up after he’d learned what happened to Apramor, Aliscia, and Rudvik? Or had the knights simply torched anyone who’d been nice to Vir? To teach the villagers a lesson?

Vir didn’t know, but he at least felt better knowing the blight that was Head Priest Harak no longer wreaked such havoc. No doubt princess Mina would find a replacement eventually, but until then, fewer tragedies would befall Hiranyans.

It vexed Vir that he couldn’t eliminate the princess as well. While Riyan had used the wrong strategy to coerce Vir, he nonetheless bore the man’s hatred of that princess. Perhaps it would take years, but one day, he’d return to complete the job. Mina was a blight that needed to be eliminated.

Vir slunk back into the alleys and Danced into a nearby baker. This one hadn’t been nearly as nice to him. In fact, the man shooed Vir away whenever he’d gotten close. It’d made him less guilty when he’d pilfered from the shop’s reject pile in the past.

This time, he didn’t need to resign himself to the scraps. The man baked twice a week and kept his bread in a cooler in the backroom.

Vir helped himself, stuffing loaves into his sack. There were even a couple of layered honey crisp pastries, which Vir ate right then and there. He relished the sweet nectar as it went down his throat. A rare delicacy.

Even a dozen loaves wouldn’t be enough to feed him and Neel on their own, but he figured he could pluck wild edibles along the way. Along with the dried nuts and berries he kept as emergency rations, it would suffice.

Vir turned to leave, then paused. Rummaging through his coin bag, he retrieved twenty coppers and laid them on the counter. It was less than the loaves’ market price, but the amount would cover the baker’s cost.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The man may have been rude to Vir, but he had a difficult time holding a grudge. Brijers were all a product of their environments. They’d never known anything else. They’d never had the opportunity to introspect. In fact, the village mentality actively discouraged that kind of behavior. Everyone inevitably ended up like everyone else, or else they’d be ostracized.

At the end of the day, they were just trying to make ends meet, and with winter on the horizon, Vir would feel bad if his theft robbed someone of a full stomach one day.

His next stop was the blacksmith, conveniently located across the street.

A single Dance shifted him from the baker right into the metalworker’s shop.

Vir’s biggest issue right now was his lack of weaponry. He’d lost both his katar and his chakrams in Daha, and while Kalari and his Talents didn’t make him defenseless, he’d feel a lot better with some iron at his hip.

Unfortunately, the Brij blacksmith made things like Ash’va hooves, fire pokers, and the like, rather than military equipment.

Vir combed the place, but there were no talwars or katars to be found. The best were some axes and a pair of long knives. He ignored the axes—while Riyan had Vir train in a variety of weapons, he’d quickly discovered that large, unwieldy weapons didn’t fit him at all. Not to mention the axes here were all woodworking implements, and improperly weighted for battle.

He regarded the knives, running his finger along their blades. Mid-grade iron, but rust free, and decently sharp. They weren’t quite long enough to be daggers, and the thick blade profile was better suited for shaving wood than it was for piercing flesh, but they’d do.

Vir estimated they’d run around fifty coppers each, and since this particular blacksmith usually stayed out of Vir’s way, he left a silver behind as adequate compensation.

After tying their leather holsters on each hip, he Danced out of the building to a nearby alley.

It was only moments later that the calm stillness of the night was broken. First by bandy howls, then by shouts.

Memories of bullies cornering Vir sprung up in his mind, but he banished them. Bandies and shouts did not equate to bullying, he knew that.

Vir pressed on, sneaking through narrow roads where he could to avoid using Dance.

“No! Please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it.”

The shouts turned into whimpers and sobs, and Vir knew his initial hunch had been right. Bullying.

Maybe it was a new family who’d moved in. A rare occurrence, but not unheard of. New kids were preyed upon and ostracized, at least until the next new kid came to town. At which point, the bullied kid would be absorbed into the clique, becoming their errand boy or girl. It was a form of brainwashing; somewhere along the line, the bullied kid would learn to behave like the ones who’d tormented them.

Why shouldn’t I bully the new kids? After all, they did it to me. I’m ‘in’ now. It’s my right.

They never thought about it, but Vir had seen it happen enough times to know how it all worked. Brief friends who eventually turned into enemies. This groveling boy would be no different. Another link in the chain, fated to repeat the endless cycle.

And so what?

Even if Camas’ gang was out bullying someone, what of it? That was none of his business. Causing a scene here was exactly what he’d taken great pains to avoid. If Hiranyan spies were present, he could land himself in some serious trouble.

Why’s this bothering me so much? I’ve killed people! What’s bullying next to that?

Vir shook it off, putting one step in front of another, leaving the sobbing boy behind.

But then the boy’s sobs turned back into screams.

Vir sighed. His steps came to a halt. It was dangerous. He’d sworn to be more careful after outing himself to Mina in Daha. But he could use this as an opportunity to bait his pursuers. To hint at the fact that he’d come here. A risky gambit to be sure, but if it paid off, it’d buy him enough time to flee to Rani.

Besides, what use was staying alive if he couldn’t stay true to who he was? What use was power if he didn’t use it to right some wrongs in the world? Especially when they happened right before his eyes?

What good was saving himself if he couldn’t proudly look himself in the mirror and see Rudvik and Apramor standing behind him, nodding in approval.

With heavy steps, he turned right back around.

— —

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Sajan cried as he cowered from Camas’ bandies, which took turns snapping at his ankles.

Camas’s gang had brought the boy out to a dark alley. Late at night as it was, no one would interfere. Brijers knew better. Here, they could torment him with impunity.

Blood ran down his calf—he hadn’t been fast enough to avoid them all. Sajan lost his balance and fell on his butt as the bandies circled around him.

“Look, you’re doing this to yourself, Sajan,” Camas sneered. “All I’m asking is that you light a small fire. It’s not much. Just one flame, and let it burn, y’know? If the house burns down, it burns down. Not like you’re the one who did it. Right?”

“I—I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Now, now. Don’t be unreasonable,” Camas said, kneeling beside Sajan. “Just say ‘yes’, and all of this will stop. Right?”

“Yep.”

“Uh huh,” his goons echoed.

“Otherwise…” Camas said, delivering a punch to Sajan’s gut, causing the smaller boy to double over in pain, “I’m going to have to hurt you until you do. So why not stop this? Don’t make me do this, Sajan. It’s all in your power.”

Sajan burst into tears. “I—I’ll do it. I’ll—W-wha—!?” The boy’s eyes went wide, his expression warping to one of horror. “Aaaaaaah!” He screamed.

Camas spun around on instinct, only to see half of his friend. Everything from her legs down was… gone. Consumed by the ground itself.

“H-help!” the girl whispered. A moment later, she’d vanished. Not one trace of her remained.

“What demonic sorcery is this?”

Camas whirled around. “Y-you!?” he shouted, pointing at Sajan. “You’re doing this?”

Before Sajan could answer, another of Camas’ lackeys disappeared.

“What’s happening!?” Camas wailed. “R-run, you idiots!”

He tore off at a sprint, but something tripped him. Something tripped all of them, sending them all to the ground.

One by one, they disappeared. Sucked into the ground.

Sajan smelled urine, and it wasn’t his own.

“P-please! Don’t take me,” Camas wailed, soiling his pants. He fell to his knees, clasping his hands together. “D-demon of the night. Please! I’ll give you anything.”

“Anything?” a voice said, but Sajan could find no source. No one was around. Only Camas and he remained.

“I-I’ll do it,” Camas whispered.

“Leave the boy alone.”

“Yes! Of course!”

“Know that the Ash Guardian has occupied this village. And know that it reaps as easily as it takes. Do not anger it, for we may just reap your soul.”

Camas turned white, nodding furiously.

“Now go,” the voice said as Camas’ lackeys mysteriously reappeared from the ground. Alive, and seemingly unharmed. “Tell no one of what transpired tonight. If you do…”

“Y-yes. We won’t. T-thank you, Ash Guardian. Thank you!” Camas said, scrambling away on all fours like a prana gopher. Only later did he realize he could walk.

The bully and his lackeys sprinted off into the night, leaving Sajan alone.

Alone with the demon of the night.

“Don’t let them bully you,” a voice said from behind him.

Sajan nodded, not daring to turn around.

“Don’t join them.”

“W-will you take my life?”

“Not tonight. But if you cower before them again…”

“I-I understand. I won’t. I won’t do their bidding. I swear to you!”

“And the next time you see someone in your position?”

“I’ll help them! Even if it costs my life! I’ll stop their bullying.”

“Ensure you do…”

“W-who are you?” Sajan asked, finally mustering the courage to sneak a peek behind him.

But his eyes found only a dark, dirty alley. He was alone.

Soon, a rumor blossomed within Brij—a demon lurked in its depths. A demon that only came out at night, who guarded the weak.

Days later, when Mina’s spies finally learned of the rumor, they found nothing. Only villagers and their idle gossip. After interrogating the kids, they did learn of an individual who leveraged the powers of shadow to accomplish superhuman feats, which they promptly reported to their liege.

But when Mina learned the trail had gone cold, all she could do was scream in rage. Vir’s trail had gone cold, and the crippled princess was forced to scour northern Hiranya for a ghost that was no longer there.

Meanwhile in Brij, the legend of the Ash Guardian spread like wildfire. First among the children, then by the adults. Of one who defended the weak, who protected those in need. The legend of the Ash Guardian would make bullies shiver in their shoes for years to come.

All thanks to the tireless efforts of Sajan of Brij.