All grew silent around Sarien as black flames surged from his right hand and traveled up the length of his spear. The wood turned into utter darkness. When it reached the tip and touched the man who had attacked him, the bandit slumped over. Sarien watched the bandit’s eyes lose their luster, as if turning into two pieces of dull marble. Death was immediate.

Sarien dropped his spear on reflex and crawled away. The black flames dissipated when he let go of his weapon, but the wooden shaft and metal point remained blackened as if burned.

“Your sword!” Kax yelled, running toward him.

Sarien frowned and turned to see a man charging for him. Without thinking, he grabbed the short sword from his waist and pulled it free. Flames sprung from his right hand again and danced upon the blade, pulling the light from the air around his sword.

The bandit attacked, his sword clanging loudly against Sarien’s. Dark flames leapt from the metal and into his opponent, and Sarien thought he could feel something being pulled from the man and into the blade.

The bandit’s sword was cut in two and Sarien’s now blackened weapon sliced into the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the ground, a silent scream on his lips.

Sarien blinked.

Kax flew to his side, both hooked swords covered in gore. “What was that? What did you do?” Kax eyed Sarien’s sword warily. It was still engulfed in black flames.

“I don’t know!”

All around them, the fighting was quickly coming to an end. The last remaining bandit fell under Hart’s blade as the man roared like an animal.

Tomford limped to him and put a bloody hand on Sarien’s shoulder. “This is going to hurt.” He pulled the arrow out, but Sarien barely felt it. The shock of Tomford’s healing, however, made him shudder and yelp. He lost his focus and the black flame flickered and died, leaving his blade just as dark as the spear still on the ground.

Tomford was panting hard into Sarien’s ear. “Do you mind pulling that out?” he asked, looking at Kax.

“Sorry, what?” Kax asked, tearing his gaze away from Sarien’s sword.

Tomford gestured to his back. “The arrow. Can’t reach it.”

“Shit. Right, sorry,” Kax mumbled, grabbing hold of the shaft. The arrow was buried deep into Tomford’s back. “Ready?”

Tomford gritted his teeth. “Ready.” He didn’t scream as Kax pulled it out. He straightened and swayed a little on his feet.

Sarien surveyed the battlefield. All bandits were either dead or gone. Everyone else stared at him.

“Anicetus!” Tomford yelled. “See to the soldiers!”

The old man peeked out from behind a tree, back down the path they’d come. “Is it safe?”

“Go!”

Anicetus scurried to the downed soldiers as Heylien and Lana emerged from the trees. Hart’s dog barked from somewhere off the path.

“They’re gone,” Anicetus said, after examining the bodies.

“They can’t all be dead,” Goslin said, moving to Anicetus’s side. He looked down in disbelief at the prone, battered bodies.

The arm of Emeryn’s tunic was torn, her arm bloody. Hart limped a little despite his leg being healed during combat, and Kax’s hair was matted in blood from a blow to his head.

“I couldn’t get to them in time,” Tomford panted. “They were on the other side of the melee.”

“It’s not your fault.” Goslin kneeled next to one of the dead soldiers. “It’s mine. I couldn’t control the chaos. The responsibility falls on me and me alone.”

Heylien gingerly stepped over the dead bandits. “Sarien, was that fire you used? It wasn’t like before. What happened?”

Sarien looked down at his black blade. “I-I don’t know. The other part of my power, the right side,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, “the black side. It came to life when I hit that bandit. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Lana said “You did well, pyromancer. Black flame. Who would have thought?” She eyed the weapons curiously but said nothing more.

“Your short sword cut through that man’s blade like it was old cheese,” Kax said, licking his lips. His eyes glittered. “There’s something about that darkness. May I?”

The strength that roiled in Sarien during the fight had drained away, and he could barely remain standing. It was difficult to think straight. What harm could it do to let Kax hold the blade? It was he who gave it to Sarien, after all.

All the soldiers except Slakt were dead. Twenty-two bandits lay strewn about the forest, but the group only looked to their own. Hart’s house troops broke formation at some point to try and get to their liege but paid for the attempt with their lives. Sarien looked down at their peaceful faces as they lowered the bodies into makeshift graves.

Emeryn sat slumped over on her horse, her eyes closed from the exhaustive task of constructing the graves with her inner nurture. They hadn’t had the time or the tools to dig. With a groan of effort, she closed all eight graves at once, committing the soldiers’ corpses to the forest.

Goslin stood by the line of mounds, hollow-eyed. “I didn’t think.” He trailed off, then looked to Hart. “They were your men. Do you want to say anything?” Hart shook his head and Goslin looked at Slakt. “What about you?”

“No,” Slakt replied, his face blank.

Goslin hung his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this. You did well, men. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this. I’m sorry I wasn’t better. Rest now.”

Sarien spotted Kax standing a little further down the path, scrutinizing the dark edge of the short sword. His hooked swords were nowhere to be seen.

Had it been a mistake to give the sword back to him? Now that his mind had cleared, Sarien thought it might have been. Sarien had grabbed the spear from the ground and now kept the blackened weapon in its sheath slung over his back.

“Let’s go,” Goslin said. “We still need to find the women. Be careful, there might be more of bandits out there. Tom and Em can barely stand. They won’t be much use if we get into another fight.”

“The women are fine,” Lana said from over by one of the bandit’s corpses. She was collecting her daggers. “We found them at an empty camp before double backing here to help when we figured the bandits must have set an ambush.”

“They’re waiting for us by the fortification,” Heylien added. He’d finished retrieving his arrows. “You can go back to the main road. I’ll gather them up and join you. There are no more bandits, not in the camp at least.”

“A few of them ran,” Hart said, readying his sword again.

“I’ll join him,” Lana said. “We can deal with any stragglers from a distance.”

“No,” Goslin said. “We stick together. I’m not risking you to another ambush.”

Lana shrugged. “Fine, Princeling.” There was an intensity to her, and it had been there since the combat ended. Almost like she didn’t want to stop, rest, and think. Sarien knew there weren’t many happy thoughts to be had after what they’d just been through.

He watched as Lana’s hands shook and she closed her eyes each time she pulled a dagger free from a fallen bandit. The pale faces weren’t just from exhaustion. None of them were seasoned fighters, after all. Even if they did have some experience, this had been their first real combat. No matter how skilled they were with their weapons, they were much like Sarien in that regard. Sarien couldn’t take comfort in that thought. Now, they were all changed.

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The kidnapped women and girls were huddled together in a simple but spacious tent beyond a crumbling wall. Just as the innkeeper had informed them, the place was falling apart. The gate was nowhere to be found and the gap in the wall yawned open. It was more of a campsite than any real fortification.

Ofver must not have expected much in the way of resistance from the villagers. Perhaps he thought Fyrie wouldn’t send any help either. While the women panicked at first sight of the group coming through the gate, Lana calmed them easily enough when they realized she was a woman. Emeryn was unconscious on her horse, kept in the saddle only by Hart’s helping hand.

“Can’t see any of the bandits around,” Heylien said. He perched on the wall, peering out among the trees. The chirping of birds and humming wings of insects filled the air. The whole forest teemed with life, and the murky smell of underbrush was far more pleasant than the stink of death they’d left behind.

“Come,” Goslin said, reaching a hand out to an older woman, fragile and gray with age. He gently lifted her to her feet. “You’re safe now. We’ll bring you home.”

Sarien saw Kax walking up to a pile of old pieces of armor with the dark blade held high. He swung into a chest piece with minimal force. The blade cut through the armor with no sound.

Kax caught Sarien watching him. With a grin, he shouted. “This thing is miraculous!”

“Let’s get out of here,” Goslin said, waving for them to hurry along. The women and young girls were already outside beyond the wall and heading back in the direction of the path that led back to Himmi.

Sarien and Kax hurried after them. Goslin gave Kax’s blade and the tip of Sarien’s spear a worried glance. “Be careful with those. I’m not sure I like what they did to those men.”

“I’m not so sure I do either,” Sarien said. “I don’t know what happened, but both sides of my power have awakened now. They’re still separated by a line down the middle of my spark, but I think they want to combine into one.” He shuddered. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Kax glanced to the side. “Did you hear something?”

Goslin drew his sword from its sheath, peering around into the dense foliage. “A bandit?”

“I’m not sure. It sounded like someone speaking.” Kax shrugged and sheathed his short sword. “I must have misheard.”

The joy on the villagers’ faces when the group returned with their wives and daughters seemed to be enough for Goslin to cheer up a little. Sarien saw him smiling and nodding as he spoke to Harald when they entered the inn again.

“I said we’d be back today, didn’t I?” Goslin laughed. It sounded forced.

Kax pulled Sarien along to one of the tables, and Hart, Heylien, and Lana followed. Tomford headed up the stairs immediately, too spent from use of their magic for any kind of celebrations. Emeryn exchanged a few quiet words with Goslin before she also disappeared to one of the rooms they’d arranged for the night. Slakt, the last remaining guard from Hart’s house, was nowhere to be seen.

The innkeeper’s wife was one of the women who had been taken, and she immediately brought them a fragrant stew of carrots, potatoes, and bits of meat, coupled with beer, as more patrons came streaming in. The room filled with both men and women, and it soon grew warm and boisterous as the villagers cleared part of the floor for dancing.

Goslin fell into the empty seat at the table after exchanging a few words with Harald. “Looks like they’re happy with us,” he said, despondently. Sarien looked worriedly at him. It seemed that the weight of killing the bandits was heavy on the young man.

Hart swallowed a mouthful of stew and patted the dog. “We did a good thing today.”

Kax held up his mug of beer. “Cheers!” They all drank deeply before setting the glasses back down onto the table. The beer was refreshingly cold but settled in Sarien’s stomach sourly. It had been a long day. Long several days if he was honest with himself.

But he and the others had gone through a dangerous situation together and succeeded. He needed to remember that. He had allies now. No, friends, who depended on him as much as he depended on them. Sarien gripped his mug. He would not fail them.

“Cheer up, Goslin,” Kax continued. “It isn’t your fault we lost them.”

Goslin beat the bottom of his fist against the wooden table. “Isn’t it? I’m supposed to be your leader, and I don’t even know their names!”

“Take it easy,” Lana said. “I don’t either.”

“They did their job,” Hart argued. “Their duty was to protect us.”

“Relding, Brunk, Helting, Hans, Puck, Wayne, and Yaren,” Heylien interrupted. “They were good enough fellows, some of them at least.”

“I’ll remember their names now,” Goslin said, raising his glass. “To Relding, Brunk, Helting….”

“Hans, Puck, Wayne, and Yaren,” Kax finished. They drank again.

“About that spear,” Lana said, ending the silence. “What did you do, Sarien?”

Sarien snapped awake from his reverie. “I don’t know. I told you about how my spark was broken, right? That only the left side, the light side, worked?” They all nodded. “Well, the right side woke up when I stabbed the bandit. I can feel it working now, but the magic is still divided somehow. Light and dark, not how a pyromancer’s spark is supposed to be. One of the students at the tower said he felt like his insides were burning from his spark, like fire churned through him. It’s not like that for me.”

“Perhaps it’s a step? Maybe Tomford can heal you now? Or it might even self-heal if you keep using it?” Goslin said.

“Maybe.”

Lana shook her head. “I’ve never seen fire turn metal black.”

“Me neither,” Heylien said. “Apart from a thin layer of soot.”

“Can I see the sword, Kax?” Goslin asked.

Kax unsheathed it and held it close for a moment, looking to Goslin and then back to the black weapon before finally handing it over. “Fine, just be careful.”

Goslin took it, looked around the room, frowned, and then handed it back to Kax. “I don’t like it. Feels wrong. Hard to describe.”

Kax shrugged, holding the weapon close to the lantern. Even in the light, the blade remained black. No light reflected off its surface. “I don’t feel anything. It’s impossibly sharp and that’s all I need to know.” Goslin shivered, as if feeling a draft no one else could. “I don’t think you should be playing with it.”

“I’m not playing,” Kax said as he sheathed his sword, his voice sharp with irritation.

Sarien felt the group’s unease, almost thick enough to touch. “I’ll do my best to figure out what’s happening with me.”

Goslin smiled weakly and shifted in his seat. “It’s fine, Sarien. We’ll figure it out together. Don’t worry.” Goslin shoved his hands into his pocket and with a look of surprise, he withdrew a crinkled envelope.

“Your father’s letter,” Sarien said, trying his best to change the subject.

“I’d forgotten about this,” Goslin said, sighing as he broke the wax. “Not sure why he’d write me, but it can’t be good.”

Kax chuckled. “I’m sure he just wants to send his love.”

Goslin scanned the single sheath of parchment. “Gatling woke up. He’s not happy.”

“Gatling?” Sarien asked.

“My brother,” Goslin answered. “He was in the tournament with us. Someone beat him unconscious.”

“He almost died,” Hart said.

“But Tom healed him,” Kax added.

Goslin looked down and read through the letter again. “My father says there have been sightings of strange groups of men near Fyrie, and that they’ve had reports of the same from Loft.”

“Strange how?” Heylien asked.

“Doesn’t say,” Goslin replied. “He wants me to return home as soon as we’re done in Tyriu. Says Gatling is leading some troops to scour the area around the capital, and my father wants me to take command as well.”

“I thought you were supposed to be Steerian’s bookkeeper or something?” Lana asked. “Why does he want to give you a command all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t explain anything, never does,” Goslin said, his brow knitted. “But I wasn’t very good with numbers. I’ll head up for a bath now, then to bed. We leave early tomorrow morning, so don’t party all night. Well done today, friends. You’ve saved these villagers from a life of uncertainty and danger. Next time will go smoother, you have my word.” He reached into his pocket again and handed a letter to Kax. “Almost forgot, you got a letter too.”

The remaining members of their party drank in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, for a long while until Heylien spoke. “Some of you ended your first lives today. It’s reasonable to have feelings about that.” He looked at them in turn. “It isn’t easy, and I don’t have much in the way of advice. Just know that any hurt and anger you’re feeling will fade in time. These men needed to be dealt with. Like our grand leader just said, you did a good thing today.” With that, he stood and left, not for his room, but for the front door.

“You’ve killed someone before?” Lana called after him. “And where are you going?”

Heylien smiled weakly. “I have, and I’m not much for the indoors these days. I’ll stay in the tents.” The bustling crowd closed in around him and he disappeared out of sight. A gust of cold wind blew through the room when the front door opened, but it was quickly smothered by the heat of the tightly pressed bodies of the celebrating villagers and farmers.

“Heylien’s a killer, huh?” Hart chuckled.

Lana snapped her head to face him. “Don’t speak as if you know what he’s been through. You should watch out yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hart asked, his face reddening.

“If you keep going down this path of going crazy when you fight, it won’t end well for you.”

“Piss off,” Hart muttered.

Kax cracked the wax seal on his letter with a flourish, as if trying to move away from the uncomfortable subject. “It’s from my little sister, Hessa. She’s probably pissed I left without coming home first.”

“What does she want?” Sarien asked.

“Some words about those same men Goslin’s father wrote of. Wants me to come home.”

“You’re leaving?” Hart asked.

He shook his head. “Of course not, I’d just mess everything up. Best if she deals with it. I put her in charge of the place, after all.”

Kax sat in silence for a moment, then turned to Hart. “Hey, Hart.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to name that mutt if it’s going to join our quest and become a full-fledged member.”

“Right, she’s got a name already,” Hart said.

“What is it?” Lana asked, bending over the table to get a look at the beast, their earlier dispute forgotten.

“Daisy.”

Kax frowned. “Like the flower?”

“Yes,” Hart said. “I like flowers. You have a problem with that?”

“But it’s a boy dog,” Lana said.

“It is?” Hart bent down to look. “Oh.” He shrugged. “It’s still Daisy.”

Kax raised his now almost empty glass. “To Daisy!”

“To Daisy,” the others echoed, lifting their glasses. The laughter was a little forced and they stayed down on the tavern floor later than they intended, but none of them wanted to be alone with their thoughts.

It was true for Sarien, at least. His dormant power unleashed something dark and terrifying. What did it all mean? He raised his glass to a cheer he hadn’t heard and drank deeply, trying to ignore the voice in his head that whispered that he was still broken, but now, dangerously so.