Chapter 14

The Trench

Contrary to popular belief, Floyd was not an idiot.

Yes, he liked to act more on his feelings first than anything else. And yes, more often than not it resulted in some sort of trouble for him. However, he preferred that to a world of stone-cold logic. He preferred to be seen as the fool that made mistakes than the boy genius who everyone expected great things from. It made going through life easier. No expectations meant total control and the ability to answer to no one.

Except for one person. And it was this person that was on Floyd’s mind when he’d stormed out of Palace Invaria, fuming and huffing.

Part of him immediately regretted leaving Terrill and Krysta behind, but the prince denying any involvement with the abduction and subsequently having no clue about where Torry was set him off like nothing else. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was the thought that Torry was in danger, and unlike the last time she’d found herself kidnapped for political gain, this time he didn’t have a concrete idea where she was.

That aggravated him more than anything else.

Floyd, now walking under the cool, northern sun of Invaria, kicked at a railing of the nearby bridge. It didn’t hurt when his foot bounced off it, but it also didn’t make him feel any better. He had left Terrill in the lurch, and after Mayor Rainert had put such trust in him as an ambassador. Failing those expectations doubled the furious tremors he felt inside from Torry’s absence, and the redhead decided he wanted to scream, but couldn’t. This whole situation was beyond frustrating, and with it, he sighed aloud.

“They just don’t get it…” he grumbled to no one, looking over the edge of the railing to the pool beneath. His own face, nicked with the cuts and bruises of the battles he’d fought, was reflected back at him, and it made him scowl. Maybe it was the result of being a reminder of his travels with Terrill. Or maybe it was because it reminded him of just how alone he was, and how powerless he was, when Torry was taken. “Damn it.”

Floyd slapped his hand against the same railing he had kicked, pulling his eyes up to stare over Invaria in the midday. The glittering lakes and buildings seemed to reflect Palace Invaria, and Floyd considered heading back inside full of apology, wanting to play as part of the team. Perhaps if he had, the boy reckoned, they might not have found themselves in this situation in the first place.

But then he remembered Terrill and Krysta, and how close the two seemed to have gotten in his absence. Close enough to not share things with him, which would have seemed impossible before they’d been separated at Tarkinder. He wasn’t jealous, of course. That would have been silly. He just didn’t like how they seemed to have their own secrets and never shared them with him. Like he wasn’t trustworthy enough, or smart enough, to understand.

He very much could, though, and Floyd had known from early on of his friends’ suspicions. Just because they never uttered a word, didn’t mean he didn’t know. And it didn’t mean he didn’t suspect what they did. Floyd knew that there was something wrong with that General Warren, and he knew that Phantom Knight was somewhere in Invaria, pulling the strings while he shielded Torry from sight.

Floyd was not an idiot.

Idiot or no, however, Floyd knew he was on his own when it came to looking. And to find Torry, he knew he needed information.

To that purpose, the boy turned away from Palace Invaria and proceeded deeper into the aquapolis. No one paid much attention to him, too busy with their daily tasks. It allowed Floyd to walk past the crowd without mention, and that made him feel a little better. No one knew him here, giving him free reign to run his investigation into where the Phantom Knight made his base, or any news regarding the abductions. Floyd decided to start first at the closest tavern, a rather open-air one by the waterside that seemed more restaurant than a watering hole for drunkards.

It had to have been the nobles dressed in their fancy outfits that gave that impression, while the people who actually did the work in the capital were seated closer to the establishment, itself.

“Hey, buddy, mind moving if you’re just going to gawk?” Floyd blinked, realizing he’d been noticed in his scrutinizing. A man of sculpted muscles was behind him with others of the same body type, and Floyd knew he didn’t want to deal with that.

“Of course, kind sir. How about I show you to your table while I’m at it?” Floyd said, his most charming grin affixed to his face while he indicated the open spread. The man snorted, patting Floyd on the head as he led him and his fellow workers over to the already cheering group nearest the building. Prick…

He got closer, anyway, pretending to prune the flowers out front.

“Ah, nothing like a hard day’s work at the reservoir pond, ain’t that right, boys?” Mr. Muscular said, receiving raised glasses for it.

“How goes work out by the trenches?”

“Hard as ever. Good ol’ General Warren has one of them cordoned off as unstable, so we have to consistently work around to build places for water overflow. With how choppy the seas have been, it’s no surprise,” Mr. Muscular informed them. “You’re working on a different sector, right? Always a challenge keeping the Capital of Water running.”

“We’ve been reassigned. No more use working a poisoned well, they say. Instead, they want us to try and patch up the eastern port so navy ships can start mooring there again.”

“The hell is the point of that? If they don’t want you working up north, it’s not any less dangerous here down south!”

“You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop when you have a question.”

Floyd’s face twitched, turning to find Walter leaning against the side of the tavern, eyeing him with his one good eye. Something about the man lecturing him made him instantly unlikable, and Floyd decided to abandon his course of getting information. With swift steps, he walked away from the tavern and down another curved street that led towards the northern outskirts. He was unfortunate enough to find Walter following him.

“You know you can buzz off, right?” he snapped to the man.

“I’d rather keep an eye on you,” Walter said. That irked Floyd all the more. “You seem the type to run off into trouble, and I’d rather stop you from managing said trouble.”

“Like you’re one to say anything. You’re the one obsessed with that Phantom Knight guy.” The pinpoint needling of Walter did nothing to deter the older man from dogging his steps through the city. Floyd growled under his breath and waggled his fingers. The air began to cool, and people and objects moved slower within the sphere, including Walter. With a cocky grin, Floyd walked on at normal speed, probably a blur to the perception of everyone else until he turned down an alleyway. “Ha ha, got ya.”

“Oh? Impressive magic, friend, but you’ll need more to shake me.”

“What in the-?” It took looking up to find Walter, perched on the eaves of a house while he stared down at Floyd. His spear was used to keep his balance, until he leapt to the ground. “Oh, come on, don’t you have your own information to find?”

“Already found it. Or lack of it,” Walter said, thumping Floyd on the back. “And I’m nothing if not courteous. Aren’t you supposed to be with Terrill and Krysta?”

“It was getting me nowhere. Decided to do my own investigation.”

“How did that pan out for you?”

Floyd grumbled. “Ongoing.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re not someone people would willingly divulge information to. Who knows what you’d do with it.” Floyd wished he could have kicked the man, but in spite of his missing eye, Floyd knew he wouldn’t be able to hit him that easily. His quick ascent to the roof after escaping his zone was proof of that.

“I can be discreet. Unlike you. Who hangs from rooftops?” Floyd brushed the man off, tired of feeling like he was being babysat, and attempted to exit the alley. Walter kept close, an annoying fly that he couldn’t wait to be rid of. Despite his unwanted companion, Floyd still rolled to a stop upon emerging on the outer street, near a shining lake that stretched over and spilled into the ocean beyond via river. The eastern ports were nearby, only two or three ships docked in the harbor, with waves that were chopping up pieces of the dock. It was the first sight of Invaria that wasn’t serene, but Floyd was thinking of something other than the nearest port. “Wait a sec…did you use some kind of Wind Magic?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you were on a roof.” Walter laughed at his bluntness, or maybe he just thought Floyd was crazy. The lack of answer was what annoyed Floyd, though.

“Don’t know. I’ve always been able to propel myself higher.”

“Sounds an awful lot like magic to m…e…” Floyd’s words trailed off, and his head tilted. He blinked a few times, trying to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Given Walter’s pause, he had to presume he wasn’t hallucinating: General Warren was walking down the street on his lonesome, towards the outskirt lakes that the workers had mentioned. “Now what would Invaria’s respectable general be doing alone on the outskirts, huh?”

He didn’t expect anyone to provide him with such an answer, except for the general, himself. Floyd cracked his knuckles and decided to start following, only for Walter to hold him back. He was ready to complain, but the grim look in Walter’s eyes made him momentarily stop.

“Don’t rush in,” the man warned, his grip like a vice upon Floyd’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m just taking a tour of the city,” Floyd reassured him, carefully picking off each finger one by one until he was free. He spun to face Walter, walking backwards. “Besides, if anything does happen, I’m an ambassador from Serotin. My credentials will get us out of trouble.”

“Did you forget you don’t-” Walter’s reminder fell on deaf ears. Floyd was already taking off, keeping low as his eyes tracked Warren.

The general wasn’t acting particularly shifty, but he also kept an even-paced gait that stopped for nothing. He had no interest in the merchants offloading at the port, or his subordinates that oversaw the tricky process due to the unstable sea. Once he was past that, he certainly had no time for the people that lived and worked on the outskirts of Invaria. They were a people that weren’t, perhaps, dressed as fine, but still lived a quality of life on the lakeside that even the people of Serotin didn’t see. Still, Warren held little care, and Floyd started to believe he was heading somewhere he wanted no one in the upper echelons of Invaria to know about. To that, Floyd grinned, darting behind stalls and walls to keep track of his suspicious quarry. It may not have been the Phantom Knight, but Warren’s swift appearance at Pravado was a random link he wanted to tug at, and he could already feel himself getting closer to Torry. He was sure of it.

Continuing through the outskirts, Warren remained unflappable and Floyd was undeterred. Over the bridges and through the mud that surrounded the northern reservoirs, Floyd tracked the man, only slipping behind a large tree once when he thought the general might have seen him. Unfortunately, that was when he lost him, and as Floyd looked out over the array of lakes and trenches, the largest of which bordered Palace Invaria, he cursed that he hadn’t been quicker. He should have slowed the man down to give himself a chance.

“Now what?” Floyd wrinkled his nose with displeasure. He didn’t let things get to him often, but right then, he was frustrated with his failing. Folding his arms, Floyd surveyed the outskirts of Invaria, particularly the dead land that lay beyond the many lakes. Each of the lakes didn’t look very healthy, either, and Floyd wondered if the two were connected, same as the mounds of dirt being dug that signified overflow trenches. It was a strange thing to make when beyond Invaria it looked like they hadn’t seen good water in weeks. His radar pinged over the strangeness, and his eyes soon located another trench, this one set further to the side, and nowhere near an actual lake, but simply the river that ran southward to the port, right underneath the bridge he’d just passed. “Odd place for a trench.”

“Odd place for you to be.” The breathless voice sent another twitch to Floyd’s face.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” Walter, who was sucking in breaths from his run, grinned at the failed insult. “Well, whatever. I found something. That mound of dirt from a trench over there.”

“The ones used for overflow in the rain season?” Walter regained composure, slinging his spear against himself while his eye attempted to penetrate the distance between them. “An awful lot of them. And that general was heading this way?”

“What say you and I find out, huh?” Floyd elbowed the older man, getting a slap to the back of his head for his troubles. The redhead didn’t mind; he was used to people doing that.

“Or, you could return to Terrill, tell him and not go off half-cocked.”

“Yeah, people tell me that all the time.”

“Then maybe you should listen.” Walter pulled on Floyd’s ear, causing him to yelp, but not enough to be noticed.

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“Don’t be so worried. Come on, Winter, you and I got this. With your stealthy roof-hopping and my stealthy…stealthiness in general, there’s no way they’ll catch us. So, let’s see what they’re doing at the question mark trench.”

“Did you just purposely butcher my name like a child?” His complaint was duly noted, but when Floyd bent low along the river’s edge, Walter was right there with him, creeping forward.

The closer the two got to the trenches, the more Floyd saw of what this place was. It was exactly as Walter had described, a constant flow of workers that maintained the trenches to ensure water never flooded the city from either the lakes or the lands north. It was evidently a very important process because soldiers were overseeing the work, and even helping out, which made Floyd wonder what the shady general was doing in a place that seemed pleasant and above board.

He refused to let go of his suspicions, though, especially as he and Walter darted between the trees along the riverbank, the land turning to dust and mud around their feet. There were less soldiers out this way, and no one to notice them, allowing them to get closer than Floyd would have thought possible to the distant trench. It was a far easier approach than when they had snuck into the Devil’s Haven, and Floyd began to relax when they passed by a completely empty guard tower. The construct, made of brick and stone, gave Floyd a brilliant idea. He climbed it.

From the higher perch, Floyd received a much better lay of the land. The lakes were the first thing seen, and Floyd could tell there were no dams to hold back the water. Along with that observation, came the ability to see that the trenches being actively worked on had already been impacted by overflow from the previous season, necessitating a repair in preparation.

So, then, Floyd mused on, why was the trench on the other side of the river neither manned nor guarded?

Let’s find out, shall we? Floyd dropped down, slowing his body to touch without incident. He didn’t stop to make sure Walter continued following, fairly sure the man would do just that.

He was right, and as Floyd reached the slapdash wooden bridge that crossed to the other side of the river, Walter was right there with him. The land around them might as well have been considered deserted by now, with not even a trace of footsteps on the dirt or in the mud that lined the riverbank. The only evidence, now that they were close up, of there being anything there at all was the dirt; dirt that looked too well-formed compared to the hand-dug trenches closer to the palace. It was so well-made, that Floyd’s hand on its surface didn’t bring away any mud. He chose to climb it, the height just a little more than two times his own.

It didn’t take long for him or Walter to grip the top and peek over the side to stare into the great mystery that was down below.

“What is Invaria thinking?” was the first thing that hissed from Walter’s mouth. The harsh whisper twisted Floyd’s stomach, seeing the exact same thing.

This trench, from Floyd’s estimations, was deeper than all the others, stretching far down to the point that the only way out was either from the surprisingly well-made stairs at the edges, a ridiculously high jump, or the event of flooding, which seemed unlikely given the river’s position. Two soldiers were down below, walking back and forth, but there was no sign of Warren or any other commanding officer. It wasn’t that strange if just those details were taken into account.

The disturbing points came from what was hewn into the sides of the trench: jail cells, surrounded by a rippling black shield.

Floyd wasn’t going to sit around thinking about it. There were cells, and Torry had been kidnapped. She was here. No doubt about it.

Before Walter could possibly stop him, Floyd left off the top of the dirt and sailed into the trench below. Heat bloomed at his fingertips, but the air around him chilled. The soldiers, their time and perception slowed, never saw him coming as his knee collided with one’s face before his fist connected with another. The sentries were out cold, crumpling to the dirt floor with a clang.

“Very stealthy of you,” Walter said, joining Floyd as he slid down the smooth side of the trench. He didn’t return the grin. Both straightened, taking in the carved cells before them, any sound from within muffled by the dark shield. “Now, what purpose does this place have? Holding prisoners on the outskirts seems like an accident waiting to happen.”

“Who said it was Invaria doing it?” Floyd said. Walter raised an eyebrow, and Floyd cursed himself; there he went again, with his observant takes. Floyd’s growling sigh covered it up while he spun in a circle. “I know this stuff…”

Walter didn’t ask how, and Floyd was glad to have not needed to give an answer. It allowed him to examine the walls carefully, familiar striations in the rock telling him that magic had created it, and one he had encountered before, no less. It was the same with the dark shield, a murky, watery thing that was more liquid than solid. Other than cell bars, Floyd couldn’t see what was behind it, but remembering how he’d severed LeBrandon’s hold, he knew how to break through it. With a grim smile, Floyd unsheathed one of his daggers and it lit aflame.

For a moment, he lost himself, seeing his fire burn brighter than ever. His knuckles tightened, those dual memories from when he’d touched the Lifeblood in Tarkinder rushing back to him. Then, there was the rush of fire, stronger than ever before. He could have continued diving deeper into the questions of that moment, but Floyd forced himself to return to the present, and with a single slash, his fire burned away the black water. The shadow floated upwards, away from its destroyed source, though particles lingered.

“Floyd? Floyd Margrove?” The voice sounded like one he knew, but not one he could place, and the redhead moved down the row of cells to where he heard it. Other voices returned, some screaming for help, but hoarse from having done so and not being heard. Floyd found the cell of the person who called him, and with a light from his fire, peered inside to find a boy his age. If he knew his name, then…

“Are you…an Academy student?” He received a muted nod to answer. “What are you doing here?”

“Those pirates,” the student said. He crawled towards the wrought-iron bars, trying to fit his head through. Floyd couldn’t identify the boy, but he looked terrified. “They sunk our ship when we were traveling from Valorda back home, and there was a…knight. He dragged us out of the water and brought us back here.”

The knight, huh? Got ya. Floyd stepped back, his knives burning bright as a ball of fire appeared at their tips. He was about to fire, to break the cell doors open, when Walter interrupted, diverting his shot into the ground. “What the hell, old man? We need to get these people out of here.”

“Yes, causing an explosion to kill them all or injure them is a great idea, Floyd.” The usage of his name from Walter’s lips, for the first time, made Floyd look up, where he saw the confusion and fear inside the hunter’s eyes.

“Better injured than captive or dead.”

“I would agree, normally. But look around you.” With one hand, Walter jostled Floyd away from his peer’s cell and to another. The one inside this cell looked roughed up, but his clothes were finer. “Ambassadors, the children of Valordan state officials. There’s a hodgepodge of dignitaries here. This place goes up in flames and that war your friends are trying to stop…it starts right here and now.”

“That’s what he wants.”

Her voice broke through the muddled sounds and anguish, and Floyd had no control over his body. He dashed for the middlemost cell, sliding on the floor until, even with the darkness, he could see her, barely illuminated by the midday sun. “Torry, you’re safe.”

“And you’re here.” She didn’t sound happy about it. Torry leaned through the bars, her usually beautiful blonde hair now matted and caked with dirt. Her clothes were tattered, as well, a cloak thrown over her to protect her modesty. It wasn’t obvious, but the burns no one noticed she’d suffered on Ardoris could yet be seen. “Floyd, why are you here?”

“To rescue you, Torry. You didn’t think I’d leave you in the hands of that knight. We gotta get you out of here.” Floyd turned to look for something to pry the cells apart, but Torry reached through the gap. The clank of her magic-sealing handcuffs sounded against the metal, but still provided her enough reach to restrain him.

“No. You need to get out of here! Now!”

“Don’t be daft, Torry. I came all this way for you.” Floyd tried to break free, but Torry wasn’t letting go, her grip insistent in whatever pointless message it was trying to impart to him.

“I know, Floyd. I know you’d move anything to save me, but this time you need to run.” Floyd stopped, hearing the abject fear that made her tremble. Up until then, he could sense her defiance and strength ready to break free, but in one word, she had turned that around. In one word she had displayed all the fear that made Floyd freeze up. “He wants any of you here. That’s why he brought us here.”

“Brought you here for what, miss?” Walter asked. He bent down, prying Torry’s hands from Floyd with a gentle nature that pressed for answers. “And who is he?”

“To start a war across the entire world.”

Floyd found himself stumbling back. Up until that point, it hadn’t seemed real, or perhaps as just a localized conflict that didn’t matter to him. Sure, there were manufactured documents implicating Serotin, but that just seemed an inconsequential farce. The war between Valorda and Invaria was just that, a nothing that would be over in a fortnight and never have the slightest impact on him or his life, succeed or fail.

Yet Torry’s words, the only one who had seen through him, made clear how very real it was. And she was a pawn on the board.

He shook his head.

“No, I gotta get you out of here, and everyone else,” Floyd insisted, desperate to believe that Torry was wrong about their usage in starting a war. “If I get you out there’s nothing to worry about. Just hold tight Torry, and I’ll-”

Clack.

The sound was like the footstep of doom, and Floyd turned slowly to one of the stairways. The sun traveled overhead, now shining directly down into the trench, and Floyd’s blood ran cold. Walter was less affected, his spear snapping out.

“You should have stayed with your friends, ambassador.”

Clack.

The second footstep sounded, if possible, heavier than the first. Floyd drew himself up, and he felt his breath catch. The air around him felt heavy, like he couldn’t breathe. Walter, too, rattled on his spear, but held it forward, pointing towards the descending general. He had no backup, and no allies that Floyd could see, but the assurance with which Warren walked was enough to tell Floyd he had stumbled into something very, very bad.

“They’re trying so hard to stop this war. Meeting with princes and kings, negotiating a path to peace, and you leave them for what?” Warren’s speech hissed, a poisonous snake making its way inside Floyd’s brain. He blinked, hoping to drive him out, and he held his daggers to the fore. “Oh, yes, for the daughter of the mayor of Serotin. I wonder, what would he do if his daughter perished along with her classmates? What about some children from Valorda’s ministers?”

“Is that your game, General?” Walter demanded. He was better composed than Floyd, who took a step back, right up against Torry’s cell. He tried to feel for her, but couldn’t take his eyes off Warren. There was something off about this man, and it wasn’t the shadow starting to hang in the air. “Capture dignitaries, kill them, and use it to perform a coup upon Invaria whilst it’s in the throes of war. Is that your plot?”

“A coup sounds so undignified. A general need not do what I’ve done just to take over a country.” Warren stopped before reaching the first cell. He had not a single weapon drawn yet, but Floyd felt that made him eerily more deadly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want this hellhole of a country, anyway. I never wanted to rule it.

“A Fiend like me just wants to see Invaria burn to the ground.”

The fear fled from Floyd, replaced with fury.

Walter was bewildered. “A Fiend? What does that mean?”

“It means get down, old man!” The air around Floyd chilled, everything slowing. Torry’s lips were moving, forming words he didn’t want to hear. There was only one mandate in his head: to take out Warren before he caused damage like his compatriots. Floyd jumped up, his foot grinding the stone, and then he leaped towards Warren, his daggers blazing before he swung down.

A smirk crossed the man’s face.

“Floyd! From the top!” Walter’s voice reached Floyd just in time. Something came flying from outside his sphere, and Floyd was forced to break off as a bullet of dark fire shot past his head, breaking into the side of the trench. Rubble rained down and Floyd hit the floor, stumbling over his feet until a hand caught him by his windpipe and slammed him against the wall. Cries of despair shouted, and as Floyd suffocated under Warren’s hold, his fading vision swore to seeing more particles of shadow rise from the rancor.

“Did you seriously believe you could best me simply because you were Blessed, boy? Did you think I came alone?” Warren’s face was pressed against him, his eyes an eerie, glowing blue, reflected through his lenses. In his hand, water was swirling while Floyd struggled to break free. He kicked and thrashed, but it did little good against Warren’s tight hold, his tongue slithering out. “No, you see, you’re here because we wanted you to be. This is where the war begins.”

“Gragh!” Walter’s spear flashed out, and Warren suddenly gagged, stabbed in the side by the elongated weapon. He stumbled back, the rip in his uniform’s fabric between his armor spouting an aqueous substance. Floyd fell, grabbed and propped up by Walter. “I don’t know what you’re planning, general, or what a Fiend is, but I’ll not stand by and watch you slaughter innocents!”

Warren grimaced, his pupils sharpening to slits. Floyd, coughing out with renewed breath, raised his daggers in defense once more, staring at the spot where Walter had wounded the Fiend.

It was healing, stitching itself back up as if it never happened.

“Innocent blood is what is needed for the shadows to stain deeply. You’re too late. You’ll die with the rest of them, and give rise to our great shadow. Flood!”

Floyd backed up, closer to Torry’s cell. She stood, her cuffs clanking. She grabbed his sleeve, pulling him close, and with tremors she whispered, “Run.”

“Drown for your folly, terrorists who would deem to slaughter such dignitaries in Invaria’s name!” Warren’s hand plunged upon the ground, and for a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then Floyd heard it, the rushing of water.

It started as a trickle running down the stairs before it gushed forward. In seconds, the water was up to Floyd’s ankles, the river threatening to drown them. Warren, however, merely watched, making no room to save himself. Floyd grabbed for the bars of Torry’s cell.

“Floyd, run! Now! Save yourself!”

“I came here to save you! I’m not leaving without-”

“Damn it, Floyd, this is no time to argue. You need to-”

A spout of water burst from the ground, raining water into the trench. Floyd slipped over himself and fell into the drink. His body spun, banging into the walls and bars of the trench. He tried to swim upwards, but found the water was like sludge, pulling him under. Its surface was black, and he could see nothing except for what was right in front of his face. The water entered his lungs, making Floyd cough while he spit it out as best as he could. His eyes fell upon his daggers.

Fire…flame…come on! Burn! Burn it all! The flames sputtered to life amidst his blades, hotter than anything he’d produced before, and it cut through the water to reach Torry’s cell. He held his breath as tight as he could, her cell nearly covered in water, and then dove back under. She was floating there, but not for long.

With his burning blade, Floyd slashed at the cell bars, the resistance of the water causing him to only scratch the surface. He willed his energy as best as he could, his fire burning hotter to cut at the bars. Just one. He needed just one.

You leave them for what?

Warren’s words, accusing him of leaving his friends, of being instrumental in this moment of drowning all to start their war, made Floyd’s hands shake. He couldn’t know, but he thought he was crying at the thought of it until his burning blade slashed through the bar, breaking it apart. His dagger kept going, hacking until three more were broken, and with a kick, he’d busted it wide open.

Floyd swam inside, to where Torry was floating, nearly out of air, and he grabbed her, beginning to swim for the surface. His pace slowed, his breath stilling inside him.

You’re here because we wanted you to be. The war begins here.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! Floyd screamed inside, his lungs burning as he kicked for the surface. He didn’t want to believe it. Warren was just a snake. A Fiend who wanted to manipulate him into not saving the one person in the world who mattered most. The only one who saw him for him. That love gave him a final stroke, breaking above the surface and placing a hand on the dirt embankment.

A shadow was cast over him, causing Floyd to look up.

“No…”

It had been for naught, swimming out, as standing above him, two swords held and dripping with shadows, was the Phantom Knight. He raised above, his sword angled for Floyd’s hand, or perhaps Torry, who was spluttering water out of her lungs. Floyd couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

The ground shook. The Phantom Knight was thrown off balance, and a sudden shot of light came from behind, breaking upon the man and sending he and his black armor into the drink. At the same moment, Floyd saw a chasm opening up where his hand was, and he shifted it, watching the tear of the earth split right down the middle. The water emptied out, flowing away from the trench and exposing a confused Warren alongside a heaving Walter.

Floyd tried to hold on for a moment longer, but the stone grew slick, and his hand dropped, sending he and Torry falling back into the deep crevasse. Or it would have, if a slab of stone didn’t jut out from underneath him and prevent his fall. His head snapped against the stone, causing his vision to blur.

“Floyd, are you okay?” Torry was asking, realizing what had happened. She was shaking him, but he could only groan and watch the two shadows land with a crunch until his vision stopped popping. When it did, he turned over and saw a most welcome sight: Warren was standing, but his backup knight was recovering from being knocked to the ground. Opposing them were Terrill and Krysta.