Rafa took an involuntary step backward, as he knew there was no way out. He could run, but there were other members up the stairs now—he needed to buy time.

“My name is Vellucci, sir,” Rafa said. “I’ve been up north—”

“Remove your hood.”

The room went quiet. Even Niklas had turned to view the brewing altercation. The leader’s footsteps now resounded through the basement as he made his way over toward Rafa, deep black boots thudding on the floor. “Do as I ask.”

Rafa thrust himself backward, ready to sprint away. But it was no use. He crashed into a large hooded figure.

The man behind grabbed hold of Rafa’s upper arms and forced him to his knees.

“He’s no one special,” Ardler said with eyes of concern. “He’s with me. No need to—”

As the group leader slammed a foot down, he slung Rafa’s hood off of his head, revealing the intruder.

Niklas glared at Rafa with confusion and worry on his face, saying nothing.

“I’ve seen this imposter’s face!” The leader strode over to Ardler, taking him by the shirt, thrashing him around. “You just vouched for the…” He paused, his voice now soft. “You aided him.”

The old man mumbled, flinching, unable to form words through the thundercloud of tension.

Rafa couldn’t move as strong arms held him down. “Nik, I came to tell you that Inis isn’t—” A huge hand clasped over his mouth.

“See what you’ve done, trying to help?” Niklas said, shaking his head. “You should have just let me be. I’m happy.”

“You know the one from the vision?” the leader said, turning to Niklas.

With an expression of ice, he said: “No. I don’t.”

Rafa dropped his head low as the man released his grip. “But I came all this way for you…”

“Take them both to the top,” the leader said.

One of the other men came up behind Ardler and pushed him toward the basement stairs. The man forced Rafa upward, floorboards creaking as they walked. All the while, Niklas didn’t say a word.

Rafa only felt hurt within him, like the one person he knew in this outside world had disappeared, only to be left in absolute isolation. Now Rafa was truly alone, and he could do nothing else but face it. The member restraining him took the knife at Rafa’s side, tossing it to the floor.

The other large Inis follower strung along Ardler behind them. At the ground floor of the cottage, they strained the two prisoners toward another set of stairs going up.

“Ardler, I’m sorry,” Rafa said.

No response came, besides a chuckle from the man restraining him. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to this faithless crone while we establish what to do with you. Make the words count, as they’ll be your final moments of breath.”

“You knew this would happen—that they would blame me,” Ardler said as they reached the second floor. “You wanted me dead.”

Rafa let out a sigh as they led him down a dark hallway, only moonlight guiding the way through to a large, long room. Inside, there were shackles connected to the walls hung above bones and rotten flesh. At the far end, a dead man laid motionless, skin gray.

“I needed to find—” Rafa caught himself, for even in that moment, he didn’t want to endanger Niklas, so he withheld his name.

“Find what? Who?” the strong man said.

“Find a reason to live,” Rafa said.

Personability to 6

The man nodded his head, and for a moment his gaze dropped. “I understand that. I do.” He clasped the hanging shackles over Rafa’s wrists with a gentle finesse as the other did the same to Ardler in a much less kind manner.

“Stay here and shut up,” the other member said as he headed for the door, holding Ardler’s walking stick. After setting it against the wall a ways away, he rounded the doorway, footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

With a sigh, the remaining burly Inis member kneeled down in front of Rafa, who was now sitting, hopeless. “You got caught up in all this. I see that now.”

Rafa gave a soft nod.

“You’re a good kid. But, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” He stood up, hood over his face, and stepped toward the doorway. “It’s just how it goes. Most likely, you can rest easy tonight. I believe we’ll be waiting for a sign from Inis on how to deal with you. That could take some time.” A look of regret shone on his face as he rounded the corner.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A breeze pushed the trees outside the window. They could see a flurry of dancing leaves from their vantage point, as the moon glinted off the broken glass window. All was silent for a short moment.

“He was nice,” Ardler said. “Why are they never nice to me like that?”

Rafa cleared his throat, the metal chains clanking against each other as he tried and failed to get more comfortable. “He’s not nice at all,” Rafa started. “Inis isn’t good. No matter how you look at it, these people aren’t good.”

“My Inis is loving.”

Rafa shook his head. “Her followers might give you a glimpse into what she’s like, ya know.”

“No, she’s not like them—if she were here right now, she would get me out of this situation and tell every single one of them to treat me better.”

Logic. No more logic. Rafa felt insight into a different approach that could suffice. “How does that make you feel, knowing Inis hasn’t come and stopped them from treating you like that? If she truly valued you, wouldn’t she have done at least something?”

“Well, it’s sad. I’ve asked her many times, yes. I always leave a meeting disheartened, coming back to my cottage in shame, in pain. Sometimes I can’t hold back tears from the things they’ve said to me, right in my face.”

“It’s clear she exists,” Rafa said. “But if she doesn’t care for you or love you, why continue to take a beating from her followers? Why serve them any longer?”

“Well, I don’t want to be alone,” the old man said.

The room went silent. Rafa found something in common with the crazy old conspirator, at last. “Understandable, of course.”

“What else can I do? Who else would I have if I left a place I belong?”

“Listen,” Rafa said, “if you truly love Inis, I won’t stop you. Alright? Niklas seems to be in the same situation as you are.”

“Niklas?”

“‘The right one’ that you’ve been talking about.”

“Oh, he’s wonderful. You can feel his power. I believe Inis chose her offspring well, so very well.”

Rafa’s brow sank. “Why do you all use the word offspring? That’s beyond odd.”

“It is how it is, Vellucci,” the old man said, shaking his head, continuing without heeding a word from Rafa’s mouth. “Inis will have what she wants—it’s a sure thing I tell you.” A grin crossed his face. Then, with an unseen thought, a frown emerged. “But you’re right, she doesn’t care about me. None of them do. I’m nobody.”

“Well, you’ve been very helpful toward me, even though you didn’t know who I was,” Rafa said. “Despite that, once you got past wanting to drown me, you were very hospitable.”

“I was, wasn’t I.”

“You can be someone that’s for good, not evil.”

Ardler found a newfound strength that gleamed from his face. “You’re right. I want to see my granddaughter again. I see now that all this wasn’t worth it.”

Personability to 7

Rafa nodded. “You served someone that wasn’t for you. But that’s not your fault, alright? You didn’t know any better.”

An hour or two passed. The two talked in shackles about their predicament, the village to the east where his granddaughter supposedly lived, and Niklas, the lost one.

Their conversation fell silent as they heard footsteps at the end of the hallway coming for them. As they listened to every step, they watched the doorway with intent and a great fear came over them both.

Around the corner came the heartless faction member that handled Ardler. Before his entire body revealed itself, a large blade came first. In his hand sat a curved steel sword, one with a look of execution being its prime purpose—too ornamented and bent to be efficient for war.

“Ardler,” the hooded man said. “We have deemed you a traitor. But, if you slay this enemy of Inis,” he pulled an iron keyring from his pocket, “we may allow you to live.” He walked over to the old man and unlatched him from the shackles, allowing them to fall to the floor.

Holding his wrists, Ardler stood to his feet with a grunt of exhaustion and pain. He didn’t say a word, only looking at Rafa’s petrified face. Then he hobbled over to the edge of the room to retrieve his walking stick that was set against the wall.

“You will use this blade to—”

“Very well,” Ardler said.

A flash of cold ran through Rafa’s heart. His time had come, and there was nothing he could do about it. He pulled against the shackles like a tied up dog, unable to break free. With a fast breath, broken words escaped him: “No. Please. Ardler I…”

The walking stick in hand, Ardler accepted the sword handle and dragged the blade along the wooden floor toward Rafa. “Sir,” he stopped, turning toward the tall man, “at least let me kill this imposter with honor. Release him so he may kneel before us both.”

With a tilt of his head, the member paused.

Ardler bowed. “Inis would want it this way. Even.”

The man walked over and took hold of Rafa’s shackles. “That, at least, is something I respect about you, despite everything else.” After freeing both of Rafa’s hands, the strong man forced him to his knees before the armed old man, holding him in place by both shoulders.

Ardler set his walking stick down in front of him, perpendicular to Rafa on the floor. With both hands, he took hold of the sword, readying it.

Within a moment, Rafa felt a surge of adrenaline, as if he knew something in the air had shifted. Fate had changed, and he could sense that fraction of a second with ease.

The old man kicked the walking stick, sending it sliding across the floor to Rafa. It stopped just before his knees. And with great speed, he took hold of it and swatted it upward, connecting with the faction member’s forehead above him, releasing all of Rafa’s restraint.

“Let’s make sure he doesn’t get his hands on this, aye?” Ardler said. He tossed the blade through the window with a crash, sending it plummeting to the forest floor.

Rafa shot to his feet, adrenaline allowing him to ignore the shooting pain in his injured arm where the tiger sunk its teeth in.

The window breaking caused the tall man to flinch, and he turned toward the two. “Traitor,” he said in a grueling tone. He charged Ardler with both hands out in front.

Rafa swung the staff. Only the man’s side stopped the blunt force of the weapon from continuing its arc.

He let out a yell as he stumbled to the side, allowing Ardler to step out of the way.

With the amount of noise they were making, Rafa felt the need to get out, run, so he had to end this, fast. Without a doubt, the rest of the faction have heard the quarrel already.

The hooded man charged again toward Rafa, this time with his head low.

Two-Ton Swing.

Rafa could foresee the movement before it happened. The staff moved at a great speed once, connecting with the side of the attacker’s hand. And within a moment, he spun, swooping the blunt end of the stick once more.

The second surge was so great that the stick shattered against the attacker’s head, sending splinters of wood flying. Another rush of pain came from Rafa’s arm as the man fell backward, unconscious, hitting the floor with a whack.

Quarterstaff to 8