“You owe me a new staff, hm?” Ardler said, tilting his head.

“Yea, alright. I do,” Rafa said, panting. “But answer me this: why did you throw the sword out the window? That’s alerted every Inis member that what’s supposed to happen up here isn’t happening.”

The old man shrugged. “I was thinking on my feet, like always.” He flashed a grin. “I didn’t want him to get hold of the sword and whack you with it.”

Rafa sighed. After taking a few light steps toward the doorway, he listened. “They’ll be up here soon. There’s no way they didn’t hear.”

“Out the window we go!”

“Shh, keep your voice low.” Rafa pondered the idea, then thought of Ardler’s frail legs crunching against the forest floor from jumping at this height. “No. You can’t make that fall.”

“What did I tell you about being considerate of others? Stop that.”

“Says the one that saved my life by passing me that staff—”

“The now broken staff, mind you.”

Rafa couldn’t help but smirk. But the moment died all at once as footsteps came up the stairs at the end of the dark hall. Both prisoners winced, retreating as they could hear multiple people murmuring and clinking of weapons.

“Stay in the hall,” Niklas said, his voice getting louder. “Let me handle this.” He stepped into the room, hood drawn back.

“Please,” Rafa said, “let’s just talk for a second.”

Inis’s child stepped toward Rafa, shutting the door behind him, shielding them from the prying eyes of the other faction members. “There isn’t a use in talking anymore. I’ve decided.” A smile broke out below dead eyes. “This is where I belong—with her. You can understand, can’t you? I have no place back home. Wherever we are, I like it.”

A grunt of frustration echoed from Rafa. “She’s tricking you. You’re nothing to her, nothing more than a tool for her to use and throw away.”

“How could you know anything about such a powerful being? You’re an ant next to her. The others are right about the old hermit, too.”

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“What about our friendship, before all this?” Rafa said. “You’d kill me when we were just hiking together as friends?”

Niklas turned his head, rended by the prisoner’s words. With a clear dispute going on within himself, Niklas spat on the ground. “I won’t go back there. No. This is my home now—my family.” His focus dropped to the floor, then to the old man.

Ardler recoiled as Niklas skulked toward him.

“Rafa, I’ll spare you. Jump through the window and look like you escaped.” He stopped in front of Ardler. “Come with me,” Niklas said as he took hold of the old man’s arm, pulling him toward the door. “I’ll make your death swift. I promise you. A mercy from Inis, and from you, Rafa.” He stopped just before placing a hand on the metal knob.

“Stop,” Rafa said. “Let us both go.”

Niklas turned and locked eyes with Rafa, a dead stare. He wasn’t recognizable anymore, as if his spirit had vanished—who he was before, gone. “Do not give orders, Rafa. You’re nothing in this world. But I am.” He yanked the door open, breaking the lock altogether. With a crunch of the old man’s arm, the sound of bones snapping, he thrust Ardler out into the hallway.

Rafa withdrew a few feet deeper into the room.

A dagger fell from Niklas’s sleeve. With a great thrust, he spun and slammed the blade into the edge of the door, then into the wood frame, creating a makeshift lock to keep the door sealed.

Rafa could sense the unmatched strength, if the theatrics weren’t enough, as the very essence of Inis was all but coursing through his heart, his soul. Who once was his friend, was now lost.

“Never give an order to me again.” Niklas sprinted forward, and with great force, pushed Rafa, causing him to roll. He then slammed into the wall with a cry of pain.

Inis’s champion only smiled. “I’m done needing your help. In this beautiful new world, you’re the one that needs help.” Niklas thundered forward with heavy steps, took Rafa by the shoulder, and tossed him again.

Rafa thumped against the bottom of the windowsill, sending a few shards of glass tumbling onto him, then to the floor. Trying to orient his vision again, he shook his head. “Niklas... You never want to see your parents again? Ever? Think hard!”

Niklas’s dead eyes locked onto the hurting prisoner, a smile emerging, followed by a chuckle. “Think?” A second blade dropped out of his sleeve. This time, it was a curved blade with a jagged, serrated edge. With one thrust, he flung the sword through the air, sinking the end into the wall beside Rafa’s head.

The loud sound sent a shiver through Rafa’s body.

“You think for a moment. Do you truly believe I’m willing to hear another word?” Niklas said. “Go out there and find a better way to die. Unless the fall kills you, I won’t do it.” He kneeled down in a moment, lifted Rafa by his shoulders, and forced him rearward.

As the glass crashed and fell, so did Rafa. He spun and tried to keep sight of the ground. But without notice, his back struck the side of a tree, causing him to tumble sideways. And with a loud crack, his battered body came down upon a bush.

As the movement stopped, the pain magnified, and it was much more than only his arm now.

He rolled. And with a moan born from excruciating pain, Rafa dropped to his knees on the wild ground, leaves snapping beneath him, trying to breathe.