Vondaire had almost found a way to be comfortable while sitting on the sandbar. Comfortable was perhaps too strong of a word, but what else could he say? What else could he be? One didn’t brag about discomfort, though maybe he would start.

Codhyses was the first to stumble out of the exit. He looked around wildly, sighed, and slumped until he noticed Vondaire sitting nearby. His eyebrows shifted a lot from obvious confusion as he tried to figure out why the umbra was sitting on a cushioned chair with his feet up on a wooden table.

Who would have furniture out on a sandbar in the middle of an ocean? Well, Vondaire would, obviously. If any rumors were going to spread about the new Shard Hero, it was quite the story. One he could live with.

“Codhyses, one of the newest Void Nexus recruits. Given up, have you?”

“No.” He stood up straight in a useless attempt to hide his fatigue from a moment ago. “Owin asked me to leave.”

“Ah.” Vondaire swung his feet off the table. “Did he?” He gestured to the other side of the table where three old wooden stools were stacked. “Join me for a drink. The ferry is long off.”

Codhyses eyed the door uncertainly as he unstacked the stools and sat upon the bottom one. “Do you—”

“Think Owin will kill your comrades? No. But I doubt you know the horror he has felt. That horror, being hunted, sits with one, fermenting, if you will, into anger and ferocity. You have heard the stories of the Maimed Magus, of course. Myrsvai showed his ferocity on the spot, killing almost a hundred heroes. Owin hasn’t had the ability to express his feelings in such a cathartic way.”

Vondaire grabbed a bottle of wine from the sand beside him and pulled the cork out with a ghostly knife. He grabbed glasses from under the table and poured three, setting one to the side.

“Who is that for?” Codhyses asked.

Avani appeared out of the exit. She immediately turned back and stared into the nothingness.

“They will survive,” Vondaire said.

“What?” Avani turned and tried to take in her surroundings.

“Join us.” Vondaire gestured to the third glass.

Codhyses sniffed his wine and took a tiny sip. “This is—”

“I know.” Vondaire swirled the red wine in his glass. “Standing at the exit won’t benefit anyone, Avani. I am certain he will let them leave. Perhaps not in the best of conditions, but they will appear in that doorway one way or another.”

“How do you know that?” She was hesitant to approach, but with Codhyses waving her over, she finally sat down.

“It was my job for many years to watch and understand dangerous people. Owin is, obviously, one of those people. I even created a file on him while working for the Izylia Unity Force. He has the potential to be more dangerous than any other Shard Hero ever has been, and yet, there are those of us, like me, who are eager to see exactly what he does.” Vondaire took a sip. “Knowing that, he also cares deeply about the opinions of others. Two of his dear friends asked him not to kill those two, and therefore, he won’t. He never did promise not to beat them to a pulp, so I expect we will be seeing pulp before long.”

“They’re both strong,” Codhyses said. “Even with his skeleton—”

“His what?”

“The Withered Shade? The skeleton?”

Vondaire raised his eyebrows. “Now that is something I would love to hear more about.”

Codhyses immediately started talking about Shade, including the skeleton’s appearance, personality, and constant dying and resummoning.

Vondaire, for once, listened. A Cursed? Where had he heard the term before? There were no mobs classified as Cursed in any of the seven dungeons.

Vondaire held his hand up, cutting Codhyses off again, just as he was nearing the end of the story. The exit had shifted, however subtly.

Siora and her glowing sword stumbled out. She immediately looked into the sky and fell to her knees.

Codhyses ran over, took her arm, and helped her put the dangerous sword in its sheath. He brought her to the third stool, where she immediately slumped and placed her forehead on the tabletop.

She was alive, but the new scars looked painful, even after forced healing. The wound on her neck had only just closed and was scabbed rather than fully healed. That indicated that it was a fatal wound, forced together using more than one method. She was lucky to be alive.

“What happened?” Codhyses asked.

“I thought you died,” she said quietly.

“Owin made me leave.”

“Me too.”

Avani scowled. “The stories I saw said he was a hero, just like any human. Are all the stories about him being an actual monster true?”

“What would you do if someone hunted you across two floors of the dungeon just because of who you are?”

Siora pressed her hand to her neck wound and sat up. “This isn’t my fault.” She winced with each word like the inside of her neck was still healing.

“You were the one to kill Artivan, were you not?”

Siora sighed and took Avani’s untouched glass of wine. She drained the whole thing, which earned a look from Vondaire. He wasn’t sure what the look was, but it caused her to sip the next glass with some elegance and class.

“Just remember,” Vondaire said. “He could have killed you both. You hunted him, killed his friend, and threw him off the ferry. He could have acted as cruel as you have, but instead he has sent a warning.” Vondaire pointed to the exit.

Everyone turned as Nikoletta stepped out. She had no weapon, and blood ran over her lips, gathering on her chin before dropping onto the sand. She took one step, then collapsed as blood poured from her left knee.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Vondaire teleported beside her. Maybe he misspoke. This was not an act of mercy. Even for Owin, this was too far. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a healing potion. “Do any of you have mana potions?”

Codhyses took off his backpack and grabbed one, handing it to Vondaire.

Pouring potions down an unconscious person’s throat always felt a little odd. Somehow, it was something he had experience with, which would only raise questions if he pointed that out to the others.

Health potion first to stop the bleeding, followed by the mana potion so she could finish healing herself upon waking.

Vondaire returned to the table, leaving Codhyses and Avani to worry over the unconscious mender. Siora had stayed and sipped on her refilled glass of wine.

“You left much earlier,” Vondaire said.

“The skeleton helped me get away.”

Vondaire poured extra into her glass. “You don’t seem as angry as the mender.”

Siora stared into the dark wine, then drank the whole glass in two gulps. “I tortured him. I was angry about my friends, about Elas and Titus, but we did it. That old Hog would’ve left us alone. He even let me and Placus run away. I did this.”

Vondaire grabbed the wine glass, making it disappear. He replaced it with a short, wide glass and produced a bottle of whiskey from his jacket. “You did.”

Nikoletta coughed and vomited blood onto the sand.

Siora scowled and took a sip of her whiskey. “She’s going to be furious with me and Cod.”

“Let her be.” Vondaire took a sip of his wine. “What floor did you just leave?”

Siora finished her whiskey. “Five.”

“Five? Still?” Vondaire sighed. “I am going to be waiting here for centuries.”

***

Sylmare often ended up in situations where she wasn’t entirely sure what to do, but when Vephthru Veriss told her to do something, she did it every time.

Standing in Vraxridge outside Althowin Alegarra’s compound was stressful, to say the least.

A line stretched for miles, disappearing down the street. People lined up every single day even though none of them would be allowed inside. Why? What was the point?

Veph stood in her full golden suit with her crystal sword sheath on her hip and her wand placed carelessly in a pocket. She crossed her arms and stared at the front of the line.

“She knows we’re here.”

The other woman clicked her tongue. “Obviously. It doesn’t mean she will entertain us.” She wore full armor with deep blue accents. Her cape was purple and blew gently in the wind. Sylmare couldn’t tell if the woman was mismatched on purpose or if it was all part of a set. Company leaders could afford to buy whatever they wanted.

Egnatia Lucan leaned on her halberd. She had two other weapons sheathed on her hips. She turned and looked at Sylmare. “Have you met the apprentices?” A purple burn scar covered almost half of Egnatia’s face. It was spotted with different shades, from magenta to dark purple. It was rumored she had gotten it while killing a Lord of the Abyss. The leader of Magna Regum was known as the “Demon Killer” for a reason.

“I have not.”

“Hm. Why don’t we just walk inside?” Egnatia asked.

Althowin appeared right in front of them. Neither hero company leader jumped, but Sylmare almost teleported herself away simply out of fright.

“Get out of my city,” Althowin said. She wore a lab coat and slippers. Her hair was a bit messy, almost covering the fox ears sticking out the top of her head.

“We need to talk about the escaped goblin,” Veph said.

“If you had come alone, I’d consider talking, Egnatia.” Althowin scratched her head and raised an eyebrow at Veph. “This one is banned.”

Egnatia nodded. “I heard. Hear us out, ma’am. Please.”

Althowin pulled an oblong object from her jacket. “I could detonate this right now. Do you know what would be left?” She waited, a sly smile on her face. When nobody responded she said, “Me and my building, leaving my receptionist and my assistants as the only people alive in all of Vraxridge. Would you like to test that?”

“No,” Veph said quickly. “We only want to talk.”

“People who want to have a conversation don’t casually talk about trespassing. You, Vephthru, have been banned for letting your lackeys attack my assistants. And Egnatia, I respected your father, but you are a waste of talent. You’re about to be outdone by a lizard.”

Egnatia shifted uncomfortably. “We would never trespass, ma’am.”

Althowin took a step forward. Both Shard Hero company leaders took a step back.

Althowin kept the same sly smile on her face. “Three shards and four shards might make seven, but you both know how a fight would go between the three of us. The city would not be standing, and neither would you. Now, leave Vraxridge and ask for my permission before you ever think of returning.”

Egnatia bowed. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize.”

Veph bowed her head. “We will leave. I just have to ask, what will you do about the growing threat?”

“A threat to those who try to stop him, perhaps. I will be on the other side from you clowns, watching the goblin rip your lives to shreds. Begone.” Althowin waved them off, then vanished.

“How does she do that?” Sylmare asked. “She’s not an umbra.”

“She’s just that fast,” Veph said. She adjusted her ponytail. “Let’s hurry to the portals.”

“I think that was one of her boss busters,” Egnatia said. “I wish I could see it in action.”

“You would see a flash, then your life would be gone,” Veph said, already walking away.

Egnatia looked at Sylmare, raised an eyebrow, then ran after Veph. “That’s true. Do you think Zevvrin is actually about to get his fifth shard? I didn’t think he’d get it anytime soon. Especially after Voolyn stalled.”

“Is this important right now?” Veph asked.

“No, I know. Are you coming back to Minolitana with me? Is this umbra worth our time?”

Sylmare was curious what would happen if they approached Vondaire. The aloof umbra had been so powerful, but only compared to people without shards. There was no chance he could even hurt Veph or Egnatia.

“I’d like to meet him,” Veph said. “Sylmare, you’re coming with us.”

She would rather not. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

Potilia was glad to be home, and even more glad to find a stack of new books on the front counter. If they had customers, leaving stuff out could be a problem. Luckily, no one ever stopped in. Lucky for her, at least.

“Is that you?” Chorsay asked from his office.

“It’s me.”

His footsteps were heavy on the floor above. “You aren’t hurt?”

She looked up with her eyebrows skewed. A huge purple bruise covered about half of her face and plenty of other aches would argue with his observation.

“Badly, I meant.”

“Vondaire showed up before I had to fight Sylmare or Caspius.”

Chorsay leaned on the railing. It groaned under his weight. Someday, it was going to snap right out from under him. “He did?”

“He showed up with a bottle of wine and made us drink it while he threatened the others.” Potilia walked under Chorsay and grabbed the top book from the counter.

“A fictional history of the Abyss. A scholar’s assumption of what it was like when it first formed.”

“Is it good?” Potilia sat on her stool and opened to the first page.

“If you read it for the fiction that it is, I believe you will enjoy it. Some names should be recognizable.” He walked down the stairs and passed right into the mess. “The other is an eyewitness recount of the last king of Brukiya’s execution.”

“Oh.” She moved the top book off and grinned as the poorly drawn decapitated head of the king looked back at her from the cover. “Thank you.”

“Vondaire . . .”

“Had a shard and said he was going back to wait for Owin and Myrsvai.” She leaned on the counter and started reading the book about the Abyss.

Chorsay set a cup of coffee on the counter beside her. “A job well done.”

“Shh.”

He sipped his own cup, then hummed his way up the stairs. The wood creaked under him with each step, threatening to pull her focus away from the words until he finally sat down. His humming continued, deep and calming.