The platform opened, the rope around Sparatak’s neck snapped as he released desperate and struggled gasps. The townsfolk cheered and shouted as the man hung dying. Levan stood to get a better look, staring directly into Sparatak’s eyes. His mind was still open to him, hoping to get an answer to his question before he died.

You get one chance to choose right, boy. Sparatak’s voice echoed in his mind. Levan continued to stare at him as he hung, his face red with struggle strewn on his face as he struggled for air. The allure of answers was tempting, but Sparatak’s words had only made things more confusing. He hadn’t provided any real answers, only more questions. Renelle would have to provide clarity now.

A scream cut through the crowd, filled with intensity and fear, caught everyone’s attention, “Fire! The stable is on fire!”

Levan’s attention snapped to Aleksei’s stable. An orange glow and rising smoke marked the fire’s location. Pushing through the crowd, he barely registered his parent’s frantic calls. Breaking free from the throng, he sprinted down the road, his legs pounding harder with each step.

The town’s screams faded behind him. Men barked orders for water buckets, and women screamed for their children. The heat from the fire grew more intense with each step. Rounding the final corner, he faced the inferno, flames lashing out like whips to nearby houses and trees.

Levan screamed for Liya, but the roaring flames drowned out any response. The heat beat against him as the horses kicked and neighed, trapped in their stable. Levan jumped over the fence and ran to the stable gates, unlocking them to set the horses free. They bolted past him, driven by sheer instinct.

After freeing the last horse, Levan sprinted to the house, now engulfed in flames. The roof was a blazing inferno, with smoke billowing into the night sky. Flames burst through the glass windows, showering him with shards as he approached the door.

The door was ajar when he reached it, the doorknob knocked off and glowing red hot, burning the dirt around it. Ignoring it, Levan pushed inside. The kitchen was a chaotic mess, chairs and table overturned, pots and pans scattered across the floor and counter tops.

Levan yelled for Liya and her father, his voice cracking between fits of coughing as smoke filled his lungs and burned his eyes. With no answer, he ran to the stairs, pushing through the thick smoke and flames. At the top, he desperately called out for Liya, bursting into the first room.

Levan was launched back into the wall as the door opened, fire spewing out of the doorway. He quickly got back up, putting a hand to the wall for support. As he did the burnt wood seared his hand, he could feel the skin frying as he peeled his hand off the wall screaming. Levan tore a piece of cloth off of the hanging window drape that hadn’t been burnt and quickly wrapped his hand, working into the room of flames.

The room was a mess, the nightstands and bed had been thrown against the wall. Aleksei sat slumped against the wall, his hands clutching his gut. Levan ran over to the old man, kneeling down in front of him. His face was half burnt and covered with blood, as too were his hands, which covered a grievous wound to his gut.

Levan grasped his head and lightly shook it, “Aleksei!”

Aleksei opened his eyes, and looked directly into his own, “Levan?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Levan stammered, “I’m going to get you out.”

“No, go get my daughter.” he said, his voice was quiet and weak.

“I have to get you and her out of here” Levan countered.

Aleksei reached up grunting, grabbing Levan by the collar of his shirt, spitting blood in his face as he sputtered out his words, “God damn you boy, stop being so stubborn! I’m already dead go save my little girl!”

Levan took a moment and looked into Aleksei’s eyes. He had never seen the old stable master look so worried and sad in his life, “Where is she?”

Aleksei fell back against the wall lifting his arm wearily, “Storage shed. Hurry, please don’t let my girl die.”

Levan watched as Aleksei’s arm dropped, followed by a final fit of blood-filled coughing. The man’s chest stopped moving and his body fell limp, Levan’s stomach dropped, and he stared at the dead Aleksei. Levan offered a quick prayer to Aleksei, and hurried out back into the hallway, jumping down the stairs bursting out into the cool night air.

Levan almost toppled over Stepan as he exited the house. Stepan’s face was covered in ash and had beads of sweat running down it, he held a large bucket of water, half spilled out onto the ground “Where’s Aleksei and Liya?”

Levan pointed to the second floor, “Aleksei’s dead. I’m going to get Liya!”

Stepan had yelled after him, but he didn’t hear the words. His mind was focused on a singular goal, he had to get to the shed. His feet kicked up dead grass and dirt as he sprinted to the shed, the small building sat at the end of the rowed stables. The shed didn’t seem to have been engulfed in flames just yet, but the fire was moving much faster than he was. Closing the distance between himself and the shed he yelled for Liya again, his mouth was dry, and his voice cracked and strained.

A scream came from the shed, a plea for life, Levan picked up his pace continuing to call out to Liya, but his voice was lost even his words wouldn’t carry on the wind. Levan rounded the corner and reached the door to the shed, which had been torn off of its hinges and lay on the ground next to him, the wood wasn’t burnt but it had cracks and chunks taken out of it. Ignoring the door he entered into the shed.

Levan’s stomach churned at the sight. Liya cowered in the corner, a towering, scaled figure stood over her, its axe bloodied. Levan reacted off of instinct, grabbing a bottle off of the shelf, the hot glass burning his hand even more. He threw a bottle at the beast, the glass shattering harmlessly.

The beast turned; its body was massive with huge broad shoulders with tight muscles that filled its robust frame. Its head was stout and square, the face elongated into a short snout with sharp teeth that protruded from the side of its lips. It wore bronze greaves over a cloth padded pair of trousers, along with a crude sleeveless gambeson that only covered its large chest.

God and his Angels, they were right about the Trogs. Levan unsheathed his sword and grasped it with both hands, pointing the tip of the blade at the Trog. The Trog hefted its axe in its hands, snarling at him, launching spit and blood onto Levan’s face. Levan launched himself at the Trog, wildly swinging his sword at the beast.

The Trog weaved his way out of the strikes and sent a fist into Levan’s stomach. The strength of the creature sent Levan flying across the room and into the wall, crashing through the table that sat there. His breath was forcefully expelled as he hit the floor, his sword clanging to the ground. The Trog stomped toward him, each footfall seeming to shake the shed. Levan could hear the shouts and screams of the townsfolk outside fighting the fire, he tried to yell for their help, but his bruised body wouldn’t let him.

Levan reached for his sword, grasping the handle weakly, pulling it toward him. Levan tried to stand and fight the Trog; his body was weary and tired, but he stood. He could feel his legs shake as the weight of his body crashed down onto them. Leveling his sword he stared at the Trog, I’ll kill it, I’m going to kill it, cut it open, Levan thought tightening his grip.

Levan mustered the last of his strength, launching himself at the Trog once more. His strikes came out swiftly and sloppily, but they came in a high quantity which forced the Trog to step back. Levan could feel his arms tiring as he swung the sword wildly at the beast, he could sense his own frustration building. The Trog had been able to deflect or avoid each of his strikes with ease. As Levan brought his sword to the Trog, his arms stopped, his wrists trapped together in the Trog’s grip.

The Trog kicked Levan in the chest, the pain spread throughout his body and again forcefully expelled his breath. Levan gasped for air as he coughed, but the Trog continued its assault. Each kick and punch felt like Levan was being beaten by a smith's hammer. The Trog grasped Levan by the neck cutting his airway, as he gasped for breath Levan swatted at the Trog, trying to force it to release him.

The Trog’s head lurched forward, as a brick fell to the floor behind it. The Trog turned, as Liya wearily stood holding a brick in one hand and a small knife in the other. No, God no. Levan tried to break the Trog’s grip once more, slamming his fists into the Trog’s arm and swatting at its face. The Trog snarled at him once more before throwing him slamming him against the wall.

Pain shot up Levan’s back as pressure mounted in his face and head. But that pressure began to relieve as Levan fell to the floor, gasping for air. The Trog kicked him once more in the stomach before turning to face Liya once more. Levan watched through blurred vision as Liya threw another brick at the Trog which bounced off of its scaled body. Levan gasped for breath, he could feel tears well in his eyes and begin to run down his face, his mind felt empty save for the same sentence that repeated itself in his thoughts I have to save her, I have to help her. Get up man!

“Liya!” he screamed, voice cracking. The Trog advanced, but Levan lunged again, desperate. The Trog caught his wrists, twisted them painfully, and kicked him in the side. Levan crumpled, breathless, tears streaming down his face.

Through blurred vision, he saw Liya stand, holding a kitchen knife out in front of her. “No.” he croaked. As the Trog turned to her, swatting the knife away easily. With one swing, the axe embedded itself in Liya’s chest. Levan’s scream of agony echoed, mingling with the roar of the flames.

Levan shook uncontrollably as tears ran down his face, his limbs felt heavy, and his body screamed in pain. The Trog pulled the axe out of Liya’s chest, her body limply falling to the floor, a pool of blood already forming. The image burned itself into his head, her crumpled body, the bloodstained walls, the monstrous beast that murdered her. His anger burned and welled inside of him, it made his face and chest hot, but his body was too weak, it resisted his command.

The Trog began to walk toward him, the axe glistening with blood. Levan slammed his fist into the floor, even that caused him to exhaust his limited strength. He slowly got to his knees as the Trog stopped before him, heaving the axe over its head. Levan closed his eyes, waiting for the axe to come down on him. The air swooshed as the Trog dropped the weight of the axe toward his head.

But there was no initial pain, no crash, nothing. Levan opened his eyes and saw a blade holding the axe mere inches from his face. The axe was held back by the blade of the man that had been accompanying Renelle. The Trog bellowed in rage and heaved the axe one more time. But the man acted quickly and decisively, sliding forward after the Trog sending the blade through its scaled body letting the Trog’s blood and guts fall out of the new slice in its stomach.

The man didn’t wait to see if the Trog was still alive before sending the tip of his blade through the back of the Trog’s head, the bloodied blade sticking out from its mouth. Levan looked away, trying to maintain control of his body and not throw up. The body fell to the ground with a heavy crash, the man outstretched his hand and spoke for the first time.

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“We must leave this place, now.”

Levan couldn’t keep the tears from running down his face as he took the man’s hand. Levan looked at the dead Trog, the body still and bloody, the armor was scarred and worn. Anger taking hold over him Levan began to kick the body, stomping its lifeless limbs, screaming at it. The man grasped him and threw him away from the body and stopped him when he tried to continue.

“What’s done is done. We can’t help her anymore, but you can still survive. That’s what she would want, Levan.” the man said.

Levan looked at the man, his emotionless eyes stared back at him, the expression if there was one, was hidden behind the crimson mask he wore. Levan balled up his fist and threw a punch at the man, his hand connecting with the man’s face.

“Shut up!” He screamed, “What the hell do you know about what Liya wants, you don’t know her, and you sure as hell don’t know me!”

Levan continued to berate the man while he returned from the shock of the punch, “You’re right.” he said, “But I know you don’t want to die before killing the man responsible for this.”

Levan wanted to muster a rebuttal, but he couldn’t. He had no words that he could give despite all of his anger and grief.

“We do not have time to discuss this now, but I promise on my honor that you will get what you desire.” the man said, picking up Levan’s sword and handing it to him, “Now, let’s get out of here before we end up dead too.”

Levan went over to Liya, the man began to complain but Levan paid him no mind. He knelt down and held her head, brushing the hair out of her face. She looked, peaceful, like all of her worries and fears were now gone. Levan held her tightly one last time, feeling the warmth of her skin now slowly being replaced by the cold stillness of death. He remembered their first dance under the moonlight, her laughter, the way she looked at him with unspoken promises. Now, all those memories seemed like leaves lost to the wind.

Levan grasped the necklace that sat around her neck, the small jewel was cracked along with its silver casing from where the axe had hit her. He wiped the tears away and put the necklace into his pocket, “I’m sorry Aleksei, I failed you.”

Stopping at the doorway he glanced back at Liya once more, the weight of the necklace ever present in his pocket. Levan whispered a prayer and followed beckoning man running back toward Zoidiv. The destruction from the fire had spread into town, he could see houses and the watch tower on fire. The silhouettes of the townsfolk and Trogs crowding the streets were easy to make out.

The smokey air filled his lungs no matter where he was, the smell of blood and burnt wood filled the town. The screams of the townsfolk, the clashing of steel, and war horns rang out in a chaotic overture. The moon hung low in the sky; the white circle illuminated the shadows left behind from the flames.

They passed by more bodies, mostly townsfolk but the occasional Trog corpse was spread among them. Levan’s stomach churned as the passed more and more bodies, mutilated beyond recognition. He couldn’t tell who the people were, but he knew them. He knew all of them. Levan and the man entered the town square, the baskets of rotten fruit were dropped where they were. Buckets of water mixed with the dirt and blood on the ground. Levan looked around, there was so much death and destruction, his eyes fell onto the platform were Sparatak was hung, and his heart sank.

Levan marched over to the platform and grabbed the cut noose from the ground. Levan’s knuckles turned white as he looked at it, the heat from his anger boiling in his chest. Levan turned around holding up the rope, “Was it him?”

The man looked at the rope, then to Levan and nodded. I’m going to kill him, I’m going to tear him apart. The man came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip was firm yet gentle, “You will get your revenge in time. But we must find Renelle.” Levan shook him off, letting the man continue to lead.

Following the man, they began to work their way to Renelle, following the line of Trog corpses. As they walked Levan looked at the man, inspecting him. His clothing remained the same sand-colored robes, his armor was stained red from Trog blood. The leather strips that were wound up his arms had slash marks made into them, one had cut deep enough to get through to his skin. The man was mysterious, and frightening Levan had never seen a man like him before, his skill with a blade, his exotic armor and calm demeanor were frightening and exciting all at once.

Continuing down the road there was a gathering of Trogs, sitting below the hill where his house was. Levan began to walk toward the crowd but was pulled back by the man. Sparatak is in that group, he has to be. Levan thought.

“Follow me.” the man said quietly.

Levan did as he was told and followed the man. They ran together over to the far side of town, past Kirill’s tavern, he could hear the whispers from those who sought shelter within the tavern’s walls. They weaved their way through the buildings, Levan did his best to keep behind him. Eventually they came out to the side of the group of Trogs, their broad frames instantly recognizable in the shadows of the dwindling fires.

“Do you know another way in?” the man asked.

Levan nodded, “There’s a way in around back near the forge.”

“Show me.” he commanded.

Levan nodded and moved toward his house. The path was familiar, he had taken many nights to see Liya or get into mischief with Stepan and Mikal. The path ran along the dried up river bed, along the rocky side of the hill that his home sat on. Levan climbed the rocks, leading the man to a portion of the wooden wall that had a cut out for the wood storage shed. Levan grasped a plank of the shed’s wall and pulled it out, grabbing the neighboring board as well, creating a small entry into the shed.

The man went through the entry, Levan followed and put the boards back in place before continuing on. They exited out into the forge where the majority of townsfolk had sheltered at. Levan saw Captain Teodor standing over a table, his gambeson bloodied and torn. Remnants of the militia manned the makeshift defenses around the entry to the forge, while women covered their children with their arms.

The walked through the crowd of townsfolk, pushing through the crowd of people the man led him up to his own house, bursting through the door. His mother yelped in shock as the door snapped open.

Instantly she jumped over to him, locking him in with her arms as she cried, “God and His Angels, I thought you were dead.”

Levan put his arms around her, “I’m fine, mother.”

“Fine, you look like you fell off a rooftop!” she exclaimed.

Levan looked down at himself, his clothes were burnt and torn a bruise covered his arms and neck, “I’m fine, mother.”

He could tell his mother was dissecting his words and posture. She rubbed his arms, “No you aren’t, let me take care of you.”

Levan looked past her as she started to wrap bandages around his arms and saw the man standing next to Renelle, quietly whispering to her. Renelle’s face was covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, her hair was matted to her forehead. A blue wisp like the one from earlier was coming from her hands once more, the wisp flowed around a wounded militiaman who lay on the table with a gash in his side. Despite the commotive entrance she continued to focus on the wounded man, her gaze hadn’t come up from him.

Levan looked around his home, there were injured people all over laying on the beds benches and floor. Each with varying degrees of wound, as well as varying ages. It was mostly militiamen but there were a few elderly townsfolk who were receiving care from some of the women. Levan returned his gaze to his mother, her eyes were red and puffy, and her hands and dress were covered in blood.

“Where’s father?” Levan asked.

“He’s outside with Teodor,” she said, “He’s fine.”

Levan nodded, working his way to the door to find his father.

“You may not leave this house Levan Anzorov.” Renelle’s words struck him like ice, sending a paralyzing chill down his spine.

“Why?” Levan asked, containing his anger.

“Because I need you here.” she said.

“For what?”

“I cannot say right now.”

Levan shook his head, his anger boiling over “No, if you want me to stay then you’ll need a pretty good fucking reason!”

Renelle still didn’t look up from her patient, the silver wisps had turned more into belts as they wrapped around the man’s wound, “Because if you go out there, you’ll die.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Levan screamed. His mother yelped wrapping her arms around him tightly, “Maybe I just want to be rid of this forsaken world that you brought me!”

Renelle’s hands slowly maneuvered over the wound, the silver belts tightening around it, fitting perfectly into it. “You don’t want that Levan.”

“And why not?” Levan asked, “Everything I know is gone, dead. With a Trog axe in her chest!”

Renelle’s eyes shot up at him, the piercing green gaze was as frightening as ever, but this time they held something more, sympathy “I’m sorry Levan, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know!” he screamed, his voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes, “Didn’t know what! Didn’t know that you’d bring this here? Didn’t know that my friends would die? Didn’t know that I would watch the woman I love die in front of me? Tell me what you didn’t know you fucking witch!”

His mother began to sooth him, but her words were lost. He didn’t care what she had to say, he only wanted to know what Renelle was going to say. He could feel the heat of his anger coming off of his skin, his glare burning into Renelle’s abnormally calm demeanor.

“I knew that Sparatak was working with Nagun, I didn’t know that he would be so bold and stupid.” Renelle said

“Who is that, you and him both talk about him! But neither of you have given me answers!” Levan yelled in frustration.

“The man you’re going to kill.” Renelle stated. “And whatever Sparatak might’ve told you is a lie, everything he said cannot be believed.”

“What do you mean?” Levan asked.

“Sparatak is an agent for a man named Nagun Uzher. He is the man you’re destined to kill.” Renelle explained, “That is the duty of the Xilaskar and his Yoldi. You and the Yoldi keep the world stable, without you it would be plunged into chaos. Death and destruction would be rampant, you wouldn’t be able to recognize the world for it would change so drastically. And that’s exactly what Nagun wants. He wants a chaotic world filled with destruction and death. Once all of the kingdoms of man fall, he can come in and recreate the world in his twisted gruesome image. That’s what the Ashen Cycle is fighting against, and it is why Sparatak is here. He seeks you; your power is the only thing that can stop Nagun from achieving his goal. That’s all I can tell you.”

Levan took a step back. He was prepared to hear the truth, but he wasn’t prepared for the responsibility to crash down onto him. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m just a smith, he thought. Levan put his hand in his pocket, grasping Liya’s necklace, the metal warmed his suddenly cold hand.

“What do we do about Sparatak?” he asked.

“We kill him.” Renelle’s man answered bluntly.

Levan looked at the man, his crimson mask still concealing his face, “Who the hell even are you?” Levan asked.

“I am Hyrum am Jameel, if you must know.” he answered.

Levan returned his gaze to Renelle, “So what do we do now?”

“I have dealt with Trogs many times before, Levan.” Renelle said, “I know how they work. They are simple minded and stupid, but you cannot underestimate their strength. Trogs live for battle, and if they believe they cannot breach the defenses and have to siege us out they will leave. They do not have a strategic notion in them nor the patience to perform such a feat.”

Levan looked at Hyrum, the man nodded his head and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What if I want to kill them?” Levan asked coldly.

Renelle’s eyes shot back up from her patient again, “What?”

“What if I want to kill the Trogs and Sparatak?” Levan asked again.

“Why would you want to endanger yourself like that?” she asked.

Levan put his hand in his pocket and tightened his grip around the necklace, “Because I want them dead.”

“You’ll get your vengeance in time, Levan.” Renelle said gently.

Levan threw up his hands in protest “Why not now, he’s right there?”

“There is a time and a place for everything.” Hyrum answered, “You will get your chance.”

“Then what do we do about the Trogs right now?” Levan demanded, “We can’t just wait them out, we don’t have the supplies for that.”

“Trogs may be stupid, but Sparatak isn’t. He knows he can’t siege us out, so he won’t try. The Trogs live only to kill and fight, he’ll take them to some other town, and they’ll do what they did here.” Renelle said.

Levan’s jaw dropped, “So we’re just going to sacrifice another village just so you can take me to kill one guy?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Renelle replied coldly.

“What about those people? Hundreds will die, don’t you care?” Levan protested.

Renelle finished mending the militiaman’s wounds and let out a sigh, “Yes Levan, I do care. I care a lot, which is why getting you out safe is my top priority.”

“Even over the deaths of innocents?” Levan questioned.

Renelle glared at him, “Levan we cannot fret about the casualties of war. Sometimes, we need to sacrifice the few for the good of the many.”

“Casualties of war?” Levan exclaimed, “Is that all you see them as? A number?”

“No.” she replied.

“Then we should save them!” Levan argued.

“Levan, we can’t.” Renelle said, “I wish we could, but we can’t.”

Levan slammed his fist into the wall, “Why the hell not?”

Renelle and Hyrum took a glance between eachother. Levan tried to glean anything off of Renelle’s expression, but she kept it well hidden. Her face only showed exhaustion.

“What do you expect us to do, Levan?” Renelle asked him, “A Mancer and a Bond Blade cannot fight off a dozen Trogs. And your town militia is in a sorry state, even before the Trogs attacked. So, tell me what we should do, Levan?”

Levan lowered his head, she was right in spite of how much it angered him, he knew that she was right. The Trogs weren’t strategic, but they were strong, strong enough to overpower any man, and that didn’t even account for Sparatak. Levan didn’t even know what the man brought to the table, was it the strategic thinking that was absent from Trogs that he brought?

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Levan asked.

“We leave, sooner rather than later.” Renelle said.

“How soon?” Levan asked.

Renelle answered quickly, “Right now, preferably.”

Levan rolled his eyes, “Well the entrance is currently blocked by an army of Trogs.”

Hyrum shot a glance to him, and his stomach flipped, while Renelle shook her head, “And yet you and Hyrum managed to get in after everyone else. So, there’s another way in, which means there’s a way out.”

Levan opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. Renelle held her smirk, “So, how about you take us to the exit?”

“Can I at least say goodbye?” Levan asked.

Renelle grimaced, “Make it quick.”