Wyatt could barely believe what he was seeing.

It had only been two days, and yet Marek looked like a shadow of his former self. The mage was muttering and pacing in circles, stroking his pendant. He was covered in sweat and his hair was tousled. His eyes were wild, flitting in different directions as if he had a nervous tic. Marek also had dirt on his face as if he had been crawling on the floor, covering it in a brown film.

“Power,” Marek muttered. He spun on his heel, his eyes blankly looking through Wyatt for a moment before looking elsewhere.

Wyatt felt something cold wash down his back. Somehow, Marek hadn’t seen him.

“I need more,” Marek said, his voice growing louder as he turned back to the staff. “I need to save them, and I can’t. I—”

Wyatt recoiled as Marek lunged at the staff. He couldn’t see his face, but he could hear him snarling like a rabid dog. He threw himself at it, scrabbling with both hands. Every time Marek shifted his injured shoulder, the mage would twitch, which only seemed to infuriate him more.

Wyatt swallowed. He was scared, but not for himself. Marek is tearing himself apart, Wyatt thought, alarmed at what he was seeing. He can’t get the staff—its defenses are too strong.

Eventually, Marek stopped, breathing heavily. He drew his wand, and Wyatt stiffened, staring at it in disbelief.

“He has a wand,” Wyatt uttered. How?

Marek immediately froze. Wyatt’s hand went for his sword, and inwardly, he snatched at his magic. Wyatt didn’t know what Marek would do, but he would defend himself if he had to.

Marek slowly turned, and Wyatt was puzzled at the beaming smile that was initially on his face. It lit him up, making him look human again, like the man that Wyatt had come to respect as both a man and a leader.

He looks the same I felt when I came home to Lea, Wyatt thought.

Another chill swept over Wyatt as Marek’s smile vanished, replaced by a sullenness that Wyatt also remembered feeling whenever Lea wasn’t home after a long day’s shift.

No, Wyatt thought, his thoughts going to the obvious candidate. She can’t have done this much damage to him already. She can’t have.

“Hello, Wyatt,” Marek said, all traces of friendliness gone. His gaze went down to Wyatt’s hand, which was still gripping his sword tightly. “Come to visit?”

“Yes,” Wyatt said. His hand was clammy as he released his sword. “Ako has come down here, and I know a bunch of the others have as well. I figured I might as well see it.”

Marek brightened at this a little, his lips quirking up into a semblance of a smile. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Marek asked, his eyes glinting in the staff’s gentle glow. His sullenness vanished, replaced by something softer, more eager. “A staff of Dominion Wood.”

“I admit,” Wyatt said, allowing himself a moment to admire the staff. It was beautiful, a flawless white that wasn’t of this world. If the afterlife was any colour, it should be that.

“We’ve for and against kings, explored much of the world, and survived almost everything that can be thrown of us,” Wyatt said, walking towards the staff.

Marek tensed, and Wyatt could feel Marek gathering his own magic. It was subtle, but it was as if he was frightened of Wyatt stealing the staff.

Wyatt raised a hand and frowned when it was stopped.

“How strange,” Wyatt murmured. He tried to push his hand through the invisible barrier, but no matter how much of his strength he pushed into it, it didn’t budge.

“I thought we had seen everything,” Wyatt said, still looking at the staff. “We were supposed to go home, Marek. Back to Velaire. An escort trip for a mediocre trader. It didn’t pay much, but it was the destination that mattered.”

Behind him, Marek was gathering more magical strength. His trained instincts screaming at him to turn around and face the possible threat, Wyatt whirled to face Marek.

The mage’s eyes were narrowed. His hand was clenched around his wand. It was shaking, but it was pointed at Wyatt.

“What’s happened to you, Marek?” Wyatt asked. He kept his voice gentle as if he were trying to calm a raging beast.

Marek didn’t respond. Wyatt felt Marek continuing to build his magical power. If he unleashed it now, it would be enough to destroy a company of men with magic to spare.

“I can’t,” Marek said at last. He lowered his wand and lowered his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Where did you get that wand?” Wyatt demanded, changing his tact. Marek had spoken while looking at him, but his words weren’t directed at him. He tried to push his limited magical senses around him, searching for Claire. He couldn’t feel anything but Marek’s growing strength.

“What’s it to you?” Marek retorted, stiffening at Wyatt’s change in tone and opening his eyes. “We need it to get the staff and get home like you said.”

“You don’t care about that anymore,” Wyatt replied, shaking his head. He took a step away from the staff and kept his hand close to his sword.

“You don’t know what I want,” Marek whispered.

“I watched you,” Wyatt said. Marek shook his head, denying what Wyatt was about to say. He plowed on anyway. “You were like a wild animal, Marek. You threw yourself at that barrier. You aren’t yourself.”

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

“I’m fine,” Marek insisted weakly, sagging. He shook himself and straightened. “I’m doing what I have to do for our people. I must stop Yarran from killing us all.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Wyatt snapped. He was beginning to grow angry at Marek’s stubbornness. “I’ve known you for years, Marek. You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“It’s the truth,” Marek insisted stubbornly. “Without this staff, we’re doomed.”

“You speak the truth,” Wyatt admitted. Then, he allowed his gaze to harden. “And yet you still lie to me.”

Marek reared back as if he were slapped. “Don’t—” Marek said, raising his wand and pointing it at Wyatt. Now, his entire body was shaking like a leaf. “Don’t.”

“You’re doing it for her,” Wyatt began, but was stopped when Marek threw a burst of concussive magic at him. Wyatt hurled his own magic at it but was swept aside and thrown to the wall. He struggled, but it was futile. It was like he was being crushed by a boulder. His feet twitched, but like the rest of his body was soon forcibly stilled.

“Marek—” Wyatt forced out of his lips. More pressure was applied to him. Wyatt could feel his bones grinding against each other. He stared into Marek’s feral eyes and willed the man’s sanity to return. He only had enough breath for one final plea.

“Marek!”

Wyatt gasped as he was released. He collapsed onto the ground, coughing and pulling in deep breaths. A few moments later, Wyatt forced himself to look up to Marek and was shocked at what he saw.

The man had moved to the other side of the room and sat down, his knees up to his chest. His eyes were wide and terrified but also sane.

Thank Diev, Wyatt thought. Thank all the gods that Marek’s sanity has returned.

Wyatt looked at the wand that Marek was still clutching. Marek’s eyes followed Wyatt’s, and he threw it away with a cry.

Tears ran down Marek’s grimy face, clearing tracts.

“I’m s-sorry, Wyatt,” Marek sobbed, looking and sounding completely miserable. “I’m sorry!”

For a moment, Wyatt wanted to move over to him and sit next to him. He wanted to throw an arm around his shoulder and tell him everything was going to be fine. He wanted to help his friend.

Instead, Wyatt remained where he was, still catching his breath. He felt shame coiling in his gut, but he pushed it aside ruthlessly.

Always keep distance between yourself and an enemy, Wyatt thought, remembering one of the tenets that had been drilled into him growing up. Marek wasn’t an enemy now, but he had just been one.

“Claire gave you the wand,” Wyatt said, nodding to where Marek had thrown his wand.

Marek nodded, scrubbing at his face and sniffing. He was no longer sobbing.

“I can hear her all the time, now,” Marek said, clearing his throat and looking around as if expecting Claire to appear. “She tries to help me, give advice on how to free the staff. I… I haven’t slept since I first woke up after the battle. I’m worried, Wyatt. I don’t feel like myself. It’s like I’m falling, and I can’t stop it.”

“I’ve seen her too,” Wyatt admitted. “When you turned around when I first walked in, you had the same look on your face that I did whenever I went home expecting to see my wife.”

Marek digested this, considering it with some badly concealed surprise. Wyatt had always made a point of never talking about his family, although he had once or twice before.

“Was she as beautiful as Claire?” Marek asked, sounding like more like Anton than the man that he had become.

Wyatt smiled wistfully, although it was tinged with old grief.

“She was my world,” Wyatt said softly. He looked up at the wall, dredging up old memories of his beloved. It got harder every time he did it. Despite his best efforts, he could only recall a shadow of a shadow. Her face was all but gone, but the love was still there. It always would be.

“She brightened up every room she was in by just being there,” Wyatt said, his voice becoming low and gentle. “She had a gift to make everyone her friend, even people who were determined to dislike her.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Marek noted. There was a faint trace of amusement in his voice.

Wyatt smiled. “I didn’t,” he allowed. “If there was ever a woman that could compete with Lea in sheer beauty, Claire would be one of them. Lea was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, but Claire has her own sort of beauty.”

“She does,” Marek said. For the first time, Wyatt saw a smile creeping across the mage’s face as he looked toward the staff. “She really cares,” he said, his voice taking on the same soft tones that Wyatt had when he’d discussed Lea. “She suffers so much, Wyatt. She’s in agony, and yet she tries to help us.”

Wyatt started as he could suddenly feel another presence in the room. She was right beside him. Claire. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her hand trace across his cheek and then a pair of lips brush against his.

Wyatt drew his head back, careful not to make any sudden movements. He was sitting on the cold floor and sitting against the chilly wall, and yet he felt hot. Claire left him and went to Marek, whose eyes looked like they were shutting on their own accord.

“Wyatt,” Marek said. Wyatt looked back to Marek. His eyes were wide open and filled with something else. Knowledge, Wyatt thought, looking into Marek’s eyes that contained something not part of his world. Claire. She’s feeding him knowledge at the cost of his own soul.

Wyatt rose from his seat, unable to speak what he wanted to say with Claire in the same room. Let’s leave, Wyatt wanted to tell him. Let’s make a deal with Yarran, somehow. Instead of speaking, he stayed silent. Had Claire been listening the entire time? Had she been watching them?

“I have to go, Marek,” Wyatt said. He didn’t meet Marek’s eyes. He didn’t want to see his friend losing himself again to whatever Claire was doing. He shifted his sword on his belt so that it was back in his former position. It had moved in the brief struggle, his belt sliding from when he had fruitlessly tried to resist Marek.

“Wyatt,” Marek said again. This time, it came out a command. “Look at me.”

Despite himself, Wyatt looked at him. He almost flinched at the fire in Marek’s eyes. It wasn’t Marek. It wasn’t something that was human. They glowed.

“Don’t come back down here,” Marek said. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his glowing eyes. “I don’t want to be distracted.”

“Of course, Marek,” Wyatt said. His lips curled, and both men smiled falsehoods at one another. “Good luck.”

Without another word, Wyatt left Marek and Claire. The moment he was out the door and out of their sight, he began walking faster.

This is getting out of control, Wyatt thought, holding his sword in place as he took the stairs two at a time. I need to do something drastic.

Almost immediately, an idea came to Wyatt. It was terrible, but it was also the only one that made any sort of sense.

“Fuck,” Wyatt swore, hating what he was about to do.

Then, he remembered that it didn’t matter what he felt. Anton, Ako, Marek, and the rest of the men were counting on him. Marek was allowing Claire to do whatever she wanted to him to get the staff. If Wyatt wanted everyone to leave here unscathed, he would have to do something drastic before Marek did.

“I won’t let that happen,” Wyatt growled. He made his way back to the Meeting Hall, where he kept his equipment. It was a terrible idea, but it would have to do.