“Now it’s just us,” said Darim, turning to face Frane.

Frane nodded, a haggard look on his face.

Otto had gone for a stroll outside in his garden behind the hut to pick herbs and vegetables for tonight’s stew .

“Are you going to tell me about yourself?” asked Darim.

Frane’s face hardened.

“Well? If you want me to trust you, I need to know you.”

“Why did you keep me alive?”

“As I told Lia: you didn’t attack me.”

“I burden you.”

“Yes, but the world’s got enough death in it. I didn’t want to add to it. Now tell me whatever you can.”

“My son is most likely dead,” said Frane.

Darim blinked.

Frane continued. “He was only five years old, but he is most likely dead.”

“You don’t know?”

“If he’s not dead now, he will be,” said Frane. “Strigg held him ready to execute. He told me to find Lia and kill her. I set off with the other assassins, but we lost.”

“That makes me trust you less,” said Darim.

Frane chuckled. “I was a soldier with plenty of years under my belt, but never a good one. And before you ask, I did fight in the Triscourge. I was a young man then. The king needed every man he could find for his armies. Somehow, I ended up in home of my ex commanding general.”

Darim’s eyes widened. “You were in Otto’s army?”

“Yes, and I am not speaking of that war. But I will tell you this. I won’t win in a fight against you or Lia. Not alone. I have already lost and within a month’s time, my son will die, regardless of what I do. I was not expecting to survive yesterday’s fight; the way you moved and the way she used her magic is beyond me.” Frane shuddered. “I was expecting my allies to return if I didn’t survive and tell them the deed was done. However, I needed to live. If I didn't, what use was sending a rebellious child in the streets with malice in his heart? No, there is no way my son will live. Strigg is vile, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed him after we set off. I don’t know for sure, but I would try, knowing that there is a chance.”

“There’s still a chance,” said Darim.

Frane raised a brow. “You are trying to convince me to kill Lia?”

“I’m looking at it from your point of view,” said Darim with a shrug. “Why haven’t you tried harder? You’ll clearly jump at any opportunity to have just the slightest chance to save your boy.”

Frane’s lips quivered. He held up two fingers. “Two reasons. Since I cannot win a fight, I was hoping to gain your trust to then be freed so I could rescue him. And secondly,” Frane said, stammering. “You two are good people. Or at least you are. She...She is too ambitious. The same ambition I see in Strigg when he hunts those Relics.”

Darim frowned, but nodded. “Lia’s not too bad. She takes some time getting used to.”

They remained silent.

Fates, do I let him go? If he’s lying, keeping him close is still dangerous, and more so than letting him go. And now he knows where Otto is.

Darim shook his head. “I don’t know, Frane. You could reveal a lot to Strigg now that you know where we’re headed.”

“You haven’t kept a prisoner before, have you? You let me hear too much,” Frane sighed, “ and now I’m going to suffer the price.”

“You should have said something.”

Frane nodded. “Too late, I suppose.”

“Mistakes from both our ends. Nothing left to do, but deal with them,” said Darim. “Your son, what’s his name?”

Frane struggled once more to get the words out, as if mentioning the name would hurt him. “Olarin.”

“Where is Lord Strigg located?”

Frane glared at Darim with a look of hope and admiration. “North of here.”

“Oh, and I wonder which way Ingstad is.”

“North,” said Frane, a smile cracking onto his lips.

Outside, the breeze picked up, snow beginning to pile.

“And where are we headed in the near future?” asked Darim, returning a grin of his own.

“To meet Maxius at Ingstad.”

Darim nodded and leaned back, hands behind his head. “I’ll help him out if I can.”

“You? Only you?” asked Frane.

Darim’s face hardened. “Lia doesn’t need to know.”

“You will stage a heist from under the lord’s nose without your mistress knowing?” Frane asked doubtedly.

“She’s not my mistress! Don’t call her that, at least. She’s my boss, if anything. And even that term is loose.”

Frane held back a smirk. “Fair enough, blue boy. I’ll take your word for it. I have no better hope than you. And without you, things were looking bleak.”

“Never tell me I can’t do something.” Darim said, sighing. “Especially if you’re a pretty girl.”

“You’re quite the rogue, blue boy,” said Frane.

“I consider myself a merchant of quick wit, hearty laughs, and unprecedented wisdom.” He winked and set his head down on the table, but he would not sleep tonight. It was the final test to gage the man’s loyalty to his claims. He was poised and waiting, hoping that Frane spoke the truth. Thugs like Frane always incited suspicion—they spun tales that would strike the heart of anyone, but behind such emotionality was always a dagger in the dark.

Darim wondered if Frane’s dagger would ever find his back.

****

Lia had learned so much. It was too much, in fact. The Holler of Souls was a crown here, a staff there, and an orb who-knows-where. In some texts, it was a man who was trapped within a cellar of an ancient tomb of bygone days, never uncovered till a hero sought it. In others, the Holler of Souls was a woman who would attempt to seduce you. If you resisted, she would give you the ability to speak to the dead.

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Those stories were all rumors—equal in their ridiculousness, but also bearing a shred of plausibility. Commonality between rumors hinted at a hidden truth within.

Lia groaned and slammed the books on the table. A tear of frustration threatened to drip out but she steeled herself with a sniff, as she always did. A sharp intake of air to remind her who she was.

Not who I am, but who I want to be.

Who you want to be or who your father wanted you to be?

Either way it is what I am.

Another sniff and a sigh later, and she grew rigid. She would find the Holler of Souls.

But how? Arc! There are so many contradicting theories and misinformation. It felt like every historian treated the Holler of Souls as a chance to express their fantastical nature in academic writing—if you could call such drovel academic. For every piece of evidence, there were foolhardy speculations bordering parodies. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were a joke made by historians who did not believe the relic was real.

Her fist threatened to hit the table in frustration.

Steel yourself, woman. She thought it in her father’s voice.

Forget about him. This time it was her own.

Focus on what you have learned. The useful bits.

She rearranged the books to their original locations and headed upstairs. Darim snapped awake as soon as she walked in and Frane was journeying through his bowl of stew. Two empty bowls lay on the table and Otto was by his hearth rubbing his slender, aged hands by the fire.

“Dear,” said Otto. “You’re done?”

“I have learned much,” said Lia, “but I will never be done, sir.”

The ability to speak to the dead. And the fame and power that is to come in finding such a relic... I must be stupid to go for it. These thoughts always flit past her mind. Now standing in front of a legendary hero, general, and scholar; she felt this ambition fiercer than before. Even he has given up—Maxius and Miles as well—three of the best out there. What can I do?

She steeled herself again with a sniff and collapsed into the chair. “I am lost.”

Otto patted a seat next to the fire for her to sit with him. She scooted the chair closer to the elderly man. He smiled at her, a knowing glint in his eyes against the firelight. Shadows danced on the walls like the great devils of old.

“You are lost,” he said pointedly. “But that makes sense considering you are trying to find the damn Holler of Souls.”

“Should I give up and search for another relic?” she asked, her brows tightening.

“Dear, let us speak outside. We’ll settle for some privacy, and fresh air after a bout of research always helps clear the mind. Grab your coat and gloves.”

Lia obeyed and the two opened the door,letting the wind and snow rush in. Otto pushed the door shut behind him and took a deep breath. He handed her a bowl he’d brought out with him. “To warm the insides while we sit.”

Lia nodded and began eating. The stew was delicious, but she was so famished that her tastes had lowered their standards. Hours had passed since she’d seen the sun, and now behind the snow and clouds it had descended.

“Tell me why you seek the Holler of Souls as opposed to any other relic.”

Lia grew rigid and her eyes flitted under the weight of this man’s question. Otto was a legend, and she wondered if he’d ever take her on as a student, a ward of sorts. Now here he was, digging for secrets.

“Why do you need to know?” she asked.

“I presume the reason must be important,” said Otto. “Why else would such a young soul be hunting for it? Maybe it’s a fool-hardy ambition. Either way I will try to convince you otherwise.”

‘Why?” asked Lia.

“You know Strigg and Crandle are after it already.”

“How—”

“I have sources, and I’ve been in this Relic Hunt for a long time. I know who my competitors are.”

“Yes, they are. They have tried to kill me already.”

“That man inside: Frane. Yes, I heard. Either way, you are in danger, always in danger. Out of these woods you will find that daggers are your back after every turn.”

“Why? I understand they want the Holler of Souls, but why are they so persistent toward me?”

“They don’t want you to find it. They don’t want anyone finding it..”

“Are they a part of a cult, then? Some coalition of rivals for a greater goal.”

“They call themselves The Bane Coalition.”

Lia leaned forward and forgot her stew for the moment. “How have I never heard of this?”

“They are secretive of course. While most of the members in the Bane Coalition are Relic Hunters themselves, they all believe there are some Relics that deserve not to be found.”

“So they don’t want the Holler of Souls. They just want me to never find it.”

“Yes.”

“But you just said, you don’t believe one so young could find it.”

“Chances are slim. I haven’t found it.” His eyes flashed again in humor. “And I am very old.”

“Maybe I’ll bring something new to the hunt,” said Lia, raising her chin. “This is my life.”

“If you say so, dear, but I will never sugarcoat the truth or give you falsified encouragement. So believe you me when I say that if you keep doing this, you’ll most likely be dead within a year—tops. And that’s even with your brilliance.” Otto turned to face the door and peered inside where Darim and Frane sat. “And your bodyguard’s zeal.”

Lia’s face grew somber. She nodded. “I understand.” A pause later, she said, “tell me more of the Bane Coalition.”

“They are bent on hiding Relics, as I said, but the greater goal is to stop the Dire Mages.”

Lia cursed under her breath. What have I gotten myself into? Dire Mages?

“The Dire Forces have not stopped their pursuit even after the Triscourge for forbidden knowledge. One man in another land named Orion Forge searches for the Holler of Souls to uncover secrets among the dead. They will serve his grim goal.”

“Which is?” asked Lia.

“He wants to make it so people never die.”

The news sounded harmless until the vast implications trickled through her mind. “Overpopulation. Pain that never ends.”

“A world of people that never die would cause problems.”

“It’s idealistic if he thinks that would somehow solve our issues!”

“He thinks he’s our salvation.”

“And the Bane Coalition is against him too?”

“Against him and against anyone who finds the Holler of Souls.”

“I’m not going to bring that fate on this world!” cried Lia, her voice cracking. “I just want to speak to my mother and prove my father wrong!” Lia swore as she said it. “Arc, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I lost control.”

“You will need to get a grasp on that, dear. Information is a double-edged sword.”

“I need to steel myself.”

“That would be wise. You’re in the Relic Hunt.”

Lia nodded. “They likely don’t care what my intent is with the Relic.”

“No, they don’t. They will stop you at any cost. They will not let petty moral claims or ideals hinder their goals. They’ll kill all who seek the Holler of Souls, and they won’t stop hunting you until you’ve stopped hunting it. And even then,'' great pain entered Otto’s voice, “sometimes they’ll kill you anyways.”

“You lost someone?”

“I lost many someone’s. That is why I left this Hunt.”

“And Maxius and Miles?”

“They are still hunted because of the speed at which they find Relics. At the end of the day, the Banes are Relic Hunters themselves—and infighting isn’t uncommon—but another Hunter has joined the game. You. They will set aside their politics for you, Lia. Run fast and study fast because outside of these woods, you’re on your own.”

“Come with us,” said Lia.

“No,” snapped Otto. “I won’t. As much as I care for a young scholar as yourself, I will never again enter the game. Especially for the Holler of Souls. I have served this world countless times and my days as a hero are done. I can’t save everyone. I’m sorry. You’ll be dead within a year, and I won’t have any part of it”

Lia blinked. This man is honest and blunt.

“I understand,” said Lia, but that was a lie. This man could increase her chances ten fold, but his eyes were stone, and he would not budge. “It’s getting cold.”

“Before you retire for the day, I would like to ask for your past. I believe I am owed an explanation and an attempt to at least dissuade you from your hunt for the Holler of Souls.”

Lia grew rigid and let go of the door handle. “Fine, sir.”