I bolted upright, heart pounding so loudly that it would surely burst through my ears. How did he find me? Was he following us the entire time, waiting for me to be alone? Hiding in the crowds, waiting until I was most vulnerable?

And how long had he been here?

With no aid of magic, my only defense was there, shining and sharp in the darkness, within the void mage’s hands. I turned to my right, and saw, much to my relief, that the Halmore armor was there beside the cot, same as I had left it on the floor before going to bed.

Perhaps I could throw it at him?

Each piece was quite heavy and sharp and was sure to do damage if I really tried. But I suppose he would have the advantage, holding a newly forged, freshly magicked blade at the ready. I felt sick with a thick knot beginning to form in my stomach, cool sweat beginning to gather on the back of my neck. However, this escalation of my own sordid nerves was shortly followed by confusion.

Did he not see me stir just now? Did he not see me here, staring at him, audibly hyperventilating? It’s not as though the room was very large. Even in the dark, I would be hard to ignore. He was crouched only a few steps away from the foot of my cot, low to the ground and close to the long- dead fire.

But it was then that the strange young man looked up, only briefly to meet my eyes, before resuming his careful study of the falchion. He traced the thin lines of the intertwined blades with a long finger, taking measure of the obsidian inlay. It did not seem to matter if I was there or not - he had found what he needed. Without magic, I was no threat.

But I could not let him take it from me, no.

I swallowed hard, gathering my nerves. I had to think of something, but I had naught but my own words.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” I asked, thin voice piercing the dark.

But the void mage did not bother to look up.

I cleared my throat.

“That was a gift - made for me and me alone. I would very much like it back… If you’re hungry -I’m sure we can arrange something -”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said flatly.

“What?”

“I said - you don’t deserve this. It’ll be a waste in your hands. Same as the armor.”

I shook my head.

“To be fair - you don’t know me. But I can’t say I entirely disagree with you,” I sighed, “But - It’s still mine.”

I considered my options. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done so already, even without the aid of magic. If he wanted to take the armor and blade both, he had more than enough opportunity to do so before I awoke.

“How did you find me?” I asked, still doing well to hide my anxiety.

But he did not answer. He held the blade outward, balancing it first before taking a few practice swings and stabs. He slashed through the air with ease, brows furrowed in focus. I could have been invisible.

“Hello?”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

“Your hand. It’s obvious,” he then gave a little laugh in annoyance, “How long have you even been in the Barrens? A day?”

I looked down to see the swirling black of the void magic corruption on the back of my hand, still visible even in the dark of the room. It was then that his amusement seemed to turn to anger.

“Fresh from Midland and now you have the finest armor and a custom blade to match. How charming. And was that a personal guard with you before? You must have quite the coin. Steal it from mummy and daddy before they left you here? Better yet - perhaps you were escorted here before the Guides could bring you to trial? Did they see you off with a kiss and a cuddle?” he accused, jaw tight and brows furrowed.

I shook my head, unable to gather myself quickly enough for a proper retort. I did not expect that. I stared back at him, trying to see through his glazed blackened eyes. He was dangerous, yet for some reason I was still alive. I looked down again at my blackened hand, considering his words.

“Would you have killed me?” I asked, voice low.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“You tried to kill me first, if I remember correctly. But I suppose you haven’t had much experience with the dreaded void mage, no? I mean look at you - you still have color in your eyes,” he said, a disgusted expression clear across his face.

“Why are your eyes black?”

I watched as one of his eyes seemed to twitch at my question in clear frustration. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. I had so many questions, and I could not contain my curiosity no longer, to the point where it overpowered my ever-taught nerves. Here he was - a void mage, in the flesh in front of me - and I was still alive. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I would meet one of his kind, let alone have the opportunity to ask them a question.

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He then looked down, shaking his head once again. I was clearly getting on his nerves.

“Why am I even talking to you,” he muttered to himself.

I watched as the red-haired man slowly made his way off the floor, then turned, facing the door, my blade still in hand.

I had to stop him.

I clamored upright, throwing the blankets off in a heap, then stepped towards him, heart racing.

“Wait - please!” I exclaimed, still careful not to get too close, “Please don’t take my weapon - I -”

But before I could make any further attempts to reason with the strange man, a silver tip of a blade began to peek through the curtained doorway, pointed just a breath away from his neck. I watched as the man slowly placed the falchion on the floor with a clamor, before raising both hands up and forward in surrender. Although there was a grin on his face, a hard swallow betrayed him.

“No magic tricks to save you here, boy,” spoke a low, gravelly voice.

I felt a rush of relief.

Ciro.

I watched as Ciro walked the odd man backwards, sharp point at the ready at the stranger’s stretched neck. The man widened his grin into a little amused smile, staring back at Ciro with matching intensity as he leaned back against the far wall of the room. Ciro smiled back, seemingly taunting the intruder to try anything.

“Ciro!” shouted another voice from behind. It was Milea, rushing into the room, half tripping over the falchion on the floor on her way in before kicking it aside in frustration. “Lower your weapon. There will be no bloodshed here - though I’m sure he probably deserved it,” she added under her breath, wiping her thick braids out of her shining face.

The intruder shot her a look.

They knew each other.

There was a moment of hesitation, but Ciro eventually lowered his weapon with a grunt of agitation. Although the halberd was lowered, Ciro’s gaze did not leave the young man.

Milea then turned to me. She was out of breath, with a bead of visible sweat above her brow. In fact, they both looked tired, as if they had ran back at full pace.

“Put on your armor, girl - we’re going to put this blade to use sooner than I had thought,” she said, kicking it to me across the floor.

She then began to pull out a large wooden chest from underneath her bed, giving it a kick for good measure. She then opened the heavy top to reveal a set of ornate, silver armor, gleaming brightly against padded emerald velvet. I watched as she began to quickly fasten the chestpiece around her leather plated cloak in a single swift motion, before she turned to me again.

“Come now, quickly,” she urged with a clap.

“What - what’s going on?” I stammered, awkwardly placing the Halmore armor over myself, struggling to get it secure over my bedclothes with a single hand.

“There’s a patrol coming - which wouldn’t usually be a worry,” answered Ciro, “But this time they have a Seer.”

“Which means trouble,” said Milea, fastening her armplates. “One word to the trees and she can sense us underground - magic or not.”

“How many?” asked the void mage, expression serious.

“About seven Selphene knights, not including the Seer - according to our scout. They had some fliers in the area yesterday - must’ve sensed the magic ripple when the anasilan cycled. We’re lucky they’re no use in the tree cover though,” said Milea.

She was fully adorned in the intimidating silver armor now, sharp helmet under her arm. The delicate filigree weaved across her chest with a bright polished shine - the set was well taken care of. I wondered if she had crafted it herself.

I then watched as she gave the side of the small fireplace a kick of her metal foot. From the side of the rocky chimney, a fiercely sharp mace popped out, and she picked up the well-worn leather covered handle with ease - weighing it with consideration.

Just like Ciro.

She was quite the sight - almost glowing in the dim of the room. She was tall, about the same height of Ciro, with arms quite muscled - probably from her time as a skilled armorer and blacksmith. Judging by the state of her eyes, with barely any white color showing, this would not be her first time against knights - Selphene or otherwise. I would not want to cross her in any battlefield.

I finished fastening my final armor piece and stood, still trying to comprehend the situation. I then lifted my new blade off the ground, nervous at the sight of my bare hands - one still completely useless and blackened. But Milea seemed to see my concern.

“Here - these are also yours,” she said, holding out two black leather gloves. The backs of them were covered in the same onyx black stone as the blade and the armor, with tiny curved pieces, affixed together like dragon’s claw, fitting easily around the grip of the blade, and resting naturally against the pommel.

When did she have time to make these?

“They’re not magicked - but they’re better than nothing,” she said with a nod. “But you’ll have to do without a helmet for now. Watch yourself.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, careful to hide the tears beginning to gather one again at my throat, yet again faced with the unfounded generosity of someone little more than a stranger to me.

I did not deserve these.

I looked up to find yet another disgusted expression on the void mage’s face, seemingly reading my thoughts. He was wearing the same brown-dusted white linen shirt and loose black trousers as before - not a speck of armor in sight. But out there, free to use magic, I suppose he did not need it.

“Are we all going? How many more of us will there be?” I asked, still full of nerves. Perhaps I could hide myself in the crowd, sneaking away from any real fight.

“Oh - just us... But it’ll be more than enough with Aixel here,” said Milea, nodding at the void mage.

Against seven Selphene knights?

Ciro seemed to sense my fear - although it was probably plastered clearly upon my face.

Seven. Selphene. Knights.

“The less of us that go up there, the better,” he nodded, “Better if they don’t know how many of us are down here. This place is a haven, a last respite for the likes of our kind. Most down here have never even held a sword.” He then walked to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“And we’d like to keep it that way,” interjected Milea, resting the heavy mace on her shoulder. “Our job is to kite them away and take them down before they have a chance to use the sands to get word back to the nearby camps.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your blade. Trust your instincts,” Ciro said in a low voice in my ear before giving me a hearty pat on my armored back.

Easier said than done.