“You think...Ishen...is responsible,” the man in black said almost rhythmically, obviously taken aback by what he thought was a statement of absolute absurdity.

Nevin ignored him, absentmindedly rubbing his chin and staring down into the three-foot long lightless gap in the floorboards. He wasn't actually looking though, not really. In truth, his mind was lost in a jumbled replay of the day's events, wading through a churning mashup of mishaps and missteps whose unfortunate sum yielded far greater dangers than an appraisal of the individual instances would belie.

None of it made any sense, and the timing of it all... Why would the baron's soldiers go out of their way to set fire to the town? Why would Ishen vanish in the middle of the night, leaving behind his valuable collection of books - books he claimed were gathered over a lifetime of careful and intentional searching? Why would his old teacher arrange his study so that Nevin, and likely only Nevin, would stumble upon an object hidden beneath his cabin for who-knows-how-long?

Theis shook his head and kicked a shard of glass into the hole in the floor. It disappeared without protest, wholly consumed like so many other things that day. “Ishen may be many things – prideful, condescending, an insufferable know-it-all – but he's just as much a victim of today's events as you and everyone else.”

Nevin grunted. Seems Theis really DOES know his old mentor.

“So it's just coincidence he managed to escape right before the killing started? You want me to believe that?”

Theis shrugged. “Don't much care what you believe. But if you actually thought Ishen capable of orchestrating, to whatever degree, the destruction of Elbin and the massacre of her residents, I'd begin to wonder how you made in this far in life without tripping over your own feet and caving your skull in on a rock. Have to be a witless moron to believe that.”

Nevin's teeth squeaked from grinding them so hard, but he held his tongue. He liked to think that years of being subjected to all kinds of emotional and psychological abuse from Dalen had hardened him against condescension and insults, but the truth was, it never got any easier to hear.

Theis took a breath before continuing, but changed his mind when Nevin stretched out onto his stomach and gingerly dipped his right hand into the darkness beneath the cabin. The man in black slid forward half a step and leaned in over him, the motes in his eyes spinning circles around his ballooning pupils. Even Aidux took notice, his tufted ears perking up as he lifted his head to watch his friend.

“That's odd,” Nevin pulled his arm out of the hole, frowning.

“What is?” said Aidux, beating Theis to the punch.

“When I reached in here earlier, it was like sticking my hand in a snow bank, but now...” He laid back down and continued searching. “...I don't know. It's about the same temperature as the rest of the cabin.”

Aidux flicked an ear. “Maybe the cold was trapped? Like some snow got under the house and the hot air from up here finally melted it? And then, when you opened the floor, the cold whooooshed out and now its gone.”

“Maybe...” he lied, remembering how the depthless cold had overcome him at the same moment he hit his head and passed out. Could he have really just imagined it? Could the cold have just been a precursor to the strange dream that followed, a remnant of his unconscious imagination that somehow spilled over into his conscious memories?

His palm brushed something different, something smooth and cool to the touch. Metal. He bumped it with his fist, hoping it wasn't somehow mounted in place and therefore inaccessible without crawling around in the cabin's foundation, but to his pleasant surprise, the object soundlessly moved.

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He wiggled it around a bit. It was loose.

“Alright you two, back up.”

The cat returned to his spot in the corner, but didn't sit. Theis stepped back and crossed his arms. The object, whatever it was, was bulky enough that Nevin could barely get a sufficient grip on it with his fingers, but the surface had an unusual, almost gritty quality that stuck readily to his skin. Grunting with effort, Nevin dragged the object off its perch, tugging and tugging until he could grab it with both hands and awkwardly maneuver it up and out of the hole. He gently placed it on the angled writing desk and stepped back.

Nearly three feet of lusterless metal the shade of thunderclouds during flood season stretched from one end of the oblong object to the other, rounded at the edges and crisscrossed with dozens of thin, arrow-straight grooves. The grooves struck out from an oval-shaped indentation near the center of the object on both sides, splitting into numerous smaller lines that terminated perpendicular to its longest edge. The opposite edge was inset at one end with a white stone handle, visibly coarse and long enough to fit both hands around. Judging by its composition and how thick it was, Nevin would have expected the mysterious object to weigh somewhere north of forty pounds, but in truth, the younger man would have had little trouble hefting it with only one hand.

It didn't look like anything he'd ever seen before.

“You removed the blanket?” said Theis, more accusation than question.

Nevin shrugged. “Not intentionally. It was the first thing I touched when I reached in the hole. I would have removed...this...too, but Vincht sort of interrupted me.”

“That blanket was there for a reason,” he said ominously.

“What...is it?” Aidux pawed the air but didn't approach the writing desk.

“The Sharasil,” Nevin said without skipping a beat.

Theis whipped his head around. “The what?”

Nevin blinked. Both Theis and Aidux were staring intently in his direction. “...what?”

“You called it the 'Sharasil'.”

Now he was confused. “Yeah...is that not what it's called?”

“Don't actually know, but a better question is, how would you know? Isn't this the first time you've ever seen it?”

Nevin opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn't come. How did he know? The name just popped into his head when Aidux asked what it was, and it hadn't occurred to him to question it, he just blurted it out like he'd known it his entire life.

The word felt awfully familiar, though. Like he'd heard it somewhere recently, but try as he might, he couldn't place it.

“Maybe Vincht said it. I don't know.” Nevin wiped a hand down his face and walked over to a plush oaken desk chair propped upside down against the wall. He righted the chair and plopped down into it, staring out through the open window to ponder the hulking trees beyond.

The level of Ishen's involvement in the day's events still weighed heavy on his mind. Was Ishen out there right now, hiding away from everything that had happened that morning? Maybe he had successfully made in across the Hyret Bridge before Vincht and his crew had set up camp. Or maybe he was on the run, picking his way through the less hospitable areas of the Traagen Woods, trapped like Nevin and Aidux but protected by the safety of distance.

Or maybe...none of those were true. Maybe the truth was far darker than Nevin wanted to admit or even imagine. Maybe the truth would put into question over a decade of trust and friendship and-

STOP HIM!

The voice boomed out from depths of his subconscious, shattering his previous thoughts into a million pieces and propelling him unwillingly to his feet. A harsh throbbing replaced the voice as its echoes receded. Nevin stretched his jaw and groaned, fighting the sudden queasiness that welled up in his gut.

NOW!

His head shot up. Theis had crossed the small space separating him from the angled writing desk, and was in the process of reaching out to grab the white stone handle of the mysterious object. Nevin didn't pause to question the voice, he simply acted, willing his feet to move and parting his lips in preparation for the single word of warning that was rising up from the base of his throat.

That was as far as he made it before the world erupted in a scorching red light.