Brand’s flaming sword cut through the leathery wings of an enormous bat. The felled beast dropped to the ground and tried to crawl back into the darkness of the cave. But Brand, standing in front of the entrance, stabbed it right through the heart. He looked around, the entrance was filled with bats bleeding out on the withered grass. He sheathed his sword and counted eight. He whistled and Kayla came running out of the foliage nearby. The sun peered just over the mountains in the east, chasing the shadows of the night away and filling the lands with a red gleam. Brand grabbed a rope in one of the bags attached to Kayla’s saddle and started to tie all the bats together. “The villagers can sleep on both ears now.”

Kayla’s hooves made a dull sound on the dirt road leading to Marna. It was a small town, almost not worth a dot on the map. He walked up to the only tavern it had, Kayla’s reigns in hand. “Good girl,” he said while patted her. Kayla neighed. The townsfolk poured out of the tavern.

“As promised,” Brand said.

The people cheered and clapped. A bald man who was missing an eye came to him to shake his hands. The children danced in a circle, chanting “Brand slew the bats!”

“We don’t have much, but-” the village elder said as he handed him a pouch. But Brand declined. “I cannot accept payment for this.”

What the villagers didn’t know was that Brand felt different even since he slept with Helga. He didn’t deserve a reward, not from them.

He heaved his hand. “Marna is a decent village, have I ever seen one. I wish you nothing but the best!”

As he wanted to go, a crow circled the crowd and landed on Kayla’s saddle. He let out a hoarse kaw and from the forests around them, thousands of crows came towering down to the crowd. The people dispersed, running inside the building with their hands covering their heads. It was like they were trapped in a living storm. The noise was almost deafening. Children cried.

“Take cover!” the village elder screamed over the people. The crows came down to peck at the bats. Brand, who had stood there flabbergasted saw how one of them pecked Kayla’s eyes. This pushed him into the now. He unsheathed his blade again, as fire licked at the steel he swatted at the crows. The beasts flew just out of his reach. Except for that one crow on the saddle, who stared at him with evil eyes. That’s when he noticed a purple gleam in them.

Soon as the villagers were back in the tavern, Kayla followed. Brand pushed her inside with the others. Crows pecked at his exposed neck, blood gushing out of the wounds. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the wood. His hands were sweaty, his neck felt warm and wet. At him stared the villagers with large eyes and pale faces in a half-circle as far from the door as possible. Only Kayla stood next to him, pushing her face against his bearded cheek. Behind a few inches of wood, the storm continued in all ferocity. The crows cawed and scratched at the door.

“A curse!” a man yelled from the back. “You unleashed a curse onto us!” “Yeah, this never happened until you came here, Brand.” “What shall we do now?”

The crow jumped from Kayla’s saddle and disappeared behind her. There was a green flash of light, and a little girl appeared.

“Shapeshifter!” the people yelled as they backed away from her, shifting the whole half-circle.

“Not quite,” she said. “Not quite witch, not quite a druid.”

“What do you want?” Brand asked. He had placed himself between her and the people. “How does a little girl acquire this power?”

“The privilege of birth, you know what that is, don’t you?” she said with a wry smile. “All heroes do.”

Her demeanour greatly angered Brand. “Do not underestimate me, girl. For I have powers of my own! My name is Brand the Burning Blade. And I shall not be made a fool of.” He held up his blade which burst into flames once again. Not at all impressed, the girl stared at Kayla. The horse eyes suddenly turned violet. Kayla reared as she kicked the door open with her mighty hooves. The hinges didn’t stand a chance as the door came tumbling down with a great bang. Brand had grabbed for the reigns but missed. “Kayla!” Brand yelled, one hand at the doorpost, the other still holding his flaming sword. Kayla disappeared in a cloud of dust. Apart from that, all was silent. The crows were sitting on the ground, staring at the scene inside. Brand turned around. “Give her back!”

She smiled as if the angered hero posed no threat at all to her. As if his burning blade was no more than a bouquet. She smiled as one would smile to a child.

“Brand, where did I hear that name before? Brand? Oh yes, I see. I am sorry for your loss.”

“What do you mean?” Brand asked. “Kayla…”

“Not your stupid horse, man! Your daughter! Or have you not heard the news? She died! I heard the Dragonslayer was involved in her death.”

“Speak no more!” Brand yelled as he charged forwards. There followed another green flash as a crow flew out of the tavern. Soon, all the crows followed in a storm of caws and black wings. Brand ran outside and roared at the beasts, waving his flaming sword in the wind.

“Brand, sir! What will happen next?” the bald man asked. Moments ago, they were celebrating a victory, now he heard his daughter died. Had he misread the signs? Was he not nearing his end, did he just anticipated hers? Was the girl even speaking the truth?

“I need to figure out what happened to my daughter,” he said. “Then either I end her, or I will end him.”

“But what about us?” the bald man asked. “Who will protect us when she returns?”

“I don’t care!” Brand lashed out. He turned around and made his way to the stables.

“Boo! Shame! Shame on your name, Brand!” the people scolded him. Didn’t they understand? Wouldn’t they damn everyone else to hell if their daughters were in danger? Ireful he legged towards the stable door and opened them wide. He eyed one horse that he felt was in decent shape and grabbed a saddle hunched over a low beam. H buckled the saddle and prepared it for his journey, once done he lead the horse outside. “From now on your name is Bucky,” Brand said.” In front of him stood a boy, nearly a man. He held a reek in his hands which he pointed to him. “That horse is my fathers, sir,” he said shy yet determined.

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“Out of my way.”

“Sir, please. Don’t take his prized possession.”

The word possession angered him evermore. He dashed forward and dodged its three spiky teeth. With his left hand, he grabbed the wood and with his right he punched the boy with an open palm to his chest. The boy toppled backwards and fell in the bushes six feet further away. Brand came back to his senses, as his anger seeped away all that was left was shame. The village now stared at him as they had for the unnatural events just before. Now he was the one feared.

Brand mounted Bucky and left as quickly as he could. He never looked back as the villagers turned to the boy. He hoped the boy was still alive, but he couldn’t go back to see it through.

As Brand approached the capital, he heard rumours of little villages emptying. People whispering that a little, purple eyed girl leading masses of people somewhere east. There were heroes already on the lookout, so he heard. But what Brand asked most was news about his daughter. No one could grant him that. All trails of her stopped about a month earlier when she visited the Knightclub and met with the Dragonslayer. He had returned alone.

He made camp and stared in the fire, his blade next to him in the long grass. All the thoughts running through his head like a river in a circle. Again and again, the images flashed in front of his mind. Aigle as a kid playing with her bow. Helga, naked in the warm light of the candles, her body rocking on his. Eyes closed, her neck stretched to the sky. The purple-eyed girl mocking him. The boy tumbling backwards. It always ended and began with the boy tumbling backwards.

Crack.

Brand got up. His sword already burning in his hands. “Someone there?” silence. He held the blade to his side not to blind himself in the dark. His eyes adjusted, slowly taking over from his ears. He saw nothing. After minutes of peering around like a scared rabbit, his muscles relaxed. He sat with his back to the fire and closed his eyes. Minutes passed but he heard nothing. Before long, his mind was replaying the same images again and again. The boy tumbling backwards. Helga’s lips on his. The boy. The ghosts leading him the way. The boy. tumbling from the cliff into the snow. The boy. The boy. The boy.

So he fell asleep. When he woke up the fire had died out. There was a little charred circle where hot smoke still rose from. His woollen blanket was covered in dew, his eyes felt heavy still. There was a caw, high above his head in the upper branches of the tree. Brand glanced at his sword. Every animal could be an agent of the purple-eyed girl, he thought. Half witch, half druid, half changeling. What did it mean? Druids were shunned in Ar’Moor, just as changelings. Where witches dealt with nature, growing plants and health, druids dealt with blood. Blood was forbidden.

Crack. Brand grasped for his sword again. “Who’s there?” he heard footsteps approaching.

“Brand, is that you?” Vonn appeared. Another hero of Ar'Moor. He was called the blade master, the most powerful duelist in all of the land. He wore a leather tunic and leather boots. He had a rapier on his side that was as legendary as him. But most of all he had a friendly face, a wide mouth and brown eyes. A scar covering his left eye was the only hint of his shadow. “Brand,” he said. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean,” Brand lashed out.

“Kayla…”

For a moment, Brand had forgotten all about her. Too much he was enveloped in his own shadow. His mind trailed the well-trodden path of insecure feelings ever since Helga. He felt like everyone he met knew of his shame and laughed behind his back. “I lost her because of a girl with purple eyes,” Brand said. “But first I need news of my daughter. After that, I can look for Kayla.”

Vonn nodded. “I see. I’m afraid I can’t tell you all about Aigle’s endeavours. But I can tell you that when we last met she was hunting Shadowbeasts. I didn’t take her serious back then, I admit I was too afraid to face it.”

Brand nodded. His throat was too thick, too slippery to talk. Like an eel has slithered its way down, a heaviness rested in his stomach.

“But when I wanted to face my fears, visiting a cave where Shadowbeasts had been sighted, they were already felled.”

“By whom?” Brand managed to utter. He cleared his throat.

“A hero, surely.” Vonn turned quiet. “That’s why I am on this trail. People have gone missing. They rally at Dunhilt. From there, they disappear.”

“You’re investigating the same thing I am. Let’s band together since we will need to travel east for a long while.”

Vonn told him, as they turned towards the sun, he had also lost his horse. But he knew nothing of a purple-eyed girl.

Crack. The two heroes eyed each other and reached for their blades. Brand took a step forward, Vonn turned around. There they stood, back to back in the middle of the road. For minutes they didn’t move but nothing happened.

“Damn it,” Brand scowled. “That’s why you found me with a drawn sword. I felt being watched ever since I went east.”

Vonn nodded. “Something strange is following us.”

From the edge of their vision, they saw shadows move. With shallow whispers, Brand asked about blood magic and strange occurrences. Vonn shook his head each time. The road started to descend and wind around rocks and old trees. Too focused on their footing to talk they continued as the sun slowly turned. The sun was directly behind them as Brand saw a familiar face. “Kayla!” he yelled. There his horse was, just around the corner. She still carried his saddle. Brand ran towards her, as did she towards him. Kayla neighed as brand caressed her face, pushed his nose into her manes. “You came back for me,” he said.