Three sharks come at me at once and I brace myself for the attack. Two of them swing their swords at the same time. The weapons are crooked and jagged things that look more like long razors than true broadswords. I dive forward, sliding beneath a rat to dodge the swings. Its rider lunges down but I stab his arm with my dagger, forcing him to drop his blade. The rat claws at me but I grab the dropped weapon and stab upward into its belly.

It shrieks in pain.

I roll away as the rat topples over. As it falls I slash at its teetering rider. But I’m the one who misses this time as the shark is just out of range. He scrambles up to join his brethren and I’m still outnumbered three to one. A shark throws a knife and I move too slowly. The tip slices my shoulder and I stumble back, blood sliding down my arm. I see a jagged razor coming at my head and raise my own blade.

The weapons smash together and grind against one another. The raider’s face is grimy, sweaty, stained, and scarred. His teeth are cracked and chipped as he grins at me. His breath is rancid, like rotten horse flesh, and he spits in my face as we struggle. “Ya wanna loose ur eye, boi?”

He’s too strong.

Fear spasms within me and I cringe, but along with it comes something else. Something stirs within and makes me feel…different. Like there is some power under the fear, something trying to be noticed beneath all the emotion.

The blade pushes closer and closer, the edge grazing my cheek. In desperation, I dive into my fear. It’s a pool of darkness in the pit of my stomach. At the center is a lump.

The other sharks are jeering now, and watching with twisted joy at my imminent death. I grit my teeth, pull at the lump, and then my world goes black.

----------------------------------------

I regain consciousness slowly, still feeling a little dazed.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” a frightened voice says behind me.

Supposed to be where? On the fields? In Astria? Out of bed? Bed sounds pretty good right now actually.

A woman turns and looks at me.

The sorceress!

I reach for my sword, but I don’t have it. I’m just in plain clothes…and so is she. I’m back in the Tower of Magi again, just as I was in the last vision. The sorceress isn’t looking at me at all. She looks through me, past my body to where the voice came from. Once again I’ve become the invisible observer, just watching the vision unfold.

“Come and look, Gwen,” the sorceress responds. “I was right.”

Gwen steps forward timidly, her dress fluttering about her feet. “Lillian, If someone sees us…”

The sorceress whisks the concern away. “No one is up this late. They’re all too lazy, too content with their baubles and toys. They cannot see what is right before their own eyes.”

The sorceress steps to the side and behind her lies the onyx stone. The same stone shattered by my blade but now whole and intact, glittering in the candlelight.”

This vision is clearly the past.

Gwen stops and gapes. “It can’t be.”

The sorceress shrugs. “And yet here it is.” She smirks. “Despite all your doubts I might add.”

Gwen doesn’t notice the barb and steps toward the foreboding rock.

“Go ahead,” the sorceress says. “You can touch it.”

Gwen pulls back. “Touch it? No one can touch it.”

The sorceress rolls her eyes. “Come on. So it’s just for the directress but not for us then? Are you still going to listen to her stories about the stone now? Even after she lied to us?”

Gwen looks at the stone, at the sorceress, and back to the stone. Gingerly she reaches out her hand toward it. Mere inches away there is a crash behind them, behind me, and the wooden door bursts open.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What,” howls a woman, ”are you doing in here?”

----------------------------------------

The ribbons flow out of me. I’m back in the field, in present time, and I sense the strange, blank cords wafting from my palms. They wrap around the shark and course through him – through his mouth, nose, ears, every orifice and opening. And he screams. Right in my ears he screams, and soon the ribbons are laced with blood, and the blood is dripping on me. He drops his weapon, collapses upon me, and for a moment all is still. The other sharks are motionless and even the rats are still. Everyone is just staring, gawking at the dead body.

I lurch to my feet, swaying and unsteady, and feeling hollow and drained. I’m an easy target for anyone wanting to strike. Instead the sharks run, fleeing as fast as their rats can go; they yell and scream and crash through the swaying grass blades.

I stand alone, feeling numbed, dazed, and lost.

What just happened?

My stomach feels heavy, not from food but from a pit. Like a bitter pill simmers within it.

What just happened to me?

*Combat swordsman*

Oh no, not now. Not the system right now.

*Combat horsemanship*

*You have won your first combat.*

*You have also accessed dark magic*

My spirit sinks. That sounds like the sorceress’s power. My heart starts thumping.

*A skill of the Hero.*

My spirits brighten.

*Depends on whose hero you are.*

Silence.

Still silence.

Stupid system. Clearly dysfunctional.

I hear footsteps. It’s the king, riding atop my horse no less!

“Dauntless!” I shout in excitement.

The horse neighs something but the King is already talking.

“Yes, we lost our own horse unfortunately," he says. "Are you alright, Ethan?”

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. “Yes, sorry Majesty.”

The king looks at my shoulder. “You need a healer.”

“How’s Charles,” I ask.

I don’t want to talk about me.

“He’s injured too. We were working toward you when we heard the sharks scream. Must have been some kind of retreat signal. They speared Charles on their way out.”

I grimace. “Is it bad?”

The king’s face sours. “He’s worse than you. I’m going for help. Stay right there.”

As if there’s anything else to do.

The king races toward the wagons and he reminds of Harrison Ford in that Indiana Jones Dial of Destiny trailer: clearly too old for this but somehow managing anyway.

I have to wait as they attend to Charles first, which is fine by me. It’s not the wound I’m worried about anyway. It’s the darkness.

What have I done? But I had no choice. I was going to die! Or was I? How can I be sure? Arrrgh…

Mary finally arrives on Dauntless. She takes one look at my wound and opens her satchel. Grasping leaves and roots she crinkles and crunches them together into a small mixing bowl. With sudden vigor she grinds them with a stubby pastel.

She dumps the mix into the open wound. There is a pause and then two things happen at once: my skin burns and I scream. But when the pain subsides the bleeding has stopped and the wound is cauterized.

“That sounded horrible,” says the king.

“And felt worse,” Mary adds. “It was the best way though.”

A wagon rolls up behind us. Two elderly servants clamber out and look expectantly at the king, waiting for their orders. The king looks at Mary.

“Ethan should ride in a wagon for a little while,” Mary suggests. “Just to rest. He should be fine though. It’s Charles we need to worry about.”

“How bad is he?” I ask, but Mary ignores me.

“Your Majesty,” Mary says gently. “The best thing we can do for Charles now is to get him to the elves. They may have medicine that can help.”

The king nods. “Well, good thing that’s where we're going. We’ll make a rush for it. As fast as the horses can manage.”

The king is true to his word. We push the wagons hard that day and through much of the night. In the wee hours of the morn we stop for food and a brief rest. The king comes to me with a cup of the skunky beer and offers it to me. I accept the cup and sip reluctantly.

“Let me ask you something,” the king begins. “Why do you think those sharks ran from us? We were still outnumbered in battle.”

I shuffle uncomfortably. “How would I know?”

The king’s eyes bore into me and I flinch under the glare. “What of the dead shark we saw then? The one next to you. Was that not your handiwork?”

“I just got lucky,” I mumble.

The king raises his brows. “Luck is it? Well if that’s all it is then you are no doubt the luckiest man alive.” He leans closer. “Which is good, because whatever that ’luck’ was you’ll need more of it soon enough.”

I smile thinly and focus again on the pit inside me: the darkness has receded, but has not disappeared, and I recoil at the thought of using it again.

Let’s hope that I’m lucky enough not to have to.