Camilla walked by a cart and prayed that the horse pulling it would go faster but poor Hortensia had already been pushed past her limits and it was only a matter of time she would collapse under her own weight. Camilla had already poked Hortensia’s rump with a knife to keep her going and hated herself for it. Blood was dripping out of Hortensia’s nostrils, and she was foaming.

Hortensia was a good horse, and she was killing her.

But if the inquisitors caught up with them, there would be less mercy than what she could show to Hortensia. Inside cart Jessica was tending to Tion’s wounds which meant just holding his hand while he died from an arrow wound to the bowels. A terrible way to go. She had seen what getting your belly cut open would do. When she had been a child and a miller’s daughter instead of a witch, her neighbor had been gored by a bull. Nothing could be done, and he had been poisoned by his own bile from the inside. He had lingered for days in agony until Grandfather Death had taken him.

That was no way for a twelve-year old boy to die… nothing a fourteen-year-old girl should have to see.

And Grandfather Death was already sitting in the cart with Tion. Invisible to all but Camilla. Waiting for him to be ready to let go but Tion was putting up a fight. A life of pain was still living, and children clung to life with everything they had. In the darkest part of her mind where thoughts she didn’t want to claim as hers sprung, she wished Tion would just die already. If he did, her and Jessica could abandon the cart and move faster. Haste was the only thing that could save them now. The Red Swan’s inquisitors knew no mercy.

Gift of mercy…

Administering the gift of mercy on Tion should have fallen on her. With Annette lost to a hail of arrows that had injured Tion, she was the head of the coven. Which meant that making the hard decisions were hers to make. Power was a responsibility.

When she looked at Tion, she could understand Annette better.

That bitter, old woman she had idolized and hated in equal measures. The bitter, old woman who had seen too much. A Princess of the Deep who had taught Camilla everything she knew but… sometimes Camilla wondered if Annette had kept some secret knowledge to herself. Maybe there had been some lesson Annette had thought Camilla wasn’t ready for and now… that wisdom had died with Annette.

Camilla looked inside the cart where Jessica and Grandfather Death watched over Tion.

If she hesitated… if she let Tion linger… the inquisitors would catch up with them and kill them all. And it would be her fault because she had not been strong enough to carry the responsibility of her coven’s leadership. She had her knife… she had put down injured farm animals… she knew what vein to cut to kill quickly and without pain. How hard could it be…

Camilla looked at Tion’s pale, sweaty face and she knew her hands would never be steady enough.

The flutter of wings was a welcome distraction and a crow landed on the cart. She looked in the crow’s beady, dark eyes and the crow winked back at her.

“Black.” Camilla said.

“Mistress.” The crow said with the voice of a young woman: “They’re close.”

Those had not been the news Camilla had hoped to hear and she tried to keep her fear from her face. Jessica stuck her head out of the cart and looked at her with haunted eyes.

“We’re not leaving Tion.” Jessica said.

Camilla tried and failed to smile.

“No. Of course we won’t. A coven does not abandon its own.” Camilla said.

Jessica did not say anything, but she didn’t need to. She just looked at her and Camilla could read the accusation in her eyes. Jessica had seen into her mind and knew what she had been thinking. Thinking was the first step to doing. When the inquisitors had come, Annette had not hesitated to stay behind and fight to buy them time to flee.

“We all have to make it to safety or Annette died for nothing.” Jessica said and slipped back inside the cart.

Black cawed on top of the cart and then glided on Camilla’s shoulder. It was always a shock how heavy and large a crow was up close.

“The young ones have a difficult time understanding that sometimes one has to perish for the flock to survive.” Black said.

Camilla’s eyes narrowed and she looked further down the road. She could feel the Wyrd Stones further ahead. They were close but… the pace they were going by… much further than the fast-approaching inquisitors. Too far with Tion… slowing them down.

“Black… fly ahead. Make sure the road is clear.” Camilla said.

“As my mistress wishes.” Black said and took flight.

“Blessing of the Deep upon your journey…” Camilla said while her familiar flew away.

She didn’t hear Grandfather Death coming until he stood by her side. She suspected that was true for most people.

“Should I be worried when death is this close?” Camilla said without looking at Grandfather Death.

“I am always closer than people think. Usually when they use the stairs. Those things are death traps.” Grandfather Deaths said: “I just thought you could use a pep talk after that.”

“A pep talk?” Camilla said.

“Yes. To make you feel better. You should know that thinking is not the same as doing. Your thoughts and inner world only matter so far as how they make you act.” Grandfather Death said.

“Thinking is the first step to acting and when you… do something harsh for a good reason… when will you do it for a bad one?” Camilla asked.

“Interesting question. You should try meditation. The goblins love it. It teaches you how little control we have of ourselves.” Grandfather Death said and put a bony hand on her shoulder.

It felt… warm and comforting.

“Do you know what I have learned over my long duty? There are so many more pitstops between me and Mother Life than anyone knows. There are other powers than the forces of evil at work.” Grandfather Death said.

Camilla thought it over and then lit her pipe.

“How do you feel?” Grandfather Death asked.

“I don’t know.” Camilla said and blew out sweet smoke.

“If you need to talk, I am never far.” Grandfather Death said and climbed back inside the cart.

“Who are you talking to?” Jessica said inside the cart.

“No one.” Camilla whispered.

There was no rest for any of them and they kept pushing forward. Further down the road. Closer to the Wyrd Stones. Away from the inquisitors. Camilla looked around her. All around her. At the blue sky. The warm summer’s sun. The trees basking in light. Garuccian summers were the most beautiful in the world. It was a day like this she would have helped her family with the harvest. She would work up a sweat and a tan and then be treated to cold honey milk by her mother.

You were meant to be safe on days like this.

Her father had owned books… the priest had warned that teaching a girl to read was dangerous, but he had not listened, and Camilla had learned to read. She had read all the books and wanted to learn more. So much so she had gone to Annette and asked the witch to teach her the secret history of the world. Now Annette was dead. The priest had condemned her and her father… If she had known where her Path would have taken her, would she have walked down it?

She was thinking about it when Hortensia’s heart gave out.

Blood spilled from the horse’s nostrils, and it collapsed with a sad sigh. The cart came to a halt and Camilla knew all was lost. Jessica peeked out of the cart and no fourteen-year-old should have looked so… hopeless. Camilla had no comforting words for her and she walked over to Hortensia. She could see her reflection in the horse’s eyes. Looking worn down and ragged.

“I am sorry.” Camilla said.

She would see Hortensia again soon. Much sooner than she would have liked. She could feel it under her feet. Horses galloping after them. Carrying hard men with spears and swords. Camilla lit her pipe and walked to meet her killers. She could be dangerous when she had the right materials and access to the Wyrding but right now… she had none of them. She was not dangerous. Just tired. And outnumbered. The inquisitors were dressed in dark blue robes over their chainmail that had three golden stars sown to their breasts to mark them as soldiers of House Grimaldi.

But that was not the only banner they carried.

All of them had a red swan painted on their faces. To show they had accepted that monster Ginevre into their hearts. That they had carved that warlock’s words into their souls. And her words had been simple. Kill all the Wyrdlings. Drive away all the fae and witches. Leave none of them alive. And they hadn’t.

“You gave us quite a chase, witch.” The inquisitor said.

Camilla didn’t answer. Whatever game these fiends were playing she didn’t want any part of it. Besides… she hadn’t given good enough chase. They had been caught after all. Camilla sucked in the last of her tobacco from the pipe and blew smoke towards her killers.

“Curse of the Deep on all of you. This is my death curse. None of you will never know peace. You will all die nasty.” Camilla said.

The inquisitors just laughed. It was an evil cackle that would have sound practiced if it hadn’t been so genuine. Evil men doing what they loved. They all pointed at the red swan painted on their faces.

“You have no power over us. We have a living saint on our side.”

“Curse of the Deep on that bitch too and the whore who was her mother and the dog who was her father.” Camilla said and spat at them.

The inquisitors’ smiles grew sharper and inside the cart Jessica prepared herself not to be taken alive. A gift of mercy on herself and Tion.

“You will not die easily.” The inquisitor said.

“Neither will you.” Camilla said: “My death curse has seen to that.”

Soon she was surrounded, and swords were pointed at her. She closed her eyes and tried to go away inside. To a place where the pain could not find her. Maybe she could deny her killers the pleasure of her screams. Her final moments would not be spent amusing Screaming Beasts.

Before swords were driven through her, she heard the fluttering of wings and felt Black’s weight on her shoulder.

“Hello, mistress. I hope I’m not interrupting.” Black said.

The inquisitors were taken aback by a talking bird and stepped away without meaning to.

“The road is clear. He has seen to it.” Black said.

“… who?” Camilla whispered.

Then she saw him, and Camilla felt a flicker of hope. The man walking towards them was dressed like a swashbuckling hero. A man of average size with a fit, muscular build. He wore a purple waistcoat with golden buttons, a short cape, and high leather boots. His face was hidden under a wide brimmed hat adorned with a peacock’s feather. On his belt hung six strange looking swords that could have been a mix breed of a straight sword and a gladius. The man stopped a stone’s throw away from the inquisitors and regarded them for a moment like they were dung under his expensive boots.

“Gentlemen, this is way for knights to behave and you should know that these people are under my protection. Leave them be and I will forget and forgive this.” The man said finally.

The man’s sudden appearance unnerved the inquisitors even more than hearing Black talking but they quickly regained their faith in their living saint. They pointed their swords away from Camilla and at the man with the wide brimmed hat.

“Who are you?” Captain of the inquisitors barked.

When the man removed his hat to introduce himself, Camilla saw his curly, golden brown hair and chin beard shaped like an arrowhead. He was just a cut below handsome but not quite plain either.

But what really stood out from him were his eyes.

His eyes were the color of golden honey and… they had three pupils each. The inquisitors stared at the man’s inhuman eyes and for a moment their faith wavered. Sweat had made the red swans painted on their faces run like blood from a wound.

“I am Gonzalo of House Morning Star. Lord of the Infernal Court. Prince of the Storm and Gehenna. A trueborn son of the Infernal Emperor and I will not let you harm these people.”

A chill ran down Camilla’s spine. Gehenna… the land of demons and this was not just any demon but self-proclaimed son of the Infernal Emperor. Gonzalo the Spider. A gentleman adventurer even she had heard of in her small village. Gonzalo didn’t draw any of his six swords and started approaching the inquisitors. Even when he was unarmed, the inquisitors were weary of him.

“Are you here of your own free will? Or were you strong armed into service? Will you yield and live another day?” Gonzalo asked.

Black’s talons buried a bit deeper into Camilla’s shoulder and her numb tongue started working again.

“They killed my master. They murdered anyone who tried to shield us.” Camilla said.

Gonzalo looked at her and then nodded.

“Is this true?” Gonzalo asked.

Captain of the inquisitors spat at Gonzalo.

“Yes. We did and I am here willingly to wipe scum like you off the face of the earth. Garuccia belongs to humans. There’s no place for devil worshippers here.” The captain said and pointed his sword at Gonzalo: “And I know you freaks lose your powers this side of the Wyrd Stones.”

Gonzalo put his hand on one of his swords.

“If you came here willingly, you were prepared for the consequences.” Gonzalo said.

Gonzalo moved so fast Camilla could have sworn that it was magic. Even if a fae’s powers were weakened in Garuccia, Gonzalo’s reputation echoed back by a hundred years. Hundred years of experience when the captain of the inquisitors had less than one tenth of that. The captain’s hand fell to the ground still clutching his sword and the captain stared at the bloody stump. Before the captain could scream from pain and horror, Gonzalo carved him like he was a roast and Camilla hoped that Annette could see that wherever her soul was.

Grandfather Death was by the dead captain’s soul the moment he left the world and opened his sack for the dead man’s soul.

Curse of the Deep upon your final journey, Camilla thought.

The other inquisitors were so shocked to see their captain fall into a pool of his own gore that they barely reacted when Gonzalo was on them. The demon cut them to pieces so skillfully that their blood didn’t even splatter on him. Grandfather Death snatched the inquisitors’ souls as they stumbled off the mortal coil. Once the inquisitors were dead, Gonzalo wiped his bloody sword in the captain’s robes before sheathing it.

“Screaming Beast scum.” Gonzalo said.

Camilla looked around at the side of the road that had been turned into a butcher’s workshop and didn’t feel any horror. These weren’t men. Just rabid dogs that had been put down before they could harm anyone else. You didn’t mourn rabid dogs.

“Thank you.” Camilla said.

Gonzalo looked at her and smiled sadly before giving her a small bow.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Your familiar was a fine guide.” Gonzalo said.

“I am, aren’t I?” Black said.

Jessica dared to look out of the cart while holding a knife.

“… is it…”

When she saw Gonzalo’s handiwork, she grew even paler and dropped the knife. Sick gathered up in her throat and she was just barely able to swallow it.

“Yes. Its over for now.” Gonzalo said and looked at Hortensia: “Your horse has died.”

“She has.” Camilla agreed.

“I will take her place and pull the cart. We need to go before more come. I will answer your questions later.” Gonzalo said and looked at Jessica: “The boy in the cart… how badly is he injured?”

Life flooded back to Jessica’s cheeks.

“He will make it! I just need my tools!”

“Then you will get them.” Gonzalo said: “People are waiting for you in the Wyrding.”

“What do you want to do with the inquisitors?” Camilla asked.

Gonzalo looked spitefully at the dead soldiers.

“Leave them. Carrion eaters will take care of their own.” Gonzalo said and nodded at Black: “I mean no offense.”

“I’ll claim their eyes. Let’s see them find their way to their cross god without them.” Black said.

While Black pecked out the inquisitors’ eyes, Camilla helped Gonzalo move Hortensia. She appreciated how tender the demon was with handling Hortensia’s broken body.

“I am sorry, but we won’t have time to give her a proper burial.” Gonzalo said.

“I will take care of it.” Camilla said and took out a leather bag that was almost empty.

She sprinkled the last remains of the leather bag’s contents on Hortensia and the horse’s flesh was consumed by blue flames.

“Blessing of the Deep upon your final journey, Hortensia.” Camilla said while Hortensia’s ashes floated into the heavens.

“Blessing of the Storm upon your final journey.” Gonzalo said: “May your soul find its way to the Great Grandparent.”

The funeral was not what Hortensia had deserved for such loyal service and Camilla hoped Hortensia could forgive her for the poor treatment she had endured during their escape. The smoke rose to the heavens and Hortensia could finally gallop as fast as she wanted. Once all that remained of Hortensia were ashes, Gonzalo walked over to the cart.

“I will assume my true form. Try not to be scared. I will not harm you.” Gonzalo said.

“I’m not easily spooked.” Camilla said.

Gonzalo smiled and then he transformed. There were many kinds of demons but only the highest ranking of them, the devils, had two shapes like the skin-changers. Camilla stared with dreadful fascination when Gonzalo cast aside his human disguise and for a moment, she saw the world through a broken mirror. In one shard Gonzalo was a finely dressed man but in another…

… in another he was a pale spider the size of a bull.

For a moment he flickered between the two forms and then the mirror was mended and only the spider remained. The spider’s long, lean body was covered in fine yellow hair and the spindly legs looked sharp as sickles but still had human hands at the ends of them. Vicious pincers that could cut through armor snapped a few times. Only Gonzalo’s eyes remained the same. Dark golden eyes with three pupils each.

“Tie me into the cart.” Gonzalo said with a voice distorted by his pincered mouth.

Camilla did as she was told and was amazed by how soft to the touch the spider’s hair was. She worked as quickly as she could, tying the strappings meant for a horse on a spider big as a bull.

“Hold on.” Gonzalo said.

When Camilla was sitting on the driver’s seat, Gonzalo started running and with ten legs, the cart was flying down the road. Hortensia could have kept up with him when she was at her peak but only in short burst while Gonzalo seemed to be tireless. A few times she had to pull the reins to make him slow down so Gonzalo’s speed wouldn’t shatter the wheels.

But for most of the ride she just enjoyed the wind in her face and the pleasure of surviving.

It was only when the sun began to set that Gonzalo’s strength started waning and the cart came to a halt. Gonzalo assumed a human form again and sweat had stained his fine clothes and face.

“I am not used to… a woman taking the reins like that.” Gonzalo panted: “I wonder if I could get used to it.”

“A person can get used to anything.” Camilla said.

They set up a small camp by the side of the road and Camilla helped Jessica clean Tion’s wounds and change his bandages. Despite their best efforts to keep the wound clean, it had started to spit pus. Unless they got to their tools fast, Tion would not last much longer. She wished she could have ordered Gonzalo to keep going but he was spent and traveling at night could be dangerous. If the cart tripped over because of a bump on the road, they would all be done for. Once they had done what they could, it was time for introductions. Camilla and Jessica curtsied at the demon lord.

“Thank you for saving us, milord.” Camilla said: “I am the leader of our coven, Camilla. Blessing of the Deep upon you.”

Jessica’s curtsy was stiff, and she could never meet Gonzalo’s eyes.

“I am Jessica, and the boy is Tion. Thank you for saving us. Blessing of the Deep upon you.” Jessica said.

“Just doing my duty.” Gonzalo said and nodded at Black: “You owe more to your familiar than to me.”

“Finally, some recognition.” Black said.

Camilla reached for her pipe with shaking hands.

“You said you’d answer our questions. What is going on? Has king Raoul heard about these inquisitors? When will House Eld put a stop to this madness?” Camilla asked.

Before Gonzalo opened his mouth, Camilla could tell he had bad news. It was the way his eyes narrowed, mouth hardened, and posture crumbled.

“You… haven’t heard?” Gonzalo said.

“Heard what?” Jessica said: “Where is king Raoul? Why isn’t House Eld protecting us?”

Gonzalo stroked his beard like he was playing with a scab.

“King Raoul… is dead. As are his wife and children. House Eld has fallen. House Hugo rules Garuccia now. Leonhard de Hugo has been crowned king and that monster Ginevre is whispering in his ear.”

When the inquisitors had come and murdered Annette and the rest of their coven, her world had ended. Everything she had known was taken from her and she had been driven from her home. Surviving end of the world once was a tragedy. Surviving it again… now all she could do was laugh. She laughed until she screamed and cried.

The rest was a daze.

She could barely remember holding on to Jessica and weeping with her, their grievances buried for the moment. They cried until there were no more tears left. Then they stumbled into the cart to lie by Tion and waited to see if the sun would rise again the next day. Nothing would have surprised her anymore. Not when the Kings of Fire were gone.

At some point she fell asleep, but it was still dark when she opened her eyes.

Jessica was fast asleep, her face streaked by tears, and she was holding onto Tion’s hand who was still breathing. Against all odds. Grandfather Death was sitting in the cart’s corner and seemed to be asleep as well. Who would have thought that death would sleep. She climbed out of the cart and found Gonzalo keeping watch by the fire. He was sharpening the sword he had used to kill the inquisitors and took an occasional sip from his flask.

“Do you ever sleep?” Camilla asked.

Gonzalo looked at her and gave her a tired smile.

“I can stay awake three weeks at a time. So don’t worry. I won’t nod off on duty.” Gonzalo said and got back to sharpening his sword: “I am sorry for not breaking the news more gently.”

Camilla shook her head.

“There are no gentle ways to tell truths like that. Only fast ways. Like surgery.” Camilla said and sat across Gonzalo: “Are we at war? Will the Wyrd King send his armies to kill the usurper?”

The way Gonzalo fell quiet told Camilla that more bad news was coming.

“Wyrd King has send his warwolves to help the fae flee from Garuccia but… he will not amass his armies.” Gonzalo said.

Camilla gripped her fist.

“Even when his people are being slaughtered?” Camilla asked.

“How many more would be butchered if he sent them to fight and die in lands that sap their strength?” Gonzalo said.

“Ginevre doesn’t seem to have that problem.” Camilla said bitterly.

“She is a Blessed although she herself seems to think her powers come from the cross god. I don’t know if she is insane or a liar.” Gonzalo said and stroked his beard: “She also has an army. The Wyrd King’s is still in tatters. The Baron bled him dry and elves multiply slowly. Very slowly.”

Camilla hugged her knees.

“So we’re alone with Ginevre? She is a serpent. Going against her own people.” Camilla said.

“There will always be people like that. People who will abandon and cast aside anyone and everyone for power without a second thought. It will give them what they want for a while, but they will always crumble in the end.”

“Or until another bastard comes to take their place.” Camilla said and stared at the fire: “Want to know something stupid?”

“Sure.” Gonzalo said.

“When the inquisitors came and… killed… I thought it was my fault.” Camilla said.

Gonzalo smiled sadly.

“You’re right. That is a stupid. This is not your fault.” Gonzalo said.

“There’s more… this was two years ago… there was a man living in my village of Wool Haven and… he wasn’t a very nice man. He would take his temper out on his family, and it just kept getting worse. My coven tried to rally the village to drive him out before he killed someone but… it didn’t work. Everyone hoped the problem would solve itself.”

“Until he killed someone?”

“Until he killed someone.” Camilla agreed: “His daughter got pregnant out of wedlock and he… the baby did not survive. Nor did his daughter. A mob came after him and they were angry but… mostly ashamed. They had in their own way let it happen by not doing anything and now they were going to wash away the guilt with blood.”

“Did they?”

“Yes. I used scrying to find the hole he was hiding in, and he was dragged out and hung. Before he swung… he looked at me and asked what I would do when the mob came for me?” Camilla said and sighed: “I guess he knew people better than I did.”

“Don’t give too much credit to violent drunks.” Gonzalo said.

“Wisdom can come even from the Blights.” Camilla said and rubbed her eyes: “Everyone could see what the man would do and ignored it. I had heard about Ginevre and how she was preaching against witches and fae. I hoped the problem would solve itself. I didn’t worry when she made sermons of how all of us should be killed or when House Hugo started supporting her.”

“No one could see this coming.” Gonzalo said.

“Just like no one could see a violent drunk killing someone.” Camilla said.

Gonzalo stroked his beard and took a sip from his flask before offering it to her. She accepted the flask gratefully. The smell of alcohol was strong like brandy but sharper. When she drank, the taste his harder and fought all the way down leaving a burning sensation in its trail.

“Its strong.” Camilla said.

“Whisky. Drink of choice in Gehenna.” Gonzalo said.

“Gehenna…” Camilla said and looked at Gonzalo.

He was not quite handsome, but his hair was beautiful and his clothes well-tailored. He looked every bit like the hero she had heard of as a child.

“I have heard stories of you. Gonzalo the Spider.”

Gonzalo smiled like an embarrassed but easily flattered boy.

“I see my ill-repute precedes me.”

“They say you were there ten years ago. When Baron Stradheim was struck down. They say you dueled Firebird.”

Gonzalo’s face grew pale as Jessica’s, and he stopped sharpening his sword. He had another sip from his flask to gather his nerves.

“Are you sure you want to hear this story?”

“I would very much like to hear a story where the monsters lose.”

“Very well. I was there when the Baron was struck down. I dueled Firebird.” Gonzalo said and put down his sword: “My father… the Infernal Emperor had ordered us not to take part and let the Baron and Wyrd King bleed each other out.”

“I guess you didn’t listen.” Camilla said.

“I have always been bad at listening my father. My mentor Furcas gathered an army of volunteers, and we rode to war. We arrived just in time for the Battle of Black Grass Field. There used to be a forest there. Now… not even grass grows there.” Gonzalo said and stroked his beard: “I was ordered to guard the Wyrd King’s son and I did. He was young and eager to prove his mettle. So… he headed straight for Firebird.”

Camilla knew the type of boy Gonzalo spoke of. There would always be overeager kids who thought they could hunt bears with just a spear the way King Eld had.

The Wyrd Prince should have stuck with bears.

Firebird… once the greatest knight Garuccia had ever seen. Then… the greatest traitor they had ever suffered. A prince stripped of his heritage by the good queen. Firebird… the monster who had sold his soul and humanity to become a vampire.

“As a man Firebird had been the greatest knight who ever lived. As a vampire… the Wyrd Prince was no match for him. I was busy dueling ser Orion at the time and when I cut him down… the Wyrd Prince was on his knees.” Gonzalo said and grimaced: “When I killed ser Orion… I could feel Firebird’s rage a dozen yards away. When we fought…”

Gonzalo pulled open his shirt and showed a faded scar on his chest. One that still pained him. Bad blood had gathered in the scar tissue and kept him up at night.

“Furcas called me his greatest student but all I could do was slow Firebird down. He broke my sword and cut me through my armor. If Furcas hadn’t been such a skilled blacksmith, he would have gutted me.” Gonzalo said.

“How did you survive?” Camilla asked.

“The Wyrd King came to our rescue. Firebird fought like a demon, but he was no match for the Wyrd King.” Gonzalo said and trembled: “Then… the Baron arrived.”

A shiver ran down Camilla’s spine. It had been ten years since the Baron had been defeated after a war that had gone on for years, but his name still carried weight. It still sent chills down the spines of Garuccians.

“My father has a presence that makes you feel like you’re standing at the bottom of the ocean. The pressure alone could bring you to your knees but… the Baron… I had never been so scared in my life. The Baron had turned every battle into a sacrifice for himself and… it was like night itself had descended in the shape of a man.”

“The Baron ran to save Firebird?” Camilla asked.

“Yes. Firebird was the Baron’s son-in-law after all.” Gonzalo answered.

“I didn’t think Screaming Beasts would care of such things.” Camilla said.

“Then perhaps the Baron was not a Screaming Beast. Firebird certainly wasn’t. I could feel his rage and sorrow when I killed ser Orion.”

Camilla thought about it and shivered. During the war Firebird had riled up against the cross god and the influence of the cross cultists. He had called them a poison killing Garuccia from the inside. The poet Serpico had even written a play about him and Katarina as propaganda. Maybe the great traitor had been right all along. Would being governed by a vampire have been worse than enduring the terror of the Red Swan? At least House Stradheim had worshipped a Path.

“What happened when the Wyrd King and Baron clashed?” Camilla asked.

“Terrible things. The Baron summoned lightning storm to strike the Wyrd King down and he just swiped it aside. All I could do was protect the Wyrd King’s son with my body. When high gods fight, demons like me could only get out of the way.” Gonzalo said and stroked his beard: “I could see quickly that the Baron was more powerful. The Wyrd King… the most powerful fae could barely keep up with him and I was sure that the day was lost.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No. It was not. The Baron was powerful, but he was nothing more than a boy. A child in his fifties. One tenth of the Wyrd King’s lifespan. Experience counts for a lot as does the use of weapons. The Wyrd King made sure to always answer steel with steel until the Baron’s sword broke and the Wyrd King drove his through the Baron’s heart.”

“What happened after that?” Camilla asked.

“Firebird was arrested alongside Drystania, Katarina and Zorig. My father agreed to imprison them, and I don’t know if they’re dead or locked up in some dungeon in the City of Dis. The tiger queen has gone missing.” Gonzalo said.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“The Baron had another daughter.” Camilla pointed out.

“He did. The jaguar princess. Her Vicious Highness. She never shared her parents’ ambitions and stayed out of the war but once her father was killed, she came to her sister’s defense. She was guarding Steelfort when Furcas came to arrest Katarina. I doubt Furcas would have been a match for her, but Katarina surrendered peacefully.” Gonzalo said.

“How noble of her.” Camilla said with a hint of sarcasm.

Gonzalo just shrugged.

“She was more noble than most royals in my father’s court.” Gonzalo said.

Camilla had another sip of whisky, and it slowly dulled her senses. Just enough for her to fall asleep. She slept without dreams for which she was grateful for and when she woke up, her head was resting on Gonzalo’s lap. The demon lord just smiled at her when she sat up and offered her water. Later, Camilla wondered if it had meant something. She wondered if making something of that moment could have saved Gonzalo.

The thought haunted her for centuries even after becoming immortal.

They broke camp early next morning and Gonzalo kept pulling the cart in his spider form. His true demonic shape had been unnerving at first but now that Camilla looked at it more closely, there was a strange beauty to it. With Gonzalo’s help, they arrived at the Wyrd Stones early in the evening. They managed to get Tion out of the cart and placed him on makeshift stretchers. When Camilla looked at the Wyrd Stones, she wondered if she would ever see Garuccia again. If she would ever again walk on her native soil.

“This is where we part ways, my brave companions.” Gonzalo said and bowed to them: “Blessing of the Storm upon your journey.”

“And blessing of the Deep upon yours.” Jessica said.

Camilla couldn’t help but feel bitter. There were many more who needed help and protection, but she still wished that Gonzalo had come with them. When she looked at Gonzalo and their eyes met… she could feel something pass between them.

“Will I see you again?” Camilla asked.

Gonzalo stroked his beard while looking at her. Then he pulled out one of the many rings in his finger and handed it to her.

“You know how to use scrying. I have some skill with it too. You can use this to find me.” Gonzalo said.

Camilla could feel her cheeks grow warmer when she accepted the ring.

“I will. I…” She wished she’d had something to share with him and then she handed him her pipe: “If you know how to use scrying you can use this to find me. If you wish to do so. You never know when I might need saving.”

Gonzalo smiled and took the pipe.

“I would like that.” Gonzalo said: “There are people waiting for you on the other side. They will keep you safe and help you adjust.”

“Where will you go?” Jessica asked.

Gonzalo put his hand on his sword.

“I am going to kill the Red Swan.” Gonzalo said.

Camilla’s mouth grew into a tight line.

“It can be dangerous to face a Blessed.” Camilla said.

“I survived Firebird. What is a swan after that?” Gonzalo said.

Camilla smiled and then kissed Gonzalo’s cheek.

“Blessing of the Deep upon your journey, my brave hero.”

“And blessing of the Storm upon yours, my wise witch.”

When Gonzalo walked off and Camilla took her end of the stretchers to carry Tion past the Wyrd Stones, she could feel Jessica glaring at her.

“What is it?” Camilla said.

“We lost Annette and the coven a week ago. I wish I could get over it as fast as you did.” Jessica said.

Camilla didn’t answer and kept walking. There had been times that Annette had taken them through the Wyrd Stones, but Camilla had never been able to enjoy the beauty of the Wyrding. Not when she had felt what existed between the two worlds separated by the Pact of Kings. Something cold and dark lived in the gap between worlds where primordial chaos still reigned supreme and… it spoke to her. There was hunger there but also… promise. The walk past the Wyrd Stones terrified Jessica and even Tion who was drifting back and forth from unconsciousness whimpered in his sleep.

But Camilla… couldn’t help but be intrigued.

What had drawn her to Annette all those years ago when she had been just a girl who loved books and wanted more, was the darkness behind her door. Fifth tenet of the Deep; Never be afraid to go too far for that is where the truth resides. How deep into the dark would she dare to go to find what she was looking for? That thing which she could not even describe? Once they crossed over, they stood in the land where all fairytales happened. A place that humans had left nearly six hundred years ago. She often wondered why King Eld was worshipped as a hero for leading humans away from such a beautiful place. Here true forests resided instead of those pale imitations humans’ thought were forests. They laid Tion on the grass that was warm and soft as the finest bed and looked around. For a moment Jessica even forgot to be angry with her.

“Do you think… we will ever see home again?” Jessica asked.

Camilla thought about Wool Haven that had turned its back on her.

“This is home now. We have no place to return to. The Red Swan has seen to that.” Camilla said.

When she looked around, she could feel magic flowing through her. Like she had been bloodless and now it had been returned to her veins. In Garuccia magic was something she could only borrow using trinkets. Only the Blessed could wield it freely. But here, magic was a part of her. Maybe in some terrible way the Red Swan had done her a favor.

“Didn’t Gonzalo say that there was someone waiting for us?” Jessica said.

With the magic flowing into her and through her, Camilla could feel surroundings more clearly than she had ever before. The ground she stood on was an extension of her. She could feel the tiny fairies hiding under the flowers and lusting after their teeth. She knew they were being watched by at least one skin-changer. And a goblin.

“Black, do you see him?” Camilla asked.

“I most certainly do, mistress.” Black said.

Soft laughter echoed from the brushes and someone who was so skilled at sneaking around that they had become invisible, stepped out. Like all goblins, this one was small, but he carried himself with confidence that made him look tall. He was dressed in dark leather armor, chainmail and was armed with a polearm. The bones tied to his hair revealed him to be a member of the Bone Flock Tribe. The most martial of the goblins. His tanned skin had a green tint to it and one of his pointy ears was clipped. The fur in his paws was light brown and curly like his hair. Despite his scarred ear, the bones in his hair, muscles in his arms, and the obvious skill he carried the polearm with, he had a boyish face and an innocent smile.

“Well met, young witches. Blessing of the Mountain upon you.” The goblin said and did a small bow: “Good Robin of the Bone Flock Tribe at your service. The spider lord told me of your coming.”

Camilla and Jessica looked at each other surprised. They had never heard of this Mountain Path.

“I thought that goblins worship the Quiet.” Camilla said.

“Different times call for different Paths.” Good Robin said and walked over to Tion.

Good Robin studied the arrow wound that had left Tion delirious and near comatose.

“We need to get him to Scholomance. We have people who can help him.” Good Robin said.

“Scholomance?” Camilla said.

“A new school of magic. My master will explain everything.” Good Robin said.

“Is it far?” Jessica asked while holding Tion’s hand.

“Very far I am afraid, but distances mean very little to us.” Good Robin said.

Good Robin held the polearm with both hands and Camilla realized it had glyphs carved into it. Many warriors carved magic symbols into their weapons but these glowed with real power. Good Robin swiped at the air with his polearm… and left a wound in reality like he was cutting through a theater’s curtain and revealing the backstage. On the other side was a mansion transformed into a commune. Witches and wizards taking care of the wounded and trying to nurse the broken souls of refugees back together.

“Quick. Carry him through.” Good Robin said.

Camilla and Jessica looked at each other but then picked up Tion and carried him through the slash in reality. Good Robin hopped through behind them, and the cut closed behind them like it had never been there. None of the other witches and wizards paid any heed to them. So absorbed were they in their own work.

“Master! We have a patient!” Good Robin called out.

There were many kinds of demons. The most powerful of them were devils like Gonzalo who could look human or beastlike. Right behind them on the totem pole were the incubus and succubus who could not hide their true nature.

Good Robin’s master came running.

He was dressed in dark robes and had the body of a tall, lanky man but the head of a black goat with white, curved horns. Hoofs clapped on the stone floor when he ran faster than any man. The incubus had to only glance at Tion’s injury for a diagnosis before he started barking orders.

“Robin. You two. Take him to my study. We must operate immediately. Robin, make sure they wash their hands and cleanse the instruments with fire.”

The training that Annette had drilled into them took over and they picked up Tion’s stretchers before following Good Robin into his master’s study. The room the incubus used for his work and research reminded Camilla of Annette’s cottage before the inquisition had burned it down. The incubus’s study was just much better stocked. He had more books and more research materials. More mementos from his travels. Strange, dead creatures floated inside glass jars filled with green liquid.

It was the study she had hoped to find when she had knocked on Annette’s door.

They laid Tion down on an operating table and washed their hands following Tion’s example before cleansing their knives with fire. When the incubus rushed in, he didn’t hesitate and cut off the bandages around Tion’s waist. The arrow wound had scabbed poorly, and it was leaking pus. The skin around the wound was the color of an overripe tomato and infected veins were circulating poison through his body.

“We need to cut off the ruined flesh and drain the pus.” The incubus said.

They got to work saving Tion’s life and Camilla kept glancing at Grandfather Death standing in the corner who gave her an encouraging nod. They followed the incubus’s lead and cut off the ruined meat. Then the incubus drew out the splinters that had broken off inside Tion. After that they used magic to drain the pus out of Tion’s wound. They drew glyphs with Tion’s blood around the wound and watched as the pus was sucked out into glass containers. Time lost all meaning in operations like this. Camilla knew from experience that when you cut into someone’s flesh to save their life seconds could stretch on forever. Once she had helped amputate a finger and she could have sworn that it had lasted hours only to glance at an hourglass and realize that mere minutes had passed. Finally, they sew the wound shut. In the corner, Grandfather Death stood up, tipped his hat at them, and left.

“We have done all we can.” The incubus said and looked at Tion: “The rest is up to him.”

Jessica started weeping quietly and held Tion’s hand tightly.

“The boy can rest tonight in my room. I am sure the young witch will watch over him.” The incubus said and looked at Good Robin: “Robin, see that the head of the coven gets her own room.”

“It will be done, master.” Good Robin said.

“Thank you.” Camilla said.

The incubus nodded and Camilla could have sworn he was smiling.

“My pleasure. I will talk with you more when you have rested.” The incubus said.

Camilla followed Good Robin without a word. Now that the worst of it had passed and the stress had faded, she realized the anxiety had been a fuel that had kept her going. With it gone, she didn’t even have enough strength to carry Black on her shoulder. Good Robin opened her a door that she would not have been able to push open by herself to an empty room and said something about dinner. Camilla mumbled an answer and then fell on the bed.

She was gone in an instant.

In a merciful universe she wouldn’t have dreamt but sleep did not offer her the respite she had hoped for. Ginevre had hunted her during her waking hours and would not let her rest even in her dreams. In her nightmares she was chased by a giant swan painted red with blood. It destroyed everything in its path until it made its way to the Wyrding and started sucking it dry like a parasite. The Red Swan would kill the world’s dreams. Those who could not dream were the easiest to control. And the Red Swan would not settle for anything less. It wanted complete control. Even over your dreams. In the Red Swan’s world you wouldn’t have a single idea the Red Swan hadn’t thought for you.

Camilla woke up covered in sweat and with a burning need to pee.

Black had left to hunt food and the castle they had been brought to had fallen silent and dark. For one terrible moment Camilla thought that Ginevre had somehow found this place and whisked away everyone, leaving only her behind. To toy with her. To prolong her suffering.

Then she heard snoring from a room and a quick peek showed a room full of sleeping witch and wizard apprentices. Only the coven heads had their own rooms.

Camilla let out a sigh and then headed out to relieve herself. After failing to find a restroom she stepped out of the mansion, pulled up her squirt and squatted by a tree. Nights in the Wyrding were never as dark as they were in Garuccia. The double moon and the alien constellations shined more brightly. When she returned inside, she was almost blinded by a lantern. She raised her hand to cover her eyes and her hand reached for her knife.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

When Camilla’s eyes adjusted to the light, she could see the incubus standing the hallway with a lantern. Camilla forced herself to relax and let go of her knife.

“Unless you have Ginevre in your pocket, I’m not frightened.”

The incubus chuckled.

“No. Luckily I don’t.” The incubus said and looked at her bemused: “I am surprised you’d reach for a knife instead of trying to use a spell.”

“Knives are faster and if someone can survive a blade to the dangly parts, I doubt magic can do much.”

“Uncommon wisdom but wisdom all the same.” The incubus said with a smile.

Camilla smiled too and played with the ring Gonzalo had given her.

“How’s Tion?”

“Alive and recovering. He’s a fighter. So is Jessica. Since we had only good news, we let you sleep.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days. You didn’t miss much. The flood of refugees has finally dried.” The incubus said and gave her a slight bow: “You must be famished. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a late dinner, lady Camilla?”

Camilla smiled.

“I am not sure if I should. I don’t even know your name.”

The incubus bowed his head slightly.

“Lord Baphomet. Your servant.” The incubus said.

“My servant? Very well. Then lead the way, lord Baphomet.”

Baphomet took her back to his study. The room had been aired out and all signs of Tion’s operation had been cleaned away. Baphomet hung up a lantern and lit a few candles. Logs were burning and crackling in the fireplace. Baphomet sat her by an empty table then he cut the air with a wooden knife and opened a portal to a kitchen. He took out hard cheese, salted meats, and fresh bread. There was already a bottle of wine in his room, and he poured them full glasses.

“I have never seen magic like that.” Camilla said.

“Few have. I discovered it myself by studying the Wyrd Stones. I call it the portal system. If you have the correct key, you can open doors you never knew were there. All you need is a key to open the door and an anchor to pull you through. It’s like jumping over labyrinth walls.”

Camilla thought about it and felt intrigued.

“Could I learn this spell?”

“The ultimate secret of magic. Anyone can do it.” Baphomet said and sipped his wine: “If you have any questions about the portal system, ask away. I do love showing off.”

Camilla cut herself some cheese and thought about it.

“What if you don’t have an anchor and still open the portal?” Camilla asked while eating the cheese.

The question caught Baphomet off guard.

“I… don’t know. I suppose you could end up anywhere.” Baphomet said.

Camilla chuckled.

“Anywhere? Is that what you get up to in Domdaniel? You are a wizard of Domdaniel aren’t you?” Camilla said and sipped her wine: “Or was it Scholomance?”

Baphomet smiled sadly.

“I had to leave Domdaniel. They have grown aloof. They would not lend a hand against a Ginevre. Domdaniel… the Deep… if they no longer have any practical applications in life, they are obsolete. It is time to try something new.”

“A new magic school and a new Path? Like the Mountain?” Camilla said.

“Yes.” Baphomet said and sampled his wine: “First tenet of the Deep… ‘Only the chosen may walk the Path of mysteries.’ What a foolish way to look at knowledge. Acting like wisdom is something reserved only for the elite. The Mountain will use a better way. First tenet of the Mountain; ‘Path of adversity births knowledge.’ A Path anyone can walk if they dare.”

Camilla thought how this new tenet sounded and decided she liked it.

“I could follow a Path like that. What about this new school of yours?” Camilla asked.

“Scholomance.” Baphomet said and stroked his horns: “I… wasn’t sure how to approach the matter but… I am sorry about your master.”

“Yes… so am I.” Camilla said.

“I can understand what you’re going through.” Baphomet said.

“Can you now?” Camilla said and sipped her wine: “The odd thing is, I think I believe you.”

“This is not the first purge I have seen. Not the first one I survived. My family has been banished from Gehenna. I might be an incubus, but my father was a pure-blooded devil. That meant the Infernal Emperor kept a very close eye on him. Then one day, he turned on my father. Our home was ransacked. We were driven out. I barely survived and made my way to the Wyrd King. He took me in and later sent me to Domdaniel.”

Baphomet fell quiet and poured himself more wine.

“That’s where I met my mentor, Drystania.”

“The Baron’s court mage?” Camilla said.

“Yes. She shared my doubts about Domdaniel and wanted to start a new school that would worship the Dark. When she joined the Baron, she tried to take me with her. I said no.”

“Do you regret it?” Camilla asked.

Baphomet sighed.

“I don’t know. I worry that Drystania and Firebird had more of a point than any of us would have liked. Witches are burned and Domdaniel won’t do anything like Drystania predicted. The cross god has begun invading Garuccia like Firebird said he would.” Baphomet said and stared at his wine: “I met Ginevre once. I had heard about this messenger of the cross god and her sermons, so I went to see one.”

“What was she like?”

“Short. She was a very short woman. She had just left girlhood behind. Her eyes and hair were auburn… almost scarlet, and when she healed the sick her blood glowed. She claimed her power came from the cross god, but I could see immediately that she was a Blessed.”

“She could heal the sick with her blessing?”

“Yes, but I don’t think that was all she could do. When she spoke about the world, she wanted to create… she almost convinced me too. I suspect her voice can influence people.”

“A dangerous combination.” Camilla said.

“That it was. Especially when she was completely insane. She thought she heard the voice of the cross god, but it was only her own voice she listened to, and she is a cruel, paranoid creature.” Baphomet said and sighed: “Now I wish I had killed her. Back then I thought her own insanity would be the death of her.”

“She will die soon.” Camilla said.

“Gonzalo told you about his plan?” Baphomet asked.

“He did.” Camilla said and showed Baphomet the ring Gonzalo had given her: “He trusted me with this so I could see how it goes.”

Baphomet looked at the ring and then at Camilla.

“Would you like to do some scrying, lady Camilla?”

“I most certainly would, lord Baphomet.” Camilla said.

They spread out a map of Garuccia on the dinner table and Camilla placed Gonzalo’s ring on it. She drew a glyph on the map and the ring began moving towards Leoden inching ever closer.

“It won’t be long now.” Baphomet said.

“Sounds like you have a lot of faith in Gonzalo.” Camilla said.

“In many ways he is the best of us. The great hope of Gehenna. If anyone can dispose the Infernal Emperor, its him.”

“I hope he does, and I hope your family can return home.” Camilla said.

“I hope so too.” Baphomet said.

With her belly full of wine and food, Camilla was able to fall asleep again despite having slept for days. She woke up groggy, but she didn’t let that stop her from going to see Tion. During their escape Tion had come so close to death that Camilla could not imagine him getting better but when she arrived at the sick bay, he looked ready to be discharged. His bandages were clean and there was not the stench of pus or creeping death to him. He had lost a lot of weight and despite being a boy full of life, he looked spindly. Nothing a few meals wouldn’t fix. Jessica was keeping watch by his bed and glared at Camilla venomously when she approached. Tion on the other hand had a smile warm as the sun.

“Hi.” Camilla said when she sat by Tion’s bed.

Tion waved at her weakly and Jessica squeezed his hand.

“I… didn’t think we’d make it.” Tion said and looked at the other injured in the sickbay: “Do you think the others in the coven got away? The ones who were separated from us.”

Although Camilla’s face remained calm, Tion’s question cut her like a dull knife.

“I don’t know.” Camilla lied.

She had been using her scrying every day during their escape and had seen the rest of their coven getting snuffed out by inquisitors one by one. Jessica had never dared to ask her but… she knew. Deep down even Tion knew but sometimes you could choose not to know something.

“If they did… they will join us.” Jessica said.

Tion nodded and put his hand on the half-healed injury on his stomach.

“What will we do now?” Tion asked.

“There are a lot of people here who need our help so we will help them. Then we will rebuild our coven.” Camilla said and smiled: “Or we will rebuild something better. Baphomet has found his own school. That could be our school.”

Tion just looked at her and then cast his eyes down.

“We… are never going home, are we?”

Camilla wondered what Annette would have done. She was sure she knew. The old woman would have slapped Tion across the face and told him to get a grip. Camilla had never wanted to lead the way Annette had. Jessica squeezed Tion’s hand tighter, and Camilla put her hand on Tion’s shoulder.

“This could be home. I know it doesn’t feel like one now but give it time. Some nights you will cry yourself to sleep because you miss your old home so much you worry it will kill you but one day you will realize that you haven’t thought of your birthplace in weeks. Then this will be home.” Camilla said.

“Okay…” Tion said.

Camilla kissed her palm and pressed it on Tion’s head.

“Try to get some rest. Jessica will look after you. Blessing of… the Mountain upon you both.” Camilla said.

“The Mountain…” Tion said: “I have heard others talk about it. Good Robin… the incubus…”

“New world. New Path.” Camilla said and stood up: “Call me if you need me. I will see if anyone can find any use for me.”

Camilla walked away from the sickbay and Jessica’s judging eyes, but Jessica was not done with her. She left Tion’s side and followed her.

“Camilla.” Jessica called after her.

Camilla sighed and was just grateful that they were doing this in an abandoned hallway instead of a sickbay full of witnesses.

“Yes, Jessica?”

For a moment Camilla thought Jessica would slap her but she did something worse. Jessica decided she wasn’t worth even that.

“He doesn’t know.” Jessica said.

“Know what?” Camilla asked.

“That you would have abandoned him if it had been just the two of you.” Jessica said.

Jessica sighed and wished she hadn’t traded her pipe for a ring. She needed a smoke.

“Thinking is not the same as doing.” Camilla said.

“You tried.” Jessica said: “You tried to run off on your own. You could use scrying to see where the inquisitors were. You were the best shot all of us had on getting away, but you sent the others to die. You used them as bait.”

Jessica stepped closer to her, and Camilla had to make sure she wasn’t brandishing a knife. She stuck her thumbs under her belt to make sure she didn’t reach for her own by instinct. Jessica’s killing intent could have been a physical force.

“I am not a god. I can’t see everything.” Camilla said.

“You saw that you had the best chance of getting away alone. If I hadn’t forced myself on you, me and Tion would be dead too.” Jessica said and narrowed her eyes: “I have never liked you. I always thought you were an asshole, but I was wrong.”

“You were?”

“Yeah. You’re not an asshole. You’re a monster.” Jessica said and then spat at her feet: “Curse of the Deep upon you. You didn’t mean to do it, but you saved me and Tion all the same. That’s why I won’t tell anyone what you did but with that we’re even. We’re leaving your coven and I hope before you die, everyone will see you for what you are.”

Camilla watched her go and didn’t call after her. Neither to beg for forgiveness or absolution.

In the upcoming days she buried herself in her work treating the injured refugees and sometimes she kept company for those she couldn’t help on their final moments. The little free time she had was spent sleeping or going through Baphomet’s library. To her it was a treasure trove even more valuable than gold. Every tome contained a new world for her to explore and in one evening worth of reading she absorbed more knowledge than Annette had ever taught her. Baphomet’s personal notes were of particular interest to her. His notes and the work he had done on the portal system. Mapping out the space between Garuccia and the Wyrding that he used for creating doorways with his keys and anchors. Good Robin had been kind enough to show her the basics. The glyphs he had carved into his weapon allowed him to access the portal system, but travel was only possible between fixed points and it put a strain on the user.

“Someone’s been busy.”

Black flew to the table Camilla had been using for reading and looked at her with her black, beady eyes.

“So have you.” Camilla said and put down the book: “I haven’t seen you in days. Did you put on weight?”

“Yes. It’s a feast outside. The Red Swan has killed so many. The crows will sing her praise for centuries.” Black said.

“And people wonder why a flock of crows are called a murder.” Camilla said.

“I am what I am. No one can be anything else than what they are.” Black said.

Camilla smiled without any mirth. Black had such a simple way to see the world and she had never trusted simple answers.

“Then what am I?” Camilla asked: “Would do I look like to you?”

Black cocked her head and looked at her with those eyes that were hard and cold as dark stones.

“Is someone feeling down on themselves? Worried that you are… what’s the word you humans use?”

“A Screaming Beast?” Camilla suggested.

“That’s the one.” Black said and flew on her shoulder: “There’s no such thing as Screaming Beasts. There is only survival. Time is a virtue. Death is a sin.”

“I guess I should have known what I was getting into when I asked a bird for advice.” Camilla said.

“And I serve mistress the best I can. I am the only who never deceives you. Including yourself.” Black said.

“You say I am lying to myself?”

“Yes. We were born to survive. Nothing else. No one can escape that fact. Your kind comes up with Paths and cross gods to find complexity in something simple. When two beasts come across a cadaver, they enter the true test of morality. The test of survival. One beast will win and eat. The other will lose and starve. That is the test we all must face. You. Me. Baphomet. Gonzalo. Even the Red Swan.”

“Power does not equal morality.” Camilla said.

“Yet history backs it up at every turn. Power is the only judge that matters. Which does the world favor? The prey or the predator?”

Camilla sighed and buried herself back in her reading.

“Thank you for the advice, Black.”

“My pleasure, mistress. I will be nearby if you need me.” Black said and then nestled her beak against her hair: “I love you dearly, mistress. So keep surviving. Don’t leave your poor familiar alone in this cold world.”

Camilla smiled sadly and brushed Black’s head with her long fingers.

“I do solemnly swear by the Mountain to survive.” Camilla said.

In the upcoming days Camilla took some cold comfort from Black’s thesis on survival. It was a hollow comfort that left her feeling empty and numb. The only escape she had was burying herself in work and then reading until she was too exhausted to dream. Sometimes she would do a scrying on Gonzalo but every time it took more courage.

What if he had failed?

What if he had died?

What if she looked for him and didn’t find him?

What if… he succeeded, and nothing changed?

What if the Red Swan’s cause had outgrown her and her death would not stop the butchery?

What if the Red swan had already won and all their struggles meant nothing?

One night she fell asleep by the map and when she woke up, a heavy blanket was placed over her. When she sat up, the blanket slipped off her and she saw Baphomet reading in the corner. Baphomet glanced at her over his book and smiled.

“Feeling better?”

Camilla rubbed her eyes. Her mouth tasted like a pile or garbage.

“No.”

“Sleeping against a table seldom helps one rest.” Baphomet said and put his book away: “Which worries me. You have been working too hard to ignore sleep.”

Camilla rubbed her eyes and covered her yawn with her hand.

“I don’t have time to sleep.”

“You don’t have to carry that weight all on your own. Don’t witches rely on their covens during times like these?” Baphomet asked and then stroked his horns: “Speaking of which… I can’t help but notice that you haven’t spoken to your coven lately.”

Camilla sighed.

“I haven’t. I worry that they’re not my coven anymore.”

Baphomet just nodded.

“I see.”

“And to be honest, it was never my coven but Annette’s. She was the one who kept us together. Now she is dead. Her and everyone else. There used to be fifteen of us. Annette… Aria… Luna… Aurora… Francesco… Alessandro…”

Fifteen… there had been fifteen of them and now…

“I don’t even remember all their names. We were supposed to be a coven and I can’t remember their names.”

Baphomet’s eyes were wet with tears and sympathy.

“I am sorry for your loss. Blessing of the Mountain on their final journey.”

Camilla’s hand brushed against her face, and she found it dry. Why couldn’t she cry? This felt like the right time. Maybe Jessica had been right… a monster could not produce even a drop of salt.

“I suppose it’s not all bad. The Red Swan didn’t get all of us.” Camilla said and stared at her hands: “I guess that means we haven’t lost yet.”

“Lost?” Baphomet said: “Why do you say that?”

“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

“If surviving means we haven’t lost does that makes us winners?” Baphomet said: “Does that mean those who didn’t survive are losers?”

Camilla fell quiet. If Annette had been here, she would have slapped the taste out of her mouth. She might have been old, but the muscles in Annette’s hands had been hard as steel. She would have welcomed the pain of a split lip right now.

“Maybe I did. I guess… that makes me a bad person.”

Baphomet sighed and then reached over the table to take her hand in his.

“You’re not a bad person.” Baphomet said.

Despite Baphomet having the face of a goat, his large hand felt human… and warm… and comforting.

“Jessica seems to disagree.” Camilla said.

“She will come around and even if she doesn’t… some people just never see eye to eye.” Baphomet and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb before sighing: “Camilla… I am sorry to spring this on you but… Jessica has asked that I recommend her for Domdaniel. Her and Tion. I said that I had to run this through you first.”

“Give her the recommendation. Keep us in the same place and you have a serpent’s egg in your hands.” Camilla said.

“As you wish.” Baphomet said and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She suspected the incubus didn’t even realize how intimate the act was. It was strange but Baphomet had the air of a boy who knew books better than people. He might have been centuries older than her, but she could have still lived more than him simply because she aged faster.

That was the curse of immortality.

What didn’t die, didn’t age.

What didn’t age, didn’t learn.

What didn’t learn, didn’t change.

What didn’t change, didn’t truly live.

Immortals were stuck in time and were cursed to repeat the same motions forever. Annette had told her stories of how the fae could carry grudges for centuries. Never learning to let go. Always trying to turn back time to what they were comfortable with. All she could do was envy the fae for having centuries of time between them and the cold embrace of the grave.

“You have helped me. More than you know. I am surrounded by children. The coven heads stayed to fight so they could save their apprentices. Now they look to me for guidance. I am under an unimaginable pressure on all sides.” Baphomet said before smiling: “Then there is you. You have taken on some of my duties and have stopped me from breaking under the pressure.”

Camilla smiled.

“All I did was bind a few injuries.”

“If you say so but you have helped me all the same. Let me try and help you in return.” Baphomet said and squeezed her hand tighter: “You’re not the worst day of your life.”

“Excuse me?”

“The person you are on the worst day of your life is not all you are. You’re more than the decisions you make when you’re scared and desperate. Believe me. I have seen this before.”

“When your family was… purged?”

“Yes. Ginevre is a paranoid lunatic and so is the Infernal Emperor. We talked about winners and losers like life is a game you can win at if you know the rules but… there are no rules. Under people like Ginevre and the emperor, there is only chaos and luck. Random chance decided who survived and… who didn’t.”

“If there are no rules… what’s the point? Why even have rules if they can’t protect us?” Camilla asked: “If the rules we followed brought us to this… what was the point of them?”

“A good question. What is the point when there is no point? When rules and laws are just a line in the sand that won’t keep the Screaming Beasts out? I asked something similar from the Wyrd King once.”

“What did he say?”

“If nothing matters, what matters to you? Nihilism is not the answer. It is a question. Even if we’re not here for a purpose, it doesn’t mean us being here doesn’t have value. Kindness can give us purpose. Callousness makes us no better than animals.” Baphomet said and smiled: “I was much like you back then. I had just fled my home. Feeling guilty for having survived when others hadn’t. Feeling ashamed for the thing I had done to live.”

Camilla was quiet for a while. Annette had once told her that she always took the wrong lessons from fables… but she had never liked obvious answers and the more she learned about the Wyrd King, the more she despised him.

“You have seen this before.” She said finally: “How does that make you feel?”

“Do you want to know if I am ready to curse the world? To declare all of this is pointless and we shouldn’t bother?” Baphomet said.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Camilla said.

“The anger has passed. I only feel… sad.” Baphomet said.

“Sad?” Camilla said.

“Yes. Ginevre won’t win. Her kind never does. Girusai burned the world to the ground and that wasn’t enough. He couldn’t break the world’s spirit. Ginevre is the same. She will kill us. Torment us. She will torment all, but it will never be enough. She will never win because no one wants the world she envisions. So, she will have to fight all day every day which means any day she could lose. It can take years or decades, but she will lose, and her legacy will be failure.”

“Decades…” Camilla sighed: “A pity humans don’t live in the long term.”

“Yes. That is another reason I am sad. They will never see justice be done.” Baphomet said before sighing: “A small part of me pities even Ginevre.”

“Even after everything she’s done?” Camilla said.

“Especially after everything she’s done. She’s not the Devil. She is a useful idiot who gives legitimacy to a vile system. Tell me… who benefits from all this slaughter truly? Ginevre? Or the new king and the system he represents?”

Camilla thought about it… and almost felt sorry for Ginevre too. The fool had been born a Blessed. She had been gifted the power to move mountains and she had given it up for a chance to push over anthills. To appease powers that would just use her while she was useful and then discard her.

“Thank you, lord Baphomet.” Camilla said.

“My pleasure, lady Camilla.” Baphomet said.

The upcoming days were not easy. More refugees came and needed treatment. Not all of them could be saved but what was even worse were the stories the young witches told them about Garuccia. Witches and the fae were being butchered in mass while their friends and family were too scared to speak up. The newly anointed king had signed new laws that made mingling with fae and practicing magic punishable by death. Meanwhile the Great Houses had aligned behind the new king in return for increase in their privileges they claimed came from the cross god. The cross god had made nobles to rule and the peasants to obey. So far only House Ferro had held on to their heritage and there were rumors that lord Ferro was helping witches flee into the Wyrding.

But the biggest insult was that the Red Swan had been appointed as the Hierophant.

Camilla shuddered at the thought of a blood thirsty zealot being the head of Garuccia’s church. To make her appointment possible, the new Hugo king had made Ginevre a noble and created a new Great House. House Neri.

But now Camilla felt strong enough to carry the burden.

It was like a conspiracy between her and Baphomet. As the senior witch and wizard in this new school of magic, they guided the others and when the pressure became too much, they sought comfort in each other’s company. They would take walks around the mansion grounds and enjoy the beauty of the Wyrding. Camilla felt a sting of guilt from these short respites, but they did give her the energy to keep going.

“Sometimes I must admit that I worry you have indecent plans for me.” Camilla said on one of their walks.

This caught Baphomet off guard and convinced Camilla that she had been right about Baphomet not being used to talking to girls. She could feel his blush under all that dark fur.

“Indecent?”

Camilla smiled.

“A young lady alone with an incubus. I worry that you have taken advantage of my trust. Don’t the incubi and succubi have only one thing in their minds?”

Baphomet stroked his horns nervously.

“That… the claim that we only have one thing in our mind… is cross god propaganda. I have never… I mean… it is an insulting lie about our ways.” Baphomet said.

Baphomet had never? How scandalous. Perhaps it was the incubus who was in danger.

“And what are your ways?” Camilla asked.

Baphomet pulled at his collar and Camilla was surprised steam didn’t rise out.

“What is the opposite of war?” Baphomet asked.

“Peace?”

“A lull between battles is not the opposite of war. The opposite of war is creation.” Baphomet said.

Camilla grinned.

“Wait. You’re saying the opposite of war is sex?”

“I… uh… well… if you want to be vulgar about it, yes. That is what I am saying, yes. Sex and creation go hand in hand. Creating something together can turn potential enemies into lifelong friends and companions. My kind settles grievances with lovemaking and if a child is born from it… that ensures we commit to not waging war.”

“How indecent. The Red Swan would despise you. Making love instead of war.” Camilla said.

“I have no doubt she would. People who define themselves through hate can’t stand the thought of creating.” Baphomet said.

Camilla wrapped her arms around Baphomet’s hand.

“Does that mean our agreement is only half-done?” Camilla asked.

Baphomet looked at her nervously with a hint of excitement.

“I know that… my ways are not human ways and… my appearance might not to be to your liking.” Baphomet said.

Camilla smiled and ran her fingers through the fur in Baphomet’s head. He shivered when she touched his horns. They had to be sensitive to the touch.

“The Wyrding has always called to me, and I have found the fae alluring.”

Baphomet gulped.

“… have you?”

Before Camilla could answer, she heard the flapping of wings and Black landed on the tree branches over their heads.

“I hate to interrupt the mating ritual, but I have news. A little bird told me there is commotion in Leoden.”

Baphomet stepped away from her and his eyes had grown determined without a hint of the embarrassed little boy Camilla had found behind his dignified mask.

“Did Gonzalo succeed?”

“No.” Black said: “He has been captured.”

The Wyrding fell quiet, and Camilla’s heart sank. The Red Swan had hidden the sun with its wings.

“What?!” Baphomet barked.

The ring Gonzalo had given her was strangling her finger and Camilla had to struggle to get it off so she could scry his location. When she finally tore the ring free and placed it on the map, her finger was swollen. She drew a glyph in the air, and it floated over the map before moving over to Leoden.

“He’s still alive.” Baphomet said with relief.

“We need to save him.” Camilla said: “Can you use your portal system to get us to Leoden?”

“No. I haven’t figured out how to make it work outside the Wyrding and even here I can only travel to fixed spots.” Baphomet said.

“Then what can we do?” Camilla said.

“I will contact ser Furcas and marchioness Larissia. They will do what they can to save him.” Baphomet said and put a comforting hand on her shoulder: “Keep pinpointing his location… or be there if it’s snuffed out.”

Responsibility could be difficult to bear, and she wondered if Baphomet had left her with the more difficult task. She knew that these were cruel thoughts that she had no control over. They sprouted from a dark part of her soul, but she could not control them. Just acknowledge them and let them go. Baphomet had left Domdaniel and turned his back to the Grey Mother to help people. He had taken over helping their people when Domdaniel had done nothing.

And Gonzalo…

Without hesitation he had marched into the lion’s den to kill the Red Swan and put an end to this madness. He had walked away so gallantly that she couldn’t imagine him losing which raised the question… How had he been bested? He had cut through inquisitors like they were nothing. He was the son of a high god. The vilest of the high gods but a high god none the less. The Infernal Emperor’s power matched the Wyrd King’s.

Had the Red Swan…?

Some thoughts were too terrifying to think about and Camilla sat by the table watching over the map and trying not to imagine what horrors the Red Swan was inflicting on Gonzalo. She had seen what the Red Swan’s followers did to her enemies in the heat of the moment. She didn’t even want to imagine what she would get up to when she had time… and the Hierophant’s torture chambers at her disposal. Camilla kept vigil throughout the night while Baphomet tried to get in touch with Gonzalo’s friends. The demon prince was well-loved, and he would not be abandoned by them. To quell the dread inside her, she tried meditating like Grandfather Death had suggested. She examined the feelings of fear inside her and then tried to let them go.

Tried.

While she mulled things over, she realized this was how her enemies wanted her to feel all the time. Like she wasn’t safe anywhere. Even when she didn’t have the Red Swan’s swords at her throat, they wanted all her thoughts to circulate around them. They wanted to be her entire world and for her to feel nothing but fear.

She would not give them the satisfaction.

It was in the small hours of the morning when the sun began peeking over the treetops that the glyph on the map started moving.

Gonzalo was leaving Leoden.

“Baphomet!”

Baphomet came running to the study and his eyes widened when he saw that Gonzalo’s glyph had begun to move across the map. His hoofs almost gave out under him, and he had to lean against a wall to stay upright.

“He… got away.” Baphomet said.

“Or maybe they’re moving him.” Camilla suggested.

Baphomet forced himself by the table and studied the map closely.

“Look how quickly he is moving. Only a devil could run that fast.” Baphomet said and let out a relieved laugh: “He survived. I knew he would.”

Camilla collapsed on a wooden chair like she was carrying the weight of the world on her back. Baphomet walked to the wine cabinet and poured them glasses of red gold to calm their nerves. They drank while watching Gonzalo’s glyph moving towards the closest Wyrd Stones.

“Did you get a hold of anyone?” Camilla asked.

“Ser Furcas. He said that he will come here personally. He was always more of a father to Gonzalo than the Infernal Emperor.” Baphomet said.

Camilla sipped her wine.

“What kind of a man… or demon is Furcas?”

“A Knight of the Storm. A master of philosophy, chiromancy, and pyromancy. With Zorig gone he is also the greatest living weaponsmith in the world. I think you will like him.” Baphomet said.

Camilla was released of her other duties, and she was left watching over the map to make sure Gonzalo was still on the move. Still heading to safety. Her and Baphomet decided it was for the best if they did not reveal that Gonzalo had failed in his mission and been taken prisoner if only momentarily. Camilla could imagine the blow it would be to everyone’s morale.

She was so committed to her duty that she wasn’t there with everyone else to greet ser Furcas when he rode to the mansion on his pale horse. Camilla witnessed his arrival from a window but always kept one eye on the map and Gonzalo.

Ser Furcas had the appearance of a man in his sixties who had kept himself in fighting shape. His hair and long beard had turned the color of ash and covered most of his face. What she could make out of his features were covered in deep lines. His eyes burned like a furnace that revealed his demonic nature and his simple armor was so finely made it could have been a second layer of skin. On his back he carried a weapon that looked like a large fork.

Baphomet was the first to greet ser Furcas while the young witches and wizards bowed to the old knight. He dismounted nimbly like a young man and his horse was left in the care of a capable apprentice while Baphomet led ser Furcas inside.

When Baphomet brought ser Furcas in Camilla stood up to greet the old knight.

The smell of oil and metal filled the room when ser Furcas entered the study with Baphomet. The old knight was almost a head shorter than the tall scholar but had more muscle in a single arm than Baphomet had in his entire body. Camilla had no doubt he could have killed them both with his bare hands if he had wanted to. A knight with that much experience didn’t need weapons to be dangerous. Camilla curtsied like she would have done to village elders.

“Blessing of the Mountain upon you, ser Furcas.” Camilla said.

The old knight had a stern face and an intimidating glare… but when he smiled Furcas transformed into every child’s favorite grandfather.

“And blessing of the Storm upon you, lady Camilla. Princess of the Mountain.” Furcas said.

Furcas’s voice came as a surprise to her. She had been expecting a booming bass but instead Furcas spoke with a scratchy tenor. The pleasant smile turned to worry when ser Furcas turned to look at the map.

“How long was my boy held captive?”

“Overnight.” Camilla said.

All three of them stood by the table and watched as Gonzalo made his way to the Wyrding. Every inch Gonzalo took closer to the borders between worlds was a relief. But ser Furcas’s expression darkened while he watched his boy flee Leoden.

“Has he been making a straight line here all this time?” Ser Furcas said.

“Camilla?” Baphomet said and looked at her expectantly.

“Yes. He hasn’t even stopped to rest.”

“I see.” Ser Furcas said and kept watching.

Gonzalo was fast approaching a Wyrd Stone.

“I don’t like this. I trained him better than that. He has not even tried to shake off potential trackers.” Ser Furcas said.

“Maybe he is hurt and needs help quickly.” Baphomet said.

“Maybe.” Ser Furcas said without sounding conviced.

They watched as Gonzalo crossed the Wyrd Stones and disappeared off the map. Ser Furcas started stroking his beard while he was lost deep in thought.

“Baphomet?” Ser Furcas said.

“Yes, sir?”

“How well is this place protected?” Ser Furcas asked.

“I have placed every spell of misdirection in here that I know. Ginevre herself could walk in and not know we’re here.” Baphomet said.

“Could Gonzalo find this place?”

“Not without my invitation.” Baphomet said.

“I see. That simplifies our predicament.” Ser Furcas said.

Camilla looked at ser Furcas.

“Why… don’t you want him to find us?”

Ser Furcas looked at the map sadly.

“Because… I worry that this is not the Gonzalo I trained. He would not have left a trail that could be followed so easily. Because… I worry the Red Swan was more powerful than him and he is now her unwilling puppet.” Ser Furcas said.

Baphomet’s eyes widened.

“You think… his mind has been taken over?”

“I think it is a possibility.” Baphomet said and crossed his arms: “As long as this place is hidden the problem can be contained. I will ride to meet him to be sure and…”

Camilla’s stomach turned to water.

“He… could track me.” Camilla said and pointed at the ring: “I gave him… my pipe for that… he could use it to scry me.”

The study turned freezing cold.

“… oh… no…” Baphomet whispered.

“Now that is a problem.” Ser Furcas said: “Baphomet, be a good man and start evacuating everyone to safety before Gonzalo gets here.”

“If you’re right… it’s me he can track.” Camilla said.

“And he will not have you. I will not abandon one of our own just because it would be easier.” Ser Furcas said and glanced at Baphomet: “And I doubt he is ready to let you die.”

Baphomet looked at her and smiled.

“I am not.”

“Then the three of us will stay here to greet him.” Ser Furcas said: “And we hope that I worry over nothing.”

Camilla stayed in Baphomet’s study when the order to move was given. She watched from the window when Good Robin led the refugees away. Deep into the Wyrding. Once the castle was empty, ser Furcas entered the study.

“It is a strange thing to place my trust on a goblin from the Bone Flock Tribe. Just ten years ago they served the Baron.” Ser Furcas said.

Mention of the Baron reminded Camilla of something Gonzalo had told her.

“Gonzalo told me… that you led the volunteers against him.” Camilla said.

Ser Furcas nodded.

“I did and it was young Baphomet who opened us a path to the battle with his… hmm… was it the portal system?”

Camilla looked at him surprised.

“Baphomet took part in the battle?”

“Yes. He snuck into the City of Dis despite being banished and came to me for help. He’s a brave lad.”

“He never told me that.” Camilla said.

“He’s a bit too humble for his own good and humility has always been my least favorite virtue.” Ser Furcas said and sighed: “Gonzalo was the first volunteer. You should have seen him. There was no hesitation to him. He just went straight after Firebird himself.”

At that moment Furcas did not look like a fierce, experienced knight but a broken-hearted old man in armor that was too heavy for him.

“I am sorry. I know he’s dear to you.”

“He is my prince. One day I hope him to be my emperor.” Ser Furcas said and stroked his long beard: “I have been forced to serve his father for over five-hundred years. Before I die, I want to follow a just ruler.”

Camilla stared outside the window and could feel Gonzalo approaching.

“Do you think we will make it?”

Ser Furcas smiled his grandfatherly smile.

“Show me your hand if you dare. I have some skill in palm reading.”

“If I dare?”

“Not everyone wants to know how much time they have left.” Ser Furcas said.

“Have you read your palm?” Camilla asked.

“I have.” Ser Furcas said simply.

“What did you see?”

“A black fox.” Ser Furcas said.

Camilla thought about it and then offered her hand to ser Furcas.

“I have been living on borrowed time anyway.” Camilla said.

Ser Furcas studied her hand, squinted, and then traced the lines with his finger.

“Odd. Do you have fae blood in you?” Ser Furcas asked.

“No. Why?”

“Because unless I just went senile, you have centuries left in you.” Ser Furcas said and then looked at her sternly: “If Gonzalo is no longer his own master, leave him to me. Do not interfere. He deserves to die like a knight instead of being put down like a rabid dog.”

With that ser Furcas retired for the night and Camilla was left alone. When she was sure there was no one else there, she summoned Black to her.

“My mistress calls.” Black said.

Camilla caressed the feathers of her oldest friend.

“Black… I worry that if everything goes wrong… I might have to ask you to die for me.” Camilla said.

Black cawed.

“So it has come to this? Camilla no longer needs her faithful crow?”

“I need you now more than ever.” Camilla said.

Black rested her head against Camilla’s hair.

“You were always a bitch, but I loved you the moment I hatched from my egg and saw you. What do you need me to do?”

Camilla told her and Black bowed her beak.

“It will be done.”

Once Black flew away Camilla was left alone once more.

But not for long.

Baphomet entered the study carrying two cups of tea and smiled at her tiredly.

“They’re gone. They’ll be safe.” Baphomet said while putting down a cup of tea next to her.

“Where?” Camilla asked.

“I had a talk with Good Robin, and we decided that it would be for the best if I didn’t know. In case ser Furcas is right.” Baphomet said and sipped his tea: “I assume ser Furcas asked you not to interfere.”

“He did. Do you think there will be a fight?”

“I try to have faith.”

“I think I have lost mine.” Camilla said.

“What is lost can be found.” Baphomet said and clinked his cup against hers: “This will help you sleep. I think we both need help with that.”

Camilla picked up her cup and had a sniff at the tea. She could smell herbs that would carry her to dreamlands.

“I don’t think I want to sleep alone.” Camilla said and glanced at the bed in the corner: “Can I stay here for the night?”

Baphomet’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure?”

“I am known to be stubborn when I make up my mind.” Camilla said.

“I… am not much to look at… for humans.”

“Keep making excuses and I may just change my mind. Can I stay with you for the night.”

Baphomet was quiet for a moment but then he nodded.

“Yes.”

The night was over too fast and when morning came, so did Gonzalo.

Camilla had carried hope that everything would be okay. That Gonzalo had just been captured before escaping in a daring fashion. He was a gentleman adventurer after all. Daring escapes was part of the calling. Gonzalo had escaped and they would laugh this off and forget about it.

But it was not to be.

A red swan had been painted on Gonzalo’s face. The paint was running after his long journey without rest and the swan was scarred by streaks of sweat. The fabulous clothes he had worn were torn and filthy with mud and wear. The six swords still hung from his belt. Gonzalo had a haunted look to him… and a scarlet tint in his eyes. When Gonzalo looked at them, Camilla could see the Red Swan behind his eyes. Gonzalo’s eyes lingered the longest on ser Furcas who was equally heartbroken and determined.

“Teacher…” Gonzalo said.

“Hello, Gonzalo.” Furcas said and drew his weapon.

Gonzalo’s eyes wandered over to Baphomet.

“Little cousin…” Gonzalo said.

“Big cousin.” Baphomet answered.

And finally… Gonzalo looked at her.

“The wise witch…” Gonzalo said and reached into his pocket: “I came to… return this.”

In his hand he held Camilla’s pipe.

“Thank you.” Camilla said and drew Gonzalo’s ring from her finger: “Could I have that back, please?”

“Of… course. I only… wanted to borrow it.” Gonzalo said.

When she tried to walk over to him, Baphomet took her hand, but Camilla just shook her head. Baphomet hesitated but then let her go. As she drew closer to him, Camilla could make out an invisible circle around Gonzalo and she realized it was the reach of his sword. Once she entered that circle she would be at Gonzalo’s mercy. He could kill her with a swing of his hand. When she stepped inside his killing circle, it was like plunging headfirst into freezing water.

“You’re… trembling.” Gonzalo said.

“How could I not?” Camilla said.

“Am I that… terrifying?” Gonzalo asked.

They held their gaze for a while and then Camilla took back her pipe and returned Gonzalo’s ring.

“Can you fight it?” Camilla asked.

“I… have tried… but her will… was stronger than my own… now… step back… brave witch… while I am still… Gonzalo the Spider…”

She could hear Gonzalo fighting for his soul and the sanctity of his mind in every word he uttered, and he was losing. When she left Gonzalo’s killing circle, the red glow in his eyes took over completely and Camilla could see an alien will moving Gonzalo like a puppet.

“I ordered him to kill you the moment he saw you.” The Red Swan said with Gonzalo’s mouth before letting out a shrill laugh: “You have the devil’s own luck, witch.”

Ser Furcas stepped forward and pointed his trident at the possessed Gonzalo.

“Release my apprentice.”

The Red Swan had a laugh like a cruel child.

“You fae are all the same. You pretend to be so much more civil than us humans. So much more enlightened but the moment you don’t get your way you turn violent. Aren’t you even going try debate me?”

Baphomet shook his head.

“If you think we will try to discuss our right to live with you, you’re even more deluded than I thought.” Baphomet said.

“Is that how you speak to the new Hierophant and freshly anointed duchess?” The Red Swan said before peering closer at Baphomet: “Have we met before, demon?”

“A long time ago.” Baphomet said.

“I bet you wish you had killed me back then.” The Red Swan said.

“I have never wished to kill anyone.” Baphomet said.

“Liar. Killing the enemy is the greatest feeling in the world.” The Red Swan said.

“I pity you if that is how you feel.” Baphomet said.

Furcas gripped his weapon harder.

“Release him. Last chance.”

The Red Swan laughed some more.

“Get on your knees, demon, and I will consider it.” The Red Swan said.

Camilla spat at the Red Swan’s feet.

“You have won this time but if you think we will grovel, you’re not just insane but a lackwit to boot.” Camilla said.

The Red Swan let out another burst of shrill laughter.

“What a mouth you have on you. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a witch.” The Red Swan said and snapped Gonzalo’s fingers like they were her own: “Gonzalo, my dearest, kill them all.”

The red glow left Gonzalo’s eyes, leaving behind only a flicker but he still wasn’t in control of his body. Gonzalo drew his sword and looked at them.

“Teacher… I… am sorry.” Gonzalo said.

“So am I, my boy.” Ser Furcas said when a tear ran down his face and was absorbed by his beard.

“I knew… you’d be here… I thought… you would bring the wolf prince with you…” Gonzalo said.

“You deserve the dignity of no one seeing this.” Ser Furcas said and bowed his head: “Blessing of the Storm upon your final journey, my prince.”

“Blessing of the Mountain upon your final journey, little cousin.” Baphomet said.

“See you around, Gonzalo.” Camilla said.

Her words barely had the time to hit the wind when Gonzalo drew his sword and covered the distance between them. Ready to draw them inside his killing circle and finish them all off. The speed with which Gonzalo had moved had been awe inspiring when he had faced the inquisitors. When that same speed was turned against her, it was just terrifying. All the glyphs Baphomet had prepared in case of a frontal assault went off all at once but that wasn’t enough to even slow Gonzalo down. If it hadn’t been for Furcas, she had no doubt they would have both been dead.

The master and the apprentice clashed.

You could see how the battle would end immediately. It was so with most battles. Furcas was skilled but Gonzalo was even more so. Furcas was strong and fast, but Gonzalo was stronger and faster. The old knight’s only saving grace was his superior experience and having taught Gonzalo everything he knew but that didn’t change the fact that Furcas had trained his own destroyer.

“You’re sloppy.” Ser Furcas muttered when the battle lulled for a moment.

“I tried… to tire myself out… I didn’t eat or sleep… I just rushed here… as fast as I could… I hoped… I would be too exhausted to fight… I knew… you needed every advantage I could give…” Gonzalo said, struggling to get out every word.

“You were always a brave man.” Ser Furcas said.

“But… it wasn’t enough… you cannot… win…” Gonzalo said and then he was on ser Furcas again.

Steel clashed against steel and Camilla realized that ser Furcas had another advantage. His trident gave him superior reach. His killing circle was wider. But even that wasn’t enough. When the two killing circles met, Gonzalo’s proved to be superior. His sword moved do fast that it looked like a steel cage surrounded him and ser Furcas’s trident’s every blow was repelled.

And so it was Gonzalo who drew first blood.

Ser Furcas still wore his armor and that had already saved him more than once but when his trident was too slow to block his latest strike, the blade found its way to the armor’s joint in his left arm. Ser Furcas let out a pained hiss and he stepped back. Blood was already dripping down his fingertips.

“Not bad.” Ser Furcas said with a grimace.

Gonzalo was fighting with himself as much as with ser Furcas and battled with everything he had against the curse the Red Swan had placed on him.

“Teacher… you should have brought the wolf prince…” Gonzalo said.

“You haven’t beaten me yet.” Ser Furcas said and grinned through the pain: “I taught you everything you know but not everything I know.”

Like Gonzalo and other devils, ser Furcas only wore the mask of a man. A mask that he now took off. Reality around him broke into fractions. Each of them showing a different aspect of the old demon knight. In some of them he appeared as an experienced knight with grey hair and beard wearing an armor of his own making.

But not all of them.

In others, ser Furcas had the shape of a fearsome centaur whose silvery skin reflected light as surely as a mirror. With a sad expression, he reached up and scratched at his chin through a thick, wooly beard, the flexing of his skin and muscles were met with great, metallic groans. What muscles he had to flex, rippling beneath the silvery skin in a vast tapestry of ever shifting rolling hills. A crown of equally brilliant horns ordained his skull, jutting out and upward like tree-branches, reaching for the sky. All of this, with his narrow, broad, rectangular eyes and a height that would tower over the combined height of two men… armies would think twice before challenging this centaur. Then the fractions became one and the metal centaur given life was all that remained. Ser Furcas’s flaming eyes had turned into an inferno when he howled in defiance at Gonzalo and started galloping towards him. Gonzalo looked calmly at his fast-approaching mentor and then met him in his own true form.

The spider and the centaur clashed.

Devils, skin-changers, and master vampires had learned to take human shapes to better hunt but the human disguise also limited their power. Now that Gonzalo and ser Furcas were no longer held back by their false forms they were free to unleash their full might. Ser Furcas galloped around Gonzalo and tried to skewer him with his trident but with his new limbs, Gonzalo was free to wield six swords while standing upright on his four remaining legs like an insect mimicking a man. For a moment Camilla thought that the release of their true forms was enough to give ser Furcas the edge but then she realized that wielding six swords at once wasn’t the only trick Gonzalo had. While fighting he was also spinning a web and weaving it all around the battlefield. Coiling ser Furcas in it. Trapping him. Ensnaring him. Robbing him of his immense speed and thus his major advantage. Ser Furcas might not have taught Gonzalo everything he knew but the student had also learned tricks of his own.

“That all you can do?” Ser Furcas said while pretending not to be worried.

“No.” Gonzalo said.

“My skin isn’t anymore unbreakable.” Ser Furcas said.

“True.” Gonzalo agreed.

Then the strands of sticky web were suddenly shot towards Camilla and Baphomet.

“What?!” Baphomet shouted before the webbings stuck into them.

The effect was immediate. Camilla lost the control of her body, and the strings turned her into a puppet that Gonzalo could freely control. With a single pull of a string like a puppet master, Gonzalo forced them to unleash their magic against ser Furcas. Ser Furcas had told them not to interfere so Gonzalo could die a knight’s death in an honorable duel. By the time ser Furcas realized that one opponent had turned into three, it was too late. The combined force of Gonzalo’s blades and two spellcasters was too much even for the most experienced knight. It was over.

But she would not let it end like this. With a heavy heart Camilla called for her familiar.

“Black!” Camilla yelled.

The black crow flew out from a tree where she had been waiting patiently for her cue and flew towards Gonzalo. The demon prince was caught off guard for a moment but that wasn’t enough to be his undoing. He turned quickly and swiped at the dark arrow flying at him with one of his swords.

His sword slashed Black’s wing off and she crashed crippled to the ground.

Right at Gonzalo’s many feet where the glyph she had drawn on her familiar activated.

“What?” Gonzalo managed to say before he disappeared in a flash of light.

All that was left behind was a smoking circle where Gonzalo had stood… and a dead Black. The strands Gonzalo had used to control them were cut and Camilla walked over to her friend. She picked up her broken body while Baphomet and Furcas stared at her shocked.

“… what happened? Where is he?” Furcas said.

“I don’t know.” Camilla said.

Baphomet rushed to her side and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Camilla… are you… are you okay?”

Camilla held Black closer to her chest. The crow she had seen hatch and cared for when she had been just a chick.

“… no…”

“I didn’t know he could do that.” Ser Furcas said and then looked at them: “Or that she could.”

“She… she used the portal system without an anchor.” Baphomet whispered: “He could have fallen anywhere.”

Camilla held Black close to her chest.

“Hopefully far enough for him to be free of the Red Swan.”

Furcas stared at the smoking circle.

“How… will I find him?”

“I will try to scry him but first… I need to bury my friend.” Camilla said.

They buried Black in a small wooden box and Baphomet sew her wing back on so she could fly to the Green Lands whole.

“Blessing of the Storm upon your final journey.” Ser Furcas said while standing over Black’s grave.

“Blessing of the Mountain upon your final journey.” Baphomet echoed.

“Goodbye, my friend.” Camilla said.

Many things happened in the following years. The Red Swan reached too far eventually and was killed by those she had thought were most loyal. The new king proved himself even crueler than anyone had feared and when his son took over, he was both mad and cruel. The only positive thing anyone could say for him was that his daughter was a better king than many of her predecessors put together. Meanwhile Camilla helped Baphomet establish his own school and Path. Both of which rivalled Domdaniel and the Deep.