“A vampire? Is that something you can truly do?” Fria’s eyes narrowed.

Darian had told her about gaining his divine skill, but he hadn’t told her everything.

“It’s an ability of my divine skill,” Darian explained. “I can turn others into lesser vampires.”

“But would doing that cure her?” Fria reclined in her chair. “Or would the sickness remain?”

That Darian had no way of knowing for sure. While he was immune to disease, there always was the possibility lesser vampires he created were not. And there was also the chance the sickness would remain either way. In a worse case scenario, she could become some kind of super carrier of the infection.

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “But I don’t want to just sit here and do nothing.”

“Durance said a few people survive. Perhaps she will be one.”

But that is a distant hope. Darian grunted as he rose and began pacing around the room, nervous energy filling him. Even if he turned her and she was cured, what then? Would he turn the other villagers? And what of their need for blood?

“I’m sorry,” Fria said, hanging her head. “For bringing you here.”

Darian stopped. “You had no way of knowing.” He walked to the shuttered window and peered into the darkness outside. “But I can’t stay here long. They’ll realize I’m not human sooner rather than later. And when that happens…” I will have no choice but to cut my way through them.

“I saw Jorg,” Fria said, rising from her chair. “Saw him through a small gap in the door. He shuffled in when he heard my voice. He had…blood leaking from his ears and eyes. It was horrible.”

“And what about your mother?”

“A bit better, but I’ve never heard her voice so weak.” Fria wrapped her arms around herself as if a sudden chill had come over her. “I don’t want to lose her too, Darian. Not after losing Father. But what you’re proposing…if it worked, what would we do then?”

Darian had planned on staying in Fria’s village for a few nights before working his way south to the nation of Vizzera. There were no Justicars there, and the people would be far more welcoming. But if he started turning people into vampires, he couldn’t very well leave them alone, could he?

“I would stay,” Darian said. “At least for a little longer than I planned.”

Fria looked at the floor, her feet shuffling as she grabbed another log for the fire. “You told me you wanted to explore the world. How can you do that if you end up stuck in some tiny village on the borderlands?”

“Doubt I’d be stuck here for long” He stepped away from the window. “But if I try making your mother a vampire, I can’t very well leave the other sick people to die.”

“There was around twenty people in there from what I could tell. But a portion of them were sick Justicars. Would you really be able to make them all vampires?”

“I’m not sure.” And if they all thirsted like he did, there would be another epidemic on Lonelen’s hands.

He walked back to his chair and slumped into it. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “What’s the correct action to take?”

Fria came to his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Sometimes there isn’t one.”

***

Durance rubbed his frigid hands together. You’d think years in the mountains would have conditioned his body for the cold, but he was always a strange dwarf. Left home when he was but a runt, became an adventurer not long after. But now he was a ranking member of the Emerald Branch, and Argus was his God now. Though we could do with some of his help right about now.

He looked at the homes as he passed, a pit forming in his gut. They’d been the ones to bring plague to this village, and he knew it. The others who arrived with him knew it, too. Maybe they’d have admitted it if Commander Marco hadn’t been with them. The commander had been redirected from his previous mission in the east and arrived in the village only a week ago. Durance still didn’t know what Marco was really doing here, but it couldn’t be anything good.

The man put on a kind act, but he was heartless as a demon. And he had a reputation of excellence to uphold. No doubt part of his directive included containing the infection. Marco had mentioned killing and burning the infected when he’d arrived. Apparently, that’s how some commanders were handling it. But he couldn’t act without direct approval from the church, thank Argus.

Durance pressed through the falling snow until he reached the home he was staying in. The owner was one of the first to die of the plague. Some of the lads were calling it Reapers something or another. But whatever they called it, the sickness terrified him. Some people were immune, Marco being one of them. They’d been exposed directly to the infected and never showed symptoms.

The door swung open, and Durance shuffled inside, thankful for the warmth. He stripped his coat off and walked toward the back, opening a window. Talon flew in not long after, the eagle waddling his way toward the empty fireplace. Bird like him wouldn’t normally be able to see in the dark, but Durance’s spirit bound companion wasn’t any ordinary creature.

He raked his foot across the ground as Durance approached, his beak pointing at the fireplace.

“I’ll get the fire going, just give me a minute.”

Durance leaned over, his old knees protesting as he scooped up a log.

“Durance”

He dropped the hunk of wood and spun, heart near jumping out of his throat.

A man sat in the corner, his body wreathed in flickering shadow. As Durance watched him, he rose, tall and thin.

Durance activated his skill [Stone Flesh] then his skill [Thorn Mail], his skin hardening before being covered in twisting and barbed vines.

“Who in the hells are you?” Durance took a back step, his mind and Talon’s melding for a moment as Durance prepared the eagle to attack.

“I come only as a messenger,” the shadowed man said, voice smooth as silk. “I do not come to cause harm.”

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“Do you often deliver messages like this?” Durance wasn’t sure what to do. The man could have caught Durance by surprise if he wanted a fight. But his instincts told him to prepare for anything.

He chuckled. “I do.”

Durance slowly lowered his fists after several moments of silence. “Alright then, what brings a stranger like you here in the middle of the night?”

The man relaxed. “A messenger will arrive here tomorrow bearing a letter from the church. This letter will be for commander Marco, and it will give him the right to purge the infected.”

Durance could feel the blood drain from his face. “Why would they authorize such a thing?”

“The capital is in chaos,” the man explained. “Infection is spreading far faster than can be contained, and so they are taking drastic measures. The infected are to be purged.”

“Even though some may survive?”

The man nodded. “It is too great a risk, leaving the infected alive.”

Durance clenched his fists. “Why are you telling me all this? Who are you?”

The darkness around the man seemed to simmer as it faded away, revealing an elven man of advanced years. He wore a white robe hemmed with gold, and his face bore the scars of battle.

“I serve Fane, the Aspirant of Light. And he seeks to save these people.”

The man reached into the air, a swirling mass of blackness appearing. His hand entered the darkness, then emerged with a small glass vial full of golden liquid.

“This is an elixir,” the man explained, handing the object to Durance. “A single drop will cure the infected, but there is only enough for five people.”

Durance inspected the shimmering substance, his eyes narrowing. “Only five?” He frowned. “Am I to choose who lives?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The man shook his head. “My master is busy producing more, but it is untested in the field. I will observe its effectiveness.

“You’re telling me this might not even work?” He stared at the man, then activated [Sense Level] since he now had a clear look at him.

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Skill Success: Target’s level is between 56-61

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He couldn’t keep his jaw from falling open. Most people in Aelon didn’t know about levels, and the skill to sense them was difficult to learn. But this man possessed the second highest level of anyone Durance had ever met.

The elf smiled. “Now that you understand how powerful I am, perhaps you will trust the possible effectiveness of the elixir?”

Durance forced his mouth to close. “This Aspirant fellow you mentioned, he stronger than you?”

The elf’s smile widened, revealing his perfectly white teeth. “Much stronger. And he seeks to fill all the world with his radiant light. This is but the first of many boons my master will deliver to the people of this land.”

Durance gripped the vial, the warm light hot against his palm. “Alright then,” he said. “I’ll give it a try.”

***

Darian rose from bed, the last rays of sunset sliding through the blinds. He carefully picked his way around them, the house filled with the scent of burnt wood. He’d spent the day sleeping in what used to be Fria’s brother’s bed. Judging by how big the bed was, Darian figured Radrick had to be huge.

Zan was curled up on the bed at the opposite end of the house. It belonged to Fria’s parents, and the massive wolf seemed at peace as he lay there sleeping.

He’d never reached a decision about Fria’s mother. While turning her into a vampire might save her, it had no guarantee of killing the infection. But he still felt conflicted, not sure on what path to take.

Angry voices down the street drew his attention, and he pressed his ear to the door.

“More of them?” A man said, sighing. “That’s three today.”

“Thought you only got sick if they was showing symptoms?” A woman said, her voice gruff.

“Guess not.”

Then soft steps approached from behind the house and Darian turned.

Fria came in through the back window, working the latch open with her knife. She slipped in silently, closing the shutters behind her.

“What has you sneaking around?” Darian asked, Zan perking up, his tail wagging.

“They wouldn’t give me permission to leave the house.” She pointed over her shoulder with the knife. “So I let myself out.”

There was shouting somewhere in the house beside there’s, the sound unperceivable to Fria. Though it wasn’t anger in their voice, but fear.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Not sure,” Fria replied, squatting by her parent’s bed. “But it’s big.”

She reached out and grunted, her arms straining as she pulled a long chest out from under the bed.

“This belonged to Father,” she said, flipping the bronze clasps.

“What’s in there?” Darian asked, standing behind her.

She flipped it open, then smiled as she gripped the bow within. “Briar.”

The bow was made of dark wood, but a green vine swirled around it, capping off each end of the bow with what looked like the hissing head of a serpent.

“It’s from Father’s time in the Emerald Branch.” She reached down and pulled out a pouch filled with bow string. “A gift from the king.”

“And he didn’t take it with him to fight the necromancer?” Darian asked.

“He hated serving the Branch, but more than that.” She tapped one of the serpent's heads. “The bow enchants arrows with magical poison. Useless against the undead, but just the thing if I need to kill some Justicars.”

A knock came at the door. Darian hadn’t heard the person approach.

“It’s Durance. I’m coming in.”

The dwarf entered and then shut the door behind him, his face pale. Then he spotted the bow, a hint of recognition on his face. But it was quickly smothered, and he straightened his back.

“There’s been a development,” he said. “Marco has received the right of purging.”

Fria froze and her eyes widened.

“The right of purging?” Darian didn’t know what it was, but it certainly didn’t sound good.

“He’s going to kill the infected,” Fria said, her knuckles whitening against the bow. “He’s going to kill my mother.”

Darian stepped toward the door, his body moving on its own. But Durance moved to block him.

“Stop, listen to me, please.”

“Make this quick,” Darian said, his ears picking up the thud of frantic boots on the road.

“Not everyone agrees with the commander and so he’s put the decision to a vote.”

Fria scoffed. “A vote?”

“The man likes to play at being a fair commander,” Durance said. “But he’s a snake. He’s already bribed or threatened most of the others. He’ll end up getting what he wants.”

“Then we’re wasting time,” Darian said, his stomach grumbling.

“Hold it.” The dwarf stuck one meaty hand forward. “I have something that might cure the infected. I can distract the commander while you two get them out of the village.”

“And where would we go?” Fria rightly asked. “Winter has come. Sickness or no, they would never survive out there.”

Sweat dripped down the dwarf’s face. “It’s the only way to avoid slaughter.”

“But my people would die, just the same,” Fria replied. “And I’d rather fight for them, even if they don’t have much time left.”

Darian reached into his inventory and removed Sparkblade, the dwarf’s eyes widening.

“Durance,” Darian said. “Sometimes there is no right choice. And you seem like a good man, but I will ask you this only once.” His fangs emerged, thick and sharp.

“Get out of my way.”