It had been an hour since the two started their journey. Their horses trot at a slow speed to conserve energy.

“Hood, what was that back there?”

“Mm. We ran away.”

“Not that part, before... the way you fought. It was amazing! Woosh, woosh, clang! Dodging all those attacks And Cal... that power.”

“Yes, that power. Countries in the east call it Ki; in the west, it’s called aura. I would call it the Flame of the Soul."

Drac rode his horse, listening intensely.

“With SoulFlame, one can achieve many inhuman feats. Unparalleled strength, speed, reaction time, and endurance A normal user of the art can be well respected in the army or can apply as a guard for higher nobility. But that is not its limit. The few extremely talented Soulflame practitioners are at the pinnacle of humanity, with sorcerers as the only ones who could match them.” Hood looks to the sky as if he is seeing something he can't reach.

“So Cal is like them, the Pinnacle?”

“No.” Hood replies. “He is strange. A lower nobility in a remote town that isn't pinnacle but stronger than he should be Power like that stays in this place."

“Suspicious,” Drac answers.

“Right. And a sacrifice for what? A good harvest? When a mage is a letter away.” Hood turned backwards towards Drac. “Tell me more about Cal. Which family does he hail from?”

Drac looked down and fiddled with the harness. Just an hour ago, his former childhood hero turned bully was going to use SoulFlame to bring him back to be sacrificed.

"Cal... well, Cal comes from the Stalwart family. He is the heir and the only offspring of a famous war hero, Jac Stalwart.”

Hood rested his head on his fist. “Mmmm. Stalwart. Yes, I have heard of them. Rejected multiple chances at a better title. Paraded as a shining example of loyalty. Staying a lowly baron to kiss ass.”

Drac raises an eyebrow at that. “What's wrong? Isn't loyalty an admirable trait to have in a noble?”

“Loyalty is worth less than dung. especially in this broken country. To be worth it, a person has to have an ulterior motive.” Hood said it with fervour.

Drac took it in for a moment.

“The sacrifices?” Drac realised.

“Yes. That could be a huge lead. But…”

“But What?” Drac asks.

Hood stops his horse, and Drac stops to meet him. Hood looks Drac in the eye. Hood's eyes showed worry.

“We are leaving.”

"Well, of course we are. We didn't spend an hour with sore bums to stay.”

“I mean, we are to leave for good. There is no coming back for anything. For anyone.”

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Drac is confused. What does it mean to leave for good? This is his home. His World.

Drac continues to trot along the road.

“So Hood, if we could find the reason for these sacrifices, can we save future victims from being used for nefarious purposes?”

Worry grows in Hood’s eyes.

“Drac… Leave them behind.” Hood pleads.

Drac turned back once more. Fear consumed his face.

“Come on. We can't stay on the road for too long. Let's hurry.”

'********************

Noon approached, and the sun was blocked by heavy rain clouds. A drizzle becomes a torrent of water. As the two reached the village, people raced out of the street to protect themselves from the cold rain. Only Drac and Hood could be seen leading the horses down the street.

“Are you sure it's smart to have a hideout so close to the scene of the crime?” The rain was so loud, that Drac had to raise his voice.

Hood answered with nothing but a scowl.

A few turns through dirty, rat-filled alleys, and they come across a well at the far corner of the village of Plyton. Hood opened the well cover to see a deep hole that the bottom is unseen. Inside the well, embedded into the rock, there is a ladder.

“Come. Climb down.” Hood gestured to follow his example as he descended into the abyss.

Drac put down his fear and followed him. Five minutes passed, and they found the floor. The hood ignites a lamp.

“Down this way,” Hood said, lifting the lamp to light up the area while lighting up more lamps along the way. In the small cave, many weapons of all types are attached to the walls. Hundreds of arrows were in baskets, with a magnificent bow resting to the side. Drac’s father called those types of bows "recurved". The blades on the wall tell the story of a man dedicated to the art of killing. Blades that are long, curved, blunt, sharp, skinny, and wide surround these rocky walls. Drac knew that Hood must be a master of each one.

“Stop staring and follow me.”

Drac moves further down the cave to reach a crack in the wall that can barely fit two people. He squeezes through to find a much larger room with a sleeping area and, curiously, a space with mats on the ground.

“What is that on the floor?" Those mats.” Drac asks Hood, who is busy rummaging through things.

“Um? Oh, that. It's my training area.”

“Training? You have been here the whole time,” Drac asks.

“God no. Stuck in this forsaken town for 10 weeks has been enough for me. Thank you.” Hood asserts as he takes a jug of water out of the rucksack with another bag. He shows them to Drac.

“Here. Eat.”

Drac takes the items and sees that the bag contains dried meat. His stomach rumbles. Drac did miss breakfast, and all the running made him much hungrier than he thought possible. So it was good enough.

“So.” Drac grabbed handfuls of the meat and shoved them into his face. “You just came along with this hideout?”

The hood sat on one of the beds. “No, I was assigned here."

Drac settled down on a bed close to Hood’s. Still eating his meal, he readied himself to hear why a man who looked just like him would hide here.

"It seems it's time to tell you.” Hood breathes out.

He removes his hood to reveal his hair in locks. much longer hair than Drac’s shortcut. The same coily texture of his hair was there. Hood’s dark eyes look nervous as he removes his mask to reveal Drac’s face. Full lips and dimples accent both sides of the face. The eyes form an almost almond shape and are joined together by a broad nose. Dark pigmentation is unusual for these parts of Tralor. Like Drac.

Drac wonders whether he is seeing his reflection. But those are where the similarities end. Healed cuts from numerous battles show all over Hood's face, with a large one across his right eyebrow. The look in Hood's eyes was like he could see through Drac's head into his soul. as if he could react to any subtle movements Drac could make. Hood was tense. ready to bolt into action in a split second.

“Above your collarbone, below your throat, you have a birthmark.”

Drac stopped mid-chew and put down the rest of the rations.

“Yeah… Wait, were you spying on me?" he said with unease.

“Yes.” Hood replies shortly.

“In the shower!?”

“No.”

Hood stands up. He unclasped his jacket to let it drop on the floor with a mighty thud. He put his hands on the collar of his black tunic. He pulled down to reveal a symbol bigger than a coin. A white rhombus with points on each corner juxtaposes against his dark skin.

Thoughts rush through Drac's mind. connecting pieces of information. Finally, he concluded.

“Brother…?” Drac asked apprehensively

“No. Much More.” Hood places his gloved hand on his birthmark.

“I am you."