I leaned against the wall, my [Etherix] had worn off, leaving me exhausted. The priestess and the guards were gone, locking Flint and me in our new prison.

"Is it true?" Flint asked, staring at the floor.

"What?" I asked.

"What that mad man said about you?"

I turned to him. "You heard that?"

Flint shrugged. "I was at the Protectors cabin trying to find out what was happening to the village." He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "And then Maple's eyes just rolled back into her head and she stopped breathing. Protector Alden stopped channeling the barrier to help her… it all happened so fast."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know..."

Flint's lips trembled, "And then the crows came. They tore the flesh from the villagers bones and ate their fill."

His voice cracked and tears ran down his cheeks. I put a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say.

"I tried to protect Evelyn when the man came for her," he whispered, "He bound Alden and hit me with some spell, I thought I was going to die."

He looked up at me with haunted eyes, "All I could think was, where is Bastion? Why isn't he here to help me?"

I took a step forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

Flint shook his head. "Patches said that you killed them all," he said, wiping away tears. "Tell me it's a lie, please. Tell me that he was just a mad man spewing shit."

I was silent for a long time, thinking about how to explain.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I don't know if what he said is true..."

"Tell me the truth?" he demanded, standing up. "What the hell is going on, Bas?"

"I don't know."

He grabbed hold of my shirt and pinned me to the wall. "How can you not know? Either you killed them all or you didn't, it's that simple."

"It's not that simple," I said, looking away, not wanting to meet his accusing gaze.

He released my shirt and I slid down the wall.

For several minutes I just sat there trying to get my breathing under control. I felt like I had been drugged, and I still couldn't bring my thoughts together.

When my eyes closed, images of dead villagers flashed through my head, like a jumbled collection of paintings. My mother, dead sitting in her chair. Sylvia lifeless, lying in a heap, Penny, crying as she clung to her dead mother.

I clenched my fists, as the visions cut deeper. Evelyn’s face resolute as Patches tore out her soul.

"There are some things I’ve been keeping from you," I said, pushing myself to my feet. "But I want to tell you. All of it. I need to tell someone."

I paced around the room, the soft scraping sound filling the silence.

"Like the fact that you are a card mage?" he said. "I'm not stupid, I can see that you've ranked up. Your movements are too quick, too precise."

"You noticed," I said, surprised.

"What rank are you now?" he asked.

"Bronze-1," I said, my voice low, void of any emotion.

"Shit," he breathed. "How is that possible?"

He shook his head, "That doesn't matter right now, but shit, Bronze-1, really?"

He ran a hand through his hair, I could tell he was conflicted. On one hand his best friend had reached levels of power we’d only ever dreamt about and on the other hand, well, everyone was dead.

"Start from the beginning," he said, "Don't leave anything out, I want to hear it all."

I stopped pacing and stared at him. "I’ll try." I took a deep breath and then started speaking, "Remember the day we went into Old Town?"

He nodded, "That was the day Malachi and Nidalee arrived in town."

"Yeah," I said. "It's also the day I died."

"What?"

I told Flint everything. About falling off the millers roof, my meeting with Patches, about receiving the foundation card and coming back to life. I even told him about testing the card in the desert and how I’d tried to farm a foundation card for him.

Flint listened quietly, asking questions now and again, his expression growing increasingly concerned as the tale unfolded.

"I didn't want to lie to you, Flint," I said.

"So you chose to say nothing instead," he said. "Do you realize how stupid that was?"

"I wasn't sure who to trust. There was a killer in town and the card mages were haunting my dreams. Shit, I don't know, it made sense at the time."

"What about your mother? You didn't think you could trust her?"

"I wasn't taking any risks."

Flint stood up, and I braced myself for the punch I knew was coming.

He took a step closer.

I'd take the punch, I deserved it and more, but it would hurt. I'd probably lose a few teeth.

Flint pulled me into a bear hug, wrapping his arms around me.

I stiffened in shock, "What are you doing?"

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"You're an idiot, Bas."

"Yeah," I grunted.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Really?" I said. "That's all you have to say about it? Aren't you going to punch me or call me a monster?"

"What would be the point?" he said, letting me go.

"I... I don't know."

"You are still my best friend, doesn't say much for my taste, but there it is."

I smiled weakly.

"Besides, this isn't over yet," he said. "Even if you weren't the cause of all this, we can still fix it."

"How do you suggest we fix the deaths of a hundred villagers?" I asked.

"With magic, of course," Flint said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If there's a spell card that makes you immortal, then there must be one that raises the dead. Hell, for all I know, there's one that reverses time, and we can just undo all of this shit."

"So we just carry on like nothing ever happened?"

"No, of course not," he said, his voice dropping. "Everything has changed."

He looked at me, "Now we have nothing left to lose and everything to gain, which makes us very dangerous."

I nodded, feeling hope rising up inside of me.

"First we escape," I said, "then we get our revenge, and then we save them all."

"I like that," Flint said, smiling.

He patted me on the back, "So, tell me, did you really reach Bronze-1?"

We spoke late into the night, Flint bombarding me with questions until the light had faded and then finally he’d fallen asleep, his curiosity satisfied.

After that, we'd discussed escape plans, but it had quickly become apparent that even though I had enough [strength] to kick the door down, we had no idea where we were. We could fight our way out, potentially killing guards in the process, but without a map and supplies, it seemed unlikely we'd get far.

Flint's words had given me hope. I needed to be strong, if I wanted to save my mother, Sylvia and the rest of the villagers, I needed to start acting like it.

***

Hours later, I lay awake. The room was dark, lit by the faint light leaking through the cracks between the shutters. The soft sound of Flint snoring was the only noise besides the occasional rattle of the window, as the wind blew in.

I stood up, wincing as my muscles protested. I needed to do something, to keep moving, or else I would go insane.

I reached out and touched the cursed tattoo on my chest. It was warm to the touch, and I could feel magic pulsating from it. A semi transparent card appeared floating before my eyes, glowing with a cool iridescent light.

[Unholy Pact]

"I don't want you anymore," I whispered, "For a card that makes you immortal, you sure as hell bring a lot of death."

I grabbed hold of the card, feeling the magic within it shudder as my fingers clamped around it. I pulled the card, trying to tear it out of my soul, but even as I did, the thorns on the ivy tattoo dug into my flesh, piercing my heart. I bit my lip to stop from shouting as the pain exploded in my chest.

The card slipped out of my grasp, and I dropped to the floor. Blood soaked through my clothes, and I clutched my chest as I tried to stem the flow.

I lay there for several minutes, gasping for breath, unable to move.

"Curse you," I whispered, "you cursed piece of shit!"

A part of me said that I should just rip it out even if it killed me, but the part of my brain that still held some logic told me that if I did, I'd be resurrected and if Patches was telling the truth, then another person I knew would die in my place. Maybe it would be Flint this time, or the priestess.

No, I couldn't risk that happening.

As the bleeding slowed and the pain ebbed, I found a measure of calm. I'd tried to get rid of the cursed card, and that had to count for something.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

***

I woke up to the sound of the doorknob being turned slowly, the noise of metal grating against metal, the hinges squeaking as the door opened.

Light spilled in from the other side, creating a rectangular frame of illumination on the floor, and I saw the outline of a man walking towards me.

I tensed, readying myself to attack, and as the man drew closer, his face became clearer.

He wasn't human or kithara. His skin was gray, he had a long beard and a massive horn protruded from his forehead. He wore red robes and carried a staff in his right hand.

The zorin stopped a few strides away from me, and I could smell the wine that stained his robes.

He was the first zorin I had encountered in this world. While I had read about them and seen paintings depicting them, seeing one in person was something else.

"Are you the high priest?" I asked, my voice thick.

Flint stirred on the bed next to me, but he slept on. I knew that at that point, nothing could wake him.

"You don't look like a priest," the zorin said, his voice was surprisingly soft, but it carried an undertone of command.

"I'm not," I replied.

"I see," he said, and then he chuckled, "What do they call you?"

"Bastion," I said, feeling a growing unease.

"Well met, Bastion, call me Father Rakanar."

He extended his free hand and I took it in mine, squeezing it gently. His grip was firm and strong, but I had expected nothing less.

"You wish to leave this place, Bastion, I can sense that, as can I feel your anger," he said, a wry smile touching his lips. "Perhaps we can help each other."

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

He stroked his beard as if he was pondering my question.

"You have a spell card that I desire," he said. "One that belongs to the priestly order. Give me [Pilgrim's Rest] and you will both be free to go."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

The zorin’s gray face creased in a frown, "The card returns the user to the nearest sanctified temple. This temple is the last remaining one on the genesis floor."

He shook his head, "So either you snuck past the gate guards and just happened to enter the room that houses the sanctified altar, or you are lying..."

He spread his hands, "After your little display earlier. Green balls of death, I believe Amos called it, you can see why I would think the latter."

I looked up at the high priest, meeting his gaze. "If you want it, take it."

The card was bound to my soul, and the only two ways the priest could obtain it were if he possessed a card similar to Patches' that could forcibly extract it from another soul, or if I willingly handed it over to him.

The high priest smiled, showing teeth so white they almost glowed in the dim light. "I would prefer to trade."

I shrugged, "For what?"

"For your life," Father Rakanar said simply.

I snorted, "Sounds like an offer I can't refuse."

"Ah, so you are no fool," the zorin said, "I knew we could make a deal."

Father Rakanar stepped forward, reaching out with one thin finger to trace the tattoo on my chest, "I'm sure there's a story here."

I winced at the contact, pushing away his hand.

He leaned close, "What other cards do you have hidden away inside you?"

I paused for a moment, trying to decide my next move, wondering how much he really knew about me. I didn't know if the zorin had special abilities that allowed him to read my mind. Apart from his race, he seemed like a common thug, someone used to getting his way through brute force.

"I have no other cards," I said finally, "but what do you want cards for anyway? You are a priest, isn't your life dedicated to prayer?"

The zorin shifted the staff in his hand as he studied me,

"All spell cards are to be used where they may best serve the Maker," he replied.

Father Rakanar drew closer still and glanced down at the dagger on my side, "Who did you kill to obtain these cards?"

My eyes narrowed, but I remained silent.

"I see that I struck a nerve," said the zorin, "So are you ready to make the trade or do we need to get creative with our bargaining chips?"

I sighed, "I think I'll have to pass on your generous offer. It's not like you are going to kill me for it. We both know you can't take the card from me, otherwise you would have done it already."

The zorin looked over at the sleeping form of Flint, "There are worse things than death."

I took a step towards the zorin, my head level with his, "Get out of here," I said, "before we both end up doing something we regret."

Father Rakanar stepped back, and then he smiled, "Oh, I am going to enjoy breaking you, boy."

***