The atmosphere in the Waystone Inn changed instantly.

One moment the people were merry, eating and drinking, and the next they were frozen in place, a hushed silence hanging over the room.

Another death in our small village.

Ol' Cobb staggered towards our table, his eyes wild, "My wife was killed by magic," he gasped.

"How?" Flint demanded, his eyes wide.

"I-I'm not sure," Ol' Cobb stammered, "she was just lying there on the bed, her eyes wide open."

A ripple of panic swept through the inn.

I heard chairs scrape back and the sound of voices raised in fear.

Malachi and Nidalee exchanged glances.

"We need to go," Nidalee said, rising to her feet.

Malachi nodded, "You stay here," he said. "We will help them."

"But—"

Malachi cut me off, "We will deal with this," he said, his tone firm.

As Ol’ Cobb and the card mages hurried out the door, I leaned over to Flint and said, "Keep an eye on them."

Flint nodded, his eyes locked on the retreating form of Nidalee, "With pleasure."

I pushed back my chair and got to my feet.

"Wait a second, where are you going?" he asked.

"There's something going on here," I replied, "I need to clear my head and think."

Flint shook his head, "Not by yourself, you don't. You've been drinking, you're in no condition to go out there."

"I'll be fine," I replied, waving him off, "stay here and wait for our new friends to return."

I paused, turning towards him, "If you get a chance, see if you can find this waystone they were talking about."

Flint scowled and looked around the inn, his eyes lingering on a group of young men playing a game of cards.

"Don't go far," he said. "And be careful."

"Always am," I replied, patting him on the shoulder and heading out the door.

***

I stepped out of the inn and breathed in the crisp evening air. The smell of wood smoke hung heavy in the air. I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and shouting coming from the houses, as the people of the village celebrated the end of their work week.

The sky was clear, and the stars were shining brightly. If it wasn't for the fact that there was someone killing people in my village, it would have been a beautiful night.

The cold stone steps led down into the darkened streets of the village, and the sound of my boots on the cobbles echoed off the stone walls of the buildings.

A shadow moved out of the darkness, and I saw a figure approaching.

"So, it looks like your meeting ended early," Sylvia said, her voice low.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked, ignoring her comment.

"Waiting for you," she replied.

"You still want that drink?" I said. "We could—"

"That's okay," she said, cutting me off. "I can see that you have a lot on your mind."

I sighed, "There's a lot going on right now."

She took a step closer to me, her eyes sparkling in the light from the streetlamps.

"It's okay," she said, smiling. "I understand."

I wasn't comfortable with her being out here by herself, there was a killer on the loose, and it wasn't safe.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I asked.

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment before replying.

"Sure," she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

***

Moonlight reflected off the surface of the pond as we walked along the shoreline, the cool breeze blowing through the trees. The sound of insects chirping filled the air, and I could see fireflies dancing in the darkness.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sylvia said, looking up at the moon.

"Yes," I said, taking a step forward to join her. "You know, I've always wondered if it was real or just an illusion."

Her grin widened, "Does it matter?"

"I guess not," I replied, shaking my head. "It's just, there is a floor above us, but no matter how hard you squint, you can't see it. I wish I understood how it all worked."

"It's the Maker's magic," she said, turning to face me. "It's supposed to be mysterious."

"You really believe that?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "Don't you?"

"I don't know," I replied, staring into the depths of the pond.

The light from the moon rippled across the water's surface, and I could see my reflection staring back at me. I hardly recognized myself anymore. I was no longer the awkward graphics designer, working a dead-end job and struggling to make ends meet. I was a card mage. I had powers beyond my wildest imagination.

"So, are the card mages as scary as everyone says they are?" she asked, studying me.

I looked up at her, her eyes were curious.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "They seem like regular people."

"Really?" she said, eyebrows raised.

I looked her over, "Well, I don't know what to think about them. They arrive in town and four people end up dead or missing. It's hard to not wonder why."

Sylvia frowned, "Four?"

"Ol' Cobb's wife," I replied, "It happened a short while ago."

"Damn," she whispered. "What happened?"

I shrugged, "That's the thing, it seems like she died in her sleep."

"What do you mean 'seems'?"

"How many people do you know who've died in their sleep?" I asked.

Sylvia shook her head, "Can't think of any."

"Exactly," I said, "People in this town die of the blight or drink themselves to death. No one dies in their sleep, that's not our way."

"Right," she said, giving me a sideward look, "How are you doing?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," she said, frowning. "You haven't been yourself in days. You've been acting strange, well, stranger than usual."

"Like how?" I said.

Her eyes narrowed, "You missed your training with Flint this afternoon?"

"How would you know that?"

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Sylvia's cheeks flushed, "I sometimes happen to walk past your training spot— on some occasions— at that time of the day."

"Are you stalking me, Sylvia Claire Mendelsohn?"

Her face turned pink, "I don't mean to, it just sorta happens."

I laughed, "Thanks, but I really am alright."

"Fine," she said. "But I worry about you."

Loud grunting and moaning suddenly emanated from the bushes nearby.

"What's that?" Sylvia whispered, her eyes darting towards the trees.

I sighed, "We should keep going."

"What if it's an attack?"

I gave her a look, "Sylvia, it's two people getting it on. That's not an attack."

She blushed, "Oh."

"Who's there!" shouted a voice from the shadows.

"Shit," Sylvia said.

"Just keep walking," I said.

"Hello!" a man called out.

Two heads appeared in the dark.

"Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

Gus stood up and adjusted his pants. His companion stayed hidden.

"It's just Sylvia and the weirdo!" he yelled over his shoulder.

A moment later, Trisha appeared. She pulled her dress over her head, covering her breasts.

"So, where are you two off to?" she said, brushing her hair back with her hand.

"Home," I said, turning to leave.

That's when we heard a scraping thud, like something being dragged along the ground, coming from up ahead.

"What was that?" Trisha whispered.

"I don't know," Sylvia said. "It sounded big."

"Probably an animal," Gus said, laughing. "Or maybe it's the ghost of that dead prostitute."

"Don't be a jackass, Gus," Sylvia snapped. "Myrtle was not a whore, she was a bartender."

"Yeah, but she sure did get around," Gus said, smirking.

Trisha punched him on the arm, "Be nice."

I peered down the alley. The sound came again, louder.

I felt a sudden wrongness in the air, like a weight pressing down upon me. I'd never felt anything like it before. Maybe having five points in [Power] had given me a sense for the unnatural.

"We need to get out of here," I said.

"You scared, weirdo?" Gus said, laughing. "Don't worry, there's no one out there."

He walked down the alley towards the sound.

"Don't go over there, Gus," I said.

"You're such a wuss," he said, turning the corner.

He disappeared into the darkness, and a moment later he let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Gus!" Trisha shouted, running after him.

I chased after her, Sylvia close behind me.

But when we rounded the corner, Gus was leaning against the wall and laughing hysterically.

"Haha! You should've seen the look on your faces," he said.

"Very funny," Sylvia said.

"Seriously," I said.

Then a shadowy form appeared in the darkness. It moved slowly toward us, dragging its feet.

"What the hell?" Trisha said, taking a step back.

Gus stopped laughing, "That's not funny," he said, his voice shaky.

The figure emerged from the shadows, a tall, lean man wearing a white hood. His clothes were tattered, and he walked stiffly, like someone had broken his leg and bound it badly.

The man kept muttering, 'Protectors' over and over again like he'd gone mad and was clinging to the only memory he had left.

"Hey you, drunk shit!" Gus yelled, stepping towards him. "Get out of here!"

He reached out to shove the man away. But instead of pushing him back, Gus screamed in pain and staggered backwards. He clutched his hand to his chest, blood streaming from a deep cut across his palm.

"Shit," he said. "He bit me."

The man's body trembled, "Protectors," he gasped, "Protectors... kill them..."

His words trailed off as the moonlight caught his face and I looked into the face of a man I'd seen every day since I was six years old.

Sylvia gasped behind me, "His eyes! Someone gouged the bloody things right out of their sockets."

The man approached slowly, one foot dragging through the dirt.

"Professor Tommelkins," I said, stepping towards the old man. "It's me, Bastion."

My old teacher raised his hand, and moonlight glinted off of a knife clutched inside his bloody fist.

"He's the killer," Sylvia whispered, backing away.

"Run!" I shouted.

Gus turned to flee, knocking Trisha and Sylvia to the ground in his haste to escape.

Tommelkins lunged at him, his movements unnatural and jerky.

I darted forward and grabbed the old man by the wrist, "Professor! What’s wrong?"

He tried to bite my face.

"It's me, Bastion," I said, as I twisted his arm, using all my strength to force his hand towards his body.

He kicked out weakly, missing me by inches.

I heard screams of panic behind me.

I slammed my forehead against the old man's nose. A sickening crunch reverberated through the narrow space as the brittle cartilage gave way beneath the force of the impact.

Tommelkins staggered backward, disoriented.

"Look at this leg," Sylvia yelled.

His leg was torn open, revealing bone and muscle, but no blood ran from the wound.

I felt cold, icy fear run down my spine.

"Infernal flames!" I cursed. "He's already dead."

He approached slowly, as if he'd forgotten I was there, his one-foot dragging through the dirt. As I watched him draw nearer, I felt a sudden rush of anger and grief. Someone had done this to him, they'd brought him back to life with magic.

Tommelkins was a good man, he didn't deserve this.

My throat tightened. I wanted to kill whoever had done this, to make them pay. But first I needed to end my professor's suffering, to put him back in the land of the dead where he belonged.

"Sorry about this, professor," I said, taking a step forward.

"Bas—" Sylvia shouted, but I was already moving.

I broke into a sprint, moving at my full speed, and closed the distance between me and the old man in a matter of seconds.

The knife flashed in his hand and I ducked under the lunge, coming up behind him. He whirled around, slashing at my stomach, but with my six points in [Agility] his movements were slow and clumsy.

His blade glanced off of my own dagger and I ducked low, grabbing his wrist and forcing his arm back down.

"Look away!" I shouted over my shoulder, and in the corner of my eye I saw Sylvia and Trisha backing away.

Gus was already gone.

I took a deep breath and lunged. My dagger struck true, piercing an empty eye socket. I slammed the flat of my palm against the dagger’s hit and felt the blade penetrate the brain and crack the skull like a walnut.

I yanked my dagger free, and Tommelkins’ body went limp. He dropped to the ground with a resounding thud.

I looked down at the man who’d taught me to read and write, a man who always wore a smile.

"Goodbye, professor," I said. "Rest in peace."

***

Tommelkins' corpse lay in the center of the street, wrapped in blankets, his face pale, his empty eye sockets leaking dark fluid. Father Baragad knelt beside the man, praying in the old tongue.

Sylvia held my hand tight, weeping softly.

Trisha had left, not wanting to stick around long enough to find out what had happened to the professor.

"And you just happened to be walking past when he attacked?" Malachi asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes," I said. "I've already told you what happened."

Malachi looked back at Sylvia, "And you were with Bastion the whole time?"

"Yes, sir," she said, looking pale.

Malachi sighed heavily, "Somebody cast [Gravespeak Edict] on your teacher," he said, turning his gaze on me, "And you say he was mumbling something about the Protectors?"

"Gravespeak? What in the Maker's name is that?" Sylvia asked.

Malachi's face showed no emotion as he spoke. "It's a curse card that animates a corpse and gives it a single command that it must obey."

"Shit!" I said under my breath.

"Have you checked on the Protectors?" Sylvia asked. "He was after them."

Malachi nodded, "My partner is checking right now, we'll know soon enough."

He looked up at the sky, his monocle catching the moonlight, "But the fact that the barrier is still up means that at least one of the Protectors is still alive."

"That's reassuring," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do," he said. "You've destroyed the only evidence we have. If you'd captured him, maybe I could have discovered who was behind the attack. But now..."

Is he accusing me of doing this on purpose?

I felt heat rising in my cheeks, "Professor Tommelkins was a good man, no citizen of Misty Hollow would have done this to him."

Malachi's mouth twitched into a bitter smile, "I hope you're right, Mr. Ward, because if not... then one of these people you call friends is a sick-twisted killer."

Sylvia looked from Malachi back to me, sensing the tension in the air, "Can we go now," she said, her voice small.

"Of course," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'm sure the card mage has all the information he needs."

Malachi nodded, "Just take care, both of you."

He turned and headed back towards the inn, his cane tapping rhythmically on the cobbles.

We watched him until he disappeared inside, and then Sylvia and I headed slowly back to her house.

The light of the moons shone bright, casting shadows across the road as we walked.

She's scared, and I don't blame her. I might be immortal but what about my mother and my friends. How do I protect them from magic?

As I walked, the answer came to me. The only way to defeat magic was with magic. I needed more spell cards. There was no time left to play it safe. If I was going to stop the killer, I'd have to do something desperate.

I stopped before reaching her door, "Sylvia, I want to ask you a favor."

"Anything," she answered.

"I'm going to be away for a couple of days," I said, feeling my stomach tighten. "Can you keep an eye on my mother while I'm gone?"

Sylvia gripped my arm tightly, "Why? Are you going somewhere dangerous?"

"No," I lied, "I've got something I need to take care of."

There was fear in her eyes, "Promise me you won't do something stupid," she said.

I smiled, "I promise," I said, placing a hand on hers.

"Does this have something to do with the card mages?" she asked.

I nodded, "But you don't need to worry. I'll be fine."

She blinked, "I see," she said. "I'll take care of your mother," she said, "but only as long as you come back."

"Thank you," I said, "and don't tell her anything, she wouldn't understand."

She let go of my hand, opened the door to her house and stepped inside, "I don't think I understand either," she said, a sad smile touching her lips as she closed the door.

I stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading down the hall.

Finally, I turned and continued my walk, there was still work to do before the night was over.

***