Wyatt opened the door to find a scowling Captain Nathaniel, three armed men with spears, and a brown-robed mage glaring at him imperiously. He was surprised all of them managed to fit in the hallway and not be overly cramped. Nathaniel was just like Wyatt remembered: he was tall, over six feet, and had long light brown hair that fell about his shoulders. He was well-built and strong, with only the faintest traces of grey evident in his beard.

“Are you going to let us in?” Nathaniel asked, his voice poisonously sweet.

Wyatt said nothing as he moved to the side, his hands behind his back with one clenched around the grip of his dagger. Jor will pay for this, Wyatt thought, filing the thought away for later.

It had been years since he had felt like this, like he was on the edge of a precipice of destructive violence. He was primed and ready to draw his dagger and lunge within an instant, but he forced himself into a calm stillness. One sudden move, and it will be a bloodbath.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Nathaniel said as he walked into the room, his men and the mage trooping in behind him. He looked over Wyatt’s home and shook his head.

“You’ve fallen so far, Wyatt,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head. His voice was smooth and controlled, but there was a bite to it that only became more evident the longer he spoke. “A Captain of the Citadel Guard… reduced to this squalor?” When you left so suddenly after your… incident, I and so many others were very curious. Did you sell your services to the highest bidder? Were you commanding an army of your own? Were you a ship captain, sailing about Drea’s Bay with the wind on your face? So many different options, Wyatt, and you chose this.”

“Leaving Velaire was the best decision that I’ve ever made,” Wyatt said. “I’ll never regret leaving that nest of vipers.”

“Be silent!” Nathaniel snapped. It was then that Wyatt remembered his flight from Velaire at the dead of night, with Nathaniel’s mocking calls in his ears as he and Lea fled for their lives. “I grow tired of your presence already. Bring the girl, and we’ll leave quietly.”

“Why should I?” Wyatt said. He very purposefully didn’t look back toward his bedroom. “She doesn’t require Testing.”

“All citizens of Velaire must be Tested,” the mage spoke, his voice solemn. “I am here to ensure that justice is done.”

“I’m sure the Captain of the Citadel Guard and three soldiers are needed to watch the Testing,” Wyatt said scornfully. He wanted nothing more than to shove his blade through the mage’s throat.

“What can I say? You have a reputation,” Nathaniel said, chuckling. “No mage would want to come alone to Wyatt, the Former Citadel Guard Captain’s home, even if it’s mostly because they didn’t want to be seen in such a hovel.”

One of the soldiers laughed. Wyatt turned and stared at the man, and the guard’s laughter abruptly silenced as he swallowed and looked down at the floor.

“See!” Nathaniel cried, pointing to the guard. “Close to a decade later and your very presence strikes fear into the heart of lesser men! You should have never left, Wyatt. We never agreed much, but I think we can both agree that you made a mistake that night.”

“I regret nothing,” Wyatt said. He shifted, standing tall before sinking to the balls of his feet. It was a motion that he had done many times to intimidate many different people in his line of work. “Leave now before you come to regret coming here.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Nathaniel hissed. His eyes went to Bella’s bedroom door and flickered back to Wyatt. “Find the girl.”

The three soldiers waited a moment, looking from Nathaniel to Wyatt, each looking indecisive. “Now!” Nathaniel shouted, and the men slowly turned their backs on Wyatt as they went into Bella’s bedroom.

“The Test won’t hurt the girl,” the mage offered as Nathaniel’s men tore apart Bella’s bedroom. “Very few even have the capability to wield magic, let alone be powerful enough so that the Citadel takes an interest in them.”

“Oh, he knows that,” Nathaniel said. He began pacing from side to side, his hand on his sword and his eyes never leaving Wyatt’s. “There were always rumors about him; how he could do things that couldn’t be explained, how he was an orphan and never took the test.”

“Every citizen of Velaire takes the test upon order of King Darius and the Council,” the mage said stiffly.

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Nathaniel said. “It’s impossible to test everyone. The Citadel tries, but there are those who manage to slip their way through the cracks… just like you, Wyatt.”

Before Wyatt could answer, the men came out of Bella’s room. Glancing over their shoulders, Wyatt saw that they had trashed the room. Bella’s things were scattered everywhere, and her bed had been flipped over.

“The girl isn’t there, sir,” a guard said, the same guard that had laughed earlier.

Nathaniel whirled on Wyatt. He drew his sword, but he kept it pointed to the floor. “I could have this pathetic hovel burned to the ground with everyone inside it,” Nathaniel said. He jerked his head to the mage. “You aren’t the Captain of the Citadel Guard anymore, Wyatt. I am! All I have to do is say the word, and no one leaves this place alive. Give. Me. The. Girl.”

Wyatt’s eyes went from Nathaniel to his soldiers and to the mage. He stepped to the middle of the room, standing between the men and his family. If Bella were taken, he would never see her again. In the Citadel, family connections were ruthlessly torn from those who were not of noble stock. If Bella didn’t have an ‘accident’ within days of her arrival, the next time he saw her, she would barely recognize him, or worse—she would become one of them.

Wyatt smiled at them and let his magic envelop him for the first time in nine years.

Power filled him. Nathaniel was right; as an orphan, he had never had to take the test, and he had never been trained. As an orphan, he had grown up and seen the casual cruelty the Citadel displayed daily to whose they deemed underneath them. They abducted whoever they wanted with the King’s backing, terrorized citizens into compliance, and were otherwise deeply corrupt to the very core. Marek was one of the few mages he had met that hadn’t been hopelessly lost to their vices.

His magical power had been very useful growing up. It had gotten him out of skirmishes he should’ve died in, making his reactions faster and his mind smarter. He hadn’t been flashy—that would’ve gotten him dragged to the Citadel in a heartbeat—but he had used it whenever he’d needed an edge, just as he needed it now.

“He’s channeling!” the mage shouted in alarm.

Wyatt drew his dagger and leapt forward, thrusting out his other hand as he did so. Raw magical power flew toward the mage, overwhelming his feeble resistance and sending him crashing into the wall. Wyatt then batted aside Nathaniel’s wild swing, sending the man stumbling. Dodging a stab from one of the guards, Wyatt then slammed his dagger through the throat of the guard who had laughed at him earlier.

“Kill him!” Nathaniel roared.

Wyatt threw himself to the side, dodging two spears and Nathaniel’s thrusting sword. He landed near the captain and lashed out, kicking the man in his middle. Nathaniel gasped and dropped his sword, which Wyatt snatched up from the ground.

There were shouts and screams from the bar a floor below, but Wyatt paid them no mind as he fought. Nathaniel managed to scurry away on his hands and knees, gasping. The two other guards stabbed him with their spears. Wyatt slapped one away, but he couldn’t dodge the other, which cut him along his side.

Wyatt grunted, stumbling from the immense flare of pain but managing to stay standing. Not a kill, Wyatt thought. There was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and Wyatt was thrown off his feet.

He hit the floor about fifteen feet back, his back crashing into the closed bedroom door. Behind it, Bella cried out in terror. Lea hushed her a moment later, but the damage was done.

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“You will regret your arrogance,” Nathaniel snarled. He was panting and clutching his stomach, but he was back on his feet. “Your daughter will be Tested and then thrown to the wolves after they are done with her.” He bent over and picked up his sword, which Wyatt had dropped when he had been thrown across the room.

“Over my dead body,” Wyatt said. Somehow, he had kept his knife on him and not stabbed himself. He also kept a hold on his magic, which was tremulous at best. Ideally, the magical user was supposed to be calm. Wyatt felt anything but. He stood, his hand holding his side as his blood pooled around his hand and dripped onto the floor. He leaned back against the door heavily as he prepared himself for Nathaniel and his men to renew their assault. “You’ll have to kill me to get in there.”

“That’s the idea,” Nathaniel said with a smirk. He and his men slowly advanced toward Wyatt, their weapons raised and pointed at Wyatt. In the corner, the mage was standing. He, too, was moving forward, his pale-white wand drawn and pointed at him. Unlike Nathaniel and his soldiers, his arm was shaking. Whether it was fear, doubt, or anger, or all three, Wyatt neither knew nor cared. He would kill them all or die in the attempt.

Wyatt forced himself to stand, biting back a moan. He had been struck harder than he had originally thought. The wound wasn’t debilitating, but it would quickly become so if he didn’t deal with Nathaniel and his men. He moved to his foes, which moved as far apart from each other as they could, approaching Wyatt in a rough semi-circle.

Nathaniel moved first. He thrust forward with his sword, going for Wyatt’s heart. Wyatt, under the influence of his magic, moved with him. He flowed around Nathaniel’s strikes, not getting hit once as he weaved around each blow, which missed him by inches. It was during the man’s fourth stroke that Wyatt struck, shoulder checking him and sending him sprawling.

Wyatt ignored the pain in his shoulder from hitting flesh against protective steel and kept moving. The remaining soldiers weren’t moving slowly, but to him, it was as if he knew exactly what actions they were going to take. The adjustment of one’s shoulder. The bending of one’s knee. A grimace. All inconsequential by themselves, but together both men were an open book to him. Wyatt avoided their thrusts and slit both guard’s throats in a single movement, his movements light and graceful as he moved from one man to the next.

The men staggered back, their eyes comically wide as their lips moved soundlessly, blood spraying from their throats. One made a step forward to keep fighting, but within moments, they were both on the ground, twitching.

It had been less than ten heartbeats from when Wyatt had shoulder-checked Nathaniel to him killing the last of the soldiers.

Wyatt felt a flaring of magic next to him and whirled, throwing everything he had into some sort of barrier to protect himself. It wasn’t enough; he was far too tired, and the mage had the element of surprise. Wyatt’s magical defenses were immediately overrun, and he was thrown into the wall, where he sank down to the floor with a muted groan. He only stirred when he heard footsteps coming toward him.

“So long have I waited for this moment,” Nathanael said, placing the tip of his sword under Wyatt’s chin. “Too long have I lived under your shadow. Wyatt the Incorruptible, they called you. Wyatt the Fool, I name you, for you should’ve run much further away if you wanted to escape me. You’re nothing but a freak of nature that will now be extinguished.”

“Daddy!”

Wyatt looked back to see Lea and Bella in the open doorway of his bedroom. He looked back to see Nathanael smiling down at him cruelly. “I will have her Tested, but first, I will have your wife,” Nathanael hissed. “Then, I will douse her in alcohol and use her as kindling to burn down your pathetic bar. Your daughter will never make it to Velaire. She will have an accident, I fear.” Nathanael laughed. “Magic is so dangerous at the Citadel for young Magicians. You just never know what could happen, Wyatt.”

“NO!”

Wyatt reared back and threw out a hand. He didn’t know what he was doing. Heat flowed through him, centering from his chest. It ran from his chest, down his right arm, and to his hand. A burst of power exploded from it, striking Nathanael’s chest like an invisible ballista bolt. It sent him flying back through the wall, through Bella’s bedroom, over the roof, and out onto the road.

Wyatt leaned back and blinked dazedly as exhaustion hit him like a thunderbolt. He could barely keep himself conscious. His eyes closed seemingly of their own accord, but they fluttered open at the sight of the mage pointing his shaking wand at his wife and daughter.

“You killed them!”

The Mage’s voice was high and full of panic. Wyatt looked up, suddenly alert as the Mage raised his wand. Light traveled off the candles and onto the tip of his wand. He was channeling, and Wyatt was too far away to intervene. “You’ll kill me!” the Mage shouted wildly. “I won’t let you kill me! I’ll kill them first!”

It was too late to calm the Mage down—he was determined to die and to bring Wyatt and his family down with him. “LEA, BELLA, GET DOWN!” Wyatt roared.

Wyatt watched helplessly as the fireball left the mage’s wand and flew toward his family. He reached toward them with a bloodied hand, hot tears running down his cheeks.

There was a scream, and Wyatt saw in the corner of his eye as the fireball struck the doorway, engulfing Lea and Bella in flames.

“No,” Wyatt said weakly, reaching toward his family as they screamed and held each other. They fell to the ground and rolled ineffectively, their skin peeling off like strips of black bark. He could smell burning flesh, and it made Wyatt want to vomit.

“No,” Wyatt said again. He closed his eyes and began to sob.

There was a creak loud enough to be heard over the crackling flames. His wife and daughter had stopped screaming and moving, but he could still hear their harsh breathing.

“Da-ddy,” Bella croaked, her voice impossibly hoarse and full of pain. Her skin was pitch black.

“Bella,” Wyatt moaned. He tried to rise, but he couldn’t. He was soaked in his own blood that surrounded him. He could barely breathe, let alone help his dying daughter.

They both lay motionless. All Wyatt could hear were crackling flames of what was once his family.

The screams of Lea and Bella pounded in his ears as a burst of energy coursed through him. He ran toward the Mage, fueled by their screams. The man stumbled back, his mouth wide in shock at what he had done. He managed to shake it off and throw a weak fireball at Wyatt, but Wyatt didn’t even acknowledge it. He didn’t care if the fire hit him. It didn’t exist. He just wanted the Mage dead. The fireball hit him, splattering across his chest. Wyatt felt nothing but cold rage as he slammed the dagger through the eye of the mage and into the wall. The mage gasped and spasmed, but the light left his other eye a few moments later. He slumped against the wall, his wand tumbling from his nerveless fingers.

Wyatt scooped the wand up, looking down at it with disgust. He wanted to snap it and cast it into the winds. Instead, he turned it over in his hands, staring at it.

Lea and Bella are gone, Wyatt thought numbly. They’re gone forever.

Wyatt sat down slowly, uncaring as the pool of blood from the mage grew around him. He stared at the wand as his bar and life burned with himself and his patrons in it. Wyatt didn’t care. He kept staring at the wand until there was a loud crack and an explosion ignited under his feet.

Wyatt flew, mostly blinded by the blast. He felt his shoulder slam through wood, and then everything fell into darkness.