I never thought I’d be so grateful to sweep a floor. They saved me from certain starvation, but I fear what they’ll demand in return. What could someone as low as me possibly give the Adjha’nai?

- Uuriintuya, Second Prophet of the Adjha’nai. Dated 53 b.f.

Silas and Nurana stopped before a small hovel, a flap of leather covering the doorway. “Excuse me, is anybody there? We come to deliver food from the Grand Hall,” Nurana called.

Silas heard shuffling feet from within, and a moment later, a small girl drew back the leather flap. She stared up at them, her unruly dark hair cut short. A single, deep orange scale sat over her left eyebrow. “Are you with Galmor?”

“Yes, we are, my child,” Nurana answered.

The girl disappeared inside again, re-emerging with three clay bowls. “We are only three,” she said, holding out the bowls in her outstretched arms.

For a hut that small, Silas wondered how they all lived in there. Compared to his parents’ house in Bildsfell, where he had a single room all for himself, the sheer poverty of the people in the Lower District seemed surreal.

The interior of the hovel was dimly lit, the near transparent white material making up the roof letting in only a little light from above. The girl’s father lay in bed. His right arm was covered in a stained cloth. Sweat coated his deep skin with a thick sheen. As soon as Silas took the first step in, an acrid stench of blood, sweat, and putrefaction assaulted his nose.

“He was hurt in an accident in the mill a few days ago,” the mother said after thanking them for the food.

“May I examine him?” Nurana asked.

“Are you a healer?”

Nurana hesitated for a heartbeat. “I am.”

The woman looked visibly relieved. “Please, but try not to wake him. He sleeps rarely, and he needs to rest.”

Nurana nodded, walking over to the man. She gently removed the deep-red gauze bandage and took a look at the wound. Even from this distance, Silas could tell it was infected. Nurana hissed. “Remind me to bring my satchel for the next trip, Silas.”

“I will.”

“If the bandages had been treated with Fainshear, the infection could have been prevented,” Nurana told the mother.

The mother shook her head. “We bought them after it happened, but couldn’t afford them after a day.”

Nurana let her hand hover over the leg. Pus leaked out of the wound, mixing with the blood within. “I can heal him, but it’s likely to be painful. He will wake up,” she warned the mother.

The woman took a step towards Nurana, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Are you a servant of Ixchel? Please, kind lady, help him, we can’t afford the treatment, and I don’t know how long he’ll be able to hold on.”

“I will,” Nurana assuaged the mother.

Closing her eyes, Nurana concentrated. Slowly, the pus was forced out of the wound, dripping down onto the bed as the flesh knit itself together and the loose skin sloughed off. The man’s eyes jerked open, letting out a scream of pain as the wound closed. The woman rushed to his side, holding him down as Nurana finished sealing the wound.

“You’re alright, Emri, you’re alright. A servant of Ixchel healed you. Galmor sent them, blessed be his soul.” The woman turned around, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, priestess. You don’t know how much you’ve helped us. I don’t know if I can ever repay you for what you’ve done.”

Nurana simply smiled at the woman. “Your thanks is enough.”

Silas didn’t know how much a healer would cost in Nu-Taquim, but he doubted anyone in the Lower District would be able to afford one.

Tom’s voice echoed in his head as if it had been yesterday. The Arts can be used for violence, but they can also be so much more. The Arts are a tool to use, not a weapon to wield. Beware as you progress on the path of the thousand Arts that you do not stray too far from what it means to be an Artist.

A pang of envy went through Silas as he watched the woman hug Nurana and cry her heart out as she tried to get as many thanks out between her sobs as she possibly could. Silas knew he would never be treated similarly. Such things were reserved for Artists who helped people, not someone like him. Maybe, one day, he would be able to change that.

The tent flap jerked open, and Ashnur stormed in, a rod in his hand. “What’s happening here? Is everyone alright?”

“It’s a miracle, Ashnur!” the woman exclaimed. “I never knew a healer joined your ranks. Thank you, thank you so much for bringing her with you. Please express my heartfelt thanks to Galmor when you see him, my boy.”

The grip on the rod held in Ashnur’s hand loosened, as he saw the tears in her eyes and Emri smiling at him from the bed. “I also didn’t know a healer had joined our ranks.” Ashnur regarded Nurana in a new light. “Thank you for helping them. The infection has been getting worse over the last few days, and we tried everything we could, but couldn’t afford the medicine necessary. What you did here, right now… it means a lot.”

Nurana held up her arms, flustered by all the praise. “I’m not a fully-fledged healer, but I did what I could. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

“Save him more often than I can count,” Zaya chimed in, pointing a finger at Silas. “Be very good healer.”

“Hey! She healed you often enough, didn’t she?” Silas retorted.

“Not much as you.”

“Do you have a list?”

Zaya smirked. “Want see it?”

Silas squinted at her. “You’re bluffing.”

Nurana started to push Silas and Zaya towards the exit. “Please excuse my…friends, we’ll stop bothering you now.”

Faring the people goodbye, Ashnur led them out of the house. “When I heard the screams, I feared the worst. I’m glad I was mistaken, though.” He latched the rod to his waist again. On second glance, Silas thought he could see faint embers within.

Nurana cocked her head at him. “You feared we would hurt these people?”

Ashnur cringed. “There have been…incidents where we discovered agents, hired by the Empress that tried to extract information from these people regarding the Ascended and their supposed whereabouts. For some reason, they seemed to think these people had the information they wanted. Bunch of nonsense, if you ask me.” Ashnur shook his head.

Silas focused on his breathing to stay calm. One wrong thing said, and all of it would fall on their heads and crush them beneath it. They needed to be careful about this.

“That sounds horrible,” Nurana said as they continued walking.

Silas glanced at Nurana. How could she stay this calm?

“It is indeed. There isn’t much food coming into the city. It’s been rough these last few years. If it weren’t for Galmor and the food he’s providing, many in the Lower District would starve.”

“Galmor be much rich?” Zaya asked him.

“I don’t think so. He lives in a house not far from here,” Ashnur replied.

For a moment, tension hung in the air, the unasked question dangling in front of their mouths like the hook from a fishing rod, daring them to bite. Nurana’s eyes shifted to Zaya, begging her to keep quiet. Ashnur sighed.

“Listen, I know the question you want to ask. I don’t know, and neither do I particularly care, if I’m honest with you. I’ve seen too much death to care who donates the food. But since you seem like nice people, I will give you a piece of advice.”

Ashnur turned around, looking at each of them in turn. “Don’t ask. It will only draw the wrong kind of attention towards you, and you don’t want to make the Empress’ guards believe you are involved with the Ascended.” He hesitated. “And I’m not sure if you want to draw the Ascended’s attention, either.”

“We appreciate the warning, Ashnur. I was aware there was some tension going on in the city, but we didn’t think it would be that bad.”

“Too tense for someone like us to get stuck in between, that’s for sure.”

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The remainder of their trip to the lower city proved relatively uneventful. Many people had already expected them, waiting in front of their houses so as not to miss the incoming cart. Nurana offered to heal a few more minor wounds, and once word got out, people streamed towards her to beg for healing, a blessing from Ixchel, or both.

Near the end, they had to turn the tide of people down because Nurana wasn’t able to carry on. They returned to the hall in the late evening and helped Ashnur to store away the cart before making their way back to the Shelter with Ashnur. Apparently, his mother’s house was also near the harbor.

With night approaching, fewer people roamed the streets, and those who did sent them mistrustful glances as they passed by. Nu-Taquim rapidly cooled down, the fresh ocean breeze bringing with it a chill hardly felt in the Endless Desert.

It didn’t take them long to get back to the harbor. They were already within sight of the ocean when a sudden shout broke the quiet. Stones cracked and crumbled as something huge collapsed and blew up clouds of dust from ahead.

“It must have come from the Shelter!” Ashnur began to run. Silas, Zaya, and Nurana followed, Gnarly creaking in protest as he was jolted around from his spot beneath Silas’ cloak. A child barged past Silas as she rounded the corner. Looking up at Silas, she flinched away, dashing to his right and disappeared behind another corner.

The unmistakable shouts of fighting soon reached their ears. The door of the Shelter had been ripped from its hinges. A gaping cleft had been torn in what remained of the front wall. Shouts came from inside.

Ashnur turned to Nurana. “You should stay out of this. Staying at the Shelter is one thing, but if you fight for them, the Empress’ forces will know. And once you’re on their list, there’s no going back.”

Zaya shot Ashnur an irritated look. “Save air. We help.”

Ashnur looked surprised. He nodded, determination steeling his face. Silas pulled out his spear as he rounded the corner.

A small group of three people, all clothed in dark veils, were fighting against Aiza as she desperately tried to defend herself from the assailants. Just as Silas entered the building, Layla stormed down from the stairs near the back, only hesitating for a fraction of a heartbeat before she joined Aiza’s side. Gnarly jumped out of Silas’ cloak, flexing his arms as he prepared himself. “Let us handle this, Gnarly,” Silas said. “You can’t afford to lose any energy. We’re going to be fine.”

Gnarly looked up at him. “Creak!”

“No, Gnarly.” Silas stared him down. “I won’t risk you further damaging your Landscape. Please,” he added, his gaze softening.

“Creak,” Gnarly relented.

The tallest of the three, a sinewy man with piercing dark eyes, scowled at seeing Silas and his friends enter. “Better turn around now, children. You don’t want to get caught up in this.”

Silas had seriously enough of people treating him like a kid. Who did these people think they were? They were nothing against him. If he didn’t have the Taint ravaging through his Landscape, he’d probably be able to take him on by himself. His fingers clenched around his spear, his eyes zoning onto the figure. The Taint reveled in anger, stoking it to a blazing inferno.

Silas leveled his spear at the figure. “This is your last warning. Walk away, and maybe we’ll consider letting you go.” Whoever these people were, they hadn’t come here to steal or to roughen anyone up. The multiple cuts on Aiza’s body made that clear.

Zaya glanced into another room near the right corner where Amush lay on the ground, clutching his arm as blood seeped through his fingers. Her face darkened. The look she shot Silas said it all. There would be no negotiations. “Stay in back, Ashnur.”

The stones lying around the doorway crawled towards Zaya, shuffling on top of each other to create two stacks of stone.

The supposed leader of the three nudged his head at them. “Rash, Zulia, take care of them, I’ll finish up here.” Two daggers floated by his side, both pointed at Aiza. He commanded them with his hands, their sharp tips circling around the leader of the Shelter as they stabbed at her from different angles.

Watching Aiza dodge one of the daggers, Silas realized there was something off about her. Apart from having an affinity for sand like many people in Nu-Taquim, she was also extremely agile. Too fast for someone not trained as a Ravuhn. Body enhancement didn’t exist in Ceraviehl. Yet, Aiza’s movements were too fluid, her reactions too fast for any normal Artist. Crouching low, she flashed her would-be assassin a savage smile and lunged forward to close the distance.

Layla helped Aiza by using jets of sand to distract the dagger-wielding assailant. Fishing a third dagger out of his pocket, he let it shoot at Layla who suddenly found herself on the defense.

The two figures standing beside their leader turned around, making a short exchange of hand signals before they rushed forward. The assailant from the left wielded a wicked-looking flail with a spiked head on top of it, his eyes fixed on Zaya.

The other was noticeably shorter, wielding a short spear. Silas was unsure what to expect of her, so he carefully held his spear at range to try and get an inkling of what her fighting style was. Her spear was only half the length of his, so he wouldn’t have problems keeping her at range.

Thrusting his spear forward, the woman angled her hip to dodge out of the way, only for Silas’ speartip to slice through the material veiling her face as he jerked his weapon upwards. The woman scowled at him. Burn marks covered most of her face. A thin line of fresh blood ran down her cheek.

Holding the spear with one hand, her left hand drew circles as Silas saw faint wisps of energy gathering in her palm. Not wanting to see what she was preparing, Silas drew mist from his Landscape to vault forward, nearly retching at the vile taste of the Taint coming with the use of his energy. His Landscape roiled, the Taint straining to be let free of its constraints. Silas pushed it back down with an effort of will, and for a moment, the Taint reduced to a simmer. He knew it was a risk, but he didn’t have the luxury to not rely on his Landscape. While it might have been enough against Layla, these were trained assassins. Silas needed his Arts.

The woman looked surprised at his sudden approach. Her hand thrust forward, and Silas tripped as the breath caught in his lungs and his eyes began to water. Scorching heat washed over him, reminding him of their escape from the Crimson Dunes.

Silas barely saw the spear coming. If it weren’t for the missing air in his lungs, he would have screamed. Pain blossomed in his upper leg as red tinged his vision. His control on his Landscape slipped and power surged out of him in violet, erratic currents. The spear jerked out of his hands, gaining a will of its own as it shot at the woman. Silas followed after it, the Taint coursing through him as he infused the spear with energy. Violet lightning arched over its wood, crackling as it reached out towards the woman. Shadows slithered towards him, coating him like a second skin. Silas commanded his spear forward, its tip aiming straight at her heart. The woman touched something on her wrist and a little shield of stone materialized before her to block the incoming thrust.

It shattered like brittle steel.

His spear continued its way as if unimpeded and lodged itself deep into her right shoulder. The woman screamed in pain. Her eyes were transfixed on the long shaft sticking out of her flesh. Yet she still managed to keep her hold on her weapon to keep him at bay with half-hearted slashes.

Silas’s eyes focused on the wood of her weapon. Who was she to attack him with something made of his Art? Silas let out a deep growl and exerted his will over the spear in the woman’s hands. She was nothing before him. A bug to be squashed. Pulling on the wood of her weapon, her spear flew into his hands.

Silas grinned.

Holding his other hand out, his spear lodged itself out of her shoulder, a steady stream of blood darkening the light-grey robes. With both spears floating beside him, Silas slowly sauntered towards her. The woman stumbled back, her eyes wide in disbelief. The Taint ravaged through his connection with the weapons, the previous nausea replaced by a well of seemingly endless power. The air began to shimmer as the temperature rose around the woman.

Her foot caught on a loose brick and she fell. Silas’ spears angled downwards to point at her. Unbridled feral power coursed through his veins. He could see the pearls of sweat collecting on her brows, the whiteness of her eyes, even the wound where his spear had already hit her. Just a little bit lower this time.

A torrent of heat impacted him just as he thrust both palms forward, relinquishing the hold on his spears and giving in to the power contained within.

The smell of burnt hair filled Silas’ nostrils. His skin blistered. Someone screamed. Both spears shot into the woman’s chest, piercing through her flesh and pinning her to the ground. Silas watched her for a moment, but she didn’t move.

His head jerked around the hall to search for more foes. The other assailant lay somewhere to the side, his body mangled by stone. Only their leader still stood. Layla was lying near the stairs blood pooling around her. Nurana held both hands to a wound in Layla's chest. Ashnur sported a deep gash across his forehead, the blood dripping into his eyes as he stared helplessly at Layla.

Layla met Silas’ gaze and flinched. Something stirred inside Silas. He glanced at the dead body of the heat Artist in front of him, both spears jutting out of her chest. Her dead eyes stared at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silent scream. Bile rose in his throat, and he emptied the contents of his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exerted his control over the Taint still ravaging through his body to force it back into his Landscape. Sudden weakness overcame him, and he nearly tripped over his own foot as he moved to help Zaya and Aiza.

Aiza was pressing a hand to her stomach, the other holding a shortsword. She was covered in blood, and from the looks of it, much of it was her own, yet she kept her attention on the remaining assassin.

Zaya shot a spike of stone at the man’s back, forcing him to awkwardly dodge. His eyes shifted between Zaya, Aiza, and now Silas. Judging Silas as the easier target, lunged forward, one dagger in his hand, the other floating behind him.

With a tug of his will, Silas detached the wooden shield strapped on his back to block the dagger. To his surprise, the man continued sprinting forward, heading for the open doorway at the entrance.

“Don’t let him escape!” Aiza shouted, flinching in pain as she fell to one knee, gasping.

The man was almost out the door when the ground beneath him erupted. A claw of stone grasped his ankle, and the man fell straight on his face, his grip on his daggers slipping. Zaya immediately encased them in a ball of rock and fastened them to the wall.

Drawing a circle with her wrist, she formed a spike of stone as she aimed at the man.

“Wait!” Aiza heaved herself up. “Don’t kill him.” She joined Zaya, looking down at the man, her face contorted by pain. “Tell me who sent you to attack us, and we might consider letting you go.”

“Go eat sand, abomination,” the man spat.

“I already know,” a voice came from the back. Amush walked towards them, an impromptu bandage fastened around his arm. “We don’t need him anymore.”

Aiza pointed her spear at the man lying in front of her, his foot still clutched by Zaya’s stone claw. Silas thought he could see a little smile on her lips.

“No, no, wait, I can-“ the words died in his throat as Aiza’s spear stabbed him in his heart. His fingers scratched at the wood, his mouth open as his eyes begged for mercy.

She jerked her weapon back out, a final feeble gasp escaping his lungs as he lay still. Aiza took a shallow breath, surveying their state. “Are you alright?” she asked Silas.

His skin was red and blistered, and every part of his body itched. “It’s worse than it looks. Just need to rest, is all.”

Looking at him for a moment, Aiza nodded. “Nurana, do what you can for Layla. I’ll go up and see to the children.”

“Are you sure you want them to see you like this?” Amush asked, gesturing at the wound in her stomach.

Aiza’s face hardened. “Yes. They need to know what the enemy is willing to do. The time for playing soldier in the courtyard is over.”

Her eyes roamed over the three dead bodies lying in the entrance hall before settling on Amush, who nodded.

“Zaya, I want you to take three empty sacks from the storage room and put a heavy stone in each of them.”

Zaya looked at him for a moment before nodding.

“What for?” Silas asked him.

Amush met his eyes, suddenly a decade older to Silas. There were wrinkles around his eyes and his hair seemed to be more grey than black. “We’re going to get rid of the bodies.”