THE BARD, TWO DAYS EARLIER

My name is Gunehey.

I belonged in the Saga Troupe.

And I wanted to go home.

Those facts kept me sane as I shivered, my stomach rumbling because they forgot to feed me. Again.

I shouldn’t be here. I knew that above all else.

My soul felt the pull tonight. The thirst for freedom. Of needing to roam, or be literally anywhere else. But I was a prisoner, and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

Captivity wasn’t as exciting as I’d imagined it would be. One moment I was in Skywater entertaining royalty for the Blue Moon festival, and the next I’m bound, gagged, and swept off to a miserable hole in the world. Though I was obviously not a willing participant, the teller of tales in me had been thrilled.

At first.

Yes! I was a heroine in one of my stories! Captured! Taken! Threatened by some mysterious cult to do their bidding. I’d told this type of story hundreds of times in several iterations, secretly wishing to be part of the story. Not merely recounting it.

Granted, my capture had the makings of an excellent adventure. Danger and intrigue with the right amount of mystery. Maybe some lust if I was lucky. Oh, I could see myself telling this one around a fire years from now, my audience leaning in to hear what happens next.

If I didn’t die from boredom first. Or hunger.

Alas, so far this adventure had been nothing more than traveling through bone-biting cold. Hours upon hours of listening to others bitch about the weather. Bitch about sore muscles and what poor animal would wind up as dinner. Who had to get the firewood and who had to dig the latrine.

Things had improved once we approached the Source Chasm, and my heart had raced with excitement. But for the past three fucking days it had been more of the same.

In short, it was so…boring. The only difference between this and my life so far was the addition of shackles and the general lack of privacy that came with being a captive.

So, I retreated to my mind. To the part of myself that mattered most. And Fate, the Writer himself, had answered.

Curled in the comfort of half-sleep, my mind watches a creature made of purest light walking through a forest. He has a strange beauty about him. A horned head of a fox, the bulkier body of a wolf, and regal wings fanning out from his back. He and I walk together, though none of the Other creatures acknowledge me. They can only see him, and what a sight he is.

He walks through his forest as a king would his castle. Every smaller creature bows in deference to him. His head reaches to the upper canopy of the trees, long winding tail curling around the trunks. This is his home, and every leaf, branch, and being is his to command.

To protect.

A ripple, nearly invisible, goes through the air.

His head turns, eyes looking to a plateau in the distance. Tension is written in every line of his ethereal form.

I take in a sharp breath, watching him change his path and head straight for that plateau. Something is wrong. A blight on his forest. His kingdom. And it is his duty to stop it.

My body tenses as I watch him glide through the forest, darting through the trees at unbelievable speed. Speed only he can summon in this place. We are together, my spirit pulled by the center of this vision. Raito Kenshi. He bounds straight for the small village nestled atop the plateau, leaping–

A boot nudged my ribs, calling me back to reality.

“Wake up,” said a brusk feminine voice, pushing me again and moving me a couple of inches.

But I didn’t listen. I clung to the vision, squeezing my eyes shut.

The ripples in the air grow faster. Stronger. He feels something foul in the air. But he is clearing the lip of the cliff now, landing among homes made of thunderwood. He is approaching a tree made of…stone.

Stone? Was this a dream after all?

The Raito races forward, the pounding in the air as visceral in the vision as if I were actually there. He passes through the wall of the stone tree easily and I yelp at the sight.

A Pegasus made of shadow stands in the center, rearing. Even through the vision, I can feel the dark energy from the thing. Evil. Sadistic.

“Abyssal,” I murmured even as the boot nudged me again. The harsh stone was rough under my cheek, the shackles at my wrists and ankles chafing the sensitive skin there. But still, I squeezed my eyes shut. Fate was speaking and it was my purpose to listen.

Bards never dreamed, but we did see events in our sleep.

Hints of the future given to us by our God. The God of many verses. The God of the One Story. The story which began with time, and would end with it as well. Fate itself.

We called him the Writer.

And, for tonight, he was trying to tell me where I needed to be next.

The boot pushed me another few inches, the toe digging against ribs which had become too prominent. Writer spare me, could this woman take a hint? I gave zero shits about what she wanted when my mind had better places to be.

The stone tree is glowing inside, miniature carvings of Other creatures lighting the walls ever brighter with his approach. The Black Pegasus gazes down at the beings fleeing the tree. Elemancers, I realize. I only briefly notice the one human racing away, clutching a body, before my eyes go to the Raito again.

He hasn’t so much as paused.

The horned head tips down as he races to the thing made of shadow and wanting. The Abyssal has only just noticed him before it bellows an unholy scream.

Kenshi tears straight through the shadow, the force of energy meeting energy shaking the stony walls.

Kenshi turns, wings spread to balance himself and he mounts another attack. Part of me breaks as I see he is smaller now, but so is the Abyssal. It knits itself back together as it swivels its head to Kenshi, red eyes narrowed.

The Abyssal bucks, wings touching each side of the cavernous space inside the tree. The blow catches Kenshi in the side of the head, a piece of light tearing away. But Kenshi meets this strike without hesitation, whipping his long tail around like a whip. It wraps around the Abyssal like a bridle dragging the darkness toward the light. It shrieks at Kenshi, who remains silent.

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The beings square off, the Abyssal’s leg rising and falling upon Kenshi’s head again and again, but light wings deflect the blows.

And I can see them both growing weaker with each strike, though the Abyssal it taking the worst of it. It is growing smaller faster than Kenshi, who reaches to the walls with one of his wings. As he makes contact with one, the light flows into him, covering him in newer colors.

The colors form shapes that I would recognize anywhere. Elemancer tattoos, but unlike any other pattern I’ve seen.

Light. Light Elemancy.

The Abyssal screams again as tendrils of smoke come off it. It tries to rear, its movements becoming erratic as beams of light flow from Kenshi. Burning. Destroying. Kenshi holds the thing tight.

But then, the Abyssal, changing its weight onto it front limbs, begins to attack the tree itself.

As the shadow meets the walls, the Other lights go out.

Stone begins to crack, and Kenshi tracks the fissures of the weakening structure. He tries to drag the Pegasus away, but the Abyssal strikes again. Another boom. The stone tree groans.

“No,” I muttered, curling in on myself. The female’s fingers grabbed my shirt, dragging me into a sitting position. I did my best to ignore her, desperate for the end.

Fleeing Elemancers scream as they see the stone tree start to sway. The Abyssal intends to bring the whole structure down around them. Killing everyone.

Kenshi looks from the Elemancers, to the Abyssal, and back to the beings who so faithfully serve his forest.

He extends his wings to the walls, and light flows from him in pace with the Abyssal’s attacks.

The cracks heal, and the light within him starts to dim.

The Abyssal tears free, and it rounds on him. Kenshi, his face changing to rage for the first time, bares his teeth, the last of his light wavering like a candle in the wind.

The old Raito meets the darkness in one final rush, teeth and limbs tearing with every ounce of his strength. And–

A slap cracked across my face and I was finally forced to open my eyes. A female Elemancer held me up by my shirt, my toes barely touching the floor. Her eyes were glowing like dying coals, the tattoos on her skin coiling.

Another of my captors stood behind her. A human woman with flat eyes and black hair. She wore the same cloak as the rest of them, and I flinched when I saw it.

A Black Pegasus was stitched on the back, rippling in a gentle wind.

“Wake. Up,” the Elemancer growled, her fingers digging into my skin.

I yawned, feigning indifference.

“I know you all don’t believe in beauty sleep,” I said, waving at the general group who were all less than my standard of attractive, “But do you really have to force me to give up mine?”

“We’re moving out, and you finally get to make yourself useful,” said the Councilwoman Elemancer, shoving me away, “Start walking.”

My brows knitted together as I massaged the raw skin on my chest where she’d held me.

“But my feet hurt. And I want a hot meal. Trust me, I’m a lot more agreeable when I’ve had some food. Just ask–” I said, crossing my arms as much as the shackles would allow before I was cut off. The human woman’s fist dug into the soft spot below my ribs, a smirk on her lips as I collapsed in a heap.

My only other reply was a grunt and another shove as the moon hovered above us, the group starting to move again.

Ahead I saw a tower of steam belching into the sky, the stars reflecting in it. My stomach turned colder the the air as I realized this was it.

The Source Chasm.

The stone was hard and unforgiving as I lay on it, gasping for air. My captors hovered nearby and I knew I had only moments to close my eyes one more time. One more chance to hear Fate’s message.

All goes quiet and my heart breaks when I see the scorch marks near the center of the tree. Kenshi and the Abyssal are gone, and I can’t help but stifle a sob. My hand drifts over the place where he met his end.

But then, a light flickers in the corner of my vision and I turn to see a huge amethyst in the center, shards of it laying scattered across the floor.

A tiny purple flame is inside the last remaining part jutting from the floor. As I watch the flame, it changes.

A baby fox climbs out of the amethyst. A fox with horns and wings.

*******

“Com’on, Sweet’art! Sing us a song! Warm up that pretty voicebox!” one of my jailors, Sack Pox, said for the fourth time.

Turning sideways to squeeze between rocks, I shot him a cool glance. The cool glance my father had taught me, as only he could.

“Give me my cello and I’ll sing you a Gods-damned ballad,” I replied, my voice stronger than I felt. Every inch of me hurt. We had been walking for hours now. The Elemancer Councilwoman had left with us at the entrance of the Source Chasm. Her underlings, me included, were to split off from their main group.

Which left us to search for another way into the Source Chasm. A more subtle way. And I knew that didn’t bode well for me.

Apparently, the giant gaping hole the Source Chasm was known for was too good for us. No. The Councilwoman and her white-haired fellow councilman along with their envoy of royal guards would get to descend into it the proper way.

I hoped they fell all the way down the stairs.

“I’ve heard you were quite the little songbird at Skywater. You don’t need that hunk of moldy wood to sing us one little tune,” the man, who I’d nicknamed Sack Pox, went on. They had refused to give me their full names, so I’d invented names for them.

Sack Pox, to my disappointment, found his nickname funny.

“Oh, but why settle for good when you can have perfection?” I shot back to him, but he only grinned. His hand palmed a wicked-looking runic knife at his belt, the other holding a lantern higher as he shuffled between the labyrinth of rocks.

“I could make you sing,” he murmured too softly, drawing the knife out enough to catch the moonlight.

Fighting the urge to flinch, I put on my best theater smile.

“Oh, please do,” I said, batting my lashes at him. My smile became real when his brows knitted together.

“I’d welcome a little pain. Anything to escape having to climb another rock. And who knows?” I went on, dropping my voice to a husky whisper, “I might like it.”

Disgust crossed his face rapidly, the knife falling back into its sheath.

Score ten for Gunehey. Sack Pox; zero, I thought as the human woman in front of me groaned impatiently.

We came to a sudden stop. The scouts had returned, talking briefly to one another as they gestured for a new path for us to take. Meanwhile, I stumbled in the uneven terrain, dislodging a rock the size of a loaf of bread on my way.

The crash was loud in the otherwise quiet.

“Sorry,” I said, looking at the rock. But, then again, this wasn’t my first bout of being clumsy. My vocal cords may have worked fantastically, but my coordination was not as gifted. Especially not now.

Grunt. Shove. Another order to keep moving.

“As a matter of interest, why do I need to warm up my voice? ” I asked sweetly, even as my ankle gave a nasty throb from the stumble ”Am I going to be using it soon?”

Sack Pox started to reply, but one look from the female who’d punched me earlier had them going silent.

I’d decided to call her Stick. Yes, Stick suited her. Because she was the stick up everyone’s ass.

Wordlessly, she gestured to a small rift in the ground, like a scar on the earth.

“Hmm. Let’s venture a guess. Shall we, Sack Pox? Hope about you, Stick?” I asked but received no answer. I was shoved forward as we made for the thin hole in the ground.

I rolled my ankle again a minute later, more stones shifting and cracking together. Then again as I was dragged back to my feet, but I collapsed once more. Another bigger rock tumbled in my wake.

Finally, I was lifted and carried to the opening roughly. They deposited me in front of it, nearly causing me to fall in. A cold sweat broke out over my skin, somehow overtaking the existing chill of predawn. The hole was barely as wide as a coffin. A horrid rocky coffin.

“You’re joking. You must be!” I cried, gesturing to my still-generous physique. Although I hadn’t been given all my meals, I still was curvier than all of them.

“Shut up and get in,” muttered Stick, her face tense. I looked at her incredulously.

“Maybe if I were as thin as you, but come on! I’ll lose what little skin I have–”

Her hand clamped around my mouth, muffling my last words. She dragged my face to within an inch of hers.

“Shut. Up. Get. In,” she repeated, her tone barely audible.

I peered in the hole, praying I wasn’t just seeing things.

Come on, I’ve been calling you for hours, I begged silently. Because I knew the denizens that lurked beneath my feet.

I was pressed forward until I overbalanced, landing hard inside the hole. Stick loomed above me, a soft chuckle escaping her. She made to follow but froze in place.

Because something shifted next to me in the darkness. Something with wings, claws, and clouded pupils.

A grin spread across my face.

Because that’s when the Gray Eye’s guards emerged.