Soon after the caravan set off did Abel feel dread creeping up the back of his neck.

Surely it couldn’t be this easy to leave.

Surely there would be consequences. The Kingdom will keep what it paid for, or at the very least never let its value be shared with their sworn enemy.

He rubbed the Glass cuff on his ankle, cognizant of the feeling of being magically muted. He attempted to will a puff of wind, but nothing whiffed.

He was mortal, and it was pissing him off.

—-

Abel was told the journey to the Capital would take two weeks.

Every few hours, the caravan would stop to hunt, camp, and eat. They never released Abel from his cuff, opting to hunt on his behalf.

At first, Abel didn’t notice it. His mind was off in the treeline, the shadows, the sound of fluttering bird wings as they passed through the forest. Everything that could be an end to his journey. He was constantly on edge and barely slept. Dmitri attempted to speak to him several times as the days passed, but Abel remained silent and inattentive to the conversation to not lose his focus.

What Abel did notice first was the way that the retinue of soldiers in the caravan would deliberately gather around a second campfire a few meters away from him and Dmitri. They would pass furtive glances their way, but otherwise talk amongst themselves.

Even the Dragon Mage sat amongst them. She wasn’t particularly loud, though she was kept central to every congregation, as if her opinion mattered the most.

More than once, he caught them waving Dmitri over. Dmitri would comply each time, running errand after errand they asked him to do, no matter how lowly it seemed. After each task, they would wrap him in a wrestling vice that he was woefully under-equipped to extract himself from, then laugh at him as he struggled to free himself. Abel couldn’t help but read the actions like a threat veiled over the guise of a joke.

They eventually would let him go, and he would return to Abel’s side with another ramble on his lips that failed to pierce the boy’s mind.

It was as if Dmitri’s safety meant he could turn his attention back to the outside dangers.

Eventually one nightfall, Abel tuned into Dmitri’s words. A week had passed and nothing happened, and his mind was starting to tire. Dmitri had prepared their beds (it later came to Abel’s attention that he had been doing so every night, as well as contributing to the cooking and keeping the fire for the entire caravan, likely why he was always called over).

“The capital has a grand lake, Lake Setia, that is often blue, sometimes brown. But there was one year where it turned green, and I decided to eat the green from the lake. You may be wondering why. Well, I was just curious. It didn’t smell bad. it smelled green. But what does green as a taste mean, anyway?” Dmitri rambled.

What was he even on about?

Abel’s flicker to absolute confusion brought a smile to Dmitri’s face.

“Ah, so these kinds of topics interest you.”

“W…What?”

“Well, I caught on very quickly that you were not listening to a word I said. It was amazing, really. I really thought nothing would phase you. And so, I’ve been spouting absolute random nonsense to see what would be the thing to pierce the veil .” Dmitri mused.

“Surprisingly, you didn’t care for the crass stuff. You’d think one your age would be interested in the exploits of a young man and role model such as myself.”

Abel had to hold back a snort. What kind of exploits would a man like you have?

“Hey!” Dmitri let out a wounded laugh. “I do well for myself in society, thank you very much.”

“Well, you don’t seem to be a very respectable soldier.” Abel mumbled, almost as an aside. This only further pierced Dmitri’s ego. Or, at least, Dimtri mimed as much.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dmitri smiled, remaining cordial. He didn’t seem upset. Perhaps he already expected it.

“I guess I’m asking…” Abel turned to Dmitri. “Why are you here?”

Dmitri laughed again.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Compared to her, yes.” Abel gestured to the Dragon Mage, who was polishing her anchors under the firelight. Dmitri watched her with an air of bittersweet admiration before speaking again.

“My appointment, unfortunately, was out of necessity. I’m not exactly a natural-born warrior, as you clearly noted. My family runs an inn in the capital. Hospitality is in my blood. But–” He cleared his throat.

“Magically, I’m like a sponge. Or perhaps a very hungry ox.” He gestured to one of the ox chewing grain nearby. “I can take in someone else’s Spirit Fire, their magic, and place it somewhere else.”

“When Windspinners began showing up on the battlefield during the war, the Empire had done much to try to figure out why a subjugated people would fight so hard for a battle that was not their own.”

“And then a mage theorized that they– I mean you– were being compelled by a spell drawn from Spirit Fire. But we really had no way of knowing.”

Abel remembered the Commander. How the circlet was placed on him, told to follow express orders else the circlet would hurt him. He had wondered how orders from other generals could carry the same weight as the Commander. He surmised that it must be an effect of a new material, the same way that Altiman Glass suppressed Spirit Fire, that would compel him in such a way.

He never thought it would be someone’s magic ability. Did the Commander himself have the capacity to put a spell on him? To charm him? He had never heard of someone with an ability so close to mind control.

Does that mean the spell is gone now? If he were to put on any circlet, would he be trapped in the same vice once more?

He then thought about all of the others he left behind, who still wore that circlet.

Abel absently pulled more of his dark, curly hair over his forehead.

“I… I guess.” He mumbled.

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“Ah, well.” Dmitri caught his discomfort and quickly tried to move on. “In any case, I was brought in by the Empire to see if my ability was capable of helping people in your situation, with this mission.”

“You were our first success.”

Did that mean there were failures?

Abel didn’t want to know, so he tried to pivot the conversation.

“So you grew up in the capital, then?” Abel mused, wrapping himself in the set of blankets over the small cot beside their carriage. “Do they all also try to ‘eat the green lake’ like you too?”

“Ah that was– a mere curiosity.” Dmitri bashfully scratched his cheek. “There’s all kinds of eclectic people who thrive in the Empire. I’m certain you’d fit in without a hitch. ”

Was this an appeasement? Or a genuine statement?

A hope began tugging at Abel’s heartstrings.

“So you’ve been all over, like the schools and libraries?” Abel pulled the blankets of his cot over his face, as if to hide how eager he was for the answer.

“Interested in education, are you?”

“Well.” Abel measured the consequence of his words, the bargaining chip it could present, and decided the potential answers were far more worth it. “Not really, but I heard that there were institutions where anyone could go to meet people from all over. To grow together.”

Rather than tear each other down.

Rather than leave them all behind like he had just done.

The expression Dmitri gave Abel as he peeked out from beneath the blankets was surprisingly warm. It threw Abel off so much that it distracted him from the guilt threatening to spread through his chest for just a moment.

“Yes! Such institutions do exist, and for specialties as well! There’s a prolific academy run by the Order of the Mage, there are schools of history, engineering and arts– general education as well. There’s even a Grand Library that houses a copy of every piece of literature on the continent that has ever passed through the Empire’s borders. They even have scribes stationed at every border entrance to track down storytellers and erudites alike for that very purpose.”

“Not to mention you will have no shortage of new folks to meet, as you will be joining my family at our Inn, in the center of the capital.”

And the hope flickered stronger.

And Abel couldn’t help himself.

He kept asking questions. Questions about the people Dmitri had met, the magic he’d seen. Questions about the differences in how Empire citizens read (they sounded out the letters rather than read shapes), slept (always facing north), bathed (more communally than he was expecting), and ate (mostly with hands, as it was all dried and salted foods) and compared them to his convoluted combination of home-spun traditions and Caldon Kingdom enforcement.

Everything sounded like it could be better. It could be home.

And Abel’s mind wandered towards the future.

Ah…

What a foolish thing to do.

He didn’t hear the wind pick up, nor see the branches that shifted just in the periphery of the firelight.

Whips of wind tore into the fires around the soldiers’ campfire first, ripping the heat and burning kindling into pieces that flung out at their faces. They rushed to their feet, scrambling for weapons and armor.

The Dragon Mage flung a beam into the forest line, lighting up the area. Three cloaked figures dove out of the way, tumbling into the (now scattered) firelight.

“Caldon Rogues!”

“Careful! They’re the elite task force of the Kingdom’s army!”

“They have a Windspinner with them!”

“Lieutenant Fenharrow, get the Target out of here!” The Dragon Mage called out as she readied beams of heat towards the Windspinner’s direction. The rest of the soldiers were split between holding defensive stances and rapidly gathering as many supplies onto the carts for a quick getaway.

They were going to flee. A force numbered 20 strong, was going to leave in the face of three enemies.

But Abel, the supposedly named “Target”, had his mind elsewhere.

There was a Windspinner.

Another who, like Abel, was trapped under the Commander’s thrall. Who could be pulled into that ideal world he so clearly saw ahead.

Abel rolled out of his cot, immediately trying to jump into action, only to feel the nauseating press of the glass on his magic.

“Sir, please.” He turned to Dmitri, who was also up, his hands fumbling to pull on his owl-like goggles. “I can stop that mage. We can save them, like you did with me.”

Dmitri hesitated. There was something in the firm line of his lips that made Abel realize how compromised he was in his position.

As much as Dmitri played his friend and ally, he was an Empire soldier first.

“You succeeded once, didn’t you?” Abel frantically tried to reason.

“It’s not that simple. You heard the order. We need to get you out of here.”

Orders, be damned. He couldn’t let this opportunity go. He was too stubborn.

Wind whipped through the camp, and their conversation was suddenly cut short by the appearance of a rogue just behind Dmitri.

Abel twisted around, shoving Dmitri behind him as the rogue bore down with a dagger. Abel’s hand blocked the dagger within inches of scraping a hole into his cheek.

He then kneed the Rogue to loosen his stance, then used the base of his palm to knock a clean hit at the Rogue’s jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. His movements were all swift and strong, like piercing needles that matched the speed of the Rogue’s.

He jabbed more blows his way, but the Rogue managed to regain composure and blocked him at every pass.

Then Dmitri jumped into the fray. knocking the Rogue sideways. It was a sloppy hit, but effective.

That’s when Abel reached for the dagger in the Rogue’s hand…

…and pointed it Dmitri’s way.

“Abel.” Dmitri breathed.

“I can do it. Unlock me and I can help you turn that Windspinner.”

“Lieutenant! The caravan is ready! Let’s go!” A soldier called out.

“Abel, the terms of your sanctuary are on a very thin balance. Anything you do here could jeopardize–”

“It will mean nothing if I didn’t try. Please, Lieutenant.”

A yell ruptured their struggle. A soldier fell from the defense line. The Dragon Mage let out a yell of anger and burned a hole through the Windspinner’s shoulder, sending them tumbling back into a charred tree.

They had no time to argue.

Click. Dmitri unlocked the glass brace.

And Abel leapt towards the fray.

He made quick work of the rogues, pulling them into the air and onto their backs in quick bursts. Several soldiers also toppled over in the process.

The Dragon Mage took the confusion of the sudden turn in the fight to mark a pinpoint headshot at the Windspinner. Abel caught sight her aim and quickly circumvented it by shoving the Windspinner to the ground with his body, effectively knocking them to safety.

The Dragon Mage let out a yell of frustration.

“Why is the Target loose? Lieutenant!”

But Dmitri chose not to respond, perhaps out of fear of getting a sunbeam to the head. He instead dove after Abel, who was furiously wrestling with the Windspinner on the ground. Winds buffeted around them, thrashing and howling as each force fought for dominance of the air. Dmitri could barely crawl to get to them.

“What do we do?”

“Turn him over!”

Abel’s grip shifted on the Windspinner so that they were on top of him, digging into the hole in their shoulder to keep them from physically lashing out at Dmitri.

Dmitri placed a hand on the back of the Windspinner’s neck, infusing his magic’s power into them.

And the Windspinner let out a guttural, deeply resonating scream.

Abel watched from below as the Windspinner’s pupils shrank, fear consuming them. Phantom pricks of the circlet’s sting floated in Abel’s head as he remembered how painful it felt, remembered the feeling of drowning.

“Swim up. Please.” Abel pleaded in a quiet whisper.

Dmitri’s loose hand flicked out and released a surge of energy, aiming for a rogue that was beginning to recover.

The rogue doubled over, as if feeling the prick of that same drowning pain.

And the Windspinner’s screaming stopped. The circlet dropped into pieces around them.

But where Abel was expecting their body to go slack with relief, to embrace him.

He saw tears.

Blood droplets welled in the Windspinner’s eyes and dripped down onto his cheek.

Their body fell limp, and as he lifted himself to catch them in an embrace, he felt nothing but cold.

“They’re dead.” Abel mumbled through barely moving lips. He couldn’t hear his own voice even when the wind around them had died down to a complete stillness.

His arms wrapped even tighter around his bretheren’s body, the blood flecks on his cheek smearing as he pressed his face into their shoulder.

“They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry, Abel.” Dmitri sat beside him, a knowing frown on his lips.

He pulled the goggles off to survey the ruins of what was left. The caravan was ready to go. Both rogues had fallen.

And the Dragon Mage was standing before them, a heat beam ready in hand, outstretched towards Abel’s head, a cold fury in her eyes.

“Lieutenant, get the Target back in the carriage. We need to talk.”