Seamus stared down at his mug of water longingly. Drinking it had little to no effect on his lingering hunger. It didn’t help that the patrons around Seamus were eating dinner, the scent of their food enough to make…

“Ugh!” Seamus shook off the thought of eating. He needed to figure out a way to survive through the day. He had no coin nor any shelter for the night. Seamus was on his own in this town.

‘If I can just survive the night here. Next merchant ship that comes by, I’m taking it.’

Seamus could always stow away on another brig. He just needed to get to Vindis or Bernis. There, he could probably contact one of his father’s allies to help.

“Which was it? Redyr? Villtur?” Seamus muttered as he tried to recall which of the major clans were allied closely with his father. The young man’s lack of knowledge was a result of being a recluse most of his life. Seamus hated to admit it but he was a coward who was afraid of leaving home. It left him clueless to most of Valenfrost, so he wasn’t all that familiar with clan politics

As he contemplated his plan, something had caught Seamus’ attention. Two new patrons had entered the tavern, the people around them going quiet. Seamus focused on the two strangers, almost curious about them.

The first one was definitely some sort of witch doctor, with weird symbols drawn over her clothes as she wore trinkets made up of small bones. It reminded Seamus of the stories of ritualistic witches and shamans. Still, she wasn’t the one that caught his eye.

The ordinary-looking man that was behind her was the weirdest of the two. Despite dressing in less than plain clothes, he made Seamus more uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. The stranger was bigger than Seamus, with broad shoulders and a well-built frame. That didn’t bother Seamus, however. No, what did bother him was the foreign aura that emanated from him. It felt as if he was out of place. Like he didn’t belong. It was creepy and almost unnatural.

‘Who are you?’

Seamus pondered on possibilities as he unknowingly stared at the two. The strange man seemed to notice that he was being watched because he turned to meet Seamus’ stare not long after. They made brief eye contact, causing Seamus to look away.

‘Definitely not going near–’

Seamus’ thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl. He jumped in his seat at the sound, only to realize quickly that it was originating from his stomach. If only to try to satiate himself, he drank from his mug of water. Despite downing most of it, the water had little to no effect.

“Dammit!” Seamus cursed. In frustration, he threw the mug at his own table. Whatever water was left speckled all over the table and the next. The mug itself bounced and soon landed on a nearby patron.

“Who the fuck?” the patron yelled in anger. He stood up, revealing himself to be a tall and burly man. Seamus felt instant regret hit him like a hammer, fear soon blossoming in his chest. He tried to exit his table without getting noticed, but it was already too late.

“You little rat! Get over here!”

The angry man grabbed and pulled at Seamus’ collar, bringing the young man back towards him.

“W-Wait! I-I didn’t mean to–!” Seamus started before he felt the air rush out of his lungs. The man had punched hard into his stomach, sending the young man upwards. For a second, it was almost as if Seamus was flying. Seamus couldn’t help but cough and gasp, the act sending spit flying. It all landed on the other man’s face, which pissed him off even more. Another punch landed, causing Seamus's eyes to involuntarily tear up as he struggled to breathe and speak simultaneously.

“P-Please,” he managed in desperation. Seamus could only watch as the man pulled back another punch. The young man squeezed his eyes shut, expecting another hit. Nothing came. Seamus opened one of his eyes to see why. The blond man from earlier was holding the attacker’s arm, other his hand clenched into a fist.

“Let him go,” the stranger said, his blue eyes burning into the other man’s gaze. The attacking man growled as he let go of Seamus, letting him hit the floor.

“This ain’t your business.”

“Then I’ll make it mine. Back off.”

The two men stared each other down, with the witch doctor from earlier trying her best to blend in with the crowd that was forming. Seamus could only watch in disbelief at the encounter, his thoughts going manic.

‘Just who is he? Better yet, why is he getting involved?’

“One more fight Patrice and I’ll cut you off for good!” a voice shouted out. Seamus turned to see a woman behind the bar. Despite the graying hair, she still looked quite young, the wrinkles on her face few. The tavern woman was staring down at the man who had started throwing fists, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment.

‘Patrice’ snarled at the comment, despite not turning to see the tavern woman eye to eye. He instead kept staring at the man who had stepped in, his gaze locked onto his. After a couple more seconds of mean mugging, Seamus’ attacker yanked his arm out of the other stranger’s hold. He huffed and turned away, heading back to his table.

“Fine. You best watch yourself, stranger,” Patrice murmured.

Seamus’ savior didn’t give an answer. Instead, the strange man turned his focus on Seamus, who had been watching the entire ordeal.

“Are you alright?” He asked before he extended his hand to the younger man. “I heard that punch from across the room.”

“I’m alright,” Seamus managed in a groan. He accepted the help. “You didn’t have to step in…”

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” the stranger gave him a small smile. “You hungry? Dinner’s on me.”

----------------------------------------

James watched the man called Seamus devour his second bowl of stew, taking little to no breaks between spoonfuls. Dahlia watched with him in fascination, her own bowl still untouched.

“Never took you as sympathetic enough to get involved in fights,” Dahlia commented.

“What else was I supposed to do?” James asked as he looked away. “Does everyone in this world turn a blind eye to unfair fights?”

“We avoid getting into other people’s business,” the shaman answered as she played with her spoon. “It usually doesn’t end well for anyone.”

She had a point. James had little to no knowledge about the town and country he was summoned to. Confronting that asshole could have ended very badly for both him and Seamus. For all he knew, he could’ve ended up dead or worse, exposed as an outworlder.

Dahlia had already mentioned to James how different his pattern of speech and accent was compared to everyone else. Add that with the uncanny valley aura he emitted and James could have very well been mobbed and lynched at the town square.

‘Either that burned at the stake. I can’t tell which is worse.’

As James contemplated his actions, he brought a spoonful of stew up to his lips. He nearly gagged at the smell and texture, his reflex nearly causing him to flip the bowl.

‘Ugh! How the hell does Seamus eat this?’

James turned to Seamus, who was still downing his stew. He watched as the young man pinched his nose before pouring the bowl’s contents down his throat. James felt queasy just from looking at it. He thought about skipping dinner, but the growling from his stomach had told him that it wasn’t an option.

‘Just gotta stomach it. Can’t be that bad if you can’t taste it, right?’

James needed to eat, even if it wasn’t pleasant. After a deep breath, he took Seamus’ example, pinching his own nose before he took spoonful after spoonful of the disgusting broth.

By the time both men finished up with their bowls of stew, Dahlia was already hailing the bar woman. James could see how she skipped dinner, her hand slowly pushing it away.

“Not hungry?” James asked, amusingly.

“I’m just not looking to give myself a stomach bug tonight,” Dahlia answered with a small smile. “You’re paying, right? You did offer…”

“Yeah yeah,” James dug into his pocket and brought out the gold coin he had found earlier. He placed it on the bar, showcasing the Queen portrait on it. The bar woman whistled loudly as she picked it up, her eyes examining it closely.

“Pretty thing, no? You an adventurer or what?” She asked.

“Uh…” James trailed off for a moment, his mind looking for an answer.

“He’s more like a drifter,” Dahlia answered. “First time in Valenfrost, you see.”

“Hm, that explains the accent,” the bar woman commented. “I’ll get you the spare silver soon, hon.” With that, she walked off to the other side of the bar, leaving the trio of strangers alone. There was an awkward air of silence between them all, their gazes not meeting with each other.

“So, Seamus,” Dahlia started. “Since James here bought your food and drink, would you mind telling us where you’re from? Never seen you around Yorktown before.”

Seamus had been unnaturally silent during the past hour, only speaking his thanks and responding in nods and shakes during the time spent with James and Dahlia. He looked nervous, his eyes darting at the two before they settled on the bar. James couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It was obvious he had been through a rough patch recently. He could see how Seamus rapidly tapped his foot on the floor, his hands wavering like they had no place to rest.

“Well... I uh… washed up here? No, I was shipwrecked–Wait, no! I–Shit–” Seamus was messing up his words, speaking quickly as he visibly began to panic.

‘He’s freaking out over what to say. What’s he hiding?’

James attempted to calm the poor guy. He placed both of his hands on Seamus’ shoulders, which seemed to quiet him down instantly.

“Hey, take a deep breath. Don’t stress it out,” James said, trying his best to get Seamus to reveal what he had been trying to hide. The younger man gulped, his green eyes looking down at his drink.

“I–” Seamus was interrupted when a man busted through the tavern’s doors, looking bewildered.

“The bandits are back!” The terrified man shouted. His cry caught all the patrons in the tavern off guard, turning the relatively quiet place into a flurry of murmurs and confusion. Everyone around started to talk amongst themselves, their voices overlapping. Some were quick to leave, abandoning their drinks and meals as they rushed out the doors.

James looked at Dahlia, remembering what she said the other night.

‘Didn’t she say something about bandits threatening Yorktown?’

He could see how Dahlia’s expression paled as she looked back at James. His hunch was right.

“Oh shit…”

----------------------------------------

The harbor was mainly clear, which made it easy for Bloody Mary and Frostbite to dock themselves properly. Deimos had ordered for only Havor and Helen to come with him into the town. Everyone else was to stay on the ships for the moment. The chieftain had also told Eli to scry the place and make sure no one tried an escape while Deimos looked for the escaped prisoner.

The sun was setting as both Havor and Helen climbed down Frostbite’s side, signifying to the two that it was going to get cold very soon.

“Best we get this done quickly. Don’t want to be freezing my ass off out here,” Havor muttered. He breathed in the frosty air as he looked around the mainly empty harbor and docks. The only people around were a few locals and merchants who had decided to stay a bit late.

“Haste is the root of all mistakes, Havor,” Deimos’ voice called out behind the marauder. Havor nearly jumped out of fear, his head quickly turning to the chieftain. Deimos was right by his side, somehow sneaking up on the clueless marauder without so much as making a sound. The marauder leader was wearing his heavily plated armor, complete with a black fur cloak that covered most of it. Havor was certain the pelt was from some poor bear who had crossed into Deimos’ path of destruction. It also looked much warmer than the shitty wool cloaks Havor and Helen wore.

“Taking it slow doesn’t seem to be working,” Havor muttered as the three marauders walked into the town. He could spot locals running off into buildings as soon as they saw the intimidating trio. Blinds were shut and doors were slammed, not a single soul wanting to be caught out in the street.

“They seem terrified,” Helen commented as she looked around the town. The whole settlement looked more like a large village to Havor, as the buildings were small and varied from wooden to stone. Calling it a town was probably generous.

“They’re cautious,” Deimos said simply. He walked through the cobbled street as if he had no care in the world.

“We’ll try the friendly approach. Tell them that we’re only looking for an escaped convict,” Deimos continued, which earned a look from Helen. Havor could tell that she wanted to say something biting, but she thankfully held her tongue. There was no doubt that Deimos wouldn’t hesitate to snap her frail neck.

Around the marauders, more locals started to show up. They stared at the trio, their expressions mixed. If it was fear or anger, Havor didn’t know. It all looked the same to him. The marauders would soon reach what looked like the town center, more people showing up as they surrounded them.

“Sir,” Havor whispered. “They have us surrounded.” Havor wasn’t sure if the town had guards of their own, but he knew better than to go against overwhelming odds.

“It matters not, Havor,” Deimos whispered back, a smile growing on his face. “They won’t try anything stupid,” he added, his eyes scanning the crowd of townsfolk as they all murmured and whispered amongst themselves.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Are those the same bandits as last week?”

“Who are they?”

“What the hel do they want?”

Havor heard only bits and pieces of talk as the crowd watched them. They didn’t seem threatening, as most of the townsfolk looked lanky and small, very few of them with any muscle on their bones.

‘I bet they don't even know how to wield a sword properly.’

Havor couldn’t help but feel a little more confident now. This was a town of weaklings, filled with incompetent folk. It was a wonder that they hadn’t been raided yet. Havor watched as Deimos stepped forward, a confident smile on his face as he began to address the crowd.

“People of Yorktown. Do not worry, we aren’t here to pillage or raid your island.”

----------------------------------------

“Those aren’t the bandits…”

James heard Dahlia whisper as they stepped through the crowd. They both watched on as the cloaked giant spoke in his loud and gentle voice, his height towering over everyone. James could see black plate armor under his fur cloak, along with a red handprint on his chest. Two others just like him stood by his side, wearing black leather armor with a similar red hand on their chests.

“Who are they?” James asked before he turned to the shaman, confused. He could feel a sense of dread dawning on him as she turned back with a look of fear. Before Dahlia could answer, Seamus interrupted.

“Those are the people who killed my clan,” Seamus whispered. His face was pale, and he seemingly shrunk in place, almost as if he was trying to blend in with the ground.

“Killed your clan?” James asked. Despite not knowing much about Seamus or his background, he could tell the young man wasn’t lying.

“Don’t let them take me, please!” Seamus hissed before he grabbed at James’ shirt, his eyes filled with a primal fear. “They’ll kill me if I’m lucky! Please, James!”

“Hey, calm down!” James exclaimed in a low voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them take you. You have my word,” he promised. He looked around the crowd to make sure no one around them heard. Thankfully, the crowd seemed to focus their attention on the tall, bearded man, who was still speaking.

“This person is dangerous, having committed many heinous acts. He is not to be trusted under any circumstances,” the man stated, his eyes scanning the crowd. “If he does not reveal himself, we will search this island from top to bottom! We will search every house, every shop, whatever it takes to find this man.”

This caused the crowd to murmur among themselves. It soon turned to arguing and yelling, the commotion giving James an idea.

“Dahlia, take Seamus to the hut. I’ll go and get your crates, but you need to get him as far away as possible, alright?” James kept his voice down. “Hurry, when no one’s paying attention.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here,” Dahlia tried to protest. “Forget the crates, we can–”

“Just go!” James hissed. “Don’t waste time!” That seemed to do the trick. With clear hesitation, both Dahlia and Seamus hurried off. They slipped through the crowd, the duo heading off to the edge of town, where the forest met the settlement wall.

‘Now for the crates…’

Before he could head inside the tavern to retrieve the items, the surrounding crowd went quiet. James turned his focus to the center of the courtyard, where the trio of strangers were facing off against some elderly man.

“What gives you the right to come to our home and tell us what to do?” the old man called out, his voice echoing throughout the town square. “It doesn’t matter if you’re an emissary from Lumen or a herald from the gods. You have no right to do as you please!” The elder shouted, a number of people behind the man yelling their agreement.

‘No no no. Don’t.’

James wanted to berate their recklessness. Couldn’t they let the town guard handle this? Now that he thought about it…

‘Where the hell are the guards?

James frantically looked around, hoping to see someone with authority step up to stop this. Yet there was no one. The crowd began to grow restless, the people around throwing insults and curses at the armored giant.

James wasn’t sure why, but he could feel a sense of unease at the cloaked man’s expression. He looked calm, way too calm. It was as if he was in his element.

‘Why does this all look familiar?’

James was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu, the entire scene before him seeming like something he had seen before. Yet he couldn’t figure out where. The young man debated on running off from the courtyard, if only to look for a guard to try to stop this. Before he could make that choice, however, a glint of silver caught his gaze.

The taller man, the one who was in the center of the chaos. James could see something beneath the black fur, its silver head shimmering almost. He recognized it as an ax, one with runes inscribed on its edge. He watched in horror as the armored man unhitched it from his belt, his other hand throwing his cloak back. His full set of armor was revealed, showcasing black steel plates and more glowing runes.

“Fine. The hard way it is,” he called out, just as he prepared his arm.

‘No! No no no!’

“Stop! Don’t!”

A voice rang out from the crowd, stopping everyone in their tracks. The cold air was still, the only sound being the heavy breathing from the caller. The gazes of everyone turned to James, who just realized it was his own voice.

He was halfway through the crowd, his hand extended towards the courtyard. Everyone was quiet, the crowd slowly parting around James. He could feel their burning looks on him, the feeling almost disorienting. It felt familiar in a strange way, just like before. A feeling of deja vu. James shook that feeling away and kept his ground, his focus going back on the armored man before him.

“You wouldn’t really strike down a harmless old man, would you?” James felt his heart beat wildly, his adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tried to shut himself up. “Unless you’re a coward who can’t take an insult!” He couldn’t help it. His mouth was moving on its own, regardless of his panicked thoughts.

‘Oh shit oh shit!’

The bald guy next to the tall man snarled at James before stepping forward, “You little shit! I’ll–!”

“Silence, Havor,” the ax wielder called out. ‘Havor’ went quiet almost immediately, his body language changing from agitated to obedient.

“What is your name, young man?” The armored man asked, his right arm hanging placidly at his side. The ax was lightly tapping the cobbled ground, making small tings as its owner awaited a response.

“Me? I’m just a nobody,” James nervously responded. A feeling of recollection hit him this time. Like before, it felt as if he was retreading past steps.

‘Has this happened before?’

“Nobody, eh?” the ax wielder laughed at that. “Amusing. Alright, nobody. You can call me Deimos.” he pointed a thumb toward his chest.

“Deimos,” James repeated quietly. “Totally not a sinister name or anything…” he muttered under his breath.

“Well, will you defend these people?” Deimos called out, breaking the younger man’s thought process. “Despite that foreign accent of yours, it would seem that you want to take a stand against me.”

“If it means protecting these people, sure,” James answered. “I’ll take a stand.” His response spawned a commotion amongst the crowd, their voices overlapping.

“It’s been far too long since the last time someone tried to play the hero.” Deimos laughed. The joyous tone in his words made James uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t hurt to have some fun with you. Havor, toss him your sword.”

Havor looked at Deimos like he was crazy. He opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly backed down from it. In the end, the bald marauder obeyed his command. He unsheathed his short sword from its scabbard and tossed it to James. It clanged and bounced until it reached the otherworldly man, whose heart was beating out of his chest as he bent over to pick it up.

“I’ll make it fair to you. I’ll use only my hands to fight you,” Deimos stated as he handed his ax to Havor. “It would be over too fast if I used this.”

James was silent as he raised his sword in front of him, mimicking what he had seen in earth media. He could feel its weight as he tried to keep it steady, the experience almost surreal. The otherworldly man was putting himself into a fight, one that he had no chance of backing out of.

‘First day here and I’m already fighting for my life. Fuck me…’

James took a deep breath of the cold air. The sun was nothing more than an orange light in the distance, nighttime already setting in around him. The crowd parted even more as both sides got ready. Deimos’ grin looked sinister under the torchlight from the nearby street posts.

Just as James attempted to take a step forward, he was hit with a realization. He recognized the scene before him. It hit him with a sense of recollection, one that brought out the fear of god in him. James now knew why he had kept getting those senses of déjà vu. He had been through this before.

‘The nightmares…’

It was his nightmares. Recreated in detail. Deimos, the sunset, the way those lights illuminated the scene. The young man remembered now. It all came rushing back into his head like a migraine. It was a premonition of death. Disguised as a nightmare that had haunted him for the past weeks.

James’ breathing grew quick, the fear tightening his chest in realization. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was going to hyperventilate. This seemed impossible. This was impossible. There was no logical explanation for this. James almost dismissed this as a bad dream in itself. That this entire situation was the result of his car crash.

‘I’m in a coma… None of this is real! This is all some kind of fucked up hallucination!’

Yet something deep and primal told him that this was real. That he was reliving the same night terror he had been having for weeks. James felt like he was going to throw up. Still, he managed to restrain himself from doing so. He needed to think. His thoughts raced with a way to escape, his eyes searching for a way out of this hellish situation.

‘Dammit! Stop panicking! There’s no use… You can’t back out of this!’

As much as he hated this, running from the marauder wasn’t going to do him any favors this late into the duel. He didn’t know much about Deimos, but the young man was sure he was the one to hate cowards.

‘Calm yourself! You know what’s going to happen! Best to use it to your advantage! If those dreams are anything to go by, he’s going to attack soon! I have to attack him first!’

James grabbed at his chest and attempted to get his breathing under control. He needed to focus. If he could use his knowledge to his advantage, there was a way he could get out of this alive.

‘That’s right. I can win this. I can avoid dying. I just need to–’

“Well? Come at me!” Deimos interrupted his thoughts. As if on queue, the marauder taunted the young man, his arms wide open. It was exactly how he did it in the nightmare, down to the movements.

‘Attack! It’s now or never!’

James yelled as he forced himself to charge forth. His hands gripped tightly onto the sword’s handle, his heart racing like crazy. He crossed the courtyard quickly, his arms preparing to swing the blade. He just needed one strike to the head. One simple strike to the marauder’s head.

‘Use everything you got! Don’t waste time!’

Just as he began to strike, however, Deimos had turned into a blur. James’ initial attack hit nothing but air, missing completely. In that moment of panic, he spotted the marauder leader on his right. Deimos had somehow dodged his attack, his arm preparing a punch.

James watched from his peripherals, his eyes widening as he felt the marauder’s fist strike his center mass. The impact of the punch sent him rolling on the cold hard street, his chest feeling as if it was hit with the weight of a car. His tumble only stopped when his back impacted with a street post, his sword nearly flying out of his grip.

For a few painful seconds, James couldn’t breathe. Before panic could set in, he finally gasped, his lungs painfully taking in the cold air.

‘How strong was that punch?!’

James swore that it was much more damaging than the car crash from yesterday. He could feel how a metallic taste overwhelmed his mouth, forcing him to spit out his own blood. It spattered and stained the freezing ground, the sight nearly traumatizing James.

‘That’s not… That’s not good… Oh god…’

Internal bleeding, broken ribs, possibly a ruptured organ. It felt like all the above for James. He looked back up to try to gauge his situation. His vision was blurred but he could clearly see Deimos’ figure rush him, the marauder’s frightening speed sounding off all the alarms in his head.

‘He’s going for another hit! Dodge!’

James reacted quickly. He used what little strength he had to push himself to the left, barely dodging the kick that came in a moment later. He felt the air whip violently against him as Deimos’ boot missed his head by a hair. James was more than thankful that he wasn’t on the receiving end.

‘Hit him now! He should be open!’

James scrambled to his feet again and blindly swung his sword with all his strength. Surprisingly, his sword actually impacted something.

‘Hit!’

James felt excitement at the feeling of a successful strike, but his emotions soon turned to dread once he saw Deimos’ gauntlet wrapped around the blade.

‘Just who the hell is this guy?!’

James gritted his teeth and shoved his sword forward. The blade slid through Deimos’ palm and straight into his exposed head. The marauder simply dodged the attempted stab, his other hand grabbing James’ shirt.

Before James could try to pull away, Deimos head butted him. The young man’s vision was blanketed with a white screen for a few seconds before it returned to being blurry again. He could see how his own blood was speckled all over Deimos’ face.

“Ugh…” James managed before Deimos head butted him again.

Crack!

There was a ringing in his ears now. James looked dumbly at the blood covered marauder before he fell back, his head impacting against the ground. He looked up at the sky as his ears rang, his thoughts turning into white noise. Still, he could hear how Deimos sighed in disappointment.

“Really? Is this the best your town can muster?” He asked. No response came, but James didn’t have to look to know that the townsfolk were stunned with fear. “I will give you all two days to find and bring me the man I seek. Or else I will burn your entire island to cinders. My ships will watch this island, making sure no one escapes. If you do…”

Deimos’ voice drowned out. James was more focused on trying to push through his pain.

‘Have… to get up…’

He slowly moved to pick himself up from the cold ground, every movement accompanied by sharp pains. He could see how Deimos was still facing the crowd, his attention on intimidating them. The marauder didn’t even notice the young man as he rose.

James slowed down his breathing and gripped his sword tightly as he tried to collect his thoughts. He could run off, get away, and return to the hut. Dahlia could fix him up. Yet his rational side was slowly becoming overwhelmed by another voice.

‘You can kill him… Here and now, he’s open!’

Deimos was exposed. His marauders weren’t even paying attention to the bloodied man. No one was looking at him. They had discarded him like trash, like he wasn’t worth the effort to look at.

James felt how his blood boiled underneath his skin, anger filling up his heart just like it had done the day he left earth. He remembered feeling like this when he broke Mike’s nose, back when he had watched the blood fly as a result. This was something akin to bliss, an experience like no other. James chuckled lightly, a small grin appearing on his face as blood ran down his nose and forehead.

It tasted sweet now, his pain evaporating as he began to lose himself. James welcomed this feeling. This thrill. He took a deep breath of the cold air, his posture straightening. Heartbeats thumped in his ear like a war drum, a rhythm that fueled his excitement. In that haze, he truly believed that he could win. Without a second thought, he rushed towards Deimos, sword raised for a wide strike. He put all his strength into the attack, his yells echoing in the air as he watched the blade fly towards the marauder’s neck.

As if like lightning, Deimos somehow turned to meet the charging young man. He stopped James’ attempted attack, his hands grabbing and locking the bloodied man’s arms in a hold.

“Naïve,” Deimos muttered to James, who watched in silent horror as the marauder redirected the blade into his chest, stabbing clear through him. The pain of cold steel biting into his chest snapped the young man out of his bloodthirst, his eyes widening as he looked down at his wound.

James coughed up blood, feeling the sharp and biting pain of the short sword. He looked up and stared into the unforgiving green eyes of his killer, who didn’t seem to be putting in any effort.

“Shame that such a spirit like yours has to die like this. You would’ve been a good marauder,” Deimos whispered softly. He forced the blade deeper, stopping only when the guard made contact with James’ chest. The dying man didn’t say anything as Deimos dropped his limp body onto the ground.

James stared into the cloudy gray sky as he slowly began to die. He could do nothing as the darkness came for him, his senses going numb and his vision going blind. Fear engulfed his dying heart as the void came for him, the world around him going pitch black.

His final thoughts were not of his mistakes, his friends, or his family. No, as heat left his body and blood stained his clothes, James only had one thing on his mind.

‘What were those nightmares? Why… Why did they show me this?

Right before he lost consciousness, James could swear he could hear a distant laugh echo out in the void. It was a sinister cackle, one that told him that this was something beyond his understanding as a mere mortal.