Days passed by. Mist hung in the air, an inescapable spiderweb that pressed against his face as he rode. He slept by the roadside and rode through the day. The cold bit into him, down to the bone. Twain drew his oilskin closer and frowned. I got soft. All that time in the human’s palace, in the warmth… when was it I stopped wilting in the sun?

“Have you decided to let me out yet?”

“No.”

Xenozar sighed and flicked his hair over his shoulder. A futile effort, as it slid back into his face immediately. “Twain, please. Let’s be reasonable.”

“You’re a madman who wants to destroy the world, and uh, I kind of like this world. As it is. Un-blighted.”

Another sigh. “You won’t even hear me out.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“At least you talk to me now.”

Twain turned away, scowling at himself. Fuck.

Xenozar shook his head. “Come on, Twain. I’m your only hope now. All the princesses have abandoned you. The Barrier Alliance thinks you unleashed the blight upon the human kingdom. You might as well take my side. Everyone thinks you already have.”

“Shut up.” The princesses might have abandoned me, the Barrier Alliance might have given up on me, but Felix will believe me. With his help, I can take Xenozar and these demons out, and probably Sabelyn while we’re at it, if we’re lucky.

“Pinning all your hope on the Mage-Emperor? What a cliché,” Xenozar complained.

Twain whipped around and narrowed his eyes at Xenozar.

Xenozar jabbed a finger at Twain’s chest. “I’m inside you. I can get the gist of what you’re feeling.”

The Dark King can read my mind? Twain pressed his lips together. “Great.”

“Everyone always counts on the Mage-Emperor. And all the Mage-Emperor ever does is lock me back up in the Barrier. It’s boring. I’m so tired of it.”

“Maybe if you weren’t constantly trying to blight the entire world…”

Xenozar wrinkled his nose. “Bleh.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“How’d you end up in the center of the Barrier in the first place?” Twain asked.

Xenozar drew a long, dramatic breath. “That… is a long story. A myth from eons ago, from the foundation of these very lands…”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, literally, right? The Barrier Alliance needs a Barrier to form inside,” Twain said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re interrupting my flow,” Xenozar complained.

Twain’s head snapped up. He scanned the horizon, then raised a finger to his lips. “Shh, not now.”

A flicker in the corner of his eye. Xenozar vanished.

Twain turned his attention back to the horizon. Light flashed as giant spells collided, each side bombarding the other with their artillery spells. The blight condensed above them, drawn by magic or by the turmoil of emotions, Twain couldn’t say which. Dark overhead, it rained down in fat drops, no longer a mist but a rain.

The front lines. He cast his gaze to the side. The line stretched far, but not impassably so. To the far left, a gap opened up in the darkness, a space where no one fought yet. He turned his horse toward the gap and urged it on. Who knows how things will change. Best to pass while I see space to move.

Before long, a prevailing wind tugged at his hood and stirred his hair around his face. Salt hung in the air, mingling with the stench of blight, medicinal and rotten, and dead fish. Drawing to the edge of a cliff, he discovered the reason why this direction remained dark. Wide and empty, a bay stretched below him. Far to his left, it opened up to the ocean, where the Barrier met the water with an ever-present glimmer. Nearer at hand, the cliff gave way to marshes and swamps, which stretched to the ocean, the dense tangle of branches, weeds, and mud inviting to neither traveler nor army.

Twain sighed. So much for that.

A head poked out of the water abruptly, just up to the nose. Glimmering greenish eyes stared at him under a mop of salt-twisted blonde hair. Under the bay’s surface, he barely made out webbed hands and pale skin, the rest vanishing into the dark water.

“Hello,” he greeted the merfolk.

She stared at him one more second, then vanished back under the water. A frilly green tail broke the surface for a second, the only sign of her passing.

Twain turned his horse to the side, surveying along the cliffside for an inlet or river’s mouth, some way down to the water’s surface that didn’t require a steep plunge. If I can borrow a boat, I can cross the bay. It only looks to be a few hours’ rowing. From there, that should be… what, the undead’s country? Or maybe beastfolk? I’m fairly familiar with beastfolk and their customs, so it should be easy to blend in. Similarly, no one should bat an eye at a gray-skinned man in the undead’s realm. From there…

Shit, wait. Is Felix in the human realm, or the dragon realm? I forgot to ask Lilith. Though at the same time, I’m not sure I’d trust her.

No immediate features jumped out at him from the shore. Either cliff or swap, but nothing in between. He frowned. There has to be a port somewhere…

A head popped up in the bay. He glanced over. A new mermaid stared at him, this one clad in a clamshell helmet. A merman with a spear joined her, then another mermaid, and another.

“Er, hello,” Twain said. “I’m just a passerby.”

“It’s him,” a blue-haired mermaid said, peeking her mouth above the surface. Sharp teeth cluttered a deep jaw.

“He’s the one,” another mermaid replied.

The male mermaid sunk below the surface and vanished, while mermaids swarmed, the water suddenly thick with them. “It’s him. It’s him.”

The horse reared, spooked. Twain calmed it with a pat and gently drew it away from the mermaids. “Uh, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave now…”

“Mouse!”