“You need to leave, immediately.”

My heart dropped, and I tensed, tightening my hold on Daedra.

“Harold, I-.” I started, not sure what I could say to soothe him, but the need to do so drove me to speak. He cut a hand through the air and shook his head, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead as he took a shaky step toward us.

“No. I heard what that beast said. You, you're the spawn of the Mad King, Lazuris. You have his tainted blood running through your veins.”

The adrenaline and battle frenzy had made me forget that-until now.

It felt impossible, like some twisted nightmare brought on by a fever. How could the tyrant king himself be my father? He never left the capital and, when he used to travel, he'd been widely feared.

What kind of woman would have slept with him?

Probably a woman who had no say in the matter, a poisonous voice hissed.

Given how ruthlessly the man ordered hundreds of peasants to be executed when they couldn't afford his ridiculous ‘tributes’, it wasn't a far leap to think he'd commit such a heinous crime.

The idea of a woman-my mother-being forced into such a thing, only to later learn she'd been left with a permanent reminder of the atrocity…

It almost made me forgive her for leaving me here all those years ago.

The old twist of hurt dug into my chest, but I shoved it aside. Now wasn't the time to sink into memories of her. I had more pressing things to deal with.

Harold hovered nearby, his eyes wide and tinged with fear-fueled hysteria. He clutched a hammer, and his knuckles were white as bone on its handle.

He glanced around us, taking in my siblings with calculated terror, and alarm screeched in my ears when he landed on Daedra.

His fear was thick enough to taste in the air, and when I bothered to look around us, dread locked a cold hand around my heart.

Dozens of wary eyes were watching us. People who I'd grown up with, done favors for, and helped too many times to count, now stared as if they expected me to change into some kind of monster.

A seed of unease sprouted in my gut, and I returned my focus to Harold.

His eyes bulged with fear, fingers twitching dangerously as if to attack, and I instinctively pressed Daedra back, just in case.

Pain echoed through my arms, but I ignored it in favor of slowly standing with both my palms in plain sight as I inched further in front of my siblings.

“Easy, friend. You know me, remember? You watched me grow up here, in Dawncrest. I would never harm anyone, and neither would they.”

Conflict warred over his features, and a few others hesitated, exchanging glances among themselves. They weren't relaxing though, and the cloud of unease grew ever thicker as Harold shook his head.

“You say that now, but what if you inherit your bastard father’s special ability? He's already traipsing about, stealing powers left, right, and center. How much worse would the world be if you turned into a second him?”

Collin stiffened, outrage twisting his features as he snarled. “You can see for yourself that none of us have special abilities, you ass! There's no such thing as one coming in later so, even if Frederick wanted to be like that sack of shit, he couldn't be.”

Harold flinched, his grip on the hammer slipping just a bit. Now he eyed Collin and I both with equal wariness.

“Even if that's true, the dragon will come back for you! The Mad King won't allow a threat to his reign to live. You need to leave, or the entire town of Dawncrest will fall to dragon fire!”

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This time it was Samson who bristled, his arms crossed as a firm scowl carved across his lips.

“Who's to say the dragon won't do that even if he does leave? He's the only one who managed to take even a portion of its health, but you're trying to send him off to die?!”

Beatrice slowly eased closer and took Daedra, to my relief, and I stepped forward with my arms still raised.

“I know you're scared, and you have a right to be, but I can't help who my parents may or may not be. As for leaving, I already planned to.”

At that, Collin and Samson spun to stare in slack-jawed disbelief, though the former broke out of it to sputter.

“Tell me you're not going after that dragon.”

I shrugged. “Alright, I'm not going after that dragon.”

Collin’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned, resignation clear. “You're lying, aren't you?”

Defeat lingered in his tone, and I nodded. “I am, but there's no other choice. If I were to stay here, that thing could come again. For all I know, the tyrant has a way to track me. He knew I was here, despite never meeting me before. It isn't out of the question.”

James clasped my shoulder with a sigh. “It isn't, but what could you possibly do against that man and a dragon? Not to mention the forces he controls as King.”

That…was an excellent question. Unfortunately it wasn't one I had an answer to.

Before I could cobble something together, a different voice cut through the tense air. “That power he used took quite a chunk off the dragon’s hit points. If he learned to wield it, he may just stand a chance.”

All heads turned to the mayor, Clyde. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back with sweat as he rubbed his chin in thought.

“That being said, it destroyed the hammer and your arms…”

He trailed off, looking at my arms worriedly. I did too and only now did I notice the dark, thick cloud of bruises appearing all the way up them.

Apparently, the power I'd used damaged more than the hammer.

Another lance of pain ripped through the sore muscles, and I grimaced. “They aren't broken, but they burn like the hottest blaze.”

Out of morbid curiosity, I nudged Collin. “What does my status say?”

There were no mirrors or reflective surfaces for me to check it myself.

He squinted, the familiar flash brightening his eyes briefly, before they widened with a hiss.

“By the Hells below, your hit points dropped by half with that stunt!”

Which, to be fair, wasn't all that much considering we had the same amount of thirty.

Still, it would be a liability if I couldn't use the power without nearly breaking myself.

Clyde nodded. “Until now, you haven't needed to focus on leveling. Dawncrest doesn't see too many monsters, even for a guard like yourself. If you're truly planning on challenging the King, you'll need to improve significantly. Your hit points will increase as you level.”

He glanced at the ruined hammer at my feet. “And you'll need to acquire a weapon that can withstand that kind of power.”

Its previously sturdy head was dented nearly to the point of being unrecognizable, so I'd say he was onto something. But that still left several problems that needed answering.

I turned to Harold and eyed his tense form uneasily. “Can you make such a thing?”

He laughed, the sound nothing more than a choked wheeze. “Can I-? No! And why aren't we banishing him, mayor? Every minute he's here is another that disaster could strike, in the form of a dragon.”

Beatrice and the others tensed, ready for another round of arguments, but Clyde stepped in before they could so much as pull in a breath to speak.

“Harold, put that hammer down before you do something you'll regret later. As for your ‘suggestion,’” he said with a contempt-filled sneer, “that won't be happening. Frederick has been here since he was barely five winters old. Whoever his father is, that doesn't change who he is and how much good he's done for Dawncrest.”

A few grumbles rose to that, and Clyde glared, eyes narrowed dangerously on the loudest of them, which belonged to Vanessa Valdez, the town’s widowed seamstress.

Her long white hair was up in a bun, and displeasure was permanently etched into the lines of her wrinkled cheeks.

When she didn't settle, he scowled. “Have you forgotten who carried you to the healers when you fell and broke your hip last summer? Without any kind of reward, might I add?”

Her lips thinned into a line, and she pointedly looked away without speaking. Clyde shook his head and faced the others. “Frederick has been nothing but helpful, often doing small jobs around Dawncrest without any payment, and I'm disappointed that so many of you would willingly throw him out over fear.”

Heat crawled up my cheeks at the blatant praise, and shame quickly painted most of the crowd’s features. They wouldn't meet my eyes, choosing instead to glance at the dirt or smoke-filled sky.

Clyde nodded, his point made. “I'll hear no more nonsense about banishing him. We have more important things to focus on, such as making preparations. We'll need aid from the nearby towns to begin repairs. Tonight, we'll tend to the wounded, but tomorrow we will send someone to spread word of our need and the dragon. Branch out and check for survivors. Bring the injured to town hall.”

The crowd dispersed to do as they were told, and Collin finally relaxed, the others following his example with sighs of relief.

“That could have gotten ugly. Thanks, Clyde,” he said, and Clyde waved him off.

“I spoke the truth, nothing more. I won't have our town doing the King's dirty work for him.”

Then he looked at me and smiled with something I hadn't seen in years-hope.

“Besides, if that dragon was right, then you're the blessing that not just Dawncrest has been desperately praying for, but Nexus as a whole. It'd be foolish to throw that aside when things are as dire as they are.”

So it was up to me to take down not only a dragon, but the Mad King himself. Failure wasn't an option.

Well, no pressure…