Mara took a deep breath to collect herself and her thoughts as she slowly crawled her way across the roof of each train car. From a distance on that horse, it didn’t seem like the train had been going that fast. The smell of burning graphite, smoke stinging her sensitive eyes, and sensation of speeding even faster when on top of the train wasn’t helping her motivations. Nor her slight fear of heights.

She knew her son would be alright. She knew that. Helping Kaid wasn’t much of a question. A slight guilt resided in her that needed to be mended. Perhaps this was her restitution, helping her friend save an Empress that she had tried to kill a couple years ago. Mara felt she could have done better, perhaps convincing Kaid to reach out to Jessamine sooner or anything else to prevent this.

Kaid constantly affirmed that he didn’t wish to see her. He firmly believed Jessamine wanted nothing to do with him.

What a lie. What a hurtful fabrication caused only by his own insecurities. That lie was quickly unearthed by Kaid’s swift call into action tonight. Mara knew once that explosion went off and Jessamine was dragged away by unknown men, Kaid would do whatever it took to get her back.

And, if Mara really did want that teaching job, it was probably best to keep her employer alive.

“Well when this is all over, I’m treating us to a nice bottle of whiskey and a case of cigars,” the engineer spoke, doing nothing more than leaning against the edge, watching the fire burn. He had filled it to the brim with solid graphite, clearly not caring how white-hot those flames appeared.

“Yeah…all this prepping and work seems to have paid off. Tomorrow, you and I will be very rich men,” the other spoke, a snicker in his tone, “speaking of which…I found this in her private car. A nice little bag of gold and some panties along with it.”

“You vile dog!” he snickered with delight, pressing the cloth to his nose immediately while the other hand stashed the pouch in his pocket.

Gross. Mara did her best to not let her feminine frustration take over at this moment. She wanted to try and do this quietly, take out one before messing around with the engine. Time wasn’t on her side, nor was her ignorance of anything relating to train engines. Fire, though…fire she had plenty of experience on.

“Keep it in your pants for now, Cedric. I’ll check in around the next hour, maybe with some more goodies,” the other laughed, soon heading back inside, shutting the door behind him.

Cedric, the engineer, glanced back at the roaring engine with a newfound high. He added another small chunk of graphite to the flame, his other hand still with the Empress’ underwear wrapped around it, brushing against his nostrils. Mara slowly slid to the edge before landing on her feet. With the roaring wind and constant clattering sounds of metal, the man didn’t seem to notice. He was far too distracted with his own thoughts.

She withdrew the small dagger that had been tucked under her dress. Most women had nothing but lace and beauty under their dresses at an event like tonight. Mara and Jessamine were quite the opposite of that, knowing an evening of romance for most could be a violent one for themselves.

She slit his throat with ease, given his distraction. Any attempt of his to clot the strike with the cloth of Jessamine’s undergarment was futile. It seemed such a metaphor to Mara, who knew such a fate laid for any man who held such thoughts for Jessamine. Whether by her hand, her friends, or her lover…Mara wanted to tell this man to be grateful he died by her hand.

Mara would have liked to see what Kaid would have done instead, but he was far too busy with other things. The sound of a firearm echoed with the wind, carrying it all the way towards the front. Surely that was Kaid starting a fight. Mara didn’t even begin to worry how it would end. She had trained with him over this past year, and despite her years of experience even prior to Caladan, Kaid was an excellent fighter. Vitross had taught him well, but most of all, he taught himself how to embrace his true potential.

Glancing at all the engine instruments and levers, it only confused her further. It wasn’t until she glanced down at the red lever beside her thigh that any chance of manually braking was futile. The lever was jammed stuck, purposefully. Their intention was to burn as much graphite as possible until running out, letting the engine carry them further into the desert.

It was time to douse the flame herself. Being around Kaid had taught her one thing: Oblivion could adapt. He had learned that more than likely from Jessamine, but it was a valuable lesson regardless of the teacher. Fire was energy, an energy she could create. Creators also controlled. She had to believe she could go beyond just creating a fire, but also command fire that already existed.

Her hands reached at the flame, palms open and inviting. She felt like a god welcoming blessings from her worshippers. A symbiotic relationship of warmth, what a person felt with their own Oblivions. Caladan, despite her brief time there, taught her discipline. With discipline came freedom, albeit a freedom most Oblivion users failed to see. Most used it to their advantage, seeing their powers as a deadly and chaotic tool. This was more than that. The Divines had blessed people with this stretch of magic for a reason. It was time to believe it to be something more than the oblivion of society.

Mara pulled the heat away from the graphite, feeling the ball of flame grow increasingly larger as she slowly pried it away from the engine. It grew and grew, until the smallest of sparks and speckles of heat on the graphite meshed into the heat within her palms. Creators could also destroy. She condensed the ball further, feeling the tension in her arms, wrestling with the fire as if it desired to stay alive and burn for eternity. Collapsing her shaking hands completely, the flames disappeared, the energy being forced to no longer exist.

Thus, the engine ran on nothing but plumes of smoke and frigid wind.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second Pestilence laid his thumb on Jessamine’s forehead, she felt her body shake and tremble. Where did this power to steal Oblivion come from? How long had he used this power before finally coming to the light? Those questions were futile as Jessamine knew the time for asking questions had long been over.

The only question that remained was in her own mind: what was worth her Oblivion?

Her Oblivion was an extension of her own mind, an accessory to the most vital organ in her body that kept her alive. If this extension ceased to exist, would she remain? Without question, it would change everything. The whispers and voices in her head would disappear. She could fully enjoy music in the background of a party, hear the distant crashing of Vitross waves, or fully enrapture herself in moments of pure silence. Yet, the doubt remained if she could continue to serve her people the way she has without this power.

Her value was in contention. She felt like an unknown coin, being spectated upon by several bankers all trying to assess her true cost and worth in this life. To some, she was a waste of space, a worthless antique to be discarded. But there would be others who still saw her value, even if they were few and far in between.

She longed for Kaid in that moment, feeling her heart ache and swell as the tears streamed down her face. Her mind repeated the words she had first heard in his thoughts, hearing the tone of his gentle voice before his lips even moved.

My god, what a gorgeous woman.

The following ramblings had been that of confusion, wondering what she was doing in his jail cell, who she was, and why now after so many years alone. But that first sentence was engrained in her, burned forever in her mind like she was a cattle branded with his signature. She relished the idea of belonging to him.

It wasn’t just what he thought, but how he thought it. He had said those words with a curious gentleness, the same his eyes showed when he first viewed the world outside Caladin, helping her gather a kindle for the fire. For the first time in her life, that moment made her feel seen, and by the most unknown stranger she had ever met.

“Jessamine…where is Kaid Al-Yami? Is he here in Uhkhtar?” Pestilence demanded, pressing his thumb firmly into her head, as if prying to find the source of her power.

She said nothing, her eyes steeling at him despite the blurriness of her tears. She wouldn’t tell. All the pain and suffering she felt now in her heart was caused by this Oblivion. The betrayal she had given Kaid, resulting in the Time Paradox, resulting in this very moment…she had spearheaded it all. Unintentional or not, Pestilence was right about one thing: someone had to pay. And it couldn’t be Kaid. The man had spent thirty years in a prison, enduring a life sentence for the crime of merely existing. Anyone with a sense of heart, an ounce of empathy, should realize Kaid deserved a second chance.

Kaid had given her a second chance, alternating a timeline away from a dark fate she always believed she was headed towards. Her mind was made up. No matter what she lost tonight, no matter the abuse either physical, sexual, or mental, she would have to endure. She knew she would endure. Even if they killed her, Jessamine believed that Kaid would make these men pay. Every single one of them.

Belief was a powerful thing. Love was even stronger. Together…now that was a real tragedy.

An echo of a firearm being discharged silenced the already quiet train car. It had silenced the thoughts in all the minds there tonight. Jessamine could see the sound had eradicated Pestilence's resolve, slowly leaning back to gaze at the door. It could have been a misfire, one of his men or women getting too drunk and probably engaging in horseplay.

But then another went off. And then another. Three controlled shots. A yelp was soon heard faintly below the wind, and it was clear this horseplay was a stampede, led by the bringer of death.

“Go see what that is about,” Pestilence sneered at the other men. Only the blue eyed one remained, which Pestilence didn’t care to order him around. He stayed for a reason. The others, especially the soothsayer, were reluctant to leave but did so regardless. Due to three of them leaving, they opened the entrance to the other train car and Jessamine watched fear overcome them. They were rigid. Whatever their eyes laid upon was beyond their wildest imaginations, a nightmare nobody wished to ever come true.

Jessamine only heard the screams grow louder, steel clashing against steel before being plunged into flesh. The right side of her lip curved into a smile. She didn’t know if it was Kiev, or just some random Uhkhtarian wanting to play hero. Fuck, it could even be Shailud. Whomever the violent stranger turned out to be, they were a disruption to Pestilence’s plans.

Pestilence grew angry upon seeing her smirk, eyes narrowing at her, “You won’t be smirking after this.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“You won’t be alive after this,” she retorted, still feeling the residue of hot tears stream down her face, but her jaw was clenched with resolve. Take away her Oblivion. It wouldn’t remove himself from whatever fate held for him tonight. Pestilence moved the gag back over her lips, tightening it so it dug into her mouth. It wouldn’t hide the image of her smirk in his head, spreading further doubts in the strength of his men, and most of all, his plan.

Suddenly, the wheels of the train ahead lurched, as if hitting something large on the tracks themselves. What it had hit was sand…not metal. The train upon a sharp turn had lost traction with the train tracks, engine sputtering only fumes with no fuel to carry it further. The engine exploded, the sound loud enough to carry over the wind this time. Each train car one by one followed the one ahead, only piling further into sand and away from its true grounding.

Pestilence had firmly pressed all his fingers against her face, as if hurrying his process at removing her Oblivion. Jessamine merely shut her eyes tightly, trying to mentally force it away to no use. She felt powerless, eyes closing shut like a child viewing a monster for the first time with no way to fight back. The last thing she remembered was slamming with momentum into the train car wall before everything went black.

Her tired eyes eventually opened, her head pounding from having the side of it collide with the side of the train car. She was laying sideways, realizing the car had flipped on its side. Her hands writhed at the rope, feeling it loosen but still attached to the chair. Pestilence was face down and immobile, meaning this had to be her chance. Before she could even wonder where the other enemy went, she felt tension from the rope at her angles, only to feel them slacken with freedom.

The blue-eyed stranger had cut the rope at her ankles before moving to her wrists, angling the small blade to cut them entirely. Jessamine immediately kicked at his shin, pushing herself away.

“Easy…I’m not going to hurt you. We need to get out of here,” he spoke, raising his hands with that blade shining with the minimal light.

“And you think I should trust you, a complete stranger?” Jessamine asked, wondering if it was better to see if her fate was best held in whomever was fighting their way to get here. Although the sounds of blades and screams had diminished ever since the crash, which fed some anxious thoughts.

“Like you haven’t before…” he hummed. Jessamine thought there was probably a small smile on his lips if it wasn’t covered by the wrapped fabric around his head and mouth.

Whatever initial feelings she had about him, it didn’t feel so foreign…or unrecognizable. There was something about those eyes.

“Shailud didn’t come alone. You already don’t trust him,” he spoke, affirming it probably was Shailud. Odd, if he caused this mess and came here to also fix it. But…what a way to earn respect, not just with his people but the Continent. Save the Empress, it looked good on any man’s reputation. The world just didn’t have to know he was the one to set the entire thing up.

He took a step back before turning around, heading towards the back door before opening it with three strong pulls. Sand was beginning to blow against it, meaning they didn’t have long before it would slowly embed this train with its coarse nature. The man climbed out first, not bothering to extend his hand out to her. Jessamine debated about staying or at the very least trying to find the keys to her enchanted cuffs.

The sound of another distant explosion quelled that thought, and Jessamine climbed out with sore and aching muscles into the sand. Her bare feet dug deep into the cold and coarse ground, knowing at this moment it was probably better than the heels she wore at the party.

Movement was survival. She knew that remaining stagnant especially with remaining forces lingering about would bring trouble. The only thing she wished as she began to follow the stranger up the dunes in the darkness of night was that she wished she had grabbed that mallet or anything weapon of use.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaid stood firmly surrounded by a pile of bodies, catching his breath. All that fighting had narrowed down into one hallway, several fighters in front of him but also some catching up from behind. They thought they had him pinned. Kaid had fought the men in front of him in the present, and the one’s behind in the future. He would stop and stutter time, thrusting his sword forward before stalling to slice it at the closest body behind him.

Memories flooded of Caladin, white walls painted red due to his own actions. Each kill only rejuvenated him, feeding into his bloodlust. He thought he had been fighting for his own liberation, and perhaps for those of the other poor imprisoned souls there. Caladin would always remain, even if demolished and forever wiped from maps or collections of writing. It always existed in his heart, this innate substance of violence and struggle, of loneliness and desperation.

Violence justified to be for good was still violence. Violence to protect was still terrorism to his enemies. When those who hunted him down learned it was him who massacred this train, they’d only push further to find him. Kaid’s taste for blood was like black mold. Sometimes it grew so much to be this visible stain on the walls. Often, it was made clean by the only pure thing in his life. But no matter what, it was always there, always lingering as a deadly, near invisible parasite.

One of the side windows broke as a heel slammed into it, Mara eventually peering in.

“Fuck Kaid…I said leave some for me,” Mara scowled, reaching her hand out to him. Kaid cleaned his blade on the edge of the nearest body he could find, wiping it as best he could before letting it collapse with a twirl.

“Yeah, and you said you would slow down the train,” he observed, taking her hand and climbing out with a gentle yank. Clearly, she had slowed the train down to practically a complete halt.

“I removed too much heat from the engine…I think,” Mara sighed, “Is she in the last train-car?”

Kaid nodded, both of them eagerly traversing down the sand. It was a bit further away, having lost most momentum slamming into a dune away from the rest of the mess. The engine car was still bursting with flames. Sparks would carry with the wind and possibly set fire to the rest, destroying plenty of the evidence.

“These weren’t locals,” Mara observed.

“Their skin colors and accents varied. It’s a diverse group, similar to the Confederacy…” Kaid agreed, “definitely a team designed for something.”

Kaid led the way towards the back of the car, only to find the door already opened. When Kaid glanced back at Mara, her eyes were trailing at two different footsteps, one barefoot and the other covered.

“We’re too late, but at least she’s not dead,” Kaid sighed, “those are her footprints.”

“Didn’t know you were so familiar with her feet…” Mara observed, only before cracking a small smile as Kaid gave a ghastly glare.

“I took her shoe shopping once…” Kaid excused. He actually liked shopping with her. While Christine could make beautiful designs, it was nice to see her enjoy something so mundane. Besides, he got to know her sizes if he ever wanted to buy her something. He still remembered them to this day, figuring it hadn’t changed much.

A groan of pain was heard and Kaid peered back through the door, seeing a man struggle to his feet. Humor filled Kaid’s eyes, and he extended his hand through the door, but kept his face hidden.

“Here, take my hand,” Kaid offered, seeing Mara with her blade drawn and ready. The stranger took Kaid’s hand, thinking it to be that of his men, before Kaid yanked him out completely. It was time to get some answers. The man brushed sand off his clothes, as if akin to dirt despite being surrounded in it.

When Pestilence glared up, all he saw was a man wearing tattered black kaftan drenched in blood, the moonlight shining behind him.

“Start talking, or you die,” Mara demanded, stepping from behind Kaid to show her blade.

“Look, I was just following orders-”

“I haven’t heard that before,” Kaid rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious. It was all play pretend. All of it. We were to take the Empress, interrogate her, threaten to remove her Oblivion and she’d give us answers.”

Remove her Oblivion… that could only mean one person to Kaid’s knowledge.

“Pestilence…” Kaid scowled, “Is he alive?”

The man hesitated, “I am Pestilence.”

“Did you take her Oblivion?!”

“Yes, she didn’t answer my question,” he composed himself, wondering if the truth would save him. In this situation, it wouldn’t.

“What were you looking for?” Mara asked.

“Kaid Al-Yami,” Pestilence answered. Kaid glanced at Mara, who only held an amused glare in her dark eyes. Kaid only held malice in his eyes. They took her Oblivion. They took the darkness inside her, something that was a part of her. Despite it being her storm, her demon, it was something he loved about her because it made her who she was. It was the reason she lied to him. But it was just something he couldn’t imagine her without.

He couldn’t begin to imagine how she was coping with this.

“This Kaid Al-Yami, why not just kill him?” Kaid asked, being the actor this time.

“He’s more valuable alive than dead, at least to Lungor,” he sighed, “it was just my job to get information, not to actually find him. My team aren’t fighters. Again, we’re actors.”

“Sounds like your performance is up. How about an encore?” Kaid stood over him, “You got more than you wished for tonight. I’m the man you’re looking for. Any last words before I send you into the oblivion called death?”

Pestilence’s eyes widened upon the revelation, immediately getting on his knees in a desperate plea. Odd. Stories of Pestilence were surrounded by great fear and superstition, not cowardice. This is the man Esthero lost his powers to? Something seemed off, but Kaid wasn’t going to stick around too much longer.

“Please, please good sir. I know you to be good. Give me a chance, I can explain everything. Kaid, I can give you whatever you wish. Please,” he pleaded, saying please over and over again, burying his face in the sand.

Kaid slowly squatted down, his hand grabbing the man’s shawl covering his head and removing it. He didn’t need to see Pestilence’s eyes. Kaid cared not for his appearance, his story, or anything relating to him. He hurt the woman he loved, there was no reasoning that could change that.

His hand moved to grip the back of his short black hair, hearing Pestilence yelp with a childish cry. Suddenly, Kaid slammed his skull into the sand, pulling it back up before repeating the process. Pestilence struggled under his grip, feet losing traction in the sand, weight pinned by Kaid’s arm strength alone. Kaid buried his head in the closest dune, watching the sand pour over him, suffocating him. Pestilence slammed his fists and hands into the ground, reaching for Kaid to grasp but found nothing.

He choked to death, his mouth filled with sand, the desert taking the weak tonight.

Mara stood in the silence, knowing deep down the man in front of her wasn’t the same one she had met in Caladin. She thought she had come to that full truth, but small moments like these made her fully aware that Kaid was still growing, still adapting to this cruel world. She couldn’t blame him for what he had just done. Had anyone hurt the person she cared about, they would have received far worse than this.

“You think he was telling the truth?” Mara asked, “You think he took her Oblivion?”

“I don’t know,” Kaid started rummaging through the dead man’s clothes, finding exactly what he wanted: a key. More than likely, they used enchanted cuffs. Otherwise, all attempts to question Jessamine would’ve been pointless.

“She’s following behind this man, not in front. You think it’s someone she knows or trusts?” Mara questioned, again. Kaid was almost getting tired of her questions, but if anyone knew Jess’s reasonings, it would be him. Yet, even he didn’t know.

Whomever this man was, he was helping her, for whatever goddamn reason.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jessamine limped in the sand, feeling her ankle drag across with soreness. Luckily it wasn’t broken, otherwise she would have struggled greatly in crossing these dunes. But finally they reached solid rock, following a small mountain ridge. The man in front with blue eyes still took the lead, almost as if knowing where he was going. When they stopped at a small cave entrance, he glanced back at her

But, he said nothing, only walking inside and checking if everything was clear. Jessamine could see nothing through the blackness of night, feet stumbling over loose chunks of rock. She debated picking one up for her protection. However if this man wanted to hurt her, he would have done so already. Besides, she was already beginning to piece this together. Those moments of familiarity were almost impossible.

If Jessamine knew anything about this life, nothing was impossible.

He pulled out a small pack from the corner, removing all items inside. Small blankets and a tent were included, minor bits of dried food, and two large flasks of water. This man came prepared. A fire was started on mere bundles of dry sticks for warmth, both of them eventually sitting across from it. Jessamine curled against the cave wall, her eyes watching him with a tight throat.

His gait. His voice. His eyes. There was no denying it now.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Jessamine asked, “I know it’s you… Alec.”

Alexander Kristopher Kruzika, heir to the Vitross throne, brother of Empress Jessamine Kruzika…the man presumed dead. The man who ran away from his throne, disappeared into the Continent like a coward. The man who left Jessamine to suffer under the hands of politicians, Payne, and most of all, the weight of a throne she never wanted. The man she wished would just come back, take what was his and rule as he pleased.

But it wasn’t a man’s place to take away a woman’s burdens. After all, they were mostly responsible for them. And now he had come back, at a place and time where Jessamine didn’t want to give anything up. It was her throne now, and it would stay that way.

He removed his head covering, revealing dirty-blonde hair, strong jawline (a Kruzika trait for sure), and a sly smile. He really hadn’t changed much, outside of the normal maturity of life, the addition of wrinkles or tired eyes. The man in front of her was the same brother she remembered, only aged. Although, she figured she certainly had aged too since he last saw her.

“Little sis…how much you’ve grown…”