The night had been a sleepless one for both Florencia and me.

She lay silently beside me, nestled herself into my arms and with a large woolen blanket covering her. For the entire night, I kept the fire going, listening to the silence and the odd cry of loss or whisper here and there. Some guards patrolled around, but none talked.

Just in case, I expanded my mind now and again, trying to sense whether there was danger, or if I felt anything out of the ordinary, but all was quiet.

There were many things that weighed heavily on me, and that’s why I could not sleep. Where before I was confused about what I should do with my life, there was no confusion anymore. Now I felt a sense of direction, a drive, but it was not a noble one. I wanted more of that violence, and I was ashamed to admit it to myself.

I had tasted the exquisite nectar of it, and for a moment during the night, I almost felt proud over the destruction I had brought about. The smell of blood was imprinted in my nostrils. Luckily, I could hold that craving at bay with little effort, but the mere fact I hungered for this violence frightened me.

Throughout the night my fingers tingled to hold the haft of the maul again. It was the strangest thing—feeling the slumbering presence of Goxhandar on my shoulder at all times. Whenever I focused on my right hand, I could almost feel the electrifying potential of the Blood Maul in my grasp.

Alongside my disturbing thoughts of violence were Goxhandar’s words about what I had told it about Florencia. The idea of it echoed in my mind, and it bothered me that I remembered none of it.

*

A dull morning arrived with a soft wind and light rain, and a deeper silence than before was around us. The few who dared to talk did so in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over them. Many were gathered in front of the still-burning bonfire or queued in front of the field kitchen to get their first meal of the day—an even more watered down onion soup with mixed grains.

Florencia was boiling some water on the fire to make tea. During breakfast, I told her all that Goxhandar had told me. She took it better than I had feared, and during my storytelling, she looked ponderously at the flames.

“So let me get this straight,” she said after I had finished. “There is literally another person living inside your head? And you feel its presence with you all the time?”

I merely nodded.

“I think all of this is too much for me,” she said. “I really don’t have an opinion about this. Let’s just go and check up on Jace, see how he is doing, before my mind breaks.”

A thick fog descended upon the town that day, and that made the cold seep into our bones and even the thick cloak barely held it at bay.

I thought Jace looked better than the previous day, with a slightly more confident demeanor. He was up and reading the same book by the bonfire, and eating a bowl of soup. Like us, he had not taken the time to clean himself up, so he looked disheveled and unshaven, but his eyes held a clearer focus than last day, and he greeted us with a quick hand wave. His light-blue coat looked immaculate as ever.

“Good morning, Warden—” Jace said, but Florencia interrupted him.

“I think we’re past this kind of formality. Florencia is enough.”

Jace smiled and we talked about the weather and the awful soup, not even mentioning what happened the day before.

Captain Molin did not waste time and organized all his surviving guards into rescue parties, and made teams of volunteers for cleaning up all the debris, finding food and water, and taking care of the bodies still laying about.

*

The purification of Scorro took three laborious days.

Nearly half of its buildings were either destroyed or burned down, or left with only blackened frames of frail timber. Some structures had collapsed inward, while others were simply reduced to cinder and stone. In the aftermath, hundreds of survivors were left with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever possessions they had with them on the day of the festival. Instead of staying in the dead town, they set out on foot in long, scattered lines as refugees, heading north, south, and east, seeking shelter and a new life somewhere else.

And with those refugees, the news of the horror of Scorro would travel quickly.

Other survivors simply stayed at the town square, not moving or helping with any of the cleanup work. They sat in front of the fire, lazily adding some wood whenever they felt like it, and ate the tasteless soup or stew captain Molin had ordered to make.

While for the first two days, captain Molin had leadership over the town and the guards, on the third day we found someone unexpected.

There was a large crossroads on the northern border of Scorro, where the four main commercial roads of Lienor met.

One led north-west to the Estalarch, Lienor’s capital; the second led straight south to Caffria, passing by Veneiea; the third one to Stirraco, which was the largest city in the northern provinces; and the final, fourth one, led south-east to the border city of Lottie.

It was there at the crossroads that the noble house of Fiesi had erected their newest, largest, and most ambitious project to date—the Scorro Trading Office.

When most of the town was clear of the rubble, our cleaning duties had finally reached in front of the trading office building.

Its arched and carved stone facade still smoldered but was standing, the wooden framing burned away, and there were piles of wood, rock, and dirt debris all around. Blowing in the wind were many flags that were now all torn and ripped, and the only one left intact was the golden double-headed lion—the flag of Lienor. The fire had spread to the roof beams, and Jace thought it would cave in any moment.

We found the doors barred shut and the Scorro guards could not hear any noise coming from inside. They suggested we leave the building to collapse on its own and then clean up the wreckage later when it was safe.

But Florencia, Jace, and I all sensed there were survivors inside. After hours of laborious work to clear away half-burned logs and stonework, and with Florencia holding the flames at bay, helped by volunteers who brought sand and dirt to snuff out the rest of the fire. It was well after midday that we dug out almost thirty men and women.

They all were hungry, dying of thirst, and looked like hollowed-out beggars who had not bathed in a long time.

Last among them came out a thin man wearing long robes of purple, blue, and embroidered gold.

Captain Molin recognized him immediately and was both relieved and surprised to find baron Piendro Rugger Fiesi amongst the survivors. He had long black hair combed over his head, and a narrow beard on his chin—the best the young man could manage, I thought, considering his age.

Jace whispered that this was the eldest son of the Fiesi noble house and the heir to their entire wealth and power.

And though the young baron tried to give the impression of authority and confidence, speaking with a low and commanding tone and standing straight with his head high, his disheveled appearance and nervous ticks lessened did not fool anyone.

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“Since Umberto is dead, I thought that baron Piendro might take up the Lord Mayor’s duties until the situation is solved,” Molin said to Florencia and Jace as another field kitchen was set up in front of the trading office.

Jace did not understand the captain and tried to convince him otherwise, but I understood.

The captain had performed honorably against supernatural horrors and held his ground without hesitating. Following the slaughter, he did not break his composure, reformed his surviving guards, and brought the town together. But every man had his limits, and I sensed captain Molin had long ago reached his.

Healers came and went, and the survivors all were given food and water, and a temporary shelter was made to give them a place to lay down and rest. By then, the sun was already low, and the sky had turned orange. Only a few puffy clouds were spread about, and the light cast them in a marvelous shade. The air was crisp now, and many had to stick their hands into their armpits to stay warm, but the dark grey cloak of Scorro was enough for me.

I kept the captain’s golden brooch in my pocket, though.

Florencia, Jace, and I stood on the paved crossroads, finally enjoying a deep calm that had descended again. Iskander was beside Jaxine further away, eating a bowl of warm gruel that was made from salt, oatmeal, and boiled water. And while it tasted and smelled like something horses should eat, anything hot and hearty was better than sleeping on an empty stomach in the cold.

Captain Molin came to us, followed by the young baron. He walked carefully, looking in front of his steps, and could not hide the tremors in his hands, hinting at the deep trauma he kept to himself.

“Who may I thank for the rescue of my office?” baron Piendro Rugger Fiesi asked, wiping some dust off his robes. Those robes of embroidered gold and purple were probably the most expensive pieces of clothing that I had ever seen, but now they had countless small rips and noticeable stitches everywhere.

“You may thank Jonas Espian,” captain Molin said before anyone else could speak. Quickly, he grabbed my sleeve and pulled me a step forward. “He slayed the beast and killed most of the, uh…”

“Its thralls,” I said.

“Very well,” Piendro Fiesi said, puffing out his chest and adding some fake authority into his voice. But all who stood here saw through the facade. “House Fiesi is in your debt, Mr. Espian. That damned beast was about to destroy our entire office, but you have saved me from that unfortunate fate. My family has put much of resources here these past years. Scorro is ideally positioned for our purposes. I would not dare to guess at the grievous loss my house would suffer if the building would’ve been destroyed. It would have been a terrible, terrible blow to our finances.”

“I wonder if he will mention the thirty employees that would have died, if it were not for you, dear,” Florencia said sharply into my mind, and that was the first time she absent-mindedly called me dear.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“It’s good to know all here are safe and alive,” I said, shaking the young baron’s hand.

“Ah yes, of course,” he said. “That is, of course, the most important. We would be nowhere without our employees. I must apologize, Mr. Espian—” the baron stepped close, and we were talking privately, “my father has put me under great pressure to see this project through successfully. You have done me a great favor. Thank you.”

I merely nodded, shook his hand again, and thanked him for the kind words. He left alongside captain Molin to get some food, and after so many days, to finally sit down somewhere warm, and rest.

“It’s a good thing to have the Fiesi family in your debt,” Jace said, stepping close, followed by Florencia. “They might be the wealthiest and most influential noble family in the northern provinces.”

“News of what happened here will travel quickly,” Florencia then said. “You might find friends where you’d least expect them, Jonas.”

But then, a sharp sensation of danger pierced my mind. The calmness of the evening was ruined. Jace and Florencia both glanced at each other, and tensed their shoulders.

“Do you—” he asked while already knowing the answer. “How do they get here so quickly?”

Florencia said with a heavy amount of irritation: “They must have observed Jonas for the entire time. The moment they sensed something was off, they came. I don’t understand why, though! Why would they do that?”

“What were they doing?” I asked.

“They spied on you,” Jace explained with a bitter expression. “They let you go, but I guess they somehow scried what happened here.”

“Can they do that?”

“Nobody really knows how much power the dean and the high council wield, and the extent of their powers,” Jace said. “Especially the past few years. Philemon has withdrawn and I’ve heard rumors that he spends much time with some suspicious—”

“That’s enough!” Florencia angrily interrupted. “Philemon is free to choose how he spends his time. I won’t listen to baseless gossip.”

“So you’ve heard them—” Jace pressed on.

“Jace, stop!” Florencia said firmly.

In the distance, tiny black spots appeared on the horizon, moving down the straight road that led to Bessou. The same road we had come on only a few days before. They were riders, with long cloaks and coats billowing in the soft wind. And as they approached, the air grew colder, and we stood, watching with growing trepidation.

Their thunderous sound hooves echoed across the land, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Curious onlookers from Scorro gathered around to see who were the strangers.

Two riders I recognized soon enough. Captain Sofia Dion, wearing her dull grey chest plate and black cloak. Beside her rode Rian Gallos, swordmaster of the Yasman Lodge, who had his high-collared coat buttoned up to his chin.

High Warden Ferchell Maore followed them, riding high and proud on top of a grey horse with white stripes. Behind him rode another three young lodge members who I did not recognize, their faces clean shaven and short hair, barely old enough for any kind of field work.

The riders halted at the side of the crossroads and parted to make way for a single carriage adorned with silver and pulled by four powerful horses. They let out a panicked neigh as the carriage came to a stop on the side of the road. The doors opened and Lord Commander Ardovar Verrier jumped out, his expensive cloth slippers tapping against the cold stones.

Last came out a tired-looking Philemon Petridies, his long coat draped over his body, and he clasped tightly at the hem. His collar was lined with thick brown fur, which almost hid his face as he stepped out into the biting cold.

The Lord Commander had only a single mad thought.

“What did you do?” he shouted, almost foaming at the corners of his mouth and his hands trembling.

As he approached us, captain Dion and Rian dismounted their horses and hurried to his side, positioning themselves behind him, their hands resting on their sword handles. They did not even bother to hide their contempt.

“And you—” Ardovar shot Florencia with a hate-filled gaze, “You said you would keep everything under control! I should’ve listened to my instincts and kept him in my prison. I should’ve kept him muted and fried his mind out. But now…”

Florencia was so shocked that she could not speak. Jace took a step back as he realized with horror that he might have to draw his sword against his own lodge. Further back, Iskander and Jaxine had dropped their bowls of gruel and were now standing next to the nervous Molin, and the silent baron Fiesi.

“Captain Dion,” Ardovar said and grabbed a wooden box from his robes. From there, he took out the cursed circlet of Aegisthies that had been my bane for two weeks. “Capture this man and bring him to me in chains!”

The rest of the Yasman Lodge were now off their horses and stood now in a half-circle formation around the Lord Commander and the still-silent Philemon Petridies.

Captain Sofia Dion’s hateful smirk was wiped off her face, replaced now by a determined frown as she stood beside Rian Gallos. When the Lord Commander gave his word, she stepped forward with confidence, her boot heel striking the cobblestone street with a low echo. Rian, tall and thin and with a resolute grimace, follower her lead.

“Gladly,” she said, unsheather her sword in a slow and graceful move, and pointed the tip at the ground.

“Sofia! What are you doing?” Florencia shouted, stepping to my side and dragging Jace next to her. “He is still under my protection—”

“Step aside, Warden!” the captain said with a loud and authoritative voice. “I hereby put Jonas Espian under the arrest of the Yasman Lodge!”

As I looked at Ardovar, Sofia, and Rian, Iskander moved to my left. He came to a halt a few steps behind me and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Jaxine, who had been by his side only a moment before, had now vanished without a trace.

No.

I would not come into their custody. I made a promise in Bessou—never again to be imprisoned in this way, never again to be at the mercy of another. I would not break that promise.

“No,” I said, and a presence awoke again, stirring from its lightless slumber. Light around us faded and I heard grumbling whispers in my mind.

“Call for me,” said the eager voice, deep and loud. “Call for me and I shall help. They mean to hurt you.”

Sofia Dion and Rian Gallos stepped forward, swords drawn, but pointed down. As the light began to fade, I noticed a brief moment of hesitation, yet they still pressed on.

“Jonas Espian,” she said. “Come freely.”

“No,” I said and reached out and the ground under my hand shook. “I will not come freely.”

“Come forth Goxhandar, the Blood Maul, into my service!”

A thunderous groan came from the bowels of the earth. The stones under my outreached hand shook and fractured, and shifted aside as a black thing came up from the depths. Before anyone could react, or even understand the magic that was at work, the weightless maul flew upward into my grip. Red-black etchings on its shaft were now alive, flowing around like liquid fire before solidifying in place.

“I have come!” said the Blood Maul as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the brown fields.

Quickly, I extended my left arm, palm upward, and aimed my thoughts at the circlet of Aegisthies. Without even a sound, it obeyed my unspoken commands. The cursed relic pried itself loose from the stunned fingers of the Lord Commander and landed in my possession.

“No—” Ardovar Verrier yelled and stumbled forward.

“Jonas no!” Florencia screamed.

“I will not come freely ever again!” I said and crushed the damned thing in my fist.