“The demon escaped,” Goxhandar said. “You did not kill it quickly enough, master. But it is of no matter now. The battle has ended and now I must slumber, for my strength is spent. Call for me when you are in need.”

“Wait!” I told him. “Do you know what or who is Hiskandrios?”

But the Blood Maul was already gone, though I still felt his inert presence on my right shoulder, but it was barely noticeable. The weightless maul in my hand vanished in a puff of smoke, alongside a faint, deep exhale of exhaustion. It was as though Goxhandar itself breathed out.

Quickly an exhaustion overtook me, and I felt all the injuries ache at the same time. The worst was the bone-deep pain in my left arm that had crept up to my neck now. Strangely it pulsed a dull pain, and whenever I set my attention to it, it increased.

I stumbled away towards a lonely wooden pole and leaned against it. But I was given no time to contemplate what had happened, what might be their consequences, or how I felt about the slaughter. Before I even sat down, I heard frantic running approaching.

I knew who it was. Florencia was rushing towards me, skipping debris and loose stones.

“I saw you fly into a window and your neck and head and… you’re so bloody everywhere. Are you alright? How bad is the bleeding?” Florencia repeated a hundred questions in quick succession, suppressing some tears and wiping her eyes dry before the rest arrived. “Never do this to me again! I must protect you—”

Jace and captain Molin were not far behind, and I saw Iskander and Jaxine talking with exaggerated hand movements.

“Flo, I’m fine,” I said and put my hand on her narrow shoulders that seemed smaller than ever. “I have some cuts here and there, but I’m fine. Nothing that would not heal in a few days. How about you? I saw you fight with Iskander and Jace.”

“Shut up, I don’t care about that! Don’t do that again, please. You were so careless, I can’t handle losing you—”

A tired and weary captain Molin stood behind Florencia, coughing hoarsely to get her attention.

“My apologies, warden Regalla,” he said, out of breath and with a stream of sweat flowing across his bare forehead. “But could you please help us with the flames? I saw you tame them before. My men are already bringing water and putting out the fire, but they can only do so much. Please...”

“Go,” I said. “We’ll talk later. I’ll explain everything, just not here.”

Florencia was torn. She desperately wanted to stay with me, make sure I was alright and healed. But she could not simply stand idle and watch Scorro burn down if she could help it. She shot me a quick look filled with worry, relief, and frustration, before turning around and leaving. A few guards and civilians were trying to put out flames with buckets of water, ripped flags or any cloth they could find, or even dirt. Florencia had to only force her will upon the fire, and it died down. But simple as it might have looked, I felt her exhaustion grow even more.

Captain Molin stayed behind. With downcast eyes, he addressed me: “Thank you. The city of Scorro, me, and my guards are forever in your debt. I don’t know how many of us would’ve perished. I want to apologize because I didn’t even ask for your name.”

“It’s alright, captain. My name’s Jonas Espian,” I replied, and for some reason, felt uneasy over the apology. “I hope there’s something left of your town.”

“I’m certain of it! People are already coming out of their hiding and gathering in the square,” Molin said, wiped some sweat off his face with a damp white cloth, and pointed at a group of survivors. They were digging themselves out of a heap of wood, dirt, stone, and mushed pastries. Further away, I saw private Larn slowly open the heavy doors they had barricaded, and poke his head out.

Then, grey-white ash fell from the sky, like a hauntingly grim snowfall, casting Scorro into darkness again. Daylight dwindled further because of the black smoke, and the potent smell of it clung to my torn clothes.

“I, uh, must organize my men,” captain Molin said and stepped away. “I must let people know the city is safe. And make sure there are none of those damned beasts left hiding somewhere. Will you help us lift some of the larger debris out of the way? That would really aid us. But before that, I’ll get a healer for you. You are still bleeding.”

I looked around, eyes half-closed, and smelled the air, almost in a bestial manner. “I can’t sense any more thralls. There is none left, but I’ll help.”

“Thank you again! And take this as a gift—” Captain Molin took his golden brooch off of his chest, engraved with the heraldry of Scorro, and placed it in my hand with a handshake. “Please, it would do me a great honor!”

Before I could even reply, the man turned and jogged away, towards his men nearby.

Jace was now beside me, but he said nothing and kept looking out at the ruined massacre in front of us. He also said nothing when two scared healers came, wearing bright red aprons and dirty leather gloves, to wipe the blood off my neck and head and oversee whether I had any serious injuries. They cleaned the scrapes with wet rags infused with elixirs and healing oils, and wrapped a cotton bandage around my head to keep the bleeding closed.

Wanting to be left alone with my thoughts, I waved the young medics away and enjoyed the silence beside Jace for some short moments. He spoke little—only some polite words about whether we were hurt—but otherwise, he looked fine enough. His eyes were distant and his voice was low and soft, and I found it odd.

But before I could ask about it, guards led by private Larn came and asked for my help. There was a building that collapsed on top of a cellar door. A family was stuck there, and the roof had caught fire. And so I went, leaving Jace alone and Florencia to tend to the flames.

The killing was done and over in under an hour, but everything had changed.

*

It was when the sky was clear and a setting sun cast it in a fiery orange glow that I had the time to come back to the main square. I was even more exhausted and sore all over, covered in sweat and dirt, but content with what we had accomplished with private Larn and his team.

In the main square of Scorro, an enormous bonfire had been lit for the burning of some of the trash, and warmth and light. Most of the corpses had been taken away somewhere, and now hundreds of shocked and weeping men, women, and children all sat huddled close.

They were covered by blankets, coats, and whatever warm they could find. Beside the bonfire was a small field kitchen that served watery tomato soup and stale bread for the hungry. Most who sat were silent, but for a whisper here and there.

The entire town was absent of laughter, song, or merriment.

I found Jace sitting by himself on the stairs of a ruined bookshop. He had in his hands a burned and scraped-up black book that he gripped tightly and his gaze was distant, not focusing on anything. His light-blue coat had some dirt and blood on it, but was otherwise pristine, unlike his face which was glistening with sweat and dirt, and his eyes drooped low.

“How are you, Jace?” I asked, and his eyes suddenly turned sharp and his mind started working again.

“I think I’m a bit shaken up,” Jace said and laughed weakly. It convinced neither of us. “I’ve seen nothing like this before in my life. This defies all the rules that I know of. I can’t make any sense of this. I don’t understand! This is so far outside of what I’d considered a possibility that I just don’t know what to do.”

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“You can count me amongst those surprised,” I said.

“I find that hard to believe. Out of all of us, you were in your element, whatever that might be. I can barely understand what you did. Magic is the art of the mind, not this…”

“Killing.”

“Yes,” Jace laughed bitterly. “This kind of killing. I think I’m going to be fine after a few days.”

We fell silent for some time, listening to the weeping and whispering.

“By the way, I found this in the wreckage,” Jace said with more strength in his voice and pointed toward the middle of the square, where the stage had once been and where Pasquinne had changed. He had found a small book with a black leather cover and impossibly aged lettering.

“What is it?” I asked, massaging my left wrist which had a bandage on it.

“A collection of old religious texts and philosophies, in an ancient Lienor dialect that I understand. There’s a passage here that I found helpful: ‘… for times when the heart grows heavy with the weight of despair, and lost sight of the goodness, in faith must the seeker put his trust. When the logical faculties fail and reason falters, it is made so that everyone who walks the path of the just is forever blessed in the protection of the One…’ I think those are some powerful words.”

“I never took you for a religious man,” I said, swiping some loose pieces of stone and wood chips off the steps. “You seemed to be very logic-driven, content with facts.”

“Facts? What facts can explain this? I’m not religious, not at all. But…” Jace stopped and laughed. “Oh, I don’t even know anymore. I’m just off balance. But, uh, it’s a strange book. It’s so old that I can’t even make out what the title is, and most of it is written in an entirely different language, with a… runic language. Maybe it’s old Baversian or Lavrisian? Or perhaps a native language from even further north? I don’t know. But some thoughts I’ve read here are helping me handle all of this.”

“I can imagine. What happened here is quite something,” I said. “I wonder what will come of this.”

“I wonder so too,” Jace said, but fell silent, gripping the book stronger and losing focus in his eyes.

“If, uh, you want to talk, you can always come to me,” I said and almost wanted to pat his back, but thought better of it.

Jace was grateful, though, and looked up at me with smiling eyes, even though his mouth stayed closed and grim. For a moment, I saw a bright light reflect off of his eyes before he turned away and continued his pondering. But I hoped that our talk had lightened his heart.

*

Iskander sat cross-legged on the ground, far away from the bonfire and the hundreds of homeless people of Scorro.

He was in the process of swiping his greatsword clean of dried blood with a ripped piece of cloth. His moves were precise and practiced as if he had done the same thing many times before. Iskander’s face was ponderous, and as I approached, Jaxine appeared from the corner of my eye and stood beside him. She put her small hands on Iskander’s shoulders and whispered something that I could not overhear.

“I saw you fight,” Iskander said loudly. “What you did was spectacular, a gift by Hadrus itself. And I’m not alone in thinking this. All of those devils are a tough fight. The one I fought many years ago was much smaller.” Iskander traced the scar on his face. “But it slaughtered ten men before we killed it, and it left a mean parting gift. I was wrong about you, Jonas Espian. If we had time, you could teach me some of those moves. It would come in handy.”

Iskander smirked and turned back to polishing dried blood off his sword, but the progress was slow and arduous.

“You seem the least bothered by all of this,” I said.

“No. You are the least bothered out of us all,” Iskander said and looked up, putting down the dirty rag. “But what happened here did not surprise me. I’ve known the enemy is capable of terrible things. That they can now do this? Yes, you’re right, I’m not surprised at all.”

He stood up suddenly, and with an almost fanatical voice said: “Grasd Vranik escaped! I have the lead on where he went. Jaxine and I will go on. Should our paths cross again, maybe we will fight beside each other. Maybe then you will teach me what you know.”

“Are you not going to stay and help with rebuilding?” I asked, surprised to find out he was planning on leaving. “Molin told me the cleaning up works will last for a few more days. We could use your help, your and Jaxine’s.”

“I, uh—” he mumbled.

“The quicker we go, the quicker we find Vranik,” Jaxine said, standing behind his right arm, tugging on his sleeve. “It’s not our job to clean up this mess.”

“But Jaxine,” I addressed her for probably the first time. “Vranik is gone over six months. Do you think you are not in that much of a hurry?”

“I don’t care—” Jaxine said, but stopped when Iskander placed his heavy hands on her shoulders.

“We’ll stay and help. A few days here and there won’t do much difference.”

“But Is…”

“No!” came the firm answer. “All our belongings burned down. We wouldn’t make it too far without coins or supplies. Maybe the captain will pay for our efforts.”

I thanked Iskander and wished him good luck with cleaning his sword which looked like he had dragged it through many battlefields.

“I still think we should go now,” Jaxine said. “If we miss Vranik because of this, Jonas, I’ll—”

“You will do nothing,” Iskander finished instead, and an angry Jaxine skipped away. She was gone before I even could notice which way she went.

“I’ll catch Vranik,” Jaxine said with a bitter frown, appearing suddenly behind me. “Nobody can hold me. We all have our tricks, though mine are more subtle than yours.”

*

A cold night descended upon Scorro. It was a clear sky, and the stars were bright in the late autumn, shining brilliantly above.

I was certain Florencia had been waiting for me and was growing impatient. I reached out with my psychic sense, but there were hundreds of people now in the main square. Through their despair and sadness, I could not sense her and I had to block my sixth sense away because I was quickly overwhelmed. It was a storm of grief and loss, and a single flame was lost therein.

There was no laugh or cheer to be found in the smoky ruins.

The tavern where we had stayed the previous night had burned down, and all our equipment was lost, so captain Molin gave Florencia and me some thicker blankets and ripped cloth from nearby to make a sleeping arrangement somewhere. She made a comfortable camp-like set up in the ruins of a shop, where she put up a make-shift tent, and had a fire lit on the dirt floor.

The moment Florencia saw me, she threw herself into my arms, holding me tight as if she never wanted to let me go, and I was afraid there was more truth in those words than I could even imagine.

We sat down beside the fire, and after wiping away some tears that stained her cheeks and placing a few gentle kisses on my lips, Florencia’s heart was calmed.

“Molin gave you this,” Florencia said, and handed me a dark grey cloak—the same as the city guards wore—and threw the torn and ripped brown jacket away we had bought in Bessou. “I wonder if there will ever come a time when I’ll stop patching you up. Do you know that one time I had to steal some healing balms to heal your wrist?”

I merely smiled at this, as Florencia’s memories from my past were nothing more than stories to me, and I felt very little when she brought them up. It was almost as if we actually had no past together.

“My injuries are irrelevant,” I said. “They’re only shallow cuts and scrapes. I’m alright.”

I was about to tell her about the cracked ribs that Goxhandar mentioned, but my chest felt fine, save for some scraping when I inhaled too much, and it was only a bit painful to breathe regularly.

“Jonas,” Florencia said, while looking down at the flames before us, and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I must admit that I’m not exactly surprised by what you did. You still mumble in your sleep and some things you say are… terrifying. But it’s the brutality of it that I can barely manage, and I’ve seen some horrible things. And when I talked to you, it was like you weren’t listening to me. It was like you were far away or talking to someone else. That I don’t understand.”

“Flo,” I said, this time using her nickname was effortless, and I did that without thinking. “I was talking to someone, that’s why I couldn’t reply. It was the maul, the Blood Maul, that was talking to me—”

“Excuse me? I must’ve misheard,” she said with narrowed eyes, and I heard a doubt creeping into her voice.

“That’s exactly what I told him—”

“Him?”

“The weapon. The maul. It’s, uh, it talked to me. It said many things.”

“Does it have a name?”

“G—”

“Gox… something?”

“Was I mumbling in my sleep?”

“Yes. Mumbling in your sleep,” Florencia said and put some more wood on the fire and filled two cups of hot tea, even though I was already warm enough.

“Goxhandar, that’s the name of the being I talked to. He said he was the maul, and he knows much about my past, where I was, but he refused to tell me.”

Florencia didn’t even have to ask before I continued: “I’m too tired to explain, but I will. It’s complicated. Flo, I know the name of our enemies. Goxhandar said they were called demons. Does that tell you anything?”

Florencia repeated demon under her breath until she said: “Demon… The word is not foreign, but I can’t remember where I read about it. I’ve read through hundreds of books, and I remember the word mentioned a few times, but always in old and fantastical stories. I disregarded them.”

“Now we have a lead,” I said hopefully. “But Vranik escaped. I think Iskander wants to follow—”

“Jonas, stop,” Florencia said. “I don’t care about that right now. I need time to get used to this. Jace is shaken up badly. I have to talk to him tomorrow.”

“I spoke a few words with him a few hours ago. I think he’ll be fine.”

“No, Jonas. I think he’s more damaged by this than any of us,” Florencia said. “I’ve known him for almost ten years now. Ever since he was a young man. And he’s changed. We must make sure he is alright. That he won’t do something stupid.”

“I think he will be alright. What happened here has changed us all,” I said.

“What happened here will change everything,” said Florencia and looked up at the escaping embers, one resembling that of a golden double-headed lion.