“There. It’s just over there.”

There, just so happens to be what looks like a temple of sorts—Ren’s seen enough in his time here to recognise them. A pyramidal structure covered entirely in snow, with a bronze archway for an entrance, flanked by stone lanterns, flames dancing on their wicks. If Ren is being entirely honest, this looks like the base of… of a cult.

What worries him the most right now are the three guards patrolling the front of the temple. Three children in Tiki masks, holding spears, as they make their rounds about the front of the temple. At the moment, Ren, Gridel and Tiv are hidden behind a wall of snow, out of the view of the guards.

“Is there a back entrance?” Gridel asks.

“Yeah,” Tiv says, “for when they want to get in and out quick, but not many people use them.”

“Could you show us?”

Tiv hums. “Over here.”

He makes his way around the wall, keeping his head low. Gridel and Ren follow suit, scampering through the undergrowth as they make their way around to the back of the temple. It’s not big, but it certainly is grand, from all angles.

“There’s nothing here,” Gridel observes. Indeed, the back of the temple lacks a doorway of any sort, instead etched with lines of symbols and characters that is too small to read from where they are. Nothing that even resembles a door.

“It’s over here, silly.” Tiv beckons them with a wave of his arm. He crouches by something in the ground—something brown peeking out from under a blanket of snow. Tiv heaves the grate off the ground with a strained grunt, and Ren can only hope that the stench here isn’t as horrible as that in Calysso. Or, even better, that there is no stench at all.

No smell, good or bad, greets him. Only that of chattering. Mindless bleating of incomprehensible words that Ren cannot understand.

“This leads directly to the sacrificial chamber,” Tiv says. “Everyone’s gotta be in there.”

If that’s the case, then they’d best be prepared for a fight. But against so many children, who seem proficient with weapons, of all things, a direct confrontation is out of the question. They need a way to approach this stealthily, and they’re going to have to rely on Tiv for that.

“You first,” Tiv says.

Gridel objects. “You have to go first. We have no idea what it’s like inside.”

Tiv seems to catch himself, as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I guess.”

The boy takes the lead, climbing down the ladder one careful rung at a time. Ren is the next to follow, then Gridel.

“Put the lid back,” Tiv calls in a low voice.

Gridel does as she is told, and the trio proceeds to land in what appears to be a cramped storage room, filled with crates, barrels, and dusty shelves. There’s hardly any space to move around, but there is a single door on the far end, and that there is nobody else around.

“Through that door’s the chamber,” Tiv says. “And I think a preparation ritual is happening right now.”

Ren frowns. “A preparation ritual?”

“Yeah. To, like…” Tiv waves his arms vaguely. “Make sure the place is clean and all that. You know. Put all the Duskbells around, light the torches and all that.”

“What’s a Duskbell?”

“A type of flower with a really strong smell. It’s supposed to keep the air clean and the infection away. That’s as long as we stand near it.”

It keeps the infection away? Interesting. Why would the Horseman keep something so detrimental to his power so near his base of operations?

“Wax and Zan always lead the preparation ritual. There’re usually about five people there, but as soon as the actual ritual begins, everyone will be present.” Tiv puts a finger to his lips, or where his lips would be behind that Tiki mask, and he grabs the doorknob.

Silently, he edges it open, revealing a gargantuan statue in the centre of the temple, its head almost reaching the ceiling. The three of them keep their backs to the wall, and Ren surveys the chamber. The statue takes the shape of a lion, in the same posture as the Sphinx. There, smack in the middle between its paws, is an altar, and resting on that, within a case of ice, is a crystal.

The Horseman’s heart! It’s so near, and yet so far. Because, before the altar looks like a bed of stone, complete with shackles, and candles, and… What in the world did they stumble upon? Two children—presumably Wax and Zan—bark orders at the other three who are running about the place, all five of them still wearing their Tiki masks. Neither Vane nor Penny are anywhere in sight.

“Where are our friends?” Ren hisses.

Tiv scratches his head. “Probably in the cells with Hal.”

“Hal?”

“Yeah.” Tiv puffs his chest out. “Hal is a good guy. He was the one who saved most of us and brought us here.”

Saved them? That’s one of the most absurd things that Ren has ever heard! Living with the Horseman, making them perform sacrificial rituals… how can this guy be considered a saviour in any way?

“They’re almost done with the ritual,” Tiv says. “They’re going to be bringing in your friends soon.”

Gridel turns to Ren. “Do you have a plan?”

Their best bet is to grab Penny and Vane once they appear, and then they run. However, given the sheer number of children they were up against before coming here, and the fact that this is the Horseman’s palace of all places, Ren isn’t sure they’d survive long enough to actually escape. Especially if Vane is in the condition that he is.

“We’ll do what we did back with the Sirens,” Ren says. “As soon as they bring Penny and Vane in, I’m going to distract them, and then you, Tiv and Penny help Vane, okay? We’ll escape through the front entrance.”

Tiv’s voice instantly goes higher. “Wait, me?”

Ren nods.

“The front entrance?” Gridel asks, furrowing her brow. “Wouldn’t there be guards—”

“Do you really think Vane can climb a ladder in his state?”

Gridel presses her lips together, but she does not argue. Instead, they continue watching, as the two children standing at the altar yell at the others, and the other three hurry out of the chamber, through the doorway opposite that of the lion statue. They must have gone to fetch their friends.

Does that mean that the Horseman would arrive soon? That’s what the sacrifice is for, right? Ren tightens his grip on Ifrit, not once taking his eyes off the doorway. Once Penny and Vane are close enough, he’s releasing the biggest fireball he’ll ever make in his life.

Soon, he hears voices. Not Penny’s or Vane’s, but other, tinnier ones. Children begin to file into the room, chatting amongst themselves as they take their place around the altar and the stone bed. Only a few of them carry their spears, whilst the others remain empty-handed. Ren grits his teeth, on the verge of jamming his fingers into his ears at the noise.

Only after most of the children enter the chamber that another cluster stumbles in, a group of about ten people who are dragging their friends along, by the hem of their shirts, their arms, pulling them from the front and shoving them from the back. Penny tries to struggle, but she’s no match for so many children, even if they are kids. Vane walks like a zombie, staggering along and almost tripping every other step.

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It’s painful seeing them like this, but their appearance is also his cue. He meets Gridel’s gaze, and she nods. Ren turns back to the scene before him, lifting Ifrit, and conjures the biggest fireball he can manage. Before any of the children can react, Ren draws his arm back and slings it at the lion statue.

The fiery sphere crashes into the bronze statue, and several children scream. The rest scatter, yelling and flailing their arms around as the fireball explodes. Ren releases a couple more, the spheres of flame hitting the ceiling and showering everyone in storms of sparks and smouldering cinders.

In the moment of chaos, Gridel squeezes past the children barrelling for the exit. She wades through the crowd, heading straight for the stone bed. Penny kicked one of the spear-wielding children away and took Vane’s wrist, dragging him away from the altar and into the rolling waves of harried children.

“Penny, this way!” Gridel shouts, nocking her crossbow and firing one shot at the two head honchos. One of them shrieks and ducks, the bolt flying over his head and stabbing into the rock wall on the other end.

“Who are you?” the other leader demands, stabbing her spear in Penny’s direction. “How dare you make a mockery of our sacred proceedings?”

Gridel ignores her, and instead nocks another bolt. She sends the bolt flying without a moment’s hesitation, but the girl is fast, and deflects the arrow with a swing of her spear. The bolt drops to the ground, harmless, at her feet.

“What are you doing?” the leader cries, glancing over at her subordinates, the children visibly trembling in the flurry of embers. “Stop them!”

“Ren! Cover us!” Penny calls.

Ren raises Ifrit again, preparing another stream of fire. Just as he is about to cast it, someone slams into his side, and he goes tumbling to the ground. The weight clings to him, tiny fingers scrabbling at Ifrit and trying to pry it from his hands. Ren shoves the boy off him, wrenching the Tiki mask off his face and hurling it to the ground.

In place of the mask, Ren sees narrowed eyes, a wrinkled nose, and a ferocious snarl. It’s as if he’s staring into the face of an animal, not a human being. The boy lunges at him again, headbutting him in the chin. Pain blooms across Ren’s jaw as he recoils, and he waves his arm, smacking the boy across the cheek and sending him sprawling, and out cold.

There was no doubt that that boy was Tiv, but why… why did he do that?

No time to worry about it now. Ren must have hit him a little too hard there. He turns back to where Gridel has slammed arrow after arrow at the children. Not into them, but the walls and the ground, only near enough to deter their advances.

Ren lifts his staff and draws up a wall of fire, roaring flames rising between the retreating trio and the children that were after them. Now, more and more guards are running down the stairs, from the entranceway. There’s no chance that they’re going to be able to escape through there now. The ladder remains their only safe bet.

“In here!” Ren shouts, gesturing at the door to the storage room. Penny and Vane hurry over, and Gridel slots her crossbow back into the straps on her back. She scoops Tiv up into her arms, and hurries after them.

Penny is the first one up the ladder, scaling it like a monkey on vines. Vane, on the other hand, is a slower climber, gritting his teeth as he puts one hand, then one foot, in front of the other. Gridel is the next to go, with Tiv’s tiny body thrown over her shoulder.

Stabbing Ifrit into the ground, a cascade of fire descends from the arch of the doorway, effectively creating another barrier for their pursuers. When he hears Gridel’s call, he turns and scrambles up the ladder. He has no idea how long that curtain of flames is going to last, but he’s not staying to find out.

Ren hauls himself up through the hole at the top, and Penny slides the lid shut. The temple grounds are filled with frenzied children, some of them cowering in a corner, while others watch the temple from a distance, in the snow. They have to take advantage of this pandemonium and run.

So, they do, and Ren shoots more fireballs at the temple for good measure. Some of the braver children chase after them, spears at the ready. And yet, even they pause at the splash of sparks-turned-flames.

They continue fleeing as fast as they can, not sure when the children are going to catch up, if ever. Penny and Ren help Vane along, while Gridel keeps a lookout behind them, Tiv still unconscious and limp.

The rest of the tundra is nothing more than snow, snow, and more snow. Featureless, without even a hint of grass peeking out from underneath all the white. They have absolutely no destination in mind, no idea where they’re going, but the only thing they can do is press on.

The winds pick up, wrapping around them like icy cloaks. A veil of snow has been draped across the winter landscape as well, obscuring their view with sheets of powder. Ren ducks his head, trying to suck in as much of the chilly air as possible, forcing it into his lungs as he staggers forward. The cold seeps into his skin, like invisible fingers crawling into his veins. He can only focus on moving, on keeping his pace, or else they’re going to end up frozen statues. Beside him, he can hear Vane’s ragged breaths, and Penny’s pained grunts as they trudge through the snow.

Ren doesn’t know how long he’s battled the blizzard, doesn’t know how long it will be till they can rest next. He can hardly lift his head to even look out for any form of shelter—all he can really think of, as he shivers violently, teeth chattering so loudly it’s the only thing he can hear, is to keep moving. Even when sourness fills his muscles, his legs are complaining, and he’s certain he’s about to keel over…

It is then that Ren hears a shout. A foreign voice, voice carried by the howling winds. He squints at the hill just ahead, to see a person standing there, dressed completely in blue. That person is accompanied by a pack of what looks to be huskies, but way bigger, and way more ferocious.

Is he a friend? Or a foe?

The man slides down the hill, followed by the pack he commands, spraying up snow as he goes. He shouts something, but Ren is unable to hear him properly, not over the wind, not over his teeth, not over the blood rushing through his ears. He’s not got any obvious weapons, nor is he preparing any sort of magic—other than those dogs, that is. Perhaps he’s here to help?

The man comes to a halt in front of them, and Ren and Penny stop in their tracks.

“Come with me,” the man says. “We need to get him inside.”

His accent is thick, even more so than that of Tiv’s or the other children’s, and his voice is muffled. So much that Ren almost missed the words. The man takes Penny’s place and, accompanied by the dogs, drags Vane through the snow.

They manage to scale the hill with the man’s help, who, despite his lithe physique, is as strong as an ox. It is then that Ren sees a town a stone’s throw away. It’s a sprawling settlement, complete with paved roads, stone houses, and the like. A large clocktower stands surrounded by the establishments, reaching for the skies, also covered in snow.

Upon their arrival, the dogs move to form a line at the boundary of the town, whilst several men clad in shining armour run towards them, weapons bouncing against their hips. They help the group into the nearest building, barrelling through the door, a rush of warm air greeting them. The guards begin shouting, and the whole place dissolves into chaos. Organised chaos, that is.

It doesn’t take Ren long to realise just where he is. Beds are lined up in neat rows against the walls, each of them occupied by people tended to by medical personnel. Never did Ren think that he would ever see a hospital in Zenthos that looks very much like their own, minus all the advanced medical equipment.

Vane is ushered to a cot, and he all but collapses into it. Penny watches worriedly as the nurses rush to tend to him. Gridel hands Tiv over to one of the other nurses. Penny turns to the man who brought them here, who appears calm despite the tension in the air.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asks.

The man nods. “For now. He’s still in the first stage of the disease, which means that there is still hope.”

First stage of the disease? Vane’s already coughing up blood, for goodness’ sake. Ren dreads to think what the last few stages would be like.

Penny forces a smile. “Um… thank you for saving us. I thought we were going to die.”

“It’s no matter,” the man says. “It is only natural to help another human being in need. Besides, I didn’t expect to see someone from outside Beville stumbling about in the middle of a snowstorm. If I might ask, where are you from?”

“From the colony of Gravelle, past the seas of Ilecthia,” Penny says. “My name is Penny Gladsworth, and these are my companions, Ren Higuchi, Gridel, and”—she gestures at their companion currently undergoing treatment—“and Vane of Gravelle.”

“I see.” The man bows. “I’m Mavell, the Captain of the Guard here in Beville. Allow me to extend our warmest welcome to you, on behalf of our city.”

“We have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind,” Ren says. “It’s about the, uh, children. In the palace.”

At that, Mavell’s expression darkens. “I see. So, you’ve had a run in with Hal’s army.” He spins on his heels, turning towards the door. “Let’s go to my office for a chat, shall we? From where, we can sort out the specifics.”

Mavell is the first out of the door. Penny, Ren and Gridel exchange glances.

“You go,” Gridel says. “I will stay behind to look after Vane and Tiv.”

Penny nods. “Thanks, Gridel.”

With that, Penny and Ren leave the hospital, where Mavell is waiting outside. For a man of his age, he walks rather fast, striding down the snow-filled pavement so quickly that both Penny and Ren have to jog to keep up. It’s not just his speed that appals him, but his blatant disregard to the people on the streets.

No, not people. Corpses. Strewn about on the road, leaning against the walls of buildings, with limbs sticking out of skips… How… and why…? If Penny noticed it, she says nothing. Well, Ren supposes they’d ask later. Having dead bodies lying about all over the place is much too strange to leave them be.

Mavell soon reaches the clocktower. He greets the guards, informs them that Ren and Penny are travellers and guests, and invites them in. Ren steps into the warmth of the clocktower, breathing a sigh of relief as he nurses his stinging cheeks.

They have arrived at a lobby, with a reception desk at the far end. Mavell greets the girl behind it, who appears to be tidying papers, and he leads them up the spiral staircase. It hugs the wall, taking them higher and higher, and, presumably, to the offices. Their boots clack against the stone steps, and Ren keeps his grip tight on the wooden banister as they ascend.

“This way,” Mavell says, stopping at the first level and heading down the corridor. Ren and Penny follow him, and they enter a room at the far end of the hallway. Ren shuts the heavyset wooden door behind him, and he takes Mavell’s offered seat: a wooden chair before his desk.

The office gives off the air of an important room, with suits of armour standing in each corner, a bookshelf brimming with leatherbound tomes, and a wall filled with racks, each carrying a sword or javelin of sorts. Behind Mavell is a large window fitted with grilles, framed with flowing curtains, and through it, Ren can see the vast city of Beville. Between them and Mavell himself is a desk carved of ebony wood, resting on it stacks of paper.

“Now then,” Mavell says, eyeing them from under those thick lashes of his. “I presume you have questions you wanted to ask? If so, ask away.”