The rain had died down and the dragonflies in her stomach had fallen asleep by the time Akio thought she heard footsteps again. She didn’t even spare the energy to look up. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t go anywhere. Her mind swirled with thoughts like dragonflies skimming over a small pond. Some part of her told her to be afraid, that the footsteps belonged to an associate of her father’s, but that feeling quickly suffocated under the veil of depression. Why even feel anymore? Feelings would just lead to more pain.

The cell started to blend together, the walls with the floor and the moonlight with the darkness. All one mass of grey. Even the figure standing outside the cell, darker than the stone, blurred into the mix. She barely felt as her head drooped forward and hit the stone floor, the nightmares finally taking her. They couldn’t be worse than reality.

The master of the dungeon inserted a thick key into the lock and twisted, the tumblers scratching in an all-too-familiar way. It had been long mooncycles since this cell had been used. And likely it would be another long stretch of time after this night.

The figure hunched over in the corner looked to be a young woman, small and underfed. Such a shame she had ended up here. She could have lived a nice life, gone places, if only someone had taken her under their wing and taught her. A real shame. The only inkling of emotion that showed on the stocky woman’s face was pity as she pulled the cell down open with a stocky arm. She had her job to do, regardless of what she thought about it. Many of the things in this dungeon were quite illegal. But the duke had the money, so there they stayed.

Off came the manacle, left open on the floor. No point in closing it until she needed it again. The girl’s limp form she carried to the far corner of the room, around the pillars and away from the staircase. On the backside of one of the pillars, a peg had been pounded into the stone itself. A crude mace hung from it, the spiked ball on the end ground and polished to a shine. The wooden handle bore the inscription ‘Hulga’, traced in flowing letters. A gift from someone she’d used to know, someone who’d used to matter.

Maybe she should just use the mace and get it over with. It would be painful, but the girl’s mind would flee after only a few minutes. And Hulga would finally get to swing the mace at a target again. But no. The duke would want more. And he paid her, however dirty the money.

Hulga belted the girl to a table, wrists and ankles barely able to move. She pulled a flat-headed hammer from under the table and swung it through the air as if to test it. She’d perfected her hit long ago, hard enough to bruise and sometimes chip, but not hard enough to fracture. Then when the bruise was cut the blood would leak out in such amounts that the victim would scare themselves into shock. If they happened to be awake. The pain would bring her to.

But that wouldn’t be enough this time. No, this one had to be special. Hulga clipped the hammer to her wide belt and grabbed a bellows from atop a stack of other tools. The furnace kept its flame going in a different part of the dungeon, where it could effectively heat a tub of water. But it fed some of its heat over to the very corner of the room, where a bed of whiterock lay ready to be heated and burned. Hulga tossed the hammer on the whiterock and cranked open a shaft. Sure enough, the heat from the furnace flowed in, readying the whiterock. Now she just needed a spark. She took an old, chipped sword from a barrel and scraped it against the stone of the wall. The whiterock was showered with sparks, far more than necessary. The rocks flamed up before beginning their journey to red-hot. The hammer on top slowly followed suit.

The war drums began to play in Hulga’s head as the hammer grew hot, the thrill of the kill growing within her once again. She would crush her enemies’ skulls, burn them with hot forged metal, spear them through with all manner of sharp objects. They would know of her wrath. And if a few had to die along the way to allow her to stay up on her crushing skills, well, it was worth the sacrifice.

The hammer finally heated to the right shade of red. But it would be better if the metal were coated with blood when it swung, as all great weapons of destruction were. Hulga sliced a red line across the girl’s arm and pressed the side of the hammer to the flesh. The hissing sound reminded her of a snake as she skewered it. And the smell of burning blood… she could rarely find it, but perhaps that made it all the better. It would not be as exquisite if that were common. Hulga raised the hammer, burning blood and all, relishing in the weight. Now her work could begin.

A stabbing pain shot through her left arm, reaching from her shoulder all the way up to the red-hot hammer. She grunted and dropped the tool, dodging out of the way as it fell. Fire burned behind her eyes as she rounded on the sorry soul who’d dared to steal her moment of joy.

A servant boy stood tall, a stolen rapier in his hand. He held the blade horizontal, blood slowly dripping from the end. The silver crescent in his short braid glittered in the firelight. “Step away from the girl.”

Hulga roared, the bellow sounding off of each pillar and all the way up the staircase. With her right hand she grabbed a bent poker leaning on the table and brought it up to block her attacker’s next jab. But the boy had already disappeared, circling around for a better shot. He feinted high and thrusted low, driving the point of the sword into Hulga’s thigh. The massive woman yelled a pained battle cry as she brought the poker down on the boy. At last the pest would be gone, and she could get back to her work…

He’d disappeared again. The poker swung through empty space and hit the floor with a clang. Hulga spun around again to see her heated hammer flying through the air directly at her head. It impacted on her forehead, the hot metal momentarily snapping her into focus before the weight of the tool threw her backward and stole her consciousness. Her bloodied form crumpled at the bottom of a pillar, hammer falling beside her. The shield-crest pattern from the top of the hammer stayed stamped on her forehead. The boy inspected her body before turning back to the girl on the table.

The heat on Akio’s arm set fire to the haze around her mind. Now darkness had been joined by fire and smoke and destruction. She tried to fight the haze, drive it back, but for some reason she couldn’t move. She just watched as the flames licked at her, blackening her skin.

Something clanged near her, like heavy metal on stone. But what stone? The ground beneath her was just ash and charred wood…

Akio’s eyes flew open, the pain in her right arm bringing everything into acute focus. The ceiling above had cracks running through it, water dripping down one of the walls. Piles and barrels of tools and weapons lay strewn about, except for in the corner where a bed of whiterock flamed up intermittently. Akio gritted her teeth and tried to move, but something kept her laying down. Leather pressed against her limbs and waist, cutting into her through her dress. She shut her eyes again, straining against the bonds and the pain of the puffy red spot on her arm.

The pressure from the leather abruptly vanished, heat and pain changing to cold and relief. Akio flexed her fingers, then her arm. She opened her eyes to see Sora, a rapier in his hand. He took her hand and pulled her up. “Are you okay?”

The dragonflies hand moved from her stomach to her mind, each one flying a different direction. She swatted at them, trying to think. “Maybe?”

“Good enough.” Sora wrapped an arm around her and pulled her off the table and onto her feet. “We need to leave now. Out of here, out of the manor, away from the Spire if possible.”

Akio wrapped her arms around him and let a few tears leak out. “Thank you for finding me.”

“What else was I to do?” Sora briefly returned the embrace before pulling away. “There will be time for that later. For now, we need to run.”

“But what about my things? The duke will burn them all when he finds me gone!”

Sora shook his head. “We don’t have time, and they’d only slow us down. We can replace them eventually, once we get far away.”

Akio pulled at her braid, trying to find comfort there. “Wait! I have to find my moonbeam! He’ll burn that too!”

Sora paused, turning to look more fully at her completely black braid, an expression of hatred across his features. “He won’t. We’ll go get it.” Sora pointed up the stairs at the far end of the dungeon. “I think I know where he put it. Follow me.”

Akio ran after Sora, worn slippers sliding on the stone floor. Through the pillars, up the stairs, through the iron door, out into the manor’s finished hallways. The arched front doors were maybe three rooms away, off to the left. But Sora turned right, through another room before racing up more stairs.

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Two stories above the ground floor, the duke’s personal chambers stood like a haughty taunt to any would-be thieves. The door had iron reinforcements, with two crossbowmen standing at attention at all times. The lock on the door had a gold sheen, telling of the valuables locked inside. Sora pointed to it around the corner in the hallway. “Don’t follow until it’s safe to do so.” He ducked around the corner and ran towards the guards, keeping his head low. A dagger appeared in his hand, spinning and slashing through the bowstrings of the guards’ weapons. He raised his weapon high and brought the hilt down on each of the guards in turn, aiming for slightly below the helmet. They fell to the ground almost in unison. With his other hand, Sora procured a golden key and twisted it in the lock. With the door open, he disappeared into the room.

Akio followed him in, stepping over the bodies of the two guards. Sora already knelt in front of a silver strongbox bolted to the bedside table. The thick door was open, several trays ready to be accessed. He pulled out each open and threw them on the bed. Stacks of coinage, important documents, and a few pieces of jewelry. And right in the center of the middle tray, a strand of blue ribbon with a moon-shaped silver pendant attached to the end. Akio gingerly picked it up and wove it back into her hair. Sora used the time to dump the contents of all the trays into the bag over his shoulder.

“Sora, you shouldn’t be taking all of that. Yukima doesn’t smile on thievery.”

He looked over at her, a quizzical expression on his face. “If we’re really going to run, we’ll need money. And the duke owes you a lot more than is in here. Not to mention that it’s not really his money. In a few mooncycles, it should legally become yours. It’s your mother’s money, not his.”

“Okay. Just take it.” We’ll sort out ethics later.

Sora replaced the trays and relocked the strongbox before pocketing the key. “He’ll know something’s not right, but the longer we have until he figures out he doesn’t have a full strongbox, the better.” He took Akio’s hand and pulled her out of the room, shutting the door behind them. The guards would just have to stay there.

The stairs blurred on the way down, each step one closer to the freedom of the outside world. Like the people in the books, gallivanting and adventuring as they pleased. There had to be something beyond the fields of Tallspire. Other Spires, definitely. What did they look like? She wanted to see it all.

Light already streamed from the doorway before Akio had even turned the last corner. Maybe an unexpected arrival? She didn’t remember her father talking about any new visitors.

Sora rounded the last corner to the main entryway and slowed to a stop well before the door. Akio almost tripped and fell on her face when she saw why.

In front of the open doorway stood a division of soldiers, the crossbowmen aiming through gaps in the ranks of sabre-wielding guards. At the head of the division stood the duke, silver-plated sabre raised. His eyes drilled into her like crossbow bolts of hatred and derision.

Sora raised his hand. “Stay back. I will deal with this lowlife noble.” He stepped forward.

The duke’s eyes didn’t leave Akio. “You are the scum of the deepest pit in the Nine Islands. I have had mercy on your disgusting soul all these many years, and you repay me with desertion and utter contempt. The dungeon is too good for you. I’ll personally oversee your transport to the mines, where you’ll live out the rest of your short, miserable life in slavery.” He turned to Sora. “And you, traitor. I will have you beaten and tied behind the next vessel to leave Tallspire. You will be a lesson in obedience to all who serve me.”

Sora remained silent. The duke spat at him, although the spittle failed to hit. “Fight for your life, if you even can.” He sprang forward, running at Sora with his sabre slashing through the air.

Sora bowed slowly. “Gladly.” He pulled the bloodied rapier from his belt and pointed it at the duke, looking at him sideways. “But I’m not fighting for my life.” The duke tried to swat the weapon away and get a clear shot, but Sora sidestepped and watched the blade slice through the air where he’d been standing a few moments before. His words floated back to Akio.

“I’m fighting for hers.”

The duke continued swinging and Sora continued dodging, neither landing any hits. Beads of sweat started to slip down both of their faces. Sora raised his rapier in an attempt to jab at the duke, but the blade got caught on another attack from the sabre and spun away out of his grasp. He stumbled, falling backward and hitting the ground hard. The duke cried in triumph and swung his sabre down at Sora’s head. Akio squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, even though she knew it wouldn’t help.

The blow never hit. No cheers, no scraping of blades. Utter silence. Akio cracked one eyelid, then the other.

Sora had his eyes closed as well, palms together a few centimeters from his head, the silver sabre’s caught in between his hands. He slowly opened his eyes and glared at the duke before standing and lashing out with his right heel. Sore lost his grip on the sabre as the duke flew backwards and skidded to a stop on the marble floor, just before the division of soldiers. The noble slowly stood, his sabre visibly shaking.

“How… where did you learn that?”

“I have no obligation to share that with you.” Sora retrieved the bent rapier from its resting place on the marble and returned to his defensive stance. “ Akio crept closer behind him, noting the look in the duke’s eyes. There wouldn’t be another round.

The duke sheathed his silver sabre and motioned for the soldiers to lower their crossbows. “Go. Leave this place. You are released from your contract.” Sora stood up straight and tossed the rapier aside.

“It’s time to find out where you belong.” Sora offered Akio his hand before passing through the ranks of soldiers and out the open doorway. The outside smelled of rain and promise and freedom. For once in a very long time, Akio breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ready! Aim!” Sora took off, towing her behind him. The grain fields were distant, but that looked to be the only cover if they wanted to make it off the estate alive. Double-crossing, conniving, honorless… She forced herself not to finish the sentence and focus on running.

“Fire!” Sora pulled her to the ground, swinging her in front of him and landing on his hands and knees above her. The crossbow bolts flew overhead, some of them with startling accuracy. As soon as the bolts passed, Sora was on his feet again, pulling her up. She risked a glance back at the manor, where her stepfather pointed straight at her. “Ready! Aim!”

“Run!” Sora pounded a path down the hill towards the fields of grain. Through the trees, through the wrought iron gates, between the crossbow bolts that buzzed around them. The grain seemed to grow taller as they drew near. Sora rushed into the stalks without looking back, Akio following after a moment’s delay. They ran and ran and didn’t stop until the roof of the manor disappeared in the grain and Akio felt as though the fields went on forever. She fell to her knees and ignored the damp grain around her. Every part of her felt cold from the rainwater.

“Rest for a second. Then we need to keep going. They know we’re in here. They won’t stop searching until they find us.”

Akio climbed to her feet and wrapped Sora in the biggest hug she could muster, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you. Over the moon and to the stars.” Her mind seemed fuzzy around the edges, but her heart still knew exactly what to say. Although her cheeks seemed to have found a new kind of heat, and the dragonflies in her stomach had woken up.

Sora returned the embrace. “You’re worth rescuing.” For a moment freedom was everything she had dreamt it would be. And that moment stretched longer than she’d thought possible, the rustle of grain the only sound for as far as she could hear.

Sora abruptly released her and pushed her back. The dragonflies quieted and her stomach dropped. “What? What did I do? Was that too much? I’m so sorry!”

“Shhh. Listen.” Akio closed her mouth and opened her ears, straining for anything out of the ordinary. “And do you smell them?”

Something was burning. Not the pleasant smell when someone blew out a candle, but the raw, primal smell of something large burning. Thick black smoke started to billow over the grain. Tall flames followed a moment later as more and more of the grain caught fire. Everywhere she turned, smoke and destruction. A ring of flames.

“Yukima’s Crown!” Sora grabbed her hand and started off in the direction they’d been running before, undaunted by the fire.

“What are you doing? You’re running right towards it!”

Sora spared her a glance. “Any way is towards it. The sooner we get there the less fire we’ll have to jump through. It’ll probably be narrow enough that we can make it.”

Akio kept running, legs pumping under her and propelling her towards the smoke. A wall of heat washed over her as the flames became visible in between the wilting stalks of grain. Already the stalks on the edge were charred a deep black. The flames waved at her, begging her to join them. She stumbled to a stop a few meters before the fire.

“Come on! You’re almost there!” Sora tried to pull her forward, but her feet refused to move.

“I can’t. I’ll die if I go in there.” She reached up and stroked her braid, fingers tracing the blue ribbon.

Sora rubbed the crescent pendant hanging from his moonbeam. “Then say a prayer. You’ll make it. I’ll be right here the whole time.” Akio blinked the smoke away and squeezed his hand. No doubt. No fear. She jumped into the flames.

Her slippers caught fire immediately, despite all the water they’d soaked up from the wet ground. Her dress seemed more resistant, but small patches began to smolder, along with the edges of her hair. But the flames on her skin felt the worst, like the hot hammer or someone raking a fireplace poker across her back. She screamed in defiance of the flames and took a few steps forward. Her free hand reached out towards the edge of the fire, blue sky and foliage only visible in the brief gaps in the smoke. Everything started to go numb, her feet tingling and losing their touch. The pain flared and then went dormant. The flames blurred together as she fell, sending up a shower of sparks when she hit the ground.

Her hands and feet felt like they didn’t exist. Her back was losing its layer of skin to the flaming, charred grain. Her neck was hot from the heat her burning hair trapped in and from the flames that started to break through.

Sora appeared over her, eyes burning brighter than the flames. He reached down with burning hands and hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing at all. His hair was smoking and his uniform was unrecognizable, covered in ash.

Akio lay on the ground again, although this time the black sky had pinpricks of white twinkling down. The stars! And the moon! It had started to set right in front of her, over the stream. The white light glistened on the slow-moving water.

She had to get to that water. It would cool her, soothe the burns. But her body had stopped listening to her. She reached toward the moon and tried to whisper a prayer before the color faded away and she fell into darkness.