The steamcart lurched down the twisting dirt road like a draft horse whipped to its last ragged breaths.  

Every bump lanced through Kade’s knees. He had to keep his grip on a handrail to maintain his seat, and prevent an unpaired cuff from smacking him in the face a second time. 

It was a courtesy, not being bound for the ride. When Liam stormed the mage’s tower with nothing but a grim mug and a rot bitten rifle, he didn’t put up a fuss. And why would he? The Shrouded Crescent knew all about Golisville’s “tradition”. The guild wouldn’t lift a finger in his defence if he begged. Not after the first rescue attempt.

Gone was the panic, the fear, the disbelief. In their place sat a whorl of ugly gloom tempered only by the sight of needle petaled wildflowers and wispy trees. 

Wickerwood, unfit even for a traditional stove, but their roots dug stubbornly deep. They choked the life out of every foriegn species brought in by would-be loggers.

Lacking the distractions of more civilized townships, children would climb neighboring pairs with worn lengths of rope and use their weight to bend them together.

A red face cut up by branches. Breaths halted by thick laughter through the effort of making their first successful knot of many. Bright, kind, and terribly rash. That was the Liam of back then. He was the one that insisted their little circle become sellswords, adventures even. They would flee the township, join a guild in some faraway land, and come back laden with riches and allies enough to unshackle their home. 

Now clouds covered Liam’s eyes. The muscles and scars of hard labor stole away his youth. The sight sent ice running down Kade’s spine. It was wrong.  

They’d taken the route around the valley rather than through. Below spanned an array of fractured roofs beset by wet moss. Walls warped inward like breathless giants. Rubble marked a number of places where storefronts used to be.

Their vantage afforded a view of the lake at the town’s center, Golisville’s only notable attraction, but a source of pride nonetheless. 

Their subservience to Myra, 34th Daughter of Thorn, Ruby Scales, Tyrant Invictus, and so many titles more, was a death sentence delivered by years of tiny wounds. Even with her tributes limited to citizens, people were less than comfortable with the idea of sleeping under the shadow of an elder red. Visitors were rare. Places that would knowingly open their doors to emigrants or even traders were rarer still, lest the dragon come to collect one of her runaways personally. The Coalition built new roads to bypass them, deeming the task of dislodging their tormentor too risky for the army.   

They had no problem sending taxmen, though. 

A deep bump rocked them from front to back. Dozens of dying instruments shrieked and yowled, with as many lights winking in the driver’s compartment. The cuff slapped his forearm, drawing a pained hiss.  

“Spawning season’s around the corner.” Kade said, massaging his limb. He lifted his chin, willing Liam to pretend that his head wasn’t inches away from the executioner’s block for just a moment.

Silence. Like the last hour, and the three that came before.

Liam hated him. Of that Kade was certain. Six years on the outside, people would -and some did- kill for such a chance. Worse; Myra hadn’t turned a blind eye to his absence, she’d given her express permission.

His flesh was an even bronze, scratchless and unmarred by the sun. He may as well have come drenched in the blood of his neighbors, for he sat at the table of high society while everyone else ate all the fish they couldn't sell for every meal under leaking ceilings.

If what was coming slaked Liam’s thirst for justice, then there’d be at least some good in it. 

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Soon, much sooner than he would have liked, the most remote of Golisville’s residences trailed behind them, obscured by thickening clumps of wickerwood and a plume of blue soot. The steamcart was truly in awful condition.  

Kade tried again. “How’s the rest of the rats? Is Gene still chasing skirts? Did Hilda get over that cough?” Even if his guts no longer had value, they’d grown up together. Surely that was worth a word or two.

Liam’s hands tightened around the control rod. He still had that long, growling kind of sigh that bubbled up whenever he met the end of his wits. It made Kade smile, despite the circumstances.

By some force of miracle or malediction, the vehicle managed to drag them all the way to a place where nature grew thick until it simply changed.

Crimson-struck foliage yawned ahead, the trees twisted into a form far too bulbous and stout for their altitude, abandoning leaves for violet runners that carried a thick earthy scent.

Kade’s timepiece read midday, but only the strongest beams of light dared trespass beyond the border of the natural world and Myra’s claim. 

The Shrouded Crescent taught him only the rudiments of secondsight, but he didn’t need it here. Mana hung in the air like smog, it buzzed against his skin, displacing the hair on his neck.  

Liam got out and rasped his knuckles against Kade’s window. He complied.

If he wanted to cut and run he would have done so at the border. Even as an initiate he held enough might to make the rifle as useful as a joke to a dead man. It wasn't the threat of his own death that stayed his feat.

“Craw.”

A robin, more than three times the size of a human head, cried an unnatural timbre. Horns crested its skull, a swath of red fur hung about its neck.

“Liam Duma. Your service is noted. Leave.” The corrupted bird didn’t speak so much as open its tooth-rowed beak to let a trio of disparate voices escape. 

Within the reflection of two pairs of beady eyes, Liam turned.  

“Hey,” Kade rasped. 

The rustle of thick grass, the plodding of heavy boots.

Was that it? Was he just going to go about his day like he was throwing out the trash?  

Kade dug his nails into the rough fabric of Liam’s collar and yanked. He wasn’t going to waltz into his own coffin without being acknowledged. 

“I wrote letters to every last one of you, no one replied.”

Liam had the audacity to glance up and to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“I wouldn’t know if the sky out here was still blue if I hadn’t seen it for myself."

Silence. Still silence. 

“Give me the lay of things! Curse me! At least look at me, damnit!”

“Don’t make this harder than it’s gotta be.” Liam, muttered into the air.

“It is time to go.” Came the chorus of the robin. “One life for every minute you delay beyond this point.” 

A series of wet crunches and pops saw the wall of trees heave itself open as a maw. Warm air oozed. Its smell was familiar, but vaguely off. Overripe fruit, damp mold that clung to the essence of cooked meat.

Kade’s stomach churned, he pushed the man he used to know away. A hollow spirit forced legs of lead into halting steps. As the woods swallowed him, Liam’s voice cut through the trees. There was no fire behind it, just exhaustion, as if he’d lost himself years before he was born.  

“Your folks. I’ll take care of ‘em.”