“Wake up.” Jasper awoke to a gentle nudge against his shoulder, and the cold, wet kiss of the early morning dew. Suppressing the grumble that immediately sprang to his lips, he nodded cordially to Tsia as she laid down and he rose to take his turn at the watch.

Swinging his arms from side to side, he shook out the aches and pains one accumulated from sleeping on the ground. Then he took his place at the edge of the camp, turning his eyes toward the village. There was no sign of movement there and, frankly, he doubted there was much need for a watch at all, but…better than sorry. It was sort of cliche, he knew, but Jasper had already died once. He had no desire to die again over something stupid, like underestimating a bunch of village hicks.

The night air on the mountain was a cool that bordered on cold. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been in Corsythia now - and the constant changing of biomes had not helped him keep track of the seasons - but the air reminded him of the crisp cold of a late October night. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, the mere thought gave birth to a sudden craving for jack o’lanterns, scarecrows, and - most of all - a piping hot pumpkin spice latte. Probably never have that again.

The thought was rather melancholy, and he wondered if pumpkins existed here. He certainly hadn’t seen anything but Corsythia was a pretty big place, and they even had some sort of contact with Earth. So there’s hope.

Jasper lost track of time as he stared at the village, his thoughts ebbing and flowing with no discernible pattern. There were no signs of activity in Zēl-Qabūri, no frantic yells or lighting of torches that signified an intruder had been discovered, and he took that as a good sign. But as the hours stretched on without Annatta’s return, he couldn’t help but be a touch concerned about her.

It took him a while to realize he was being watched. An embarrassingly long while. It started slow, nothing but a faint pricking on the nape of his neck that, in his idle state, he failed to fully acknowledge. But the sensation lingered so long that, eventually, he had to notice. Craning his neck around, he found he had a visitor.

“Holy crap!” Jasper lurched backward violently, and his foot caught against one of the roots of the tree he had been leaning against, sending him tumbling to the ground. He sprang to his feet immediately. “Watch out!” He tried to warn them, but though he could hear his voice, there was a strange quality to it he could not identify, and there were no signs of any response from his friends. They can’t hear me. Slowly, warily, Jasper settled into a crouch, keeping his eyes glued to the visitor. His heart raced like a steam engine about to explode, but he didn't dare look away.

A porcelain face glowed in the dying moonlight, with a set of chestnut brown eyes that he had once known better than his own. The little being held a ratty doll clutched tightly in one arm.

What the hell is she doing here? Wasn’t she bound to the island?

The gallû smiled broadly at him, revealing a set of teeth that, much like a young child’s, had a few conspicuous gaps, and stretched her other arm to him. He flinched back, fearing her touch. He didn’t know if his aunt’s information was entirely accurate, but the elf had said their touch was death. But in the darkness, he had failed to see what her hand was holding: a small, sealed package.

He eyed the package suspiciously, utterly baffled by the offering. Why would this spirit want to give me anything? And what? He didn’t particularly want to offend the creepy little girl, but for all he knew it was just a ruse to get him to put his hand close to her skin.

She held her arm out obstinately, the wide smile still pasted on her lips. If she wanted me dead, she could have killed me three times already, he decided and gave in.

The gallû made no move to touch him as he claimed the package, and he reluctantly tore his eyes away from her to examine it.

It was a small parcel, wrapped in a thin bolt of leather and tied with coarse string. It was entirely unremarkable save for one small detail: a paw print of a wolf embossed into the leather. His brow wrinkled. Barbartu again? Is she controlling this thing?

Jasper’s gaze snapped back to the little girl, but the space was empty and there was no sign that she had ever been there, not even a footprint. No sign save for the package he held.

His hands shook as he wrestled with the string until, unable to untie the knot, he snapped them in two.

The leather unrolled, releasing two objects: something heavy that landed by his foot, and a letter that fluttered in the wind. Snatching the letter out of the air, he opened it up quickly, curiosity burning in his heart.

To the mewling cub,

If you follow the Seraphs into battle against the Brotherhood of Yas̆gah, you will die. You should follow them.

A bemused smile crossed his lips as he read the line again. What the hell? Is she trying to scare me? He read on.

I know you likely think of me as your enemy, but ask yourself this question - why have I spared your life so many times? The Brotherhood does not see eye to eye on many matters; all wish to see you die, myself included-

He stopped reading, staring incredulously at the letter. Seriously? You were just claiming not to be my enemy. Shaking his head in disbelief, he started up again. -but there is a fundamental difference between them and me. They wish to see you die the eternal death, to see your soul consumed in sacrifice to the rising goddess. I wish to see you die so that you may live.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He rolled his eyes. Got it. So you’re just crazy.

Two paths lay before you. Tell your uncle of the Brotherhood’s plot against you, and he will send you away from this province now. No sacrifice will be required, but you will fail to prevent Yas̆gah’s ascension.

Or, you can stay. Follow the Seraphs in their raid and descend into the darkness. You will die, but the nature of that death is up to you. Will you choose the lure of power or accept the call of sacrifice? When the time comes, I hope you’ll find my gift useful.

A paw print marked the end of the letter, in place of a signature. Jasper read the letter again, struggling to make sense of her message. He couldn’t quite decide if she was actually trying to help, if she was trying to trick him into killing himself, or if she was just plain crazy. Giving up on puzzling it out, he bent down and retrieved the object that had fallen to the ground.

It was a thick torc. Its woven bands of silver gleamed brightly despite the fading moonlight, and when he examined closer, he saw a thin string of letters, barely visible to the sight, engraved on the inside. Anaddin dāmī lerṣēti kī aklam. Līkulū mutū u lūli kī darrû ākilu bārbara.

“I offer my blood to the netherworld as food. May the dead eat of it so that I might arise as a sheep that consumes the wolf.” Damn, she really is crazy. The words seem barely better than gibberish - although, with the apparent references to some sort of blood rites, he had a feeling there was a meaning to them he just didn’t understand. Grabbing his bag of Dapplegrim, he started to stuff the necklace inside, but paused, second-guessing himself. Should I wear it?

Jasper had no idea what Barbartu’s game was at this point. But she didn’t exactly seem to want to harm him. Sure, she wanted him to die so that he might live, whatever the hell that meant, but she didn’t want him to die now. She seemed to think she was giving him something valuable, something that would give him a choice, and not knowing quite what to do, Jasper decided to try the torc on.

He attached it gingerly around his neck, and his hands lingered on the clasp. He half-expected to immediately feel the tingle of the fey charm on his wrist as it sought to fight off some mind-control effect the torc had been enchanted with, but the charm stayed quiet. The silver necklace felt cool against his skin, slightly cooler than seemed entirely natural, but aside from that there seemed to be no obvious effects. He waited a few minutes but noticed nothing off. He took the necklace off and again felt no difference.

Finally, he decided not to decide. He would consult with the others when they awoke and until then, he simply slipped it into his pocket.

After that, Jasper returned to his futile watch over the village. Nothing had changed while he’d been distracted. There were still no signs of watchful guards and, much to his concern, by the time the sun had risen, there was also no sign of Annatta. Thus when the others rose at the first light of day, he had much to discuss.

“Where’s Annatta?” Ihra asked promptly, stretching herself out with a yawn.

He shook his head. “Not sure. There’s been no commotion in the village though, so hopefully…”

Nēs̆u grunted. “There’s no need to worry about her. She may not be the best warrior among us, but she’s a competent enough rogue. She probably just ran into some unexpected roadblocks.”

Jasper shrugged. “You’re probably right. And speaking of unexpected encounters…” He fished the necklace out of his pocket. “I had a rather unusual delivery last night. Look what the gallû brought me.”

“The what?!” The energy around the camp shifted as the three others immediately sprang to alert. “We were visited by a gallû and you didn’t wake us?”

“I tried.” Jasper offered them a lopsided grin. “I screamed at you all to wake up but apparently y’all couldn’t hear me and by the time she left, I figured you might as well sleep. But that’s not the most interesting part.” He tossed the necklace and the letter on the ground. “The gallû was apparently bringing me a message - and a gift - from Barbartu.

Ihra’s brows gathered in concern. “Barbartu? Why would she send you a gift?”

He nudged the letter with his foot. “Read that. Maybe it will make more sense to you than to me. And Tsia, do you think you can examine the necklace? You’re a more skilled mage than I.”

She shrugged. “I’m not so sure about that Jasper.” She offered him a teasing grin. “I’m definitely more powerful than you, but you’ve come up with some pretty clever tricks. Magic seems to come naturally to you. But I can look at it.”

Picking up the necklace, she examined it carefully for some time, probing at it with her essence. Eventually, she tossed it back on the ground. “I’m no expert on enchantments, but I can't detect any enchantment on it at all.” She frowned. “There is something about the torc that seems a little strange though. It’s almost like… it's asleep or something, and it’s just waiting to be woken up. I don't sense anything malevolent about it, though, just odd. It's probably safe to wear.”

Ihra shook her head emphatically. “That woman tried to have you killed!” she reminded Jasper, referencing the letter the Seraphs had found in the Keeper’s office. "Why on earth would you wear anything she gave you?"

“Maybe it was just some sort of miscommunication," he countered. "After all, she didn’t technically say to kill me; she said something like ‘take care’ of me.”

“That’s just a euphemism for murder,” Ihra replied flatly.

Jasper grimaced. She had a point but at the same time… “Then why didn’t she kill me when she had the chance? She beat me up at the temple, and let me go. I don't know how she controls that gallû, but that demon could have killed me three times now and, again, each time she's let me go. Not only did she not kill me, she saved our lives, Ihra. Do you really think we could have chased off that utukku on our own?”

Ihra scowled, picking at her feet. “Maybe she just didn’t want to let someone else kill you. By the void, Jasper – she straight up said she wants you to die. What more proof do you need?”

Bending down, he picked up the torc Tsia had discarded and rolled it between his fingers. Do I trust Babartu? The answer came to him almost immediately: no. But to some extent, he did believe what she had said.

Ihra was right – the strange woman made no attempt to hide the fact that she wanted him to die. If that was an attempt at deception, it was a truly incompetent one. No, Jasper believed what Barbartu had written. She didn’t want to kill him herself; she wanted him to die in the right way - to choose to die. His decision made, he carefully slipped the torc back around his neck and fastened the binding.