From the shadows I watch as Daniel, Eliana, and Antony are dragged into the black maw of the prison house. The dark iron door clangs shut behind them, and they are lost to sight. No guards stay outside but the ones who patrol around the building. I slip back around the alleyway corner and lean against the wall. Tip my head back and gently thunk it against the stone. Bitter curses spew in quiet fury from between my lips.

I lift myself off the wall and peek around the corner again. Raeldon still lies in the street, unmoving. I can’t tell if he even still breathes. The flickering light of the flame globes wavers over his still form.

“Curse it all.” I mutter. A raindrop hits my hood, and my ire rises still further.

“Curse it all.”

Not rain. Not now. Not a miserable, cursed deluge.

Fal feels my anger and sends me his inquisitiveness. I send back what little reassurance I can, and he bombards me with his frustration. His emotions only fuel mine.

I step out into the street as the sky lets loose. Keep to the shadows as water cascades down, rain heavy enough to obscure Raeldon’s body and the buildings around me. Water streams off of the bright flame globes and my jerkin. It pours off the brim of my hood, soaks through and drips down my forehead and cheeks. My hair is sodden in moments. I cannot avoid the ankle-deep puddles in my path as I stick to the shadows along the walls and alley entrances. The filthy water splashes up to my knees as my feet come down into the puddles, and I grunt softly as I step into a deeper-than-expected dip in the cobblestones. My ankle twists slightly, sending a stab of pain through the joint. I utter another soft curse.

But my ankle doesn’t seem seriously injured, and I’ve endured far worse pain before, so I pay it no more heed as I make my way toward Raeldon. I keep a wary eye on the silent, dark prison house as I creep up to the body and crouch. I lower my gaze to the prone tiefling. Place two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. If he isn’t dead already, he is very nearly so. His manna is undetectable.

Blood streams from a gash on Raeldon’s head, between his curly, bronze horns, and from a wide wound in his side. It mingles with the rain and the pooling water in the street, turning it a muddy red. His clothes are soaked and stained with more than just the rain. His eyes are closed, his body limp, his bronze-hued skin abnormally pale.

“Come on, you fools-cursed tiefling.” I mutter, pressing my fingers harder into his neck. “Don’t you dare give up on me now. Live, curse you!”

And… there it is. Beneath my fingers: the faintest, fluttering pulse of his heart circulating his blood through his veins. I sigh.

Raeldon has never liked me, but I cannot— will not— leave him out here to die. He matters to Daniel, and so he matters to me.

“Stay with me, Raeldon.” I say softly, tearing strips of cloth from his sopping robes and binding up his abdomen and head. Then I shift my form as large as I can in my current clothing, and slip my arms beneath the tiefling. Stand with a gasp and a grunt. This trifling is large, and he is not light.

How in the world can such a thin, no-beef-all-bones person be so heavy?

I shift my form to that of a male, grateful for the added strength the other gender provides, little as it may be with my present small size. Stagger back into the shadows with my burden.

I am no weakling. I have carried bodies, dragged corpses, supported my fair share of dead-weight over the years, but even so, my arms are trembling when I finally stumble up the steps and through the door of our safe house. I drop Raeldon in his bunk and strip him to his waist. The wound on his head hasn’t stopped bleeding, nor has the slash in his side. Both will require healing, and that will require manna I’m not sure I can spare.

But I’ll try. For Daniel’s sake.

Cold fury fills me once more at the thought of the paladin’s plight; cold fury and fiery determination. I will get my friends out of that prison one way or another.

I loathe the false accusations and wanton cruelty that run rampant in this town. If it were up to me, I just might fire the whole place and walk away without a backward glance, no matter the innocents inside this cursed place. Gods know I have so much innocent blood on my hands already. What’s a little more?

I press down on Raeldon’s side, hard, and watch his blood pool up between my fingers and run over my hands. Reach for my manna, for my mage-craft and the skill I have only recently unlocked. Watch Raeldon’s blood mix with the thick, phantom liquid already coating my skin.

No. If I set this miserable town ablaze, Daniel would not be happy, to say the least. And…

I can no longer deny my affection for Daniel. These feelings… I no longer want to deny them. I do not understand them. They are unfamiliar. I don’t know what to do with them half the time. Part of the time I want to kiss the man, and the other part of the time I am stuck in despair at my remaining deceptions, at the things I can never reveal to him.

I hide these emotions from Fal, as much as I can anyway. I know he can feel something of what I’m feeling, but he doesn’t understand it, and most of the time he ignores it, so long as the work he and I are doing goes well.

If Daniel knew—

If Daniel knew that Falkirk D’Adrian was my brother, the paladin would no doubt use me against Fal. It’s what Fal would do, if their roles were reversed. And Daniel is so, so powerful, about as powerful as Fal.

And the paladin has Elhim on his side, too. If Daniel ever decided to fight against Fal directly…

I could very well lose my brother. My last family. The other half of me.

I must protect my brother from Daniel.

And I have to protect Daniel from my brother. The knife twists both ways. If Fal ever knew how true of a threat Daniel was, Fal would not hesitate to take him out. He would give a kill order for Daniel. And he would give it to me.

I know that there is no chance that Daniel will ever love me back, but I now know that I can never harm Daniel. The indecision of last week is past. I am incapable of causing hurt to the man I care for. If Fal gives me a kill order for Daniel… I will refuse him.

If he gives me a kill order for any of those I now count as friends, I hope I would refuse him.

I stare down at Raeldon, and push my manna into him, growling an arcane word, exhausted as the rush of energy leaves my body. Silvery-blue light erupts from beneath my hands and begins knitting the tiefling’s wound back together. I watch in astonishment, stupid with exhaustion, as the light from my magic streaks up Raeldon’s veins and erupts out of the gash on his head. The skin and bone there begin to heal as well.

Suddenly I realize that this healing is draining me of too much manna. I tear my hands away from Raeldon’s skin and stagger backward across the room, gasping. Cut off the flow of manna between us. Panting, I lean against the wall and simply stare at the unconscious tiefling. His wounds are now mostly sealed up, only seeping a little bit of blood. I didn’t heal them all the way, just enough to save his life. He’ll scar, probably badly.

Oh well.

I wearily push myself off the wall and stumble to the cabinet on the other side of the room. Open it, shove aside my friends’ knapsacks. Grab the emergency healer’s satchel and riffle through it until I find bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. I make my way back over to Raeldon and uncork the bottle with my teeth.

“This is gonna hurt.” I tell him after spitting the cork onto the bed, knowing he can’t hear me. I grab his wrists and cross them on his chest, then lean on them with one arm, pinning him. With my free hand I pour a generous amount of brown, syrupy liquid onto the bloody slash in his side.

Raeldon jerks slightly and groans weakly.

Oh good. He’s waking up.

The acrid, vinegary stink of the disinfectant stings my nose, and I turn my face away. I reach up and pour some on his head, on the wound between his horns. Raeldon groans louder. I lift myself off his wrists, grab his collar and pull him upright. Proceed to wind the bandages around his wounds. An arduous job, with his deadweight. But I get it done, somehow.

That done, I step back and study my handiwork. It’s not the best I’ve ever done, but it is sufficient. I retrieve the cork and stuff it back in the neck of the bottle. Toss that back in the satchel where it belongs and walk over to the washbasin. I watch the water splash in the bowl, distracted by exhaustion. Scrub my hands clean of Raeldon’s blood. Well, as clean as they’re going to get, anyway.

“Who are you?.” Raeldon’s gravely voice behind me freezes me in place.

“What? I’m Avalon.” I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He’s just laying there, his usual unreadable expression on his face.

I swear, that tiefling has only two expressions: bored-with-the-world, and barely-disguised-subtle-contempt.

“No… you are not. For one thing, you’re male. You may resemble Avalon, but you are not her.” He replies, his tone puzzled. I look down at myself, suddenly realizing I’ve forgotten to change back to my half-elf form. I groan.

“No, I’m Avalon, I swear.” With no other choice, I shift forms back into what he is used to seeing. I relish the look of astonishment that crosses his face as I look back at him.

“You… you’re a changeling?” He whispers incredulously.

“Surprise, surprise.” I reply calmly.

“Wait, how do I know you’re really Avalon, changeling?” His voice is layered with suspicion.

“I saved Daniel from being painfully murdered in an alley, Antony promised to teach me knots, you and I have never gotten along, I am the assassin known as the Lone Wolf, and I like my coffee spiked.” I tick the items off on my fingers. “Are you satisfied, or must I go on?”

He stares at me.

“No… no. I am satisfied.” He says after a long moment. “Just how many more secrets are you hiding?”

I smile grimly. “Too many.”

“How can we ever trust you, Avalon?” He says, almost sorrowfully. I give him a tight smile, over my shoulder.

“Well, you never have, and I suspect you never will. If I had my way, you would never have found out I’m a changeling.”

“Why?”

I scoff. “Why? Just look at how the Northern Kingdom used to treat our kind, and then tell me you don’t know why.”

He’s silent at this. After a couple minutes of me scrubbing furiously at my hands, he speaks.

“You… saved my life. Thank you. I must confess, I am surprised you did.”

I’m startled into a bark of laugher. “You and me both!” I turn around to face him fully, drying my hands on a rag. “But let’s be clear about something, sage. I didn’t do this for you. I did this for Daniel. Because he cares about you. That’s the only reason.”

A faint smile crosses his lips. “Understood. I am glad we are on the same page, Avalon.” His smile disappears. “You care for Daniel, do you not.”

I drop my gaze to the rag in my hands. “I… do.”

“You are not worthy of him. You have no chance of a life with him.” That blasted tiefling says coldly.

I lift my gaze to his, and give a bitter, mirthless laugh. “Oh, I know. Don’t you worry your horned head; I have no intentions of pursuing Daniel’s affections. He’s safe from me.”

“Is he really?” Raeldon muses quietly. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Whatever you think of me, Raeldon, whatever I may be, I would rather drive a jagged blade through my own breast than harm Daniel.” I shed my sodden jerkin and use the rag to wring out my dripping hair. Toss the rag onto the table and half-stride, half-stumble to my own bed. I flop down onto the lumpy mattress, kicking my boots off. Lay back and close my eyes.

“What are you doing?” Raeldon asks.

“Taking a nap.” I reply, not opening my eyes.

“Why? Daniel, Eliana, Antony, they are still back there, in captivity.”

“And what do you expect me to do right now?” I shoot back. “I’m exhausted. Don’t worry, I don’t intend on leaving them in those filthy hands for long. Just let me rest.”

“Why did you not go after them immediately?”

“Because I was busy saving your life!” Anger enters my tone.

“You should have left me.”

I sit up and fix him with a fierce glare. “To die? What, and have that hanging over my head? What would Daniel have said? He would have made the same choice I did.”

Raeldon shifts and winces. “He would have done a better job, that’s for certain.”

I growl out a curse and flop back down.

“How do I know you didn’t help them get captured in the first place?” Raeldon breaks the silence once again.

“Stars’ sake, man! Let me rest!” I shout.

“Answer me.” He demands. I look at him.

“This close.” I tell him, measuring with my finger and thumb. “I am this close to regretting not leaving you in that street. I did not purposefully let them get captured. I slipped away when I saw the problem arise, for the sole purpose of not being caught up in it, so that maybe I could do something about it later! I am no good to our friends inside the cell with them! At least with me on the outside, now they have a chance. Now leave me alone. Please.”

This time he stays silent, and the last thing I hear is the rain drumming on the roof.

I dream of my death again tonight, in all of its violent messy ways. And I dream of Daniel in a stone prison cell. I dream that I am chained to the wall, and am helpless to intervene as the prison guards grab the paladin and proceed to interrogate him. Violently.

The guards’ whips are used nearly as much as the questions are asked. But no matter the pain inflicted, Daniel does not give in. I know he never will. His cries tear at my soul, and though I scream myself hoarse, I can do nothing.

I cannot save him.

The guards finally tire of their sport with him and turn to me. I yank at my chains, desperate to get free, determined to make them pay for what they’ve done to my friend. One of the guards grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

I wake, violently, abruptly. Faster than thought, a knife is in my hand and at Raeldon’s throat.

Pure reflex.

Fal blasts me with worry.

The tiefling stares down at me, his expression unreadable. His fingers dig into the flesh of my shoulders as he holds perfectly still. A thin line of red marks his throat where I’ve nicked him. I stare up at him, muscles rigid and trembling. He sways slightly.

“Avalon.” He says in a tone like that of which he would use to calm a wild horse. “Put the blade down, Avalon. I am not here to hurt you. Put it down, Avalon.”

Slowly, hand shaking, I lower the knife.

“I’m sorry.” I say softly. I sit up just in time to catch him as his knees buckle.

“I’m sorry.” I say again, mopping the blood from his throat with my sleeve. “You shouldn’t be up, Raeldon.”

“What rest am I supposed to get with you screaming your fool head off?” He growls up at me with some heat.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat, sending calm waves through the bond to satisfy Fal. “I cannot control the nightmares. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Too late.” He mutters as I stand, supporting him. We limp back to his bed, and I now have a new appreciation for the distance he covered in his condition just to wake me.

I lay the tiefling back in his bed, check his bandages. Some blood has seeped through, but not a lot. He’s in no danger. I’ll change the bandages come morning. As I turn away, Raeldon speaks.

“What— were you dreaming of?”

I halt, turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. “Terrible things. Always terrible things. But no more than I deserve.”

“You dreamt of Daniel.” He states it like a fact. I turn to face him, regard him with a blank face. What’s he getting at?

“You were screaming for him.” He says.

I take a moment to reply.

“Yes.” I say finally. I turn away and go back to my bed. Raeldon lets me go and says nothing more.

I lay in bed, but I do not sleep. Instead I stare up at the bunk above me, plotting my friends’ rescue.

The sunshine is just starting to peek through the windows of our safe house when I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. I am as rested as I am going to get. I stride over to Raeldon and stand there for a moment, staring down at him. Who would have thought that it would come down to me and him? Just the two of us, having to cooperate without Daniel to mediate between us.

No matter. The tiefling is of no use to me at the moment, and he is not coming with me on this rescue mission. If he insists, I’ll knock him unconscious and tie him to his bed.

I’m still standing there when he blinks his eyes open and focuses on me.

“Good morning.” I say. His lips twitch and his eyes narrow at me.

“It is certainly bright.” He replies after a moment. I wonder what he’s thinking.

Whatever. I don’t need to know.

“I need you to sit up.” I tell him, going to the healers’ satchel for the bottle of disinfectant and more bandages.

“After my activity last night?” He grouses. I stride over to him.

“Sit up.”

Raeldon glares at me, but attempts to comply, gasping and wincing. I sigh and grasp the collar of his robes. Pull him upright and unwind the bandage from his abdomen. He and I look down at the wound in his side. It’s mostly healed, scabbed over now, and no sign of infection.

Well, no sense in taking chances.

“This is gonna hurt.” I tell him, same as last night. I don’t wait for his reply before pouring disinfectant onto the wound. He sucks in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth, grabs my arm in an iron grip. His fingers dig into my flesh.

“Easy, Raeldon.” I’ll bruise for sure.

“Apologies.” He says, releasing me. I make no comment, only unwind the bandage from his head.

“Now for your head. Ooo, this is healing nicely.”

He merely grunts in reply. Sucks in another sharp breath, his hands curling into tight fists on the bedclothes, as I disinfect the wound between his horns.

“Well, you’ll live.” I tell him, wrapping fresh bandages around his hurts.

“Thank you.” He says after a minute, as I put away the bottle of disinfectant. I pause for just a second, but then continue in my tasks without answering.

I throw the basinful of bloody, filthy water from last night out the door into the street. Glance up and down the road unobtrusively. The street is quiet and nearly empty so early in the morning; the few people out and about pay me no mind. I duck back inside and scrub out the basin before filling it with fresh water. I have last night’s soiled bandages clean in very little time. Neither Raeldon nor I speak to each other as I work, and I am more than fine with that.

But he finally breaks the silence as I am preparing a meal for us both.

“What are you making?” He asks.

“Soup and schemes.” I smile, knowing he can’t see my face.

“You have a plan, then?”

“Raeldon, I always have some semblance of a plan for whatever situation I happen to find myself in. I’m merely fine-tuning details right now.”

“What is your plan?”

My smile grows cold and tight, more than a little wolfish. “Let’s just say it involves quite a bit of stealth and not a little blood. I am going to use every skill in my arsenal to get our friends back, and anyone who opposes me will find themselves on the other side of the Hells’ Gates.”

“I see.” He rumbles disapprovingly. I turn to face him, letting him see the anger in my smile and the fire in my eyes.

“What would you have me do, sage? There is no way I am rescuing them without bloodshed. The wardens and guards are lucky I do not opt to end them all for what they have done. They are not innocent. Why should anyone care if they face the fires of the Three Hells?”

“They are lives, Avalon. It is not for you to decide who lives or dies or for what reason.”

“I suppose you believe that is Elhim’s job.” I snort, but without my usual derision. I am… slightly more careful about how I speak of Elhim these days. Not only does the man I care for fervently believe in and worship this Deity, but I have seen the God in action enough to know that He is not someone to be trifled with.

I still don’t like the gods.

“I do believe that Elhim’s prerogative, and not a mortal’s.” Raeldon replies to me.

“Mm.” I answer noncommittally.

“Avalon… what do you expect me to do while you are off retrieving our friends? I am in no condition to help you, but I dislike being idle.”

How good of him to imply he wants to be helpful.

“Stay here.” I tell him. “Be ready to leave immediately when I get back. There’s no telling what pursuers we’ll have.”

“Understood.” Is all he says.

We’re silent as I finish preparing the meal, and silent as we eat. I need to wait until dark to put my plan in motion, so it’s a long wait throughout the afternoon. Raeldon naps, and I alternate between dozing and watching the warm sun trace its path across the floor. My body is still and relaxed as I recline at the table, but my mind is whirling, running through my plans, checking for flaws, taking a mental inventory of the weapons and supplies I need to take with me.

Finally the sun drops below the horizon, the shadows lengthen, the city enters twilight… I don my jerkin and begin tightening the straps and buckles on my bracers, belt, and baldrics. Sheathe numerous blades in various pockets.

And then…

It is full dark. I stand and pad softly to Raeldon’s bedside. He’s sleeping soundly, looking kinder in slumber than I have ever seen him. I almost hate to wake him. But I reach out and grasp his shoulder.

“Raeldon,” I call his name softly, giving him a gentle shake. He blinks slowly awake and looks up at me, muddled by sleep.

“I’m leaving.” I tell him. He blinks once, slowly, then nods.

“Very well.”

I turn to go, but he calls my name. I halt and half turn back, curious.

“Avalon… do be careful, my girl.” He says. For a second, I am frozen in astonishment. Only one other time has he called me anything but Avalon.

But I regain composure, give him a brisk nod. Then I walk out the door and I don’t look back.

I keep to the shadows and the back alleyways, skirting the light of the flame globes and the patrols of guards. Other than that, the streets are empty, silent, and any other people out and about take pains to keep away from me.

Good.

If they tried anything, that’d be one more kill to add to the count.

It’s almost ridiculously easy to make my way to the same alleyway where I had watched my friends get arrested. I crouch there in the deepest shadows, studying the dark prison. The guards are fresh, alert and chatting with each other. I don’t have time to wait until they get bored and sleepy. I’ll have to employ more overt tactics to take them out.

There are two guards at the entrance to the prison and five patrolling around the building. I count the seconds, timing their rounds, then make my move.

I conjure quick mage shields around the flame globes by the street and over the prison door, then abruptly contract them. The globes shatter and the fire inside is snuffed. Glass patters down onto the cobblestones as the street goes suddenly pitch black.

No matter. I am made for the night. I need no light but what the moon and stars give me.

While the guards exclaim in alarm and stumble around trying to find some light, I move swiftly forward, my footsteps silent on the stones beneath me. The first the guards know of me is when I appear out of the gloom ten feet away. One of the men by the door lets out an involuntary yelp and draws his sword. I cover the distance in less than a second, a knife in my hand. A hand over the man’s mouth and one quick slash to the throat later, he slumps silently to the ground.

“Jerik?” The other man questions, his voice high-pitched with fear. That’s the last thing he says. He joins his companion on the ground, blood streaming from the gaping wound in his neck.

Now for the five guards patrolling.

Drawn by the shattered glass, lack of light, and the final word of one of their comrades, the remaining five guards congregate around the prison door. I am hidden in the shadows just a few feet away, and I don’t hardly dare to breathe, they are so close.

It’s a very simple matter to conjure sudden mage shields around their heads and contract the shimmering bubbles. The poor men don’t even have time to cry out before their skulls burst and shatter. I am splattered with blood and gore. Disgusted, I wipe at the mess and flick it off me.

I’m even more disgusted as I realize I have to pick through that mess, search the men’s bodies for the prison keys. My lip curls as I divest one of the smaller guards of his armor. I find the keys on the belt of one of the other men, and, rather than finagling with the buckle, I just slice through the thick leather with my mage blade. I slide the bloody keys on their ring off the belt, suppressing a grimace at the blood on my hands.

“Gross, gross, gross.” I mutter as I slide the guard’s breastplate, bracers, and greaves onto my own torso and limbs, over my jerkin. I alter my visage to that of the youngest, smallest guard, take his helm and jam it onto my own head. The metal helm is still intact, thank the stars. It had belonged to one of the men whose throats I slit. Now for the door.

I tuck my mage blade between my arm and ribs as I try key after key in the lock. Finally— four keys later— the lock clicks the iron door swings open as I push it.

The antechamber is certainly more brightly lit than the street outside. Lanterns cast flickering light through the room, and I stand there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust.

Four guards who had been gambling with dice stare at me. I see a registration desk against one wall of the room to my right, a door to my left, and an oak-and-iron door straight ahead of me. That’s the door I need.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

But those drat-blasted guards are between me and it.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Jerik. Come in, man! What’s happened?” One guards says. He’s an older fellow, a half-dwarf with a captain’s insignia on his breastplate. He stands barely taller than me.

I step inside the room. “The lights outside just went, um, out.” I say hesitantly, as if in shock, my voice deep. They relax slightly, falling for my ruse, but remain alert, stepping toward me, disconcerted by how covered with blood I am.

“What’s happened?” The captain says again. “Speak, Jerik!”

Then one of them notices my mage blade.

About time. It wasn’t exactly hiding.

“Wait—“ He starts, beginning to draw his sword, but he doesn’t get much further than that. Three thrown knives and a flick of my mage blade later, blood is pooling in the dice tray, three bodies litter the floor and one the table, and the captain’s head lolls against the flagstones.

I step over them, around the table, unlock the oaken door and yank it open. Ahead of me stretches a long, dark hall built of grey stone that absorbs what little light there is. At regular intervals the walls on either side are pierced by iron grill doors. Infrequent torches sputter in sparse brackets on the walls. Another hallway intersects this one, running perpendicular. Men’s voices echo in jovial tones from a barracks somewhere deep in the prison. Or maybe a mess hall?

This place is bigger than I realized. I hesitate, then stride silently down the dim corridor, peeking in every cell I go past. None of them hold my friends. I reach the intersection and pause. Left, right, or straight ahead?

I turn on my heel and stalk back to the antechamber. Stride to the registration desk and open the massive tome that sits upon it. I turn to the most recent entries, and there I find them. My friends’ names.

Antony, Eliana.

Daniel.

They’re in cell 72.

Curse it all.

I stride back down the hall and turn left at the intersection. The cell numbers are engraved on the rusty doors. This hallway starts with cell 30. This isn’t the right corridor. I turn back around and take the original straight path.

These cells are 90 and over. Growling under my breath, and feeling the crush of time running out, I spin on my heel and stride down the remaining hallway.

Oh, good. This corridor begins with cell number 60. This is the hallway I need.

I have taken no more than a few steps forward when a guard appears out of the gloom ahead of me. He comes close, stops and stares at me.

“Jerik?” He asks, sounding confused.

“Jerik’s dead.” I say in Jerik’s voice, then abruptly cup the guard’s head in my palm and slam it hard against the wall. His eyes roll up in his head, and he slumps to the floor. I stare at him for a moment, wondering where my usual ruthlessness is. I should complete the kill, but…

I won’t. Not this time, at least. He’s defenseless.

Instead, I take precious minutes to drag him into a cell and lock the door. Then I continue my hunt for my friends.

Cell 65… 67… 69… 71… 72! I hurry to the bars and peek through. My breath hitches in my throat. My friends… do not look as if this has been the best day of their lives. Luckily, I’m about to make it better.

All three of them are shackled by their wrists and ankles to long chains attached to the walls. All three of them have subtly-glowing iron collars around their necks. All three of them are bruised and scraped up. Eliana and Antony don’t look too badly; Antony is sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. Eliana is cross-legged on the floor, and Daniel is—

Daniel is—

Not well.

His head is in Eliana’s lap as he lays belly-down on the filthy stone floor. He’s shirtless, and his back… is a tattered mess of blood and shredded skin and muscle. He shivers and trembles as he lays there, his breathing ragged.

His pain tears at my heart and stokes within me an ire so fierce all I want is to exact my slow, painful revenge on those who have dared to hurt him.

Fal’s inquisitiveness pulses through our bond, but I ignore him.

Antony and Eliana glare up at me as I pick frantically through the keys, finally finding the correct one, and unlock the cell. I wreck the door open and step inside. In a flash, Antony is on his feet, his chains looped in his hands.

Oops. I should have changed my form back to that of the half-elf damsel.

“Wait—“ I start, but my eyes widen as I realize it’s too late. Antony moves with a speed and anger I am unprepared for. In an instant his excess chain is looped twice around my throat, my mage blade is wrested away from me, and I am slammed painfully up against the cell wall. Antony holds my own sword against my throat with one hand; his other grasps the trailing end of the chain around my neck, drawing it tighter.

“Wait!” I gasp, digging my fingers between the tendons of his hand, the hand tightening the chain. He seems not to notice the pain. I feel my air slowly being cut off.

So, this is what it feels like. Panic rises— my own, and Fal’s.

“Thou hast made a grave mistake, filth.” Antony hisses into my face, his lips curled in a mocking, vengeful smile, his coldly furious eyes locked on mine.

“Wait!” I cry, my voice rasping as I run out of air. “Antony, it’s me, Ava! Please, Antony!” I shift my form back, and the transformation startles him enough for the chain around my throat to loosen. I drag in a breath as his eyes widen and he takes a step back.

Then his eyes narrow, and he shoves me harder against the wall. Tightens the chain even farther and presses my blade into my flesh hard enough to draw blood.

“Changeling.” Antony hisses. I whimper in pain as bright spots dance in my vision. Fal’s worry grows even more acute, and he gathers his manna.

No. My lips silently form the word. No. This can’t be how this ends.

“Please, Antony, it’s really me. It’s Ava.” I claw ineffectively at his hands. It’s new, being at the mercy of another. My brother killed the last person who treated me similarly. He’s preparing now to teleport to me, and when he arrives he will show no mercy. I cannot let that happen.

“I don’t believe thee.” Antony tells me, his breath hot against my cheek.

“Antony.” Eliana raises her voice firmly. The elf pauses and looks back at her. Then he looks down at Daniel. The paladin is conscious; he’s turned slightly on his side to look at us. Antony’s gaze softens as he stares at his friend.

“It’s… her.” Daniel gasps quietly in pain. “Look at her blade.” Antony whips back around and gazes, wide-eyed, at the mage blade in his hand.

“Oh, stars.” He gasps, suddenly releasing me. “Oh, stars.” He unwinds his chain from my throat and drops my blade on the ground. I drag in a ragged breath, relief cascading through me as I send overwhelming reassurance at my brother. His manna ebbs.

Good. He’s staying put.

My vision clears and my knees buckle. Antony catches me as I collapse forward.

“Oh, stars.” He repeats. “Ava, please forgive me. Ava, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” I tell him, rubbing my throat. The shallow cut stings and the bruises are tender. “My fault.”

“So.” Daniel says quietly. “You’re a changeling.”

I give him a weak smile, but his gaze remains stern. Antony sets me on my feet, stepping away, and I sag against the wall. His initial worry fading, now the elf and Eliana give me looks of suspicion.

“Any more secrets, Ava?” Daniel asks. “And please, don’t lie to me this time.”

His words are like a kick to the gut. I drop my gaze.

“So, so many secrets.” I say quietly, forcing the words out. Then I lift my gaze to his, stubbornness in every line of my body. “But this is the last revelation I’m giving you right now. My secrets are dangerous, Daniel, and they are mine to keep as I see fit.”

His lips twitch in a pain-filled smile. “At last, an honest answer.”

I sigh, knowing I deserve every one of his reprimands.

“Why hasn’t Elhim intervened for you?” I ask, changing the subject. Daniel’s smile grows.

“He has. He sent you.” He replies. I scoff.

“But why not earlier? Why didn’t He spare you this pain? Stars, why didn’t He prevent you from getting captured in the first place?”

Daniel’s brow furrows. “Elhim’s ways are not our ways, Ava. Sometimes He puts us through trials to teach us.”

“Don’t see what you have to learn.” I mutter dropping to my knees beside him. The shredded skin and muscle on his back is an angry shade of red. “Stars, they didn’t even see fit to disinfect the wounds.” A few other choice expletives drop from my lips as well, all directed at Daniel’s tormentors. I toss the prison keys to Antony and he sets to freeing himself, Eliana, and Daniel.

“Hang on, Daniel.” I say, laying my hand on the iron collar around his neck. The abominable thing is a mage collar, and it prevents the use of mage craft. Nobody but another mage who knows how these blood-cursed things work can unlock them.

Luckily, I know how they work. It was part of my training back when Fal and I ran with the assassins. Unfortunately, this also means that there is a mage somewhere in this building that I am probably going to have to deal with. Most likely that blood-cursed, gods-powerful, pale-skinned tiefling.

I mutter a few arcane words, activating my mage-craft and shaping my manna. My hand flares silvery-blue, and so does the collar. Then it clicks open. I gently remove it from around Daniel’s neck.

“Thank you.” He whispers. I smile.

“My pleasure.” I reach up and do the same for Eliana. She gives me a swift, grateful smile.

“Antony, get down here.” I tell the elf. With a sigh, he crouches next to me and I remove his collar as well.

“I thank thee.” He says, standing straight. He retrieves my mage blade from the ground, and swings it through the air a couple of times.

“Dost thou mind if I borrow this?” He asks.

“No,” I reply, turning my attention back to Daniel. I really don’t have enough manna right now to heal him. And if his God won’t help… “I have other weapons I can use.” I tell Antony. “But I want that back when we’re out of here.”

He grunts in acknowledgement.

“Here.” I undo buckles and straps and shrug out of my borrowed armor. “Take this too. You need something until we get your gear back.”

Antony takes the armor and buckles it on. It’s slightly small for him, but not by much, and he makes no complaint.

“Daniel,” I turn my attention back to the paladin and lay my hand on his bare arm. “I can stem your bleeding, and even knit some of the flesh back together, but I’ve already been expending manna tonight, and this will weaken me more than I’d like. What do you want me to do?”

“Just help me stand.” He says. Eliana’s face tightens, but she helps me lift Daniel to his feet. We drape his arms over our shoulders, and he sags between us, gasping. He’s pale, sweating, and shivering. His blood soaks through my sleeve, is slick and wet and warm against the skin of my arm and hand. My other hand grasps the wrist of the arm laying over my shoulders.

“You alright?” I ask him with concern. He looks at me, something akin to amusement in his sea-blue gaze, and I’m suddenly aware just how close together our faces are. He smiles, something I can’t read in the depths of his blue, blue eyes.

“I’m alright.” He says quietly.

Liar.

But I make no reply to him, just nod to Antony. “Let’s go.” Together, the elf as our vanguard, we exit the cell and begin to make our slow way back to the prison entrance.

Twenty slow steps later, Antony stops in the middle of the passageway.

“What now?” I grumble, peering around him. “Oh, great.”

Blocking our path is a small unit of guards, headed by a pale tiefling who is holding a purple-ish blue mage blade. The tiefling.

Azaes.

Well, there’s the mage. The shadow tendrils of his god swirl around him.

I narrow my eyes at him, my anger seething just beneath the surface.

“Let us pass, and thou shall be left unharmed.” Antony says. Small chance of that, elf. Mercy is weakness.

The pale tiefling sneers. “Surrender now, and maybe we’ll let you live, elf.”

“Never.” I say. Azeas’s eyes flick to me, and he smiles coldly.

“Ah, there’s the one we missed. Where’s your tiefling friend, girl?”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Like I’d ever tell you.”

The pale tiefling cocks his head. “Oh, we’d get you to talk eventually. Poor Amyry will be avenged. I’ll succeed in killing all of you sooner or later. I wonder… how much more pain can your paladin friend suffer before he breaks?”

I am startled into looking at Daniel. He gazes back at me, calm gravitas in his eyes. I know he can see my anguish at his pain… and even my caring for him. He offers me a small smile. I turn back to the pale tiefling, anger spilling over.

“I’ll kill you if you touch him again!” I snarl. “In fact, I’ll kill you whether you let us pass or not, for what you did to him!”

“Ava…” Daniel speaks quietly, but his voice holds a tone of warning. I ignore him. Azaes smiles coldly at my threats.

“Oh, you could try.” He counters. I shrug out from under Daniel, leaving only Eliana to support his weight; she leans them both against the wall. I step forward, shoving Antony aside. He grabs for my arm, but I shrug him off.

“Ava!” He says. I ignore him as well.

“Let’s go, then.” I challenge the pale tiefling. “Right here and now. Just you and me. Leave my friends out of this fight. If you win,” I snort in mirthless amusement, “well, then, we never really had a chance, did we? But if I win, then every one of your men here had better run, or I will kill them as well.”

The soldiers behind him blanch, but the tiefling’s smile only grows wider. “Very well.” The darkness around him pulses.

“No.” Daniel says, and I turn to look at him in surprise as he pushes himself off the wall and Eliana, and stands on his own two feet. He limps forward, brushing past both me and Antony.

“Daniel…” Eliana, Antony, and I all say in unison. He merely casts us a withering glance, then turns his attention to Azaes, who watches him warily.

“You will fight me.” Daniel declares.

Eliana gasps, covering her mouth with her hands.

“No!” I cry, reaching for the paladin.

“Daniel, this is madness!” Antony shouts.

That fools-cursed paladin ignores us all. The pale tiefling’s lips curl in a cruel grin.

“Then let us begin.” He says, taking a step forward, lifting his sword. Eliana, Antony, and I all reach for our friend—

—only for a shimmering, transparent mage shield to slam down in front of us, blocking all access to Daniel and his opponents.

“Daniel!” I scream, pounding against the shield. It doesn’t give.

“Daniel!” Antony and Eliana cry, beating against the shield alongside me. Pressure builds inside my skull as a very powerful divine presence swirls around us. I begin to see this Presence: in flame-hued flashes of light darting around Daniel. Elhim is here. The shadow pulsing around Azaes shrinks back.

“Daniel!” I scream again, but to no avail. My hands become sore from beating against the mage shield. Where in the world is the manna needed to feed this thing coming from? Is this Daniel’s work? He’ll be dead from manna-loss in another minute if he keeps this shield up.

But I see him standing tall on the other side of the shield, showing no sign of wavering. He doesn’t even sway as he faces the pale tiefling.

Is the shield the work of Elhim, then?

I am left no more time to wonder, as Azaes’s blue eyes go completely black and he raises his sword high; with a savage grin, he brings it down at Daniel’s unprotected neck and chest. The dark god’s shadow tendrils stab forward. The paladin makes no move to avoid neither shadow nor blade.

I cannot even scream. I am frozen, helpless. Dimly, I hear Fal nudging me through our bond, wondering what’s going on. I cannot answer him.

I can only watch as, just before the tiefling’s blade and the dark tendrils make contact with Daniel’s skin, the flashes of light darting around Daniel suddenly erupt in conflagration. The whole hall on the other side of the mage shield becomes an abrupt inferno within which nothing is visible. The flash is blindingly bright, and I turn away, covering my head and shielding my eyes with my arms. Dimly I hear a high-pitched, otherworldly shriek of excruciating pain. I can feel the heat of the fire even through the mage shield. If it hadn’t been there, we would all have been burnt to a crisp. Nothing could have survived in that fire. And Daniel…

Daniel was in that fire.

My breath hitches, and my eyes burn with tears. I lift my head and face the searing light of the Divine fire. I watch it swirl and undulate ravenously against the stone and the mage shield.

Fal abruptly gathers his manna and teleports to somewhere close by. He’s not in the prison, but he is close enough to talk to me.

>Blackbird? What's going on?< His voice enters my mind, full of concern and fear for me.

I am silent.

>Blackbird? Ava, what's going on?<

I do not reply; my eyes are caught by a sight the likes of which I’ve never seen, the power of a God who intercedes for His followers.

>Avalon D'Adrian, answer me!< Fal’s voice cuts through my mind like a whip.

>Leave off, Fal.< I tell him at last. >Do not interfere with this.<

He falls silent, and I watch as the Divine fire ebbs and recedes. And there— standing untouched right where I had last seen him— is—

Daniel.

And not only that, but he is healed and whole, the skin on his back mended with no sign of nary a scar. Free of the blood that stained him. His manna restored.

I gape at him, dumbfounded. The faint stench of charred flesh reaches my nostrils.

The paladin holds no weapon, wears no armor, and yet— and yet, the remains of the pale tiefling and his men lie blackened on the floor, just piles of ash on the uncaring, scorched stones. There is no sign of the dark god.

The pressure of Elhim’s presence fades from my skull as the God fades from our ken. The mage-shield vanishes suddenly, and I dash to the paladin. Throw my arms around Daniel’s neck, a few tears escaping down my cheeks.

“I thought you were dead!” I cry at him. He chuckles as his bare arms come around me in a firm embrace.

“I told you,” he says, “Elhim’s ways are not our ways.”

I make no reply. Just get squished between him and the rest of our friends as they too embrace the paladin, unheeding of me in the middle. I do not mind the contact.

“Thank Elhim!” Antony crows in relief and triumph, more emotional than I’ve ever seen him.

Eliana nudges one of the corpses with her toe. “Thank Elhim.” She echoes.

“We should keep moving.” Daniel says, extracting himself from us. “We are not home-free yet.” He swiftly conjures a long mage blade of crackling orange; the shimmering weapon seems to drip ghostly liquid flames from the blade. From his off-hand, extends his customary mage-whip. The light of his weapons glints off his bare chest, and I turn my eyes away, my cheeks growing warm. The paladin takes the lead, and we set off once more down the hallway.

“Help us!” Comes a weak cry from one of the cells, and a pale, thin hand stretches from the bars toward us. Daniel halts beside the cell. His expression becomes sorrowed as he gazes at the occupant.

“I must leave for now, to wage war, but I swear I will return.” He promises, and moves on.

As I pass the cell, I peek inside. An underfed female drow of about thirteen winters gazes back at me, her eyes haunted. Her thin face is marked by blood and bruises. My ire against the prison guards grows.

“Daniel!” I call, and he stops walking to look back at me. I snatch the keys from Antony and begin unlocking the cell. “We’re taking her with us.” I say grimly. The paladin’s face softens, and he nods, walking back to me. I wrench open the cell door and we two step inside.

Daniel smiles as he crouches beside the girl, setting aside his mage blade and extinguishing his whip. “I guess I’m keeping my promise now.” He tells her as I crouch beside him. The drowling shies away from us as much as her chains will allow, curling up slightly to protect herself. Daniel makes no move toward her, instead turning to me.

“Are you sure you want to bring her with us now?” He asks me gravely. “There is bound to be much battle and blood ahead of us tonight.”

I look at the child. She stares back, fear lurking in the depths of her violet eyes.

“Do you want to come with us now?” I ask her softly. “What Daniel says is true. Much as I hate to say it, we cannot guarantee your safety outside of this cell. But if you come with us, you would be free, completely. No one of us will hurt you. We’ll do all we can to protect you, I swear it. Or, you can wait here until we’ve taken down all foes out there, and we’ll come back for you when we’re done.”

Her eyes flick from me to Daniel, and back. She uncurls and shifts toward me, chains clinking softly.

“There is no safety for me inside this cell.” She says, sounding so young. “I don’t care about battle. I care about freedom. I want to come with you now.” Tears pool in her eyes. Without another word, I reach forward and unlock her chains, as well as invoking my mage-craft to relieve her of her mage-collar. I stand and offer my hand to her. She takes it and stands, but she’s so weak. I catch her as her knees buckle.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She sobs as Daniel swings her up in his arms, cradling her like an infant.

“It’s no matter.” He says lightly. I precede him out of the cell, his long mage blade in my hand.

“Antony,” Daniel calls the elf over. “I need my arms free. There is work yet to be done tonight.” To the child, he says gently, “You’ll be safe with Antony, lass.”

Antony hands me my mage blade.

The drowling nods fearfully as Daniel hands her over into the elf’s strong arms. Then the paladin strides past me, taking his mage blade back as I offer it. His crackling, orange whip extends from his hand again.

“Let’s go.” He says I fall into step beside him.

“What art thee called?” Behind me I hear Antony ask the child.

“Auvanna.” The drowling replies in a small voice. “Please, sir, there are other prisoners here, many of them a lot worse off than me.”

“We will do all we can for them, Auvanna.” Antony replies, more animated and reassuring than I’ve ever heard him. “But we cannot help them just yet. We have a battle to fight first. We will come back for thine fellow prisoners, I promise.”

“Thank you, sir.” Auvanna replies. Antony chuckles.

“Do not call me ‘sir’, little one. I am merely Antony vor Elhim.”

“Yes, s— Yes, Antony.” The drow child answers. My lips twitch in a smile as I listen to them.

We gain the antechamber without any other incident. Just before we go in, I stop my companions.

“There are corpses in this room. It’s somewhat… messy.” I tell them with a glance at Auvanna. Eliana’s face tightens, and Antony nods in understanding, shifting the child so she cannot see the room at all. He speaks to her in low tones, but I don’t pay attention to them, instead looking to Daniel. He merely gazes at me, his eyes unreadable, and gives me a nod. Then he turns to the door and disappears inside the antechamber. Antony addresses me,

“Ava, thee would not happen to have a sedative with thee, would thee? One strong enough to render the recipient unconscious for a couple of hours?”

“I do happen to have such a thing. Why do you want it?” I ask him, slightly wary.

“Auvanna should not have to see blood, death, and battle. She needs rest anyway, and she has agreed to take the sedative.” He replies. I walk around him and look Auvanna in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” I ask her. She nods solemnly, her eyes wide. I sigh, and reach into my pocket of holding.

“I’m loath to use this on one so young, but… here you are.” I withdraw a small vial and a clean rag from my pocket, and drip a few drops of the liquid from the vial onto the rag. “Just relax. This will be painless.” I tell the drowling.

Her eyes widen still further, but she makes no protest as I step forward and press the rag firmly over her mouth and nose.

“Breathe.” I say. She does, and her eyes flutter closed as her body goes completely limp. I count out three more seconds just to make sure she’s truly and deeply unconscious, before removing the rag. I meet Antony’s eyes.

“She’ll be out for about four hours.” I tell him. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Ready to go?” Daniel says, peering at us around the doorframe. We all nod, and he beckons us into the antechamber.

Eliana sucks in a breath and goes pale at the sight of the bodies. Daniel, not missing a beat, strides to the other door in the room, the one that doesn’t lead outside. Eliana follows him quickly. I stuff the tainted rag and vial back into my pocket and walk to the iron exit door. Lock it from the inside. Now if anyone wants in, they’ll encounter resistance, and we’ll be forewarned.

“Go find your gear, Antony.” I say, turning back around. “Give me Auvanna.” I hold out my arms for the girl. He hands me the unconscious child, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise at how light and thin she actually is. She weighs hardly more than a newborn colt. I slide onto the edge of the table, and sit there, waiting for my friends. I count each rise and fall of Auvanna’s chest as she breathes. Somehow, the counting calms me. Or maybe it’s Auvanna’s slow, even breathing.

Or maybe it’s the act of helping another soul instead of ending them.

Either way, my faster-than-normal heartbeat begins to slow, and the trauma of the night begins to fade as I calm enough to filter it to the back of my mind. My emotions settle. I still feel Fal close by, and I perceive that he’s impatient, unsettled, and concerned.

>Ava, Blackbird, I need to speak with you.< His voice echoes suddenly in my mind.

>Later.< I reply.

>No, now.< He says.

>I'll come find you and talk to you later.< I tell him firmly. He subsides, but I can still hear him grumbling in the background. I gently close my mind off to him, knowing he can feel my subtle amusement.

Daniel, Antony, and Eliana emerge from the prison storeroom, each garbed back in their own armor, and with their weapons at hand. Daniel’s fiery mage blade is gone, replaced by his normal, steel longsword, and he's found a new shirt somewhere. It’s a soft blue, and it looks good against his sandy hair. He looks at me and smiles, and something in his gaze softens.

I return his smile, feeling a subtle urge to kiss him. I abruptly shove that to the back of my mind.

“Ready?” I ask, handing Auvanna back to Antony as he reaches for her.

“Yes, le—.” Daniel’s answer is interrupted by a sudden, violent banging on the prison door.

“Aster! Open up! Now!” A gruff voice from outside shouts.

Oh, curses. We’ve taken too long. They’ve found the bodies I left.

“Aster!”

Metal shrieks on metal as someone’s steel-gauntleted fist slips on the iron door. A guard patrol, then. Probably at least ten strong.

“Aster is dead!” Daniel shouts back. “All you out there, lay down your weapons, kneel and place your hands behind your head, and we will deal kindly with you!”

“Ha!” Comes a bark of muffled laughter from the other side of the door. “No! How about this: you do as you have told us to do,ere we break down the door, and maybe we won’t kill you all!”

The door shudders as something heavy smashes into it from the other side.

“Daniel?” I ask.

“Daniel, what do we do?” Eliana queries, pale but resolute.

“We fight.” He says grimly.

“This battle will attract a lot of attention. There are armed patrols all over the city. They will be on us in moments, and we will be left battling over a hundred men.” I tell the paladin grimly. He nods, but doesn’t back down at all. He never does, and I love him for it.

“Let them come.” He says. “We are given a task this night, and Elhim will see it finished, whatever the end.”

Comforting.

Daniel gestures to the door. “Ava, would you kindly unlock it so our friends out there have an easier time coming in?”

I obey, stepping to the door as it shudders under another assault. Quickly unlock it, then leap back.

Whatever battering ram they’re using slams into the door once more, and it crashes open. The four men wielding the battering ram— which is someone’s stone garden bench, by the way— stagger into the room as their momentum carries them forward. Daniel and I meet them head-on, scarcely allowing them time to drop the bench and draw their swords before we are upon them. Eliana doesn’t have time to use her bow; I am my usual ruthless self, and even Daniel shows no mercy this time. The four men are dead within seconds. Their comrades attempt to stream through the door behind them. But the door acts as a fatal funnel as Daniel and I hold it against them. Our swords flash in unison, and I cannot help but think that we work incredibly well together. Almost as well as Fal and I do.

I shake those thoughts away, unwilling to entertain them at the moment.

“Archers… FIRE!!” I hear someone outside shout, and the wall of soldiers in front of us parts. My eyes widen and I have barely enough time to fling up a mage shield in front of Daniel and I before a swarm of arrows crashes into it. Most of the shafts shatter, and all clatter to the cobblestones. Through the shimmering mage shield I see more and more soldiers rushing to join the battle from various parts of the city. My heart sinks. I cannot see any way we make out of this one alive.

“Drop the shield, Ava!” Daniel says beside me. I do, feeling my manna draining until I cease feeding the shield. Daniel leaps out into the midst of the soldiers, and I follow him. Eliana moves to take our place in the door, and after a minute, Antony brushes past her to join us, his long knives in his hands.

Pressure builds inside my skull again, and I recognize the now-familiar Presence of Elhim. The air seems to thicken around us, but, strangely enough, it doesn’t seem to effect Daniel, Antony, or I. If anything, the two men seem to move even faster as they cut down their opponents. Eliana’s arrows seem to find their marks with uncanny accuracy. I don’t notice much of a difference in myself, but my manna seems to cease tanking so hard when I raise another shield around us as a second volley of crossbow darts arcs toward us.

The battle rages on, and time seems to cease to exist; it is just the clash of sword on sword, the whistle of arrows, and the screams of dying men. There seems to be no end to the soldiers surrounding us, and none of us— except for Daniel, it seems— avoids taking wounds. Eliana has moved out into the midst of the fray, has run out of arrows and discarded her bow in favor of her sword. She and Antony fight back-to-back, moving in tandem. The part of my brain that is detached from the battle wonders if there is something between them that I have missed.

Daniel’s steel longsword and bright, flame-hued mage-whip flash and crack with all the speed of deity-enhanced instruments of death, they are quick and dreadful as the Unholy Terrors, the Heralds of the Hells. With every sweep of the paladin’s blade, another man dies. With every snap of his whip, another soldier is yanked flat onto his back, and then Daniel renders him unconscious with seemingly infinite manna.

At some point during the battle, I find myself pressed up against Daniel’s back, fighting off enemies behind him. There is a brief lull in the conflict around us, and he turns to me, grim-faced and fire in his eyes. I sag, exhausted. My manna reserves are nearly depleted, and I am bleeding from dozens of superficial wounds. The pressure of Elhim’s presence makes my head feel compressed, which isn’t helping me at all. Daniel’s face softens as he looks at me, and he lays a hand on my shoulder.

Strength and new life fill me as he pushes manna into my weary body. My wounds heal, and the ache in my skull eases slightly. My reserves fill back up, chock-full.

“Better?” He asks, smiling slightly. I give a tired laugh.

“Yes, thank you.” I gesture to the air around us. “How do you stand it, Daniel?”

He gives me a puzzled look. “Stand what?”

He really doesn’t feel it? “Elhim’s presence. The pressure of the Divine. It’s like it’s compressing my skull.”

“Ah.” His confusion disappears, and the look he gives me is almost pitying. “I don’t feel it, actually. I mean, I know He’s here, but His Presence doesn’t affect me, or any of His followers, like it does those who don’t believe.”

I blow out a breath through pursed lips, puffing loose strands of my hair off my face. “I see.”

I can’t help but feel some irritation, and perhaps a flash of fear, at this revelation.

“How am I supposed to fight through this?” I ask the paladin. He smiles wider.

“You could believe….”

I scoff. “It’s not that simple, Daniel.”

“Oh, but it is.” He remarks, just before snapping his whip up and over my head. Its tip catches a soldier in the eyes, and the man screams and falls back, his hands over his face. Behind the soldier are his comrades, angry, armed, and still fresh.

And just like that, we are back in the thick of it, fighting for our lives.

The clamor of battle awakens the city, drawing inhabitants from their homes. Some flee, some bar their doors, and some gird themselves with various weapons and join the battle. To my immense relief, they fight for us, not against us. The noise swells, corpses litter the stones beneath us, rendering footing unstable.

Through the twin-bond, I feel Fal fighting as well, battle-joy fizzing through his veins as he wets his sword and drains manna from soldiers. He’s out of my sight, a few streets over. I cannot help but feel some relief that he is fighting for us. I pity my brother’s enemies.

I take a blade to the arm, and Daniel heals me almost as quickly as the wound was administered. I give him a nod of thanks, and throw myself back into the thick of the fray.

And then I hear Antony’s anguished cry, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Eliana crumple around a sword through her gut. The sight is like a kick to my chest. My breath stills, and a harsh ache contracts around my heart. I gasp for air.

Daniel’s whip flashes out, growing in length and breadth. It sweeps away the soldiers around Antony and Eliana, clearing a wide space around them. Daniel reaches out a hand and a beam of bright, crackling, orange energy shoots from his palm and strikes Eliana. The sword slips from that terrible wound, it heals over, and her armor mends. With a shout, she scrambles back to her feet and rejoins the battle. Antony presses close to her and fights like he’s possessed.

Yep, there is definitely something between those two. Despite our dire circumstances, I grin.

The battle stretches on longer, and yet none of us flag. When we are wounded, Daniel uses Elhim’s power to heal us. When we fall, Daniel revives us back to full health before we die. Elhim fills our manna reserves before they even begin to drain. I find myself able to supplement my mage blade with a mage-shield, one that I can keep up indefinitely at the moment. The added protection is invaluable.

And then it happens, almost subconsciously, a ripple of dismay through the enemy soldiers. They falter, and then— weapons start clanging onto the cobblestones. The soldiers— of which there are now only about a mere fifty left— begin crying for mercy and dropping to their knees, hands up and open.

The man I am currently fighting does such a thing, and my blade arcs toward his neck. I manage to stop it just a hairsbreadth from his skin.

“Mercy!” He pleads again, terrified. My hand and blade tremble as my training tries to insert itself. Complete the kill, something inside me whispers. I stare at the soldier on his knees, my breath coming in gasps. He is panting even harder than I, and his eyes are wide. Blood stains his armor where I’ve already nicked him.

“Please!” He pleads. My gaze goes to my trembling sword-hand, and I see the phantom blood there.

“Ava…” Daniel says behind me.

“I’m trying.” I reply. Slowly, I lower my blade to my side. Turn and face the paladin. He gives me a pleased smile.

“Thank you.” He praises me. The urge to kill vanishes, and my cheeks grow warm.

I look around; all across the battlefield, throughout the streets we have been fighting in, Azaes’s men are surrendering. Swords, knives, crossbows, and shields all clatter on the stones, and the townsfolk who fought with us busy themselves with binding the soldiers’ hands behind their backs.

Daniel stalks among the soldiers, his sword still in hand, and his mage-whip still crackling and glowing. The soldiers cower away from him, but he makes no move to attack. Just looks them over with a face like stone.

At last he speaks, and his voice swells with authority.

“Too long have you been terrors and tyrants over this city. I gave you a chance earlier to surrender peaceably, and you refused me. Now hundreds of your comrades and friends lie dead, lost forever to the Hells.”

“Please, sir, what will happen to us?” One of the prisoners asks. Daniel turns to look at him, and the captive quails under the paladin’s steely gaze.

“You will be locked inside the very prison you once guarded and within which you committed heinous deeds. You will remain there until I arrange your trial. The majority of you will most likely be executed, but you need not fear the Hells, or death. You must answer for your crimes, but I offer you a way out of eternal damnation. Elhim offers you forgiveness for your soul, and life after death.”

At the paladin’s words, the soldier’s face twists into a sneer and he spits on the ground at Daniel’s feet. Daniel doesn’t move, merely gazes at the soldier with all the calm gravitas of a man who sees and knows and doesn’t care.

“Curse your god!” The soldier snarls. “We don’t need your petty promises, paladin! Kill us if you will!”

Daniel’s face saddens slightly. “I had hoped your answer would be different.” Then his countenance hardens into something even colder than before, and I suppress a shiver. “But I am not the petty one,” the paladin says, “nor is my God. Guard your tongue.”

The soldier falls silent, his bravado withering under Daniel’s cold stare. Antony steps forth and hauls the soldier to his feet. Marches him into the prison. The townsfolk who fought for us help. Eliana busies herself tending the soldiers’ wounds, but I make no move to help her. I could care less if they rot in prison. Daniel oversees the releasing of the previous prisoners and the captivity of the soldiers and guards. Eliana switches her attention from the soldiers to the once-captives.

At one point, Antony brings me a groggy Auvanna, and I cradle the girl as the effects of the sedative slowly wear off. She blinks up at me, barely cognitive enough to recognize her surroundings.

“Where is Antony?” She whispers.

“He’s around.” I reply reassuringly, gently giving the drowling a drink from my canteen. “He’ll come for you soon.”

At last, every soldier has been placed behind bars, their names and crimes recorded in the prison register as they confess and the once-prisoners testify. Daniel places new guards over the prison, choosing them from among the townspeople who fought with us, and giving them explicit orders. Then he steps away, satisfied, and turns to me.

“Let’s go get some rest.” He says, his expression softening as he gazes at me. I smile.

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Eliana! Antony!” Daniel cups his hands over his mouth in order to be heard by them. They look up at him from across the street, bashful smiles on their faces. Antony is holding Eliana’s hands, a tenderness in him that I have never seen before. I have no idea of what they had been speaking to each other, but I have a fair guess.

As Daniel and I watch, Antony turns his attention away from us and back to the half-elf in front of him. He gently cups Eliana’s face and lowers his lips to hers.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Beside me, Daniel gives an incredulous laugh. He looks at me and shakes his head merrily.

“Come on, let’s go.” He says, taking my elbow. I carry Auvanna, and the paladin leads us past Eliana and Antony, back to the safe house.

“Come on, lovebirds!” Daniel calls over his shoulder, mirth evident in his voice.

After a minute, they do follow us, and Antony steps up beside me and relieves me of Auvanna. I glance up at the elf. His cheeks are abnormally flushed, and his usual stoic expression is now a small, shy smile. I look back at Eliana. She’s no better. Her eyes sparkle with joy and there’s a slight giddiness in her step.

I chuckle and shake my head.

We reach the safe house with no incident, but I sense we’re being followed. I wonder if any of my companions have noticed our shadow. Daniel might have. I’d be willing to wager a week’s worth of meals that neither Antony nor Eliana has, though. Through the twin-bond, I feel Fal flitting from shadow to shadow, always staying out of sight, yet always keeping us in his view. He had better be careful.

Raeldon meets us at the entrance of our safe house, leaning heavily on the door frame, and Daniel greets him with a smile.

“Thank Elhim you all are safe and well!” Raeldon gasps. Sweat beads on his horned brow; he’s in a lot of pain. The paladin places his hand on the tiefling’s shoulder, and I watch in awe as Elhim’s Presence swells around us and the wound on the sage’s head heals over completely. No doubt so too did the wound in his side. Raeldon takes a deep breath and stands straight.

“Thank Elhim!” He says again, folding Daniel in a hearty embrace. Daniel laughs and echoes his words. The pressure of Elhim’s Presence begins to fade from my skull.

It’s gone within moments.

I see my companions inside, feeling Fal’s impatience.

“Daniel,” I catch his arm as he steps toward the washroom with fresh clothing.

“Hm?” He looks down at me.

“I have a… errand of sorts to run. I’ll be back soon.”

He glances out the window at the dark streets. “You’re sure?”

I give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and it’ll be dawn soon anyway.”

He nods and returns my smile. Once again, I resist the urge to kiss him.

“Alright.” He says. “Be back soon.”

“I will.” I reply, and slip out the door.

I walk a little ways back the way we came, then duck into a dark alleyway. Fal is there, waiting for me, obscured in shadow. I do not resist him as he grabs my shoulders and pushes me up against the wall. He pins me there, his face inches from mine, his anger pulsing through our twin-bond.

“I thought we had promised each other we wouldn’t take reckless risks!” He hisses down into my face.

“Hello, brother.” I reply calmly.