Something was wrong. Her instincts were on high alert. Arin tried to fall asleep but couldn’t, her mind wouldn’t shut up.

            Sigh.

            Turn.

            Arin couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, trying not to wake anyone, tossing the covers off of her. Her roommate rolled over. She held her breath, waiting a moment to be sure everyone was asleep, before climbing out of bed.

            Arin managed to make it out of bed. To her convenience she found a jacket to slip on over her pajamas. She shuffled to the farthest window and peered into the second courtyard. There was some sort of skirmish going on. Red light came from some a staff. Cloaked figures jumped out of the way before charging to the person who summoned the red light. The five brought down the one person.

            Oshwa has a staff with a red jewel on it . . .

            “Oshwa!” Arin shrieked, rushing out of her bedroom, waking everyone in the process.

            Arin turned left, sprinting through the dark hallway as fast as her tired legs would carry her. A few torches flickered, Arin lit her hands aflame for more light as she bolted to the staircase. Her bare feet scratched against the stone floor. Arin told herself to ignore the pain. Oshwa, if it was him, might suffer from the delay.

            Arin thankfully encountered a patrol by the stairs. They tried to stop her, rambling about how she needs to sleep. Irritated, Arin told them everything she saw. They let her go before getting more help.

            Hopefully the route Arin had in mind was the fastest way to Oshwa.

   She sprinted down the stairs at the end of the hallway, holding onto the railings tightly as she traversed to the first floor. Once free from the stairwell, she continued through the narrower hallway. Arin made a sharp left, turning to one of the exits. Whoever would dare hurt Oshwa was about to wish they were fireproof. Her hands lit in a ferocious flame as she entered a wide room, filled with racks of swords and armor. Arin ignored the weapons. Her fire was all she needed. She turned to the door next to the window. Going through would take her right to Oshwa.

            Arin pushed the door open rushing into the courtyard. She didn’t care who was hurting Oshwa, they were going to be burned severely. Sweat was already beading on her forehead. Below her the fresh dew soaked her bare feet. Her heart was in her throat. Was she truly ready to fight outnumbered?

            Arin unleashed her fire when in range, her vision filled with red. From the corner of her eye she saw Oshwa running away. Others scrambled to their feet pursuing him while the rest face Arin, swords and spears positioned defensively.

            “Well, if it isn’t the sun dragon brat. Croun tripled the reward for you since that attack,” the lead Other cackled.

            “Too bad her mini dragon isn’t here too. Croun would want both,” another taunted. She hid her relief that Scor wasn’t outside.

            “You deal with her, I have an Avillian filth to deal with,” the leader ordered. Four closed in on her, she really did underestimate her foes.

            “You do realize that I’m stalling, right?” Arin explained.

   One of the villainous attackers barreled towards her. Arin released her fire. To her surprise she jumped straight through the attack, tackling her.

            She managed to pin Arin against the soft ground, punching her jaw, popping the joint. Arin kneed her in the stomach, causing her to loosen her grip. Arin dug her flaming hands into her chest, shoving her aside. They both stood up again, bracing for another attack. An Other flanked her from behind, pulling the body of his spear against her throat, attempting to choke her. Arin screamed trying to burn through the metal.

            “Make sure she doesn’t leave that chokehold!” They faced Oshwa as he was dragged back to the group. Most of his feathers were bloody, the liquid glistening in the bright moonlight. His right eye swollen shut. Too weak to stand, he would never be able to run away again. To Arin’s horror, a spear protruded from his back.

            “I’ll ask you one more time, Avillian,” the Other hissed, his face close to Oshwa as he was released. “What are the names and Marks of the Children of Destiny? Talk or Arin will be given a beating!”

            “What makes you think that I know it?” Oshwa chuckled but was silenced from a blow to the throat. He gagged.

            “I’ll let you think about it.” The Other spat in his face.

            He faced Arin who ceased her kicking. He loomed over her like a monster. Arin was released from the hold. She rubbed her throat, coughing and gasping. What was he going to do?

            He seized a fist full of her hair and punched her in the face. Arin’s head jerked back, vision black for a moment. Blood squirted from her nose. He kept her head up, forcing her to stare into his menacing hood.

            “Tell me,” he paused, making sure she was paying attention, “do you know where any of the Children of Destiny are?”

            “Why—why do you—you assume I know these types of things?” she questioned, earning a slap across the face.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

            “Are you stupid?” he hissed. “As the Plaque-Reader you can just look at someone and know if they are one. Well, those are the rumors. If you tell me I may spare both of you.”

            Arin looked at Oshwa. He was shaking his head, his beautiful feathers drenched in red. She let out a deep breath, looking back to the Other. “I only know where the Fire of Truth is.”

            “No, Arin!”

            “Tell me who they are and where.” The Other edged closer to her, their foreheads almost touching. The unknown magic that kept the Other’s identity hidden still blocked his face.

            “You’re looking at her,” Arin snarled. He grabbed her neck. He didn’t choke her, he only maintained a sturdy hold. Arin held her breath, panicking.

            “You’re the Fire of Truth? Ha! You’re kidding, right? If you’re telling the truth, then that means . . .” She was released.

            He moved back to Oshwa murmuring. Her dying friend mustered all of his strength to stand again. He was almost two feet taller than the Other.

            “Don’t act like your better than me, Avillian!” he thundered, punching Oshwa hard in the stomach. He fell to his knees releasing a strangled cry. “Let him go. He’s no longer a threat.” The Others released Oshwa allowing him to collapse. Arin screamed in outrage. Oshwa glanced at her. “Search him.”

            The Others yanked Oshwa’s cloak off, exposing his wool clothing. One of the Others searched the cloak, another checked his pant’s pockets. Although exhausted, Arin tried to pull free to save her friend’s secrets. One gasped, revealing the Sphere of Visions from the cloak. It glimmered in the night, the mist inside was still. He tossed it to leader of the group laughing as he caught it. They continued searching for other items he may have.

            From his cloak another item was revealed. It was a folded piece of paper, possibly containing important information. The parchment was unfolded, handed to the leader for him to read.

            He laughed, folding the paper again. “Thank you for your services,” the Other sneered, mocking the way Crimsons thank others. He approached Arin again.

            Oshwa looked up at Arin, shaking his head. The hold on her arm was loosened slightly. As the Other stood over her once more, she shifted her focus to Oshwa’s staff. No Other was guarding it.

            Arin glared at the man above her. He pulled his fist back to punch her. Arin kicked her leg up, fire pushed him back. Her wrists and hands ignited, scaring the Others away.

            Arin thrust her fist at an Other, aiming for his cloak. Others moved away from Oshwa, focusing on Arin. Oshwa scurried to his staff, using it to help himself stand.

            Others threw their burning cloaks off, stomping out the embers. Arin rushed to Oshwa’s side while the Others were distracted, hands burning brightly in the night.

            Beastly Others circled the two, hunched over, weapons ready. Oshwa unfolded his wings a little, preparing himself for combat. Arin released a deep breath. Now was the time to apply everything she learned from Kilin.

            Arin launched her fire forward. Oshwa summoned red lightning from his staff. The Others continued to retreat. They were afraid.

            “Come on! They aren’t that strong!” one encouraged. Water was summoned by an Other. The stream doused the two, Oshwa was knocked down. Her fire was extinguished. Oshwa managed to stand from the torrent, perhaps she underestimated her passive friend.

            The Others rushed forward, two taking down Arin while the others attacked the massive Avillian. Her friend buckled as the Others jabbed their grotesque spears into his side. Arin screamed wanting the Others to focus on her again. Her friend was motionless. His back faced her so she couldn’t see if he was still awake.

            Before the Others could do anything, Oshwa was staggering to his feet. The Others gasped, one jabbed another spear into his side.

            He fell over again, wheezing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

            No, no, no, no! Oshwa, please stop!

            Arin unleashed her fire onto the Others holding her. A sword slashed her tricep, but she endured it. She wouldn’t let these cowards hurt her friend anymore. Someone drove their fist into her bleeding arm, causing Arin to stumble forward. She covered her head, protecting herself from any more blows. Her left arm was already numb.

            Above her the warning bell began to toll, echoing across the night sky. The Others looked up, a few shaking.

            “We got what we came for, now let’s go! No more wasting time!”

            “Remember this mercy, you Crimson filth.”

            The Others fled to the center of the courtyard. When assembled, they all disappeared. Arin doubled over, hands on her tremulous knees, her breathing heavy. Oshwa was motionless next to her, two spears jutting out of his body. Arin knelt next to him, pulling them out. Blood spilled out of his injuries. Did she make it worse?

            His eyes were closed. She wanted to check for a pulse but didn’t know where to look on his alien body. Blood was coming from his open mouth. Tears befan to fall.

            “Please, wake up!” Arin begged, rubbing at her itchy eyes. “Oshwa, please!”

            Crimsons rushed outside from the many doors of the castle. Among the group of Crimsons were medics. The doctors examined Oshwa, checking his neck and under his beak for any signs of life.

            One Crimson lifted Arin off the ground and pulled her away. She bawled trying to return to her dying friend’s side.

            “He has no pulse!” a medic announced.

            He’s dead . . . he’s dead.

            Arin stopped struggling, unable to control her crying. The Crimson holding her halted, and pulled her into a tight hug.

            “It’ll be okay.” It was Coyasko speaking. “Our medics will fix this. He’ll be fine. Don’t cry, Arin. He’ll be fine.”

            She tried to reassure herself but couldn’t. He knew that there was nothing left they could do. He was dead.

            “We can fix this,” his voice cracked. He was trying not to cry. “We can. We have to . . .”

            “I—I tried,” her voice was shaky. “They kept using spears and—and—I”

            “You tried your best. You did more than enough, now only the spirits and medics can save him.” Coyasko picked her up again, continuing inside. “I don’t know what happened. I mean we were all on guard and suddenly we all seemed to have passed out. In our only moment of vulnerability this happened. I promise this will never happen again.”

            Arin buried her face into his chest. Coyasko stroked her hair back trying to calm her. “Don’t worry . . . It’ll get better. It has to . . .”