Dahlia winced as she cleaned the cut on her hand, which had formed a crust of blood and scabbing since the last time she bandaged it. The cut resulted from her ritual from yesterday. She had to give blood to the circle in order to cast the ritual on Falrick. The shaman barely had time to clean it during the aftermath, so she had slapped a bandage on it for the meantime. However, she was beginning to regret it. It was early morning now, but it had only been hours since the fight with Falrick. Haggard and Felix were lucky to only get the residual effects of the spells the Wizard had cast on them. Shock Paralysis was a spell Dahlia wasn’t familiar with, but just from witness accounts, she knew both men were lucky that Falrick held back.

Now they rested nearby. Haggard had refused to see a healer, and Felix insisted he was fine. As far as Dahlia was concerned, they were fine, unless proven otherwise. Helen was also here, her figure seated opposite of Falrick’s unconscious form. Nearly everyone involved in the Bartheny and Falrick conspiracy was here, including Lowe. The gnome was waiting nearby, his gaze glued on the Wizard. All of them had been waiting through the night, waiting for the Wizard to awake and try something. Yet nothing came. Dahlia guessed Helen hit him harder than she thought.

Dahlia reached for the vial of cleansing alcohol, her thumb pushing the cork open. She poured the alcohol upon her wound, disinfecting it. She winced a little, but worked through the pain. The shaman finished up with some ointment before she wrapped her palm in clean bandages. Helen reached out a hand to Dahlia, her gaze still fixed on Falrick. Without a word, Dahlia handed the open vial of cleansing alcohol to her. The veteran brought the lip of the vial to Falrick’s nose, making sure the Wizard could take a whiff.

As expected, the unconscious man stirred, his face scrunching as he coughed. “Virtus’ sake!” He managed out.

Helen gave the vial back to Dahlia, who corked and stowed it away.

“Wha–? Wher–? How–?” Falrick sputtered as he blinked and squinted. Despite the low light in the room, Dahlia could still see realization dawn in Falrick’s irises. The Wizard quieted down the minute he recognized the situation.

His expression darkened. Dahlia saw how his fingers tried to form runes. His lips even muttered castings. Yet nothing came from it.

“It’s no use,” she called out to the Wizard. “Those are mana-draining shackles. You’re not breaking out of them.”

“Impossible.” Falrick scoffed. “Even if they can restrain me for the moment, the enchantment could only last for so long.” He was right. Dahlia herself guessed the shackles would only last for another couple of hours. When that happened, Falrick would essentially be free. The Wizard looked smug about his accurate statement. Yet there was one thing he was currently overlooking.

“Perhaps,” Helen shrugged. “But until those shackles lose whatever magic they have left…” The ex-marauder leaned forward, her left hand shifting the sheath on her dagger. “You’ll be at our mercy.”

Falrick’s expression faltered at the implication, his face contorting into one of shock and anger. “You wouldn’t…”

“Believe me, I would.” Helen grinned.

“You can’t kill me. You didn’t go through all of this to kill me,” Falrick shot back.

“You’re right,” the veteran confirmed. “Still, you’d be surprised how many appendages the body can live without.” Helen quickly pulled out her dagger, causing Falrick to flinch. “Ears, nose, eyes…” The blonde woman traced the edge of her blade across the mentioned body parts. Falrick watched with a tense gaze, his body shifting to get away from the crazy veteran.

“Oh, how about your fingers?” Helen chuckled. “You can’t cast spells without those, right?”

Falrick reached his breaking point. “Get away from me! Someone, please get her off of me!” His screams echoed in the hut, with not a single soul even attempting to pull the veteran off of the old man.

“Are you going to cooperate?” Dahlia finally spoke up after allowing the torment to go on for a minute. She looked at Helen, who almost seemed to have fun distressing the poor old bastard. Almost.

“What the hel do you want from me?!” Falrick shouted. Dahlia could see how Lowe moved in to answer. She raised her hand. Not yet. The last thing they needed was a shouting match between two bitter old men.

“Are you going to cooperate?” Dahlia asked once again. She leaned in. “I don’t want this to get uglier than it already is.” The shaman gestured to Helen, who was already eyeing Falrick’s bounded hands. The Wizard was silent for a moment, his stare switching between Dahlia and Helen.

“Fine. I’ll cooperate,” he muttered.

“Good.” Dahlia gave a sigh of relief as she leaned back. She waved off Helen, who relaxed into her own seat.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be threatening a powerful Wizard,” Falrick commented.

Dahlia furrowed her brow. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk so high and mighty.” She gestured to the remnants of soot on Falrick’s fingertips. “Don’t forget, you leveled a building and nearly killed my friends. You had every chance to come peacefully.”

“Chance?” Falrick laughed. “That idiot with the hammer started it!” The Wizard strained to look at Haggard. “He stole and provoked me to start the fight! If it wasn’t for him, I would have left peacefully!”

“No sane man would resort to slinging spells on a populated street,” Haggard retorted. “What was in the pouch to make you that crazy?” He asked.

“None of your business and I would prefer it to remain so,” Falrick spat back. The Wizard turned to Dahlia. “Speaking of which, if you have so much as peeked into it…”

“We haven’t,” Dahlia responded. The pouch Haggard had stolen from Falrick and given to Helen was currently in Dahlia’s possession. She didn’t dare look into it. Dahlia wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling that Falrick had more than a good reason to keep it secret, considering that he nearly burnt the town down trying to get it.

Falrick stared at Dahlia for a few seconds, his gaze focusing on her eyes. After a moment, he sighed in relief.

“Good.” The Wizard was genuinely relieved at the answer the shaman gave him. He even relaxed in his chair a bit.

“Why did you run?” Dahlia followed up.

Falrick raised an eyebrow. “I’ve told your friends this, haven’t I?”

“I don’t believe you.” Dahlia knew of what Falrick had proclaimed earlier that day. Helen and Haggard had explained it all to her. Yet she refused to believe it.

“Seamus is not what you say he is,” Dahlia spoke.

Falrick only chuckled. “Really? You believe that? You’ve known him for around, what? Four to five months?” The Wizard sighed. “I’ve known that boy since he took his first steps. I was there when he first learned to swing his sword. I even taught him how to cast his first spell.”

“Wait, spell?” Dahlia narrowed her gaze. “Seamus can’t cast magic…”

“He can,” Falrick insisted. “Three castings, in fact. I taught him myself when he was but a younger lad.” The Wizard’s lips formed a small smile, almost nostalgic. It soon turned into a frown, however. “It goes to show that you really don’t know him like I do.”

“So, why are you afraid of him?” Lowe called out. “If you truly knew him better than all of us, why would he want to kill you?” The gnome was different now. The mention of Seamus had diffused his initial anger. He now seemed worried and confused.

Falrick turned to Lowe. “I remember you. Aldren’s watcher, correct? Funny how we both couldn’t protect our own homes…” That seemed to strike a nerve in Lowe. He stepped up, his stare and expression turning harsher.

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“I tried, I really did,” the gnome stated. “I did more than you, coward!”

“You call me a coward.” Falrick scowled. “But were you at the siege? Did you fight when those monsters stormed the beaches? No. You were resigned to a hidden island, left to watch over whatever was left of our people.” The Wizard strained to get a better look at Lowe. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what happened.” There was a moment of silence. Lowe could only stare at Falrick, his hands balled up into fists.

“Why did you run then?” Lowe muttered, breaking the brief silence. “Why did you abandon Yorn? Why did you abandon Seamus?” His words seemed to have hit the Wizard meaningfully. In response, Falrick turned his gaze to the ground, avoiding eye contact. The shadows of the hut hid the expression in his eyes, making it impossible to guess his expression.

“You won’t believe me, let alone understand,” the Wizard softly spoke.

“Try us,” Dahlia answered. “Believe me. We’ve seen more than our share of the impossible.”

Falrick raised his head before he looked at the shaman. His eyes looked tired. Bloodshot. Almost as if they hadn’t gotten a moment’s rest.

“Do you know of the beholders?” He asked.

Dahlia felt her heart drop a little at the name. “I know that they’re demons. Summoned long ago to fulfill the requests of madmen.” She recalled the bedtime stories she had been told. Nearly all of them had mentions of beholders.

“Yes, the Tale of the Mad King. Many know it well.” Falrick laid back against his chair. “Do you know about the eye of the beholder?”

“Yes…” Dahlia answered slowly. Another story. Dahlia remembered the tale of the eye, a common horror tale that described a man who ripped the eye of a beholder to use as his own. The crazed man would then hunt those who sinned. It was told to children to make sure they behave.

“It’s real,” Falrick revealed. “Have been for centuries.”

“What?” Dahlia furrowed her brow. “They’re just stories.”

“They’re not,” the Wizard sighed. “I’m not even sure how it works, but there are people out there who possess such power. The eye can do things beyond our understanding, some even thinking that they can warp reality.” Dahlia could only stare at Falrick, disbelief already settling into her gut.

“What are you saying?” She asked.

Falrick didn’t answer her. He instead looked at Lowe. “I never wanted to run. I probably wouldn’t have had it not for what I witnessed.”

“What happened?” Lowe had sweat dotting his forehead, his eyes full of what Dahlia could assume was primal fear.

“The Red Death was strong. Strong enough to kill Yorn and to even take out so many of our men. Still, there was no way Deimos couldn’t have raided the entire fort on his own. He called for help. Help from raiders. Help from savages. Help from a demon.” Falrick revealed.

“Demon… You’re not saying that it was a…” Dahlia trailed off. Was Falrick seriously admitting that he saw a beholder?

The Wizard only continued with his story. “It bore the eyes of sin, purple in color. It killed and burned our people. Other marauders accompanied it in black.” Dahlia could see how the Wizard trembled at the memory. “It drained me of my reserves but didn’t finish me. It left its marauders to corner me in the fort, forcing me away from Yorn. They could’ve killed me had it not been for…” He trailed off.

“Had it not been for what?” Dahlia asked.

Falrick turned to the shaman. His expression was that of fear. “Seamus. I had initially thought it was someone else, perhaps a warrior, who had stayed in the fort to defend it. He wore his hood, so I couldn’t tell.” Falrick shuddered. “At least, until he used one of the special castings I taught him.”

“He killed them all?” Lowe asked.

“All of them.” Falrick emphasized his words.

Dahlia wasn’t sure what to think of it. Beholders? Seamus using castings? Seamus had told her and James that he had simply hid during the raid. Then again, she recalled the last couple of times the young man had been in distressing situations. Was it possible that the raid was the trigger for his strange behavior? Could it be that the trauma formed his training into a defense mechanism?

“What happened to the demon?” She asked. She had to get that problem out of the way first. If the Marauders of the North had something like that, it meant that all of Valenfrost was at risk of something much more dangerous.

Falrick looked at Dahlia. “I don’t know. From what I could guess, it came only when the blood moons appeared. After the raid, I saw no trace of it.”

“The blood moons…” Dahlia felt a pit grow in her stomach. If the beholder needed to be summoned during an event such as that, then it meant that someone in the marauders had knowledge of dark magic. It was terrifying to think that the marauders had someone like that, but it also meant that the summoned demon was only limited to a rare occurrence, like the blood moons. She needed to discuss this later with Harald. The old veteran could have a better insight into this.

“Seamus, did he seem different to you when it happened? Was he asleep? Passed out?” Dahlia remembered how Kate and Lowe described Seamus during his blackouts. His eyes were half closed, mouth agape as if he was sleepwalking. Still, they also recalled the young man making expressions during his fights.

“He was awake,” Falrick responded. “I can never forget his expression. I almost didn’t recognize Seamus. He was like him.”

“Who?” Dahlia asked.

“Kjor. I would recognize that insanity anywhere.” Falrick muttered an answer.

“Yorn’s father?” Dahlia only felt surprised. She had heard the stories about Kjor Halvorson, how he had been a warlord who only wanted to fight and kill. It was a bad era for Valenfrost. Kjor had run rampant throughout the islands and Azurvale’s coast. To where his son Yorn had to step in to kill him.

“Do you really believe Seamus is that cold-hearted?”

“Kjor was once a good man as well,” Falrick revealed. “Seamus will end up like him. Yorn would’ve succumbed to it had it not been for his wife. Seamus has no one to weigh him down. He will turn out like Kjor, a merciless killer. There is no doubt.”

“Will you shut it?” The sudden comment caused everyone to stiffen. They turned to the source, which was a certain blonde woman. Helen’s stare was set on Falrick, her scowl enough to make the Wizard flinch. “Seamus will never become like Kjor. Nor will he be like his father.”

“Who are you to speak about him?” Falrick shot back.

In response, the ex-marauder pointed her dagger at the Wizard. “What do you know of Seamus? Beyond training him, of course?”

“I watched him–”

“There it is. You’ve watched him. You never spoke with him, interacted, nor fought at his side, did you?” Helen leaned forward. “You might’ve been around him for much longer, but you aren’t his friend. You haven’t spoken with him for longer than a sentence, nor gotten to know him.”

Falrick gritted his teeth. “Being his friend has nothing to do–”

“It has everything to do with him.” Helen stood from her chair. Dahlia could see how agitated the veteran was getting. “Until you’ve bled at his side. Until you’ve learned of his struggles and ambitions, you have no right to speak to us about his future and what he will become.” Helen’s words hung in the air.

“He’s not who you think, Falrick,” Lowe followed up. “Seamus is a good man. He’s fought and protected this town. He’s saved my life and others. He is not a monster.”

“He will kill me the first chance he gets.”

“He won’t,” Haggard spoke out. He had his arms crossed, his eyes closed as he rested in his chair. “Seamus isn’t that kind of person.”

“Are any of you listening?” Falrick struggled in his bindings, trying to look at everyone in the room.

“Yes,” Dahlia finally spoke up. “While it’s important for us to foster at least a bit of trust, this is one thing we will all speak for. Seamus Halvorson won’t kill you. If he tries, which I seriously doubt, we will stop him.”

Falrick scowled. “Trust. What do you have that I want?”

“Safety,” Dahlia answered. “I know that this was one of your last hopes for a peaceful life. No matter where you go, you will be hunted down. Either by bounty hunters or marauders. At least here, we can guarantee you safety.”

“Guarantee,” Falrick mumbled a little to himself. “Do you really think that will be enough?” He asked.

Dahlia frowned. “What is it you want?”

The Wizard seemed to think for a moment, his eyes moving to stare at the ceiling. Before he could come up with an answer, Lowe stepped in.

“Dahlia. I have this.” The gnome looked up at the shaman, who raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“I can’t say. I need everyone to leave me and Falrick here alone.”

Dahlia opened her mouth to say something, but her natural instincts pulled her back. “Does this have to do with…?” Dahlia gestured to the bag Lowe had by his chair. The gnome nodded.

The shaman sighed and looked at everyone else. “Let’s give them the room.”