The Parables say the unworthy are to be damned to hell when they die.

I try and remember the moment I died.

Because this must be hell.

What is a life without hope, without love, without happiness, if not hell?

Thaeolai halted her ink quill.

Day had come and gone. It was evening now, and in the shade of the western tree cover, it might as well have been night. The orange torchlight inside the tent magnified and gleamed against the darkening crimson walls, taking on the sun’s duty as the parent star sank below the woods. The weather was calm. The wind breathed.

She took in the sounds only for a moment, and then she looked back down at her poem. A tress of blonde sank over her face. She sniffled. It was a cold, she told herself. She shivered in her light-colored healer robes. Her writing hand moved.

I should’ve gone with Heror. I could’ve fixed things. I could’ve prevented this.

She paused again.

He wouldn’t have wanted me.

Thaeolai felt her eyes welling, and she hastily slid the parchment and quill under her pillow. She might’ve smeared the ink on the casing. It didn’t matter.

Now she sat to the side, letting her feet fall to the floor. Her hands dug into the bedding. She hung her head and let out a trembling breath, trying to calm herself. She slowly looked up.

The medical tent was mostly empty. There were no more healers milling about – at least not on this side of the road. Wounded siephalls dotted the beds from end to end. Some rested. Some occupied themselves with little crafts. Some cried.

Tiredly, Thaeolai’s eyes traced the enclosure. They went from the far tent flap, to the beds, to a wooden support beam not far away from her. There was a new piece of parchment nailed to the beam. Ink-blotted writing was scrawled across it:

Heror “The Grey Wolf” Heran: Traitor, War Criminal, Murderer, Mutt

Reward for Information: 10,000 Kivs – See Siekarum Daromei

A harsh sigh left her mouth, and her eyes dropped to the floor again.

The khilung was paranoid after Heror’s reappearance – that he was now a phantom in the woods, haunting them. But Thaeolai – and perhaps Ucankacei, too – knew what they didn’t. He would never linger simply to terrorize them, as if a roving outlaw. As angry at the world as he’d been, he understood how many siephalls shared in his suffering. And even then, he could barely stand to stay here in the first place.

She guessed that, wherever he was, he was on his way to Pylantheum now. It was where he’d wanted to go for so long. And now, she imagined, he had nowhere else to go.

Another long sigh, this one an act of relinquish. She hoped that, wherever he was, he was well. She hoped he was safe.

As soon as she felt grace, however, more thoughts came to combat it. Heror had never truly appreciated her. When she spoke caution to his plans of leaving, she was only ever looking out for him. She only ever wanted him to be safe. And yet, he never took her seriously. He never took her feelings into consideration. And she doubted he felt remorse for what he’d said before he left. Antagonizing her. Blaming her for keeping him here. He felt no remorse – because he said what he felt, and Heror was always so unapologetic.

Why should she give him grace? What was the point?

And now, amidst the conflict, anxiety washed over her. The things he’d said echoed in her mind. Still, the piercing tone of his voice gnawed at her brain.

How could you be so selfish?

You can’t will yourself to leave this hell, so you’d rather I burn with you.

Had she been selfish? She hadn’t realized it. And if she had been selfish, and hadn’t realized it… what did that say about her?

Maybe she deserved this.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the northern tent flap opened, not far from her bed. She glanced in that direction, and as soon as she did, her head whisked away.

It was a siephall named Quincilei – for whom Thaeolai and Isec had treated a cut across his leg. He’d given his name unprompted and unwelcome several times while Thaeolai tried to ignore him. Tall and slender, with cropped blonde hair and a thin, boastful smile. His first advances struck her as very smarmy. He’d progressively become blunt and impatient. She hoped to turn him away quickly this time.

“Thaeolai, did you hear?” Quincilei called as he walked toward her.

She pretended she didn’t hear him.

“Thaeolai, did you hear?” he repeated, as he attempted to concoct charm with slower steps.

Thaeolai’s shoulders slumped. She let out a third sigh – now one of transparent annoyance – and she begrudgingly lifted her eyes as she sat.

“What, Quincilei?” she grumbled.

Quincilei strode to the support beam. He leaned against it.. She watched as the parchment carrying Heror’s name was crumpled by the siephall’s shoulder.

“Word is the Midans are gearing up for another attack,” Quincilei told her with twisted excitement. “Biggest one yet.”

“Great,” Thaeolai muttered, starting to stand. “I was just leav–”

“They say at least a thousand more are coming down from the north,” Quincilei went on, stepping away from the beam.

Thaeolai was about to rise to her feet when Quincilei took another bounding step toward her. She shrunk back down and slid closer to the tent wall.

“Seven-foot monsters with clubs and cudgels, and archers on horseback with deadly precision, and the traitor Heran is coming back to lead them,” Quincilei rushed. “They say none of us are going to survive this one. They’re saying this will be the end.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Thaeolai pried, trying a different strategy – as she tried to calm the rising tremors in her arms. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready then?”

“Well…” Quincilei said, with a sneering grin. “I think, if we’re all going to die… we should make the most of the time we have left.”

After another long step, Quincilei sat onto the edge of the bed. Thaeolai slid closer to the wall, crinkling her poems beneath her pillow. Quincilei closed the gap and tilted toward her.

“Get away from me,” Thaeolai growled, no longer hiding her emotions.

“Don’t you want to have some fun while we still have time?”

“I said, get away.”

“A good girl like you deserves to be treated to some–”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“You like to make it a challenge, don’t you…?”

Now Quincilei leaned in, and his hand started to lift toward her leg, grazing it – when Thaeolai grabbed his cloak with her left hand, and sent a throttling fist into his face with her right. The blow sent the siephall spiraling to the ground as he let out an exasperated yell, and when he lifted and turned back around, blood trickled from a cut on his lip. He pressed his fingers against it, and then he scowled at the girl.

“You bitch!” he hissed.

In a rush of adrenaline, Thaeolai stood. The siephall took a step toward her again. His right hand crept down to his sword handle. He started to speak.

“If you don’t–”

“Siephall!!”

There was a powerful voice. The siephall Quincilei whirled around, and when he did, he saw the healer Isec standing by the northern tent flap. He was a man of medium height in his late forties, donning a dark robe and sash. His beard and eyebrows were thick and dark, and loose dark brown hair that had just begun to gray around the edges. The Pylanthean glared at the siephall with simmering brown eyes, and then he stepped into the tent.

“Quincilei, correct?” Isec recollected.

“Yes, maesas,” Quincilei said faintly, clamming up.

“I remember you. How is your leg?”

“Good, maesas.”

Now Isec’s glare darkened. He glanced at Thaeolai, and then back at Quincilei.

“Would you prefer we leave you bleeding next time?”

“N-no… maesas…”

Isec nodded, and then he tilted his head toward the exit.

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“Get out then.”

Quincilei buried his eyes in the dirt and left with haste. He snuck by Isec, rolling his shoulder away, and then he was gone. As he left, Thaeolai stood and watched. She tried to lessen the heaves in her chest. Her hands shook as she carefully sat back down on her bed.

Isec looked toward her now, and she saw his glare fade into worry. He approached her bed, and then he sat slowly on the empty bed across from her.

“I was just about to make my final rounds and I heard the shouts,” Isec explained.

The Pylanthean leaned forward and clasped his hands together, and then he eyed the girl.

“You alright?”

Thaeolai let out a weak ‘mhm’ – but her heart was still racing.

Isec seemed to be aware she was lying. His brow barely lifted, and his forehead creased underneath loose brown tufts. They sat for a moment. They let the sound of the wind flow in again. And then Isec looked at her again. He offered her a soft, light smile.

“Can I teach you a spell?” he asked. “A good punch works just as well, but… this is if you want to keep your knuckles clean.”

It took a moment for Thaeolai to realize what he was offering; she was still calming down. But as she calmed, she felt a smoldering discomfort across the back of her right hand. And so she nodded, giving Isec half a glance. The man kept his soft smile and cast his eyes down.

“Lean forward,” he said. “Hold out your hand.”

There was some reluctance from Thaeolai, but after a second, she held out her left hand, turning her wrist upside down. Gently, Isec reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Then, he whispered an incantation. All at once, there was a loud zap, and a light shock pulsed through Thaeolai’s forearm.

Thaeolai jumped. It was as if she’d touched a charged piece of metal. Stray hairs stood up around her ears. The shock flushed some of the anxiousness out of her, and as she looked at Isec, she smiled in surprise and awe.

“You feel that?” Isec chuckled.

Thaeolai nodded. Isec removed his hand.

“A-eiwal electri,” Isec chanted. “That’s the text for this spell. Simple.”

Now Isec held out his hand as Thaeolai had. Thaeolai glanced down at the man’s outstretched fingers, and then she raised an eyebrow. Isec nodded.

“Try it,” he encouraged.

Thaeolai blinked.

“Are you… are you sure?” she questioned shyly. “I don’t want to hurt you if I do it wrong…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Isec reassured her, nonchalantly shaking his head. “Here, try it.”

Thaeolai did as he had now. She wrapped her fingers around the man’s wrist, and then she uttered the text under her breath, visualizing the words in her head. As soon as she finished the phrase, she felt a sudden pulse of energy run from her palm. Isec jolted from the shock and drew his hand back, and then he smiled.

“That’s it,” he said with a small laugh. “You’re a natural.”

Thaeolai smiled faintly and dropped her eyes for a moment. Then she looked up again. Isec nodded to her.

“You do this whenever someone’s giving you trouble,” Isec advised. “Tell ‘em there’s more where that came from if they don’t do what you say.”

Thaeolai smiled a bit wider. There was a flash in her emerald eyes, and she reciprocated the nod. Isec glanced over his shoulder. It was evening, and through the tent flap, the sky was getting darker. He turned back to Thaeolai. She saw calmness and concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright now?”

Thaeolai silently studied her pulse. It was slower now.

“Better,” she replied.

But at the thought of being alone again, it jumped.

“But you can stay for a bit longer… if you want…”

Isec nodded with understanding, and he pursed his lips. It was quiet for a moment, as they sat with each other. Far past the walls of the tent, the chatter of soldiers rose again. A light breeze cast waves along the red canvas. Sparks and embers danced from the tops of the torches. After some time, Isec gestured to Thaeolai’s hands.

“Did you take lessons?” he asked, his voice low.

Thaeolai gave him a nod: “When I was younger.”

“Why did you stop?”

Thaeolai opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. She still vividly remembered the day she’d been cast out of her family’s house. It was not a day she liked to revisit. Isec saw her discomfort, and he let out a short breath before changing the subject.

“Well, for not having taken lessons in a while, I’d say your skill is still there,” he offered with a smirk. “Did you study keatuu as well, or only keawal?”

“Only keawal,” Thaeolai replied, finding it difficult to hide her disappointment. “We never made it to keatuu.”

“Don’t feel discouraged,” Isec comforted her. “Keawal is far easier to grasp. Even the best practitioners need years to master keatuu. Do you know why keatuu is so difficult?”

“I know that… keawal is change magic, and keatuu is creation magic,” Thaeolai pondered aloud. “Keawal allows you to manipulate things already present. Keatuu forces you to create new energy from thin air.”

“That’s a large part of it,” Isec said with a smile. “But it’s not that you’re creating energy from thin air. When you use keatuu, you are siphoning that raw energy… from a realm very far away. A realm almost untouchable to us.”

“What realm?” Thaeolai asked; she’d never heard this before.

Isec glanced back behind him again. Then he turned around to Thaeolai and smiled, nodding his head toward the tent flap.

“C’mon,” he said. “It would be easier to show you.”

Isec stood and walked to the exit, and Thaeolai followed. When they emerged from the tent, it was dark outside. Just over the forest’s cluttered silhouette to the west, Thaeolai could see the red glow of the dying sun. Up above, the sky was clear, and the stars were out – a clustered powder of light and plasma in a blackened matrix. For a fleeting second, Thaeolai thought she saw a meteor, streaking across the dark canvas in a blink of white. She smiled.

“There,” Isec said as they both looked up. “That is where you draw your energy from when using keatuu. You might’ve only ever known it as the night sky. But A-ei’s tomes on keawalatuu call it the Xen – unconstructed creation space. That is the realm where the Gods themselves were first born, and where they began construction of the Aelyum itself. Some believe that each of those little stars you see – each of those tiny dots – are in fact gigantic spheres of kea – raw energy – at a scale almost impossible to comprehend. Factories of fire where the Gods do their work, emanating light so powerful that it reaches us here, from millions of miles away.”

“That’s where we draw our power from for keatuu?” Thaeolai asked in wonder.

“Yes,” Isec affirmed. “And that’s why keawal is so much easier. With keawal, you’re using the energy and matter that the Gods have formed for us in this realm as source material. With keatuu texts, however, your mind is breaking the boundary between realms, and tapping into an endless, unfathomable space of creation, to draw back raw energy and bring it to this world.”

“All of a sudden, it sounds a lot more difficult,” Thaeolai said, forcing a weak laugh.

“It is difficult,” Isec conceded. “Keawal and keatuu are both tied to the mind in intricate ways. It takes an incredible amount of mental control and discipline to first visualize the texts, and then manifest spells from those thoughts. With keatuu, you have to go a step further, and find your source material in the form of that energy.”

“The Gods don’t mind us taking their energy?” Thaeolai questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what they think about it,” Isec replied. “But if they did mind… they wouldn’t have given us the gift.”

Thaeolai’s eyes drifted downward, and she thought for a moment. But soon, the stars drew her gaze again. And for a time longer, they marveled at the night sky. The breeze picked at loose strands of blonde hair, and tickled Thaeolai’s ears. She glanced at Isec, who had folded his hands inside his robe.

“You had to have studied,” she observed. “To know as much as you do.”

“I studied in Tephire for a few years when I was younger,” Isec answered with a nod.

“Tephire?” Thaeolai echoed, her eyes lighting up. “Did you study in Marteliphi??”

Isec smiled, recognizing her excitement.

“Yes, I did.”

Thaeolai’s awe was directed at him now, and she waited for him to continue. Isec kept his quaint smile and let out a long, deep breath.

“I was there for four years,” he went on. “Met my wife there. And then we went back to my family in northern Pylantheum, in the mountains.”

There was a sudden distance in Isec’s voice now – a distance that was somewhat familiar to Thaeolai. Whenever Heror didn’t want to talk about something, he’d talk with a similar tone. Thaeolai recognized this. She only glanced at the man.

“You don’t… you don’t need to answer,” Thaeolai started. “But if I may ask… how did you end up here?”

Isec met her glance, and she saw that his smile was gone. He gave her a look of conflict, and his thick brows shrunk against his eyes. And then he turned his gaze ahead, loose brown hair flitting in the wind. He started to open his mouth…

… when a sound interrupted them.

It came from the north. From the barricade on the road. At first, it was only a shout. And then there were more, that were soon all silenced. Isec narrowed his eyes, and he wandered past the medical tent, to the edge of the road not thirty feet away. Thaeolai followed, her eyes searching for the source of the noise.

And then, farther down the dirt path to the north, in the amber light of the torches, Thaeolai saw a lone siephall sprinting toward the camp.

The siephall ran until he was inside the bounds of the encampment, and then he pulled an ivory horn from his cloak. He brought the instrument to his mouth and let out a firm, hollow note in the night air – a note that droned on and on, and climbed into the sky along the rising wind. All at once, more siephalls began to stir, and the soldier brought the horn down.

“The Midans!!” he bellowed in the middle of the road. “The Midans are here!! The Mida–”

And then several arrows lodged into the siephall’s back. He let out a croak, and then he crumpled to his knees and fell onto his face. In the distance, along the edge of the torchlight – through the gaps in the forest – Thaeolai could make out the form of a horse and its rider, a bow set in the rider’s arms. But this was the last thing she saw before the camp descended into chaos.

Siekarums rushed from their tents and began barking orders. Siephalls ran left and right, weapons and aspidans in hand. Red cloaks flashed back and forth in the light of the fires. And the arrows continued to rain.

Isec turned and grabbed Thaeolai’s shoulders. He crouched down and pulled her down with him, as fletched blades flew overhead.

“Get back to the tent,” he rushed. “Go. Now. I’ll be right behind you.”

Thaeolai turned and stumbled in the dirt. She got back on her feet and sped to a sprint, following the lead of her pounding heartbeat.