Leland’s head flicked over. “What?” he screeched, a hole clamping within his stomach.

Lodestar didn’t answer.

With a growl, Leland’s hands rocketed toward the parasite, grabbing the cold white metal halo. Uncaring of the searing pain across his palms, he shoved Lodestar into Gelo’s wall of ice. Cracks split from the impact, an unholy quake radiating.

“Don’t do that,” Lodestar said with more than a hint of bite, a clawing wake pulsing from where his pure dark entrance into Oblivion rested against ice.

“You killed Seer?” Leland seethed. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” the parasite echoed, a lameness bristling in every syllable. Was it boredom? Was it the unflinching need to look down upon his host? Not even Lodestar knew, his emotions far from how they were when he was a human all those years ago.

Maybe once Lodestar would have cared that he just ended a life. Now? All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. If what he referred to as “sleep” could be considered such a thing.

Leland lost himself staring at his own reflection, Lodestar’s darkness like a mirror into a twisted version of reality. Once, when Lodestar had first evolved, Leland thought the corruption inside the parasite would one day take hold. The promise of power? The alluring potential of success? The glory of never again feeling useless? Losing the battle of parasite-host was something every host went through, the psychological war like a teetering pendulum.

It went back and forth in Leland’s mind, always ending with him firmly telling himself he’d never lose to such a creature.

But now? It wasn’t just firm. Lodestar had just killed someone, blasted him with a beam of dark, dark magic, and didn’t so much as flinch. Where was that magic when Harbinger Ashford was choking him above the castle? Where was that power when Leland had needed it most?

“Firmly” didn’t graze the surface of resolve Leland felt in this moment. Lodestar would never win this little personal war. The Lord of Souls’ brother would die as he was today, a parasite, whenever that may be. He held unbelievable power, yet refused to use it when an entire city was under threat.

“You are going to have to explain a bit more, parasite.”

The darkness within Lodestar spun, flipping Leland’s reflection as if the reflection itself wanted to spin around. “Seer is dead, and five more still come. This is neither the time, nor place. Not with an audience such as thee.”

Consciously, Leland felt both Gelo and Elin nearby, watching. He took a deep breath, refocusing on the danger everyone faced. Lodestar would be around after the battle, and Leland wasn’t going to take silence for an answer this time. By the end of the day, they would be friends and teammates, or mortal enemies who just so happened to share the same body.

“We could have been friends,” Leland whispered, his thoughts slipping out. “I… I felt bad for you. But that—” He pointed in the general direction of the death beam, “—that’s… that’s…”

Frustration bubbled from his guts to his mind, singing like a war cry. He needed to move, to run, to fight. How foolish had he been to think— He shook his head. Later. Everything was always later; he hated that.

His grimoire flipped a dozen pages, landing on a set of pages that just so happened to be his favorites. With a press of his palm, eight wings appeared along, or from, his back. With careful steps, Leland walked up Gelo’s ice staircase and onto her wall. Then, with but a single flap of all of his wings, he launched.

Seer was dead. And there were still five more souls to collect.

Feeling a change in the air, both Glenny and Jude reacted to their best friend. The plan had originally been to defend the Tear. Now? Now all of that was out the window, Leland’s entrance into the battlefield not only a game changer, but a game ender.

They moved through the sand, the Witches. Hiding like the cowards they were, killing, stealing, ruining lives. Why should they be allowed to live? Why don’t the Lords smite them down once their brands are placed along their faces?

Glenny’s mom and Isobel’s family may still be alive if that was the case. Death was a good deterrent for murder, after all.

Such was the curse of this world, right? Fight, struggle, cry, weep. People took and took, stealing even though they already had enough, killing when people fought back.

How many were going to die tonight because of Seer? Because of Lodestar? How many already died because Lodestar didn’t kill Ashford and the Sightless King instantly?

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Just what was Lodestar? Why did he… he…

The wind and rain drained the anger from Leland’s bones. How many would still be alive if he had done better? If he was faster? Stronger? If he had been smarter?

Lodestar may be a self-centered abomination of what a human could become, but thinking like that was only a raft for Leland’s ego. And the worst part was, Leland knew that too.

He had asked the Lord of Magic how to deal with his ego not very long ago, and while his question back then had a different meaning, now he wished they could have talked for hours. The price of power, the faults of being so weak. Blame was a two way street, and no matter how much he pleaded, Leland could only control his own actions. Not Lodestar’s, not Jude’s, Glenny’s, Gelo’s, Isobel’s.

People had died fighting against Harbinger Ashford and the Sightless King – a lot of people. But blaming Lodestar for not helping only went so far… even if Lodestar could have ended things before they began.

Today was not going to be like that, not again, never again.

Soaring through the sky, Leland arrived at the location Lodestar had sent his death beam. It was subtle, but mounds of sand traversed the black desert, casting wakes of movement like a mole digging a tunnel. One mound had collapsed, meaning five remained.

“Kneel before me!” Leland yelled, his voice carried with anger and guilt, and his lungs burned with mana and lifeforce. Everything he had poured into the spell, lighting the desert aflame, transforming the area into a hellish lilac.

Violet mist poured from Leland’s head, mixing well with the rain to obscure his mundane features. Against the dark sky and clouds, only a general outline of him remained, his wings like beacons against the darkness that was him. Four white feathered wings, each basking in a gentle glow meshed against a pair of raven black wings that stretched across the horizon. The only oddity was the Draconic wings that seemed to breathe independently of Leland.

But even more striking was his eyes.

His wings, while dazzling and contrasting, bowed to the fury that captivated the young man’s eyes. They were lavender, just lavender. Two orbs of pure shimmering purple, no fire, no flame, no irises.

Memories of walking among bodies troubled Leland, memories of watching Ashford cut down anyone who neared replayed in his mind’s eye. The idea that people like Annie or Abby could be murdered by spineless cowards who hide in the sand was like hot iron against his skin.

Circle of Souls banded around the five remaining Witches, but wicked flames didn’t ensnare them – something far grander did.

Lilac.

Lilac fire rose from beneath the sandy ground and into the sky, calling the eye of all – even the Lordly variant. Where they watched from didn’t matter, for the pillar of flame took up the surface area of a small city. Rounded and far, far greater than any previous cast of Circle of Souls, the curse blazed as if the heavens themselves opened and the Lord of Cinders tossed down a miniature sun made of purple malefic .

Dusk became day, a very, very purple day.

Five creatures made of green skin and green clothing stepped through the fire and flames, uncaring of the heatless pain. They tore through the sand, finding their targets like assassins by order of their King. Souls of the Damned, obviously, but enhanced and orderly. Gone were their scraggly, malformed bodies, and here were armored, twisted beasts.

Humans, or what once were humans, the souls of the Damned moved on all fours – anything to get to their targets quicker. They tore into both the world and emotion itself, cauterizing with a swipe of their savage hands. Like ripping chunks of stone from a wall, they grimly assaulted their targets.

The Witches didn’t last, their souls taken from their bodies the moment the souls of the Damned made contact. What remained of their bodies was… ruthless and bloody.

Watching all of this, Leland’s jaw fell. This power was an accident. Walker had called it “ether,” the combination of mana and lifeforce, and was the basis for the power that surpassed the Lords.

And when five freshly stolen Witch souls were presented by five kneeling souls of the Damned, Leland supposed he had created ether. His mind went back to the meeting with Captain Curtain and the team leaders. He had grown bored of the monotony and had decided to practice Walker’s breathing technique. At the time, Leland had felt he was close to a successful attempt.

But here, watching Circle of Souls reach from the ground to the sky, he supposed he was far more successful than he originally thought.

Which also raised another important point; ether worked as a fuel source for Legacy curses.

At the realization, Leland cut the curse, ending the pillar of spiraling flames. He snatched up the lost souls from the souls of the Damned, muttering “thanks” for the lifeless beings’ hard work, and added them to his soul cloak-necklace.

It was then Leland sputtered a labored cough into his hand. He groaned at the sight of red blood dripping between his fingers. With a shake of his head, he pressed his palm into a contract before tapping himself with healing magic.

But before he could turn to his friends, his grimoire trembled. It cycled pages as if it suddenly had thousands more, landing on the last page of the newly added section. It shook, as if the pages themselves were in terrible pain. Slowly, Leland peered at it and read.

Somehow, you did it. May the world recover from the pain you may cause it one day. Can you hear it? The sound of Calamity?

-Lord of !#*%((((

The ink melted away, disappearing into the paper like a drop of water on a black shirt. Then, like the rising sun, more words appeared.

Ignore him, Leland. And good job. Be careful next time, though. The power you touched upon is a secret that could end worlds. But I think you already know that.

We will talk more next time we meet in person. Hurry up and rank-up my Legacy. That is the fastest way.

-Lord of Curses.

Leland blinked a few times, slowly pulling back his stressed posture. He tugged his grimoire closed, finding it now as thick as three bricks stacked on top of one another. Swallowing, he reopened it, flipping through the new pages and finding them all blank.

“Great. That’s just great,” he muttered to himself as Jude and Glenny stepped up beside him.