Pedr stood aghast, looking at Lorn tangled in a web of blood as black as mythstone. The blood pressed down his nose and mouth like tape while his body suspended midair with only a single foot planted on the ground. The rest of his body was attached to the dresser. His screams stopped minutes ago. Now Lorn was nothing more than a corpse, a fly to be eaten by the spider who captured it.

Though when Pedr checked on Belch, she had been as shocked as Pedr. Probably worse, deep inside. She had just killed somebody. Sure, Lorn attempted to assassinate her, but that didn’t mean a moment like this wouldn’t scar the young girl for her entire life to come. She would remember this until her death.

She fought all her life, Pedr thought. He looked at her wide eyes gazing at the corpse, the total shock evident by her null expression. She practiced every day. Yet, none of that prepared her for this.

They waited for Aidan to wake up and arrive. His court mage Cyril would come with him. Now that they discovered her “enchantment,” whatever this black blood was, they would likely have either Pedr or Cyril probe for more information regarding the blood. But that still meant a few hours less on Pedr’s time card, potentially.

Pedr peeked at her hand, wrapped in the ripped silk of the chef’s hat. Blood didn’t leak through, despite the knife thrown at her pierced through her palm out to the other side.

Belch didn’t scream as much as Pedr expected her to. Was she that tough? No, she couldn’t be. Her injuries back at the beast's camps bruised but never had her bones broke, nor had her skin gashed. It didn’t add up right.

Pedr wanted to give that wound a closer look. But seeing the blood and what it could do, Pedr was wary of even approaching her. What if the blood attacked him? It had surged, covering Lorn almost immediately with no time for the chef to dodge or escape. It all happened so suddenly. Pedr tried to reach out, stop the knife as soon as he saw it in the air. But he was too slow. And as a result, they’d finally found what they were searching for.

But Belch, she reacted fast enough to catch the blade? Her training just saved her life, fortunately so.

Still, this was bad. Very bad. They weren’t supposed to discover her power so soon. This only hastened Aidan’s plans and made Pedr’s pleas for rescue seem even more unlikely. Aidan would hold her closer from now on since he wouldn’t want any more assassins coming after her.

Wait a minute, Pedr thought. His stomach swelled. I tattled on Aidan to Soucrest, hoping they would come and rescue us. But what if they saw my request and decided that they were better off killing her instead?

It all made sense. They wouldn’t want to steal from Aidan to achieve Belch. That would only cause conflict with Aidan and Dormoor. It was safer to kill her instead!

“Damn it!” Pedr scoffed.

“Hm?” Belch turned her head to Pedr. She caught his frustration and worry and showed a face of guilt. As if it were her fault. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No,” Pedr sighed. “It’s not you. I just… messed up. I should have been here sooner, that is all.”

“Oh,” Belch said. She drifted off, looking back to the body.

Saving her is my top priority, Pedr thought. Why he decided to save her, Pedr didn’t have a reason for yet. At first, he thought it was the “right thing to do.” But then he realized he was doing it for more selfish reasons than he would ever admit. Back at Pedr’s first dinner in Dormoor, he and Aidan had spoken to each other. The Dormoor Lord pointed out his hypocrisy. And Aidan was right, all the while being wrong.

Slavery was an awful thing. Something that in Valoria had been outlawed in every Kingdom under the Summit. Though Dormoor stayed out of the collective that was the pact of Valorian Kingdoms, choosing to have their own laws and regulations. Though, Dork also participated in a different form of slavery. Only, they used religion to justify the means to enslave other humans.

I’ll save her, Pedr promised. If not for her sake, then for my conscience. I’ll do it.

Aidan arrived, wearing his resting attire. Ordinarily, he would wear a golden collar around his neck, though he rushed over here with no time to dress in anything other than a loose black shirt and trousers.

Cyril knelt by the hanging feet of Lorn by the dresser. He wore his dark blue robe, which could have fit most humans like a blanket over a queen-sized bed. Whenever it came to asking questions, Pedr came to Cyril first. He usually had the ideas of tests in his mind regarding the once mystery of Belch’s power. However, none of his ideas predicted anything to do with her blood.

Then, there was another person who joined them. A man they called “Kiba.” Chains covered his arms, leading up and under his black vest. But what drew the most attention to him had been the plain white mask over his face. Most masks Pedr had seen in his life had at least an opening for the mouth and nose. Kiba’s didn’t, with only holes near the center so he could draw breath through his nose.

“This is messy,” Kiba said. “These carpets are going to be really hard to clean.”

“Shut it, Kiba,” Cyril groaned from the floor, checking out the thick strands of blood joining opposite sides of the hall.

“I’m only trying to lighten the mood!” Kiba said, laughing slightly.

Pedr didn’t understand the joke. Neither did the rest of them.

“Wow, you guys are really in a dark mood,” Kiba said. “Can’t any of you see what I’m trying to do?”

Cyril sniffed. “You’re trying to be funny, only no one cares. So can you, by the Gods, shut the hell up!”

“Whoa,” Kiba said, raising his hands. Cyril didn’t turn his head back to him, keeping his eyes on the blood in front of him. “You guys are no fun.”

“Kiba,” Aidan said with irritation in his voice. He looked to the masked man, grabbing his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kiba tilted his head. “I was bored.”

Aidan shrugged him off, an odd gesture coming from the lord. If he didn’t want Kiba here, then why was he? Wasn’t that disobedience of some sort? Aidan turned to Belch. “Vessel,” he said. “Explain what happened if you will.”

Vessel, Pedr remembered. That was supposed to be her new name. Pedr remembered trying that out once, and she always recoiled off of it. He concluded that since she was so used to being called Belch, she didn’t appreciate being called anything else. She probably didn’t even know what Vessel meant, let alone how to spell or read the word.

But Pedr did. Vessel. It had to do with her body and Aidan’s apparent infatuation with power. Pedr couldn’t confirm if that were true or not, but he couldn’t see how else Aidan came to calling her that name. Why wear his plan so obviously on his sleeve?

“… and he started attacking me,” Belch explained, Pedr finally joining in by listening. “Pedr came out as soon as he heard him hit the dresser. I thought he was done, but he lunged up and threw a knife at me. I… caught it with my hand. Then all of that came out of me.”

Aidan looked to Pedr. Eyebrow raised, asking if he could confirm the story.

Play along, Pedr nodded. “That’s what happened, sir.”

“Can I see your wound?” Aidan asked.

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

Belch looked to her hand. She had tied the scraps given to her into a knot, and after she pulled a strand free, the hat loosened, falling to the floor. The white hat had blobs of black throughout. It dropped to the floor, exposing her hand.

Aidan grabbed her hand, studying the wound. He flipped it over, lowering his brows. “It’s not bleeding…”

“What?” Pedr gasped out loud.

Aidan snapped his head to Pedr. “How bad was the wound, Pedr?”

“The palm of her hand touched the bolster while the whole blade rammed through. That wound should still be open! Hell, it should require immediate treatment!”

Aidan shook his head. “It’s scabbed,” he said with a hint of wonder through his deep voice. “Wounds don’t scab this quickly. How long since the incident?”

“Forty or so minutes ago,” Pedr said.

“So, the blood isn’t only dyed black,” Aidan noted. “It’s proactive. It kills, and it heals. Heals her, at the least.”

Pedr frowned. He’s discovering too much. I’ll lose on time sooner than later. I have to get her out of Dormoor!

“And you saw the blood crawl up Lorn, long after the wound first opened?”

Belch nodded.

“It covered his passage of air. Tell me, Vessel,” Aidan paused. He glanced over to the blood, then back to Belch’s green eyes. “Did you order your blood to kill Lorn?”

“I…” Belch averted her eyes.

Aidan grabbed around her chin with his hand, forcefully adjusting it straight, bringing her eyes forward. His demanding eyes pierced her fearful ones. “Tell me! Did you order that blood to kill him!”

“I… I don’t know!” Belch squealed.

Aidan sighed, releasing her. “Well,” he said. “We have a lot more to learn about your power. Pedr, your responsibilities as a tutor will persist, though you are relieved of the testing. She’ll be working with Cyril in the morning before you pick her up in the afternoon.”

“Yes, sir,” Pedr said, bowing his head.

Aidan looked at him for a few seconds. Luckily for Pedr, his nervous demeanor could be explained by what had happened before. Aidan would think Pedr was thrown off balance by Lorn’s death, when in reality, Pedr feared what his future had in store.

Maybe I should stay, Pedr thought. Wouldn’t that be my best option if I wanted to stay alive? And besides, whatever he had planned to do with her, what good would me tutoring her do if he ended up killing her?

This is bigger than me.

A crack and a pop came from Cyril. He was touching the black blood, now dried up. It snapped on a touch, crumbling to dust. “This is interesting,” he said. “This isn’t normal. Not at all.”

Belch swallowed audibly beside Pedr. She seemed worried, more reserved than she usually was. She was afraid. The little fighter girl who fought her way to domination among the beast camps was scared.

No, Pedr closed his eyes. I have to protect her. It’s the… right thing to do.

“We’ll clean this up,” Aidan said. He turned to the Pedr and the girl he called Vessel. “It’s late. You two are going to need your rest. Go.”

Pedr nodded. He grabbed Belch’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They walked back down the hall. Pedr decided to walk her to her room, entering inside with her. Her hand was miraculously fine now, though her clothes stained in her blood. And her shirt, the purple one she said was her favorite, ruined.

“Change clothes before you go to bed,” Pedr said. “I’m washing my own clothes tomorrow. I’ll throw them in.”

“But,” Belch hesitated. “This was already washed yesterday.”

Pedr laughed nervously. “Well, we can’t have your favorite shirt stained forever, can we?”

She looked at him, and her eyes started shaking. Damn it, Pedr thought. I’m growing too attached to this human, aren’t I?

“Get some rest,” Pedr said. “I’ll stop by in the morning.”

Pedr turned, heading to the door. But he stopped; the back of his shirt caught on to something. He turned his head, noticing her thin fingers pinching and tugging. “Thank you,” she said before letting go.

“Right,” Pedr nodded, smiling through the tragedy. She was obviously distraught by what had just happened, killing Lorn and all. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Pedr left the door, turning left to his door. He entered his room, a giant shadow compared to the outside hallway. He reached around blind for his bed. Meeting the bed frame, he guided himself to the mattress. He got on slowly—his large size wasn’t very human bed friendly.

“It wasn’t who you think it was,” a voice said in his room.

Pedr sprung up, looking around. It wasn’t until he saw a mask, green from the lunar light from outside shining in his room through Pedr’s window. Kiba sat on the top of a tall bookshelf to the left of Pedr’s bed. His legs dangled down, swinging side to side. “What are you doing in my room?” Pedr demanded.

Kiba lifted a finger to a slight slit which represented his mask’s mouth. “Quiet, you wouldn’t want anyone hearing us, would you?”

“What is this?” Pedr asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. How did he get in? How didn’t Pedr notice him when he entered?

“It’s a meeting of confidence,” Kiba said. “I’m giving you confidence.”

“About what?” Pedr clenched his fists, his teeth getting close to grinding together.

“The one who sent the assassin after Vessel,” Kiba snickered. “The orders came from Soucrest, though by an accomplice to a man known in the crime world as Corolla. Lorn was a plant for the Green Chefs, a quite large crime syndicate based in Gleon. They wanted the Soulgem inside Belch, so they planned to kill her and steal her body.”

Pedr frowned. But that means it wasn’t Soucrest who ordered her dead! There may be hope…

“You don’t seem so pleased to hear such a thing?” Kiba rubbed his fingers to his bushy black hair.

“If you knew all of this,” Pedr frowned. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“Why would I?” Kiba said, eyes as uncaring as the inflection of his voice.

“Are you after her too?” Pedr lowered a brow. Could I get away with killing him from my room? I’m bigger than him, but I have no confidence in my fighting ability, let alone know anything about Kiba. “Don’t you serve Lord Aidan? Wouldn’t letting her die be against his interests?”

“Yes,” Kiba admitted. “Against his interests indeed, but I’m not going to serve his interests if they don’t serve my own.”

“And what are your interests?”

“Entertainment,” Kiba laughed methodically from under his mask. “The sweet comedy of chaos! That is what I’m into. I let Lorn attack Vessel; yes, that’s correct. I could have stopped him many hours before the incident but chose not to.”

“Why didn’t you intervene?” Pedr asked, growing aggravated.

“Because I trusted her to prevail against him. In a fight, Vessel with her fists and Lorn with a knife, I bet on the girl who fought her entire life.”

“Lorn was Aidan’s head chef,” Pedr said, skeptical. “It’s just hard to believe someone like him would do such a thing. And why in the middle of the night? He was a cook. Why not poison her meal?”

“Two reasons,” Kiba said, lifting two fingers to count. “The first being that killing her through poison is obvious and hard to control. Remember, they need her body if they are to take the Soulgem inside her, which would be hard to do if she dropped dead in the middle of the night. They needed to be alone. And the second reason, of course, is pride.”

“Pride?” Is he playing a prank on me or something? I can barely even bring myself to believe him.

“Lorn was a prideful cook,” Kiba said. “Damn good at it, but passionate all the same. It would be an insult to his cooking to tarnish it with poison. It’s like a warrior using a gun instead of a sword. The thought never crossed his mind.”

“You speak as if you understood the man,” Pedr noted. “You seem too sure about this. How did you know this before everyone else? Are you involved?”

“Gem God no!” Corolla laughed. “The last thing I want to do, Pedr, is kill the first Soulgem enchanted human in modern history. That’s why I came here.”

Pedr lowered a brow.

“Do as you wish,” Kiba said. “I won’t get in your way. I know what you are thinking because I know what you’ve been doing.”

Pedr grimaced. “What do you know? How do you know?”

“Your voice is so bitter,” Kiba said. “I know many things about you. The letter you’ve sent out, I’ve already read before it sent. But don’t worry, I only changed a few sentences here and there to make the plea more realistic.”

Pedr said nothing. He changed my letter? Then sent it anyway?

“This gist of it remained. But instead of addressing it to King Ranun, I’ve addressed it to Symond Whyte.”

“What? Why?”

Wait a second, Pedr thought. I just admitted that I sent for help! Damnation!

“Because Symond is the easier one to draw a sword to Aidan,” Kiba explained. “Ranun is too attached to Aidan to act himself. He probably would have discarded your letter, not even glancing at it again.”

“Impossible,” Pedr said. “He’s the Great King.”

“The Great King indeed, but yet very much human. Listen, Symond is more likely to act because he has an incentive to come over. He could see to it that Belch is used as their weapon instead of Aidan’s. But Ranun, he’d see Aidan as a deterrent to involve himself. Think of me as an editor, someone who understands the audience you’re trying to reach.”

Pedr took a breath. The masked man in front of him continued to swing his legs around, acting like a child. “Why are you helping me? Are you against Aidan too?”

“Against Aidan?” Kiba snorted. “No, my friend, no. I’m not for or against anybody in particular. I’m only after one thing, and one thing only.”

Pedr lowered a brow. “And that is?”

“Conflict,” Kiba said. He leaped off the tall bookshelf, landing on his feet. “Conflict is what drives me. I’d rather have that letter sent properly instead of having it sent straight to the void. I don’t seek Aidan’s defeat or your victory. I only seek the drama that forms when two opposing forces collide.”

Pedr sighed.

“I’m leaving,” Kiba said. He moved to the door. “Oh, and, I’ll hold your secret if you hold mine, got it? If you don’t… hmm, let me see. Oh! I got it! If you ruin my story prematurely, I’ll kill you before your story unfolds.”

Pedr nodded. He took the threat seriously. And while he didn’t seem to be on Pedr’s size, his involvement was like fuel in the campfire. All Pedr could hope for now was that his fuel didn’t burn down the forest.

Kiba slipped out the door, leaving Pedr all but confused by his character. The masked man made it out to seem like he wasn’t an enemy, all while being somebody he couldn’t trust.

Pedr yawned from his bed, slipping under his covers. He could worry about the future when he had the energy to do so. Pedr closed his eyes and dreamed of the freedom they promised he could have in Valoria.