CHAPTER 2

The brittle grass crunched beneath Jalissa's worn boots, each step a testament to her weariness. As she trudged forward, her mind wandered back through her sixteen years, searching in vain for a memory that could rival this grueling two-week trek. Her world had once been so small, confined to the boundaries of her village where days blurred together in a haze of mundane tasks and eager learning at her father's side. But his passing had shattered that familiar existence, thrusting her into a life of constant adaptation and unrelenting change.

Now, as she ventured beyond the only home she'd ever known, the vastness of the world struck her with awe and trepidation. The landscape unfurled before her like a tapestry of diverse nations, each with its own people and customs. It was a revelation that left her both exhilarated and overwhelmed, providing stark insight into the conflicts that plagued their war-torn world.

"Keep up," a gruff voice cut through her reverie. Jalissa's gaze snapped forward, settling on the broad-shouldered figure of Isaac, her reluctant protector. His tall frame and shock of blonde hair stood out against the rugged terrain, a few paces ahead and widening the gap between them.

"Well, stop walking so fast," she retorted, a hint of frustration coloring her tone. Their journey had been marked by terse exchanges and long silences, a partnership born of necessity rather than choice. Jalissa recalled the Isaac she'd glimpsed in the village – a man with eyes so dark and cold she'd once described them as soulless. Her initial assessment of his unfriendliness, she mused, had proven dismayingly accurate.

Yet, as she quickened her pace to match his long strides, Jalissa couldn't deny the debt of gratitude she owed him. Isaac had shielded her from the harsh elements and navigated them safely through warring territories, all without questioning the orders that had bound him to her side. For all his aloofness, she was thankful for his presence on this daunting quest.

Determined not to disappoint him further, Jalissa broke into a light jog, knowing full well the toll it would take on her already exhausted body. "So," she ventured, slightly breathless, "Think we'll get there today?"

Isaac grunted, his arms swinging in a steady rhythm. "I think so," he replied after a moment. "Widow's Peak should be on the other side of that range. Provided that it's still there."

"Yeah, okay," Jalissa nodded, then pressed on. "Have you ever been there before?"

"Yes, when I was younger."

She waited, hoping for more, but Isaac's taciturn nature prevailed. "And?" she prodded.

"Dangerous place," he stated flatly. "Far too dangerous for a person like you. I went there when I was tiny, with my father. He had no choice but to kill three men in my presence."

Jalissa stumbled, shock etched across her features. "What?! Why?!"

"The beer in his glass was too warm. The bartender wouldn't correct his mistake."

She halted abruptly, disbelief rooting her to the spot. "What?! He killed a bartender over that?!" The words felt absurd on her tongue.

Isaac paused, turning to face her with a quizzical expression. "Is this not normal where you come from?"

"Definitely not," Jalissa sputtered. "We don't kill people because the beer is too warm." Isaac merely shrugged, as if such violence was commonplace in his world. "Wait," she added, her mind racing, "the bartender is only one man. What about the other two?"

Isaac resumed walking, forcing Jalissa to jog once more to keep pace. "The other two happened to be sitting at the bar when my father whipped the bartender into the bar. They were unfortunate casualties."

"I'll say," Jalissa muttered, a chill running down her spine despite the exertion.

As they began their ascent up the mountain range, the air thinned, and Jalissa found herself gasping for breath. A sharp pain lanced through her side with each labored step. Isaac, seemingly unaffected by the altitude, glanced back at her struggle. Without a word, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder.

"Well, this is dignified," she remarked dryly, her voice muffled against his back.

They continued in this manner for several minutes until they crested the peak. Isaac set Jalissa down gently, his gaze fixed on the vista below. "There," he said, pointing to a village nestled at the base of the mountain. It showed signs of life, but barely stirred in the late afternoon light.

"Are you sure that's where we're supposed to go?" Jalissa asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"That's where you were told, correct? You didn't read the note wrong, did you?"

Jalissa shook her head. Isaac retrieved a flask from his pack and offered it to her. She took a long, grateful drink before returning it.

"What do you think we'll find down there?" she asked, unable to mask her apprehension.

"I'm under strict orders to protect you, Jalissa. Nothing bad will happen to you."

"Yeah, I mean, if you die I don't think you're going to be able to keep that order."

Isaac paused, his brow furrowing. "I guess not."

Jalissa studied him curiously. "Why did you pause?"

"It's just," he began, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice, "I never thought what would happen if I die."

"Well, that's comforting," she chuckled nervously. As Isaac readjusted his pack, he turned to face her fully.

"Widow's Peak is dangerous," he warned. "A few hundred people live in town, but they do not venture out after dark. The demons that surround here are too dangerous to go out at night. Plus, many who are wanted or dangerous tend to visit here."

Jalissa nodded slowly, processing the information. "Because this is a safe keep?"

"No," Isaac replied matter-of-factly. "Because the beer is good."

Jalissa stared at him incredulously. "Are you serious? They come here for the beer?"

"Did you not hear me when I said my father killed a man because his beer was too warm? If you walked for over two weeks and this manna of beer did not meet your expectations, wouldn't you be disappointed?"

Jalissa shrugged, a mixture of amusement and disbelief playing across her features. "I guess so. I just hope he's here."

Isaac didn't acknowledge her last statement. "Let's go," he said simply.

As they began their descent towards Widow's Peak, Jalissa felt a curious mix of anticipation and dread settle in her stomach. They were searching for a man long relegated to rumor and legend. What they would find in this dangerous town of beer connoisseurs and nighttime demons, she couldn't begin to imagine. But with Isaac by her side, she felt a glimmer of hope that they might just survive long enough to complete their mysterious mission.

* * *

In the shadowy heart of Widow's Peak, nestled within a labyrinth of decaying buildings and forgotten dreams, stood a bar infamous throughout the world. Known as The Underground, this haven for thieves, murderers, and souls of ill repute clung to the town's underbelly like a dark secret. It was within these weathered walls that Isaac's father had once slain three men over the temperature of his beer and the whims of circumstance. Here, information flowed as freely as the liquor it served, hits were ordered as casually as drinks, and lives were bartered away without a second thought or a shred of remorse.

A century-old legend whispered that to cross its threshold was to forfeit one's life to the bar itself, to become inextricably entwined in its web of sin and deceit. Time had proven this adage true, as even the most virtuous souls who wandered in unaware emerged changed, inexorably drawn into a life of crime. The Underground was a den of iniquity that few entered willingly, and even fewer left unscathed. It was into this pit of vipers that Isaac and Jalissa now ventured, their purpose as dangerous as their surroundings.

Their entry into Widow's Peak had been uneventful, yet unnerving for Jalissa. Her sheltered upbringing, though marred by early loss, had ill-prepared her for the world's harsher realities. As they walked the town's streets, she felt the weight of predatory gazes upon her, like tendrils of malice reaching out from the shadows. The few men whose eyes she mistakenly met looked her up and down with unmistakable intent, leaving her skin crawling with the desperate need for a bath, to scrub away the filth their gazes left behind.

Isaac, by contrast, moved with the ease of familiarity, his stride confident and assured. Such depravity was commonplace on his home island, where hatred and deceit had long since supplanted peace and understanding. He positioned himself slightly behind and to Jalissa's left, a protective shadow ready to intercept any threat that might emerge from the gloom. Born and raised a fighter, Isaac knew his life would likely end as it had begun – in violence. His fists were clenched, his weapons a heartbeat away from being drawn, his eyes constantly scanning for the slightest hint of danger.

As they approached the bar's entrance, Jalissa paused, her eyes dropping to the ground as if seeking solace in the earth beneath her feet. Isaac watched with curiosity as she closed her eyes, palms open, lips moving in barely perceptible whispers. Straining to hear, he caught nothing of her murmured words, her voice too soft, her incantation too sacred to be shared with the profane world around them.

"I'm ready," Jalissa announced, meeting his gaze once more, her eyes reflecting a resolve that had been absent moments before.

"What was that?" Isaac inquired, his tone gruff yet tinged with interest, his curiosity piqued by her ritual.

Jalissa's brow furrowed in confusion. "What was what?"

"That... ritual. Eyes closed. Hands open. Muttering," Isaac elaborated, his gesture mimicking her actions.

Understanding dawned on Jalissa's face, her expression clearing as she comprehended his query. "Ah, that. An incantation for protection as we enter," she explained, her voice soft yet firm, her faith in her beliefs unwavering.

"And you didn't think to say one for me?" Isaac asked, his tone edged with a hint of resentment, a flash of something – hurt? anger? – crossing his eyes.

Jalissa hesitated, discomfort evident in her posture as she struggled to find the right words. "Well," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "you told me you'd been here before."

"And?" Isaac pressed, his gaze unyielding, his voice demanding an explanation.

Jalissa's eyes darted to the ground, her discomfort growing under his intense scrutiny. "I... I assumed you didn't need one," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

A grunt escaped Isaac's lips, his stance softening almost imperceptibly as he regarded her. "You didn't think I was worth a blessing to protect my soul?" he asked, an unfamiliar emotion coloring his words, a vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface.

Shock painted Jalissa's features as she absorbed his words, her eyes widening in realization. In their two weeks of travel, she'd never truly understood this man. Now, she was confronted with a vulnerability she'd never expected – a desire to be cared for, to matter. Swallowing hard, she nodded, her voice filled with newfound resolve. "Of course, you're worth it, Isaac," she said, her hand reaching out to touch his lower back, a tentative gesture of comfort and support.

As her hand made contact, a torrent of images flooded Jalissa's mind, a deluge of memories that were not her own. She saw Isaac as a boy, standing in this very bar with his father, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. A teenage Isaac, towering over fallen foes, moving with lethal grace, his face a mask of cold determination. An older Isaac, watching over her as she slept, his gaze protective and... tender? The visions overwhelmed her, and she dropped to her knees, gasping for air as she struggled to make sense of the memories that had inexplicably transferred to her.

Isaac's confusion was evident as he helped her to her feet, his strong arms steadying her as she swayed. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern etched into his features, his voice tinged with worry.

Jalissa shook her head, still reeling from the onslaught of images. "Nothing," she managed, though Isaac's skeptical look told her he wasn't convinced.

"Let's go in," she said, finding her strength as clarity slowly returned, her resolve unshaken despite the turbulence within her. Isaac hesitated for a heartbeat before turning to open the door, his hand resting on the worn handle as if steeling himself for what lay beyond. As it swung inward, the acrid smell of death wafted out, a grim welcome to the Underground, a reminder of the perils that awaited them within its shadowy embrace.

They entered the dank, dimly lit bar, their eyes adjusting to the gloom as they took in the assortment of dangerous-looking patrons. Isaac locked eyes with each one, his gaze a clear warning: leave us be, or suffer the consequences. Jalissa stayed close to his side, her hand brushing against his as they made their way to the bar, where a portly bartender with an unkempt mustache regarded them warily, his eyes narrowing as he took in their appearance.

"What brings you 'ere?" he growled, his voice a low rumble, his expression uninviting.

Isaac answered tersely, his voice firm and unyielding. "Looking for someone."

The bartender's laugh was humorless, a harsh sound that grated against the senses. "Not quite the place for that. How about a drink, then you leave – alive and intact?" he suggested, his gaze flicking between Isaac and Jalissa, his meaning clear.

Jalissa shook her head, her voice initially timid before she found her resolve, her courage bolstered by the importance of their mission. "We can't, sir. We need—"

"My lady," the bartender interrupted, his voice laced with a hint of mockery, "don't 'sir' anyone here. It won't serve you well." Jalissa noticed Isaac's jaw tighten, his body tensing as if preparing for a fight, and she resisted the urge to calm him, wary after her earlier experience, the memory of the transferred visions still fresh in her mind.

"We need to find a man," Isaac stated firmly, his voice brooking no argument, his gaze steady and unyielding. "We're not leaving until we get answers."

The bartender nodded slowly, his gaze appraising as he retrieved a lit cigar from beneath the bar, taking a long drag before turning to fill two mugs from a small barrel. The pungent aroma of the amber liquid filled the air, and Jalissa recoiled slightly, her nose wrinkling at the strong scent. Isaac, however, lifted his mug without hesitation, his expression inscrutable as he took a sip.

"This is good," he remarked after a moment, his voice tinged with approval. "Very good."

The bartender's laugh was genuine this time, a warm sound that seemed out of place in the grim surroundings. "Course it is! Family recipe. My father made it. Lord rest his soul, killed in this very bar," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

Jalissa's eyes widened in shock at his words, her gaze flicking to Isaac, who remained impassive, his expression giving nothing away. He produced a folded parchment from his pouch and laid it before the bartender, the wanted poster declaring: "FUGITIVE KILLER. BOUNTY OFFERED." Below was a sketch of a cloaked figure, face obscured, with Lord Malik's seal at the bottom, a symbol of the man's power and influence.

"This who you're after?" the bartender asked, his gaze flicking between the poster and the pair before him, his expression inscrutable. "Join the club. Every opportunistic soul has been showing up here waiting for him. Been coming here for years, they say. If you ask me, he's long gone."

Jalissa's hope faltered at his words, her heart sinking as she absorbed the implications. "We need to find him. We were told you know all," she said, her voice filled with desperation, her eyes pleading for any information that could aid them.

The bartender's smile was wolfish as he leaned in, twirling his mustache, his gaze flicking between Isaac and Jalissa as if assessing their worth. "Well, my lady, you sure know how to flatter a man. It's true, I've seen him. Know what he's about, too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting around the bar as if wary of being overheard.

Isaac's interest piqued at his words, his gaze sharpening as he leaned in, his voice a low growl. "And what's that? Isn't he a killer?"

The bartender chortled, a sound filled with mirth and derision. "That's Lord Malik's story. Sure, he's killed – many who've walked into this very bar. Rapists, sadists, terrorists, murderers. But a killer in the way you're thinking? Nah. He's a savior, if anything." He glanced around furtively, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Can't help you find him, though. He's saved my hide more than once just for running this place. Keeps the worst of the worst in line, he does."

Jalissa opened her mouth to protest, to explain their true purpose, but Isaac silenced her with a raised hand, his gaze warning her to hold her tongue. He drained both their mugs, placing two coins on the counter with a decisive clink, before tucking away the wanted poster, his movements precise and deliberate.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"We'll be going then," he announced, much to Jalissa's dismay, her eyes widening in surprise at his abrupt decision.

As they neared the exit, a man blocked their path, his appearance repulsive and his odor even more so. Jalissa recoiled at the sight of him – scraggly hair, missing teeth, and an odor that made her stomach churn, a foul miasma that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

"So," he drawled, his voice a nasal whine that grated against the senses, "looking for the fugitive, are you? I can tell you where to find him."

Jalissa stepped forward eagerly, her eyes alight with hope, her voice filled with anticipation. "Where?" she asked, her gaze locked onto the man, her desperation palpable.

Isaac shot her a warning look, his expression darkening as he regarded the man with a mixture of disgust and suspicion. But the man continued, his voice a low hiss, his gaze flicking between Isaac and Jalissa as if relishing their discomfort. "Tonight. Behind the inn at the end of the street. I'll bring him to you," he promised, his lips curling into a malevolent smile, his eyes gleaming with malice.

Isaac ushered Jalissa out, her skin crawling under the man's leering gaze, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud. Once outside, he rounded on her, his voice a low growl, his anger palpable.

"Why would you speak to him?" he demanded, his gaze boring into hers, his body tense with suppressed fury.

"If he can help us, does it matter? You walked away from the bartender, the one person who could've helped us if you need reminding—" Jalissa began, her voice rising in defense, her eyes flashing with indignation.

"Then don't remind me," Isaac cut her off, his tone icy, his gaze unyielding.

Tension crackled between them, the air thick with unspoken words and simmering emotions. Jalissa studied Isaac's face, as impassive as ever, yet she sensed his anger, his frustration, his concern. "So," she ventured, her voice tentative, her eyes searching his, "are we going tonight?"

"We don't have a choice now," Isaac replied grimly, his voice filled with resignation, his gaze flicking to the darkened street beyond, the weight of their situation settling over them like a shroud. "If we don't show, that man will find us in our sleep," he warned, his voice a low growl, his eyes reflecting the grim reality of their predicament.

A chill ran down Jalissa's spine as she absorbed the weight of her mistake, the gravity of their situation settling over her like a pall. As they walked away from the Underground, the mission that had brought them to this forsaken place was taking an unexpected, dangerous turn, and Jalissa couldn't shake the feeling that their lives hung in a precarious balance, their fates entwined with the darkness that lurked within the heart of Widow's Peak.

* * *

Jalissa and Isaac positioned themselves across from the tavern, observing the sun's descent. Jalissa's chest tightened as she mentally revisited the day's events, seeking answers, particularly about the transfer that occurred when she touched Isaac. Despite her best efforts to dismiss the memory and concentrate on the task ahead, she found herself repeatedly drawn back to that moment, especially the recollection of him standing over her, his gaze tender. She privately wondered if Isaac harbored feelings for her, though their shared moments offered no hint of such affection. The sensation had been unlike anything she had ever experienced, and its mystery gnawed at her.

From the instant Jalissa first saw Isaac, fear had been her primary response. His intimidating presence was off-putting, and his reputation as one of the deadliest mercenaries across the eleven nations was well-known, if not fully understood. The idea that Isaac possessed another side—one capable of care and vulnerability—was alien to Jalissa, and she questioned whether Isaac himself was even aware of it. She had heard tales of his ruthlessness, but the man who had shown her kindness was a stark contrast to those stories.

As they surveyed the tavern, contemplating an escape strategy, Isaac muttered under his breath. Jalissa strained to listen but couldn't make out his words. Instead, she considered their predicament. The man they pursued would supposedly be delivered to them, but there was a chance he was allied with the repulsive man from the bar. If so, Isaac would need to subdue both, a challenge even for someone of his skill, given their orders to capture the fugitive alive. Jalissa knew the importance of this; everything hinged on his survival. The thought of failure weighed heavily on her, as did the uncertainty of their plan.

Yet, the bartender's words echoed in her mind—the fugitive wasn't what he seemed. If true, their entire plan, even their journey, was called into question. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the street, Isaac glanced at her.

“You’re lost in thought,” Isaac remarked gruffly, crouching beside her. His voice, though rough, held a note of concern that caught her off guard.

Jalissa initially nodded, her eyes meeting his briefly before looking away. “Just so much has happened. This journey has been enlightening, to say the least.”

Isaac looked at her intently, his gaze searching. “How so?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Well, this is my first time in another nation,” she began, her voice softening as she recalled her initial fears. “Growing up, I was told how evil other nations were, that they'd kill me just for entering. I've seen none of that. They're almost… like us,” she said, a note of wonder in her voice. Isaac nodded slowly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Much of that is because of me,” he explained. Unlike Jalissa, who had never left her homeland, Isaac had traveled extensively, witnessing more than most ever would. “My reputation precedes me, and it offers a certain level of protection.”

“Well, of course. But you’re not from home; you came from elsewhere. What have your experiences been?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Isaac paused, reflecting on his past journeys. “There’s much hatred in our world, more than you could imagine. You were protected because you were with me. Many wouldn’t dare confront me or anyone from my land. If you had been alone…” Isaac’s voice trailed off, leaving the grim implications unspoken. Jalissa looked at him, wondering about his thoughts, and shuddered at what might have happened to her.

“Is the world really that bad?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Isaac hesitated, a sadness crossing his face. “Sadly, it is. This hatred has grown from years of distrust and lies. Deceit is the true currency of our world, and it will take a monumental shift to change that.”

“Will I ever see that change in my lifetime?” she asked, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair.

Isaac sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “…no.”

The sadness of his response hit her immediately. She fought back tears, exhausted by the endless wars, famine, and hatred. Her father had once told her of a time when nations cooperated, but those days were long gone, replaced by a world that seemed to thrive on conflict.

“So,” Jalissa began, her voice steadier than she felt. “What’s the plan?”

Isaac grunted, his gaze hardening as he looked back towards the tavern. “Plan? We go, we wait, we fight.”

Jalissa’s jaw dropped. “That’s your great plan?” she asked, incredulity lacing her words.

“You must understand, my people are not strategists. We are fighters. But don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Isaac's voice held a firm resolve that was both reassuring and unsettling.

Jalissa shook her head, a sense of unease lingering. “That plan doesn’t work if something happens to you.”

Isaac laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very air around them. “And who is going to hurt me? Many have tried, all have failed.”

Jalissa nodded, though unease lingered. They watched a few more minutes, Isaac ensuring they weren’t walking into an ambush. Finally, they saw the man from the bar stumble around the corner of the tavern and down a set of stairs leading to the back alley.

Isaac looked at Jalissa, placed his hand on her shoulder, and nodded. “Let’s go.” Jalissa swallowed hard, fear gripping her as they followed the drunken man’s path, stepping into the shadows of the alley.

* * *

Jalissa and Isaac rounded the corner to discover the inebriated man standing there, awaiting their arrival. His gaze darted across the landscape before finally settling on them, and he grunted in acknowledgment.

"At last! You two, I've been waiting here for ages," the man shouted, spittle flying from his lips. He gestured angrily at them. Jalissa glanced at Isaac, then back at the irritated man.

"No, you haven't," she corrected. "We just saw you walk over here." Isaac shot her a warning look.

The man began to chuckle. "Oh, keeping an eye on me, were you? Smart, very smart. Wanted to ensure I didn't catch you off guard. Wanted to have the upper hand on ol' Anthony, didn't you? No, no, no. Anthony wouldn't do you wrong. Now, if it were Samuel, yes, he'd do you wrong, but not Anthony. Not Anthony at all."

Jalissa looked at Isaac, then back at Anthony. "Okay, Anthony. Sorry to make you think we thought the worst of you. I hope you understand, though."

Anthony nodded. "Understand, I do. That's all I do. I understand. Understand everything under the stars and the moon. You see, Anthony knows a lot, he does. But what business do you have with the fugitive, I wonder?"

This time, Isaac spoke up. "That's none of your concern. Where is he?"

Anthony burst into laughter again. "Where is he? Yes, where is he? The fugitive, the man who kills, the man who killed my brother, my brother-in-law, my father, my uncle, killed everyone I know! WHERE IS HE?!" Anthony exploded. Isaac immediately pulled Jalissa close to him. Jalissa grew worried as Anthony turned away from them. "The fugitive, you see, is evil. So if you're looking for him, then I need to know why." Anthony then turned back to face the duo. "To protect you, you see."

Jalissa felt her mouth go dry as she stared at the man. "We were asked to."

Anthony nodded, approaching them. "For the reward, I assume?"

"No," Jalissa quickly replied. "Because—" Isaac's hand squeezed her shoulder, making her stop mid-sentence.

"Too much info, girl," he whispered to her.

"Want to kill him, do you?" Anthony inquired, rushing towards them with excitement in his eyes.

Isaac shook his head. "No. Now, where is he?"

"Where is he?" Anthony sang back to Isaac. "You've already asked me this. Did you think I didn't hear you before? Do you think I'm dumb? Deaf? Stupid?" Jalissa quickly shook her head.

"No, Anthony, not at all!" she pleaded, hoping to calm him down.

Anthony paused for a moment, then smiled at Jalissa. "Been talking to Anthony, have you?"

Jalissa was confused. "What? You are Anthony!"

The man shook his head. "No, no, no. My name is Samuel, dear."

Isaac placed himself between Jalissa and Samuel. "Jalissa, run!" Isaac drew his sword and pointed it at Samuel. "We will leave here, and if you let us go, you will keep your head."

Samuel laughed differently than before. "Oh, you don't scare me. Anthony, he is a fool. I can't believe I let you speak with him. He snuck out when he shouldn’t have. Now, you will get the truth from dear ol' Samuel." Isaac inched forward towards Samuel while Jalissa turned towards the steps and started to run up them. "Such as, you're outnumbered."

As Samuel spoke, men appeared at the mouth of the alley, and Jalissa screamed at the top of her lungs. She quickly ran backwards, fear consuming her entire body. Twelve men ran down the alley stairs, each more terrifying than the last, with a mix of teeth, body odor, and tattoos. They encircled Isaac and Jalissa as Samuel backed away.

"You see," Samuel began while Isaac eyed each of the men, all carrying swords or knives or a mix of both. "That fugitive has RUINED everything for us. We LIVE for destruction and ruin, and he has turned around and destroyed our LIVES!" Samuel spun around and glared at Isaac and Jalissa. "He has taken from us our way of life, our food and water, everything. He has cleaned this city up—no no! He will be killed."

Isaac attacked, swinging his broadsword as hard as he could at the two men directly in front of him. His other arm wrapped around Jalissa, eager to keep her safe. One of the men caught the brunt of the sword and fell backwards, clutching at the large gaping wound on his chest. Jalissa stared at the blood pouring out of the man, never having seen anything like that in her life. Isaac whipped his body around and tried to get another attack off, but he was met in the back of the skull with a stiff shot from the flat end of the sword. The blow staggered Isaac as he dropped to one knee and groaned from the force of the blow. Jalissa screamed out in shock as she placed her hand against the back of his skull and pulled it away to find blood there. She immediately placed her hand against his skull, hopefully to staunch the bleeding.

The men behind him, though, closed the circle tighter around the duo and began to swing wildly at Isaac, trying to grab his sword. Isaac was badly outnumbered and he knew it.

Samuel cackled as he turned around and looked at the other opening of the alley, empty and deserted. Then, footsteps were heard coming from the alley where the men had come down moments before. Samuel turned around, giddy. "Oh good, he comes!" he roared as he raced over to the other side and danced while he stood there, ready to take the life of the fugitive.

As the man reached the bottom of the stairs, though, Samuel's smile vanished as he saw it was one of the homeless men around town, blind and barely able to walk. "Oi, you! GET OUT OF HERE" he yelled, disappointed at the lack of the fugitive. Then, he heard a piercing yell, one that tore through the silence of the night, and as Samuel turned around, he saw the man he was waiting for as he grabbed one of his men and plunged the man's knife into his neck before discarding him.

"YOU!" Samuel roared. The man did not answer as the ten other men turned their attentions away from Isaac and Jalissa, and towards the fugitive. The man, shrouded in a dark cloak, held a long wooden staff in his left hand. With his right hand, he dared the men to come get him. Two of them were quick to the draw as the man slammed the end of his staff into the jaw of the first man to approach him, knocking him out in one swift movement, and then took the legs out from underneath the other man before the fugitive pressed his foot across the throat of the threat.

Jalissa looked at the fugitive, or at least the man she assumed was the fugitive, and saw a certain calmness to him. She observed he was confident, in control, and knew there was no defeat in their future. She wrapped her arms around Isaac.

"Leave them be," came a gravelly voice that was void of emotion. Samuel danced around the group, laughing and furious all at the same time. He moved until he was inches away from the fugitive.

"Can’t save everyone," Samuel shrieked. "Outnumbered, you are." Those were the only words Samuel managed to get out before the fugitive grabbed Samuel and pulled him into him, slamming his head into Samuel's and causing blood to spurt out of Samuel's nose.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Samuel shrieked, grabbing his nose in the process and leaning into the nearby wall. The fugitive wasted no more time as he stamped as hard as he could against the throat of the man still under his boot, shattering a number of bones in the process. The fugitive looked at the scene around him and knew there were ten more, far too many to overcome. Still, they came and he had no choice as he spun around and drove the end of his staff into the stomach of the next foe up. As he tried to move again, though, he was tackled to the ground by another one of the ghouls. The movement was enough to throw him off of his game, but not enough to keep him down as he rolled through the tackle and slammed his forearm across the face of the assailant that tackled him.

The fugitive bounced back up and blocked a punch from one assailant, spun him around, and threw him into another assailant. Jalissa watched as the fugitive spun to his left and slammed his left boot into the midsection of another assailant before he returned to the first two, smashing them face first into the wall and then grabbing the third assailant and slamming him into the ground with all of his might. The fugitive stepped backwards, noticing he was down to five assailants, though it was only a matter of time before some of the others came back at him. He grabbed his staff by the middle and pulled it apart to reveal a large, ornate sword. He swung it around, causing the other five men to step backwards. The fugitive then grabbed Samuel and pulled him into him, placing the blade at his throat.

"I could cut your throat right here, Samuel. I could then slice through each of the remaining men here, and all of that blood would be on your hands. Or, I could let you all leave. Not just this alley, but Widow’s Peak. Your choice. Just know I will not mourn your bodies if you die today and if I ever see you again, causing any problems, then I will end you and your gang once and for all. Your choice," the fugitive muttered at a tone low enough for just Samuel to hear.

Samuel looked out at the group and slowly acquiesced. "Fine, fine. We will leave," he informed the fugitive. Slowly, the fugitive let Samuel go. In one swift movement, Samuel pulled a knife from his back and attempted to plunge it into the fugitive. He was too slow, though, as the fugitive inserted his sword through his stomach, causing Samuel’s jaw to drop as he looked into the eyes of the fugitive. Blood began to trickle out of his mouth while the fugitive stared at him.

"I warned you," he responded quietly before he withdrew his sword and threw Samuel to the ground. He looked at the remaining men. "I've killed your leader and two of your gang. I have no problem soaking this alley with all of your blood. Leave now before I change my mind." The remaining men looked at each other and then back at the fugitive before backing away slowly. The fugitive watched as they disappeared into the shadows before he turned his attention to Isaac and Jalissa. Slowly, the fugitive walked over to them, weighing his next steps carefully. He examined Isaac and saw the energy as it faded from his eyes.

"You’re not going to die," he informed Isaac. "Though you are definitely at the point where you are going to lose consciousness soon. Let’s go somewhere where you can rest, because I’m not positive I can carry someone your size." Isaac looked warily at the fugitive and then at Jalissa before he nodded his head. The fugitive reached his hand out and helped Isaac up to his feet. The big man wobbled under the weight of his own body. Jalissa helped steady Isaac, though her eyes never left the fugitive.

"Thank you," she started. "We’ve been looking for you for a long time."

The fugitive paused and then shook his head. "I’m not the one you’re looking for."

Jalissa was confused as they began to walk back the way they came. Then, without warning, Isaac collapsed onto the floor. The fugitive looked at the fallen warrior and sighed.

"Fuck."

* * *

It took roughly an hour to settle Isaac into a small cabin where he could lie down and rest. The young man bore most of the burden, though for almost anyone across the eleven nations, carrying a man of Isaac’s size alone would be unimaginable. Once Isaac was laid down, Jalissa swiftly fetched some blankets and covered him while the young man gathered supplies to tend to Isaac’s wounds. A moment later, a heavy knock echoed at the door. Jalissa’s gaze immediately darted to the door as the young man placed the supplies next to her and went to answer it. He peered through the small opening in the wooden door and slowly opened it.

“Come in, quickly,” the young man murmured. From the alleyway, the bartender from The Underground stepped into the cabin, surveying the scene with a sigh.

“Wonderful,” he began as he approached Jalissa. “Where’s the big man’s injury?” Jalissa showed him the back of Isaac’s head, and the bartender tilted his head to the side. “Could be worse,” he muttered. “Luckily, that skull of his is practically iron. Not much will pierce it.” He then took the supplies beside Jalissa and rolled Isaac onto his side to begin cleaning the wound.

“Glad you informed me,” the young man said, taking a seat in a chair still draped in the cloak, and pouring himself a beer. “They’d have been dead in seconds if not for me.”

Jalissa looked at the young man. “Who are you?”

The young man remained silent as the bartender glanced at Jalissa. “I’m Tom. That’s my son, Nicholas.” He then looked at Nicholas. “Take off that foolish cloak.” The cloak was removed, revealing a man barely over twenty, with short dark brown hair and a strong jaw that would catch most women’s attention.

“I’m confused,” Jalissa started. “I thought you were the fugitive.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Just been learning from him these past couple of years.”

“He’s not in town right now,” Tom interjected. “Something about… something. Couldn’t tell you. He makes no sense to either of us.”

Nicholas nodded. “True. He’s going to give me a lashing for taking his cloak and for those men dead outside, though.”

Jalissa remained puzzled. “So, you know the fugitive?”

Both men nodded simultaneously. “Showed up in the village two years ago,” Tom began. “Confused out of his mind. Kept muttering about being attacked. He probably slept for a week straight before he woke. Claimed he couldn’t remember much. I assumed because of a bump on the side of his head. Must have gotten it from a fall. Had to answer a bunch of silly questions.”

Nicholas looked at his father. “Still, he remembered how to fight.”

Tom snorted. “Of course he did, numbskull. Amnesia affects your memories of people and places, things. Not learned skills like that. It’s like talking. Did he know how to talk?”

Nicholas shrugged. “Yeah, I get it. Still, I couldn’t imagine going through the hell he’s going through. Not having his memories. Not remembering his loved ones or his family. A few days after he arrived, the Royal Guard showed up, searching for someone like him.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed, continuing to clean the back of Isaac’s head. “Poor guy. Couldn’t remember anything. I don’t know if he was the person the Royal Guard was looking for or not on that day. Sounded like him. No way I was turning him over to that damned loser of a Lord, though.”

Jalissa’s head kept turning back and forth between Nicholas and Tom, still trying to piece everything together, with the only certainty in her mind that the fugitive, the man she was sent to find, was not here and no one knew where he was.

“What do you want with him?” Nicholas asked, his tone turning darker. As she looked over at him, his hand reached across the table for a knife.

“Nicholas,” Tom started. “Knock it off. She’s not here to harm him.”

Jalissa’s head whipped around to Tom.

“She’s from Terraria.”

Nicholas’s jaw dropped. “What?! No way!”

Tom nodded. “Knew it from the moment I saw your eyes, my lady. Your queen sent you, didn’t she?”

Jalissa slowly nodded. “Yes, though I don’t know why.”

Tom stared at her for a moment. “You don’t know why she wants him and you don’t know why she sent you to do it. Interesting. Interesting indeed.” He then turned his attention back to Isaac and finished patching him up before laying him back down on the bed.

“He’s going to need some rest. You’re welcome to stay here,” Tom told Jalissa.

“Thank you,” she breathed, exhaustion setting in.

Nicholas looked after her. “Here, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor out here with Dad.” Jalissa smiled at the kindness.

“You saved our lives,” she started. “Thank you.”

Nicholas shook his head. “He taught me how to do it, not just the movements, but the actual purpose behind it. He told me as he walked around Widow’s Peak the first time that he felt it inside of him, that he had to help people, that these people needed saving. Without him, I’d be lost.” Jalissa heard those words and tears began to well up in her eyes.

Tom stood up and walked towards the door. “Need to clean up the shop and then I’ll be back. Don’t sleep until I come back, Nicholas.” He then looked over at Jalissa. “Night, my lady.” Jalissa just smiled back at Tom and then looked at Nicholas.

“Thank you, for everything.” She then walked into the separate room and crawled into bed. She didn’t last very long as her eyes became very heavy with exhaustion taking over.

The final thought in her mind, though, was she knew why the Queen had sent her; to bring back their savior.