Ithan gasped for breath as he collapsed against a wall in the darkness of the cavern. He peered out from behind it, trying to determine whether he was followed. He had fled from the uncovered grotto without his friends, fearful for his own life.

That voice‍—it couldn’t have been…

He closed his eyes and pressed his head against the wall.

There’s no way‍—

The clanging of iron sounded in the distance, and a shout from Taer’inar caused Ithan to lurch forward and summon his glaive.

If it is him… This might be my only shot.

He gulped, then began running back to where he had last seen his friends. Before he could get far, though, the clanging stopped.

Am I too late? But if I can surprise him‍—

“Ithan,” a voice called from ahead, causing Ithan to stop dead in his tracks. He trembled as a figure stepped forward into his vision. An elf, a bit taller than Taer’inar, leered at Ithan from the darkness. He wore beautifully adorned armor, and he held a longbow made of crystal. His long golden hair covered much of his face, but Ithan knew it all the same. “How pitiful you look, son of mine. Barely recognizable.”

“Bastard king,” Ithan managed to mutter through gritted teeth. His legs were frozen in fear, yet he somehow possessed courage enough to throw insults at the man who killed his mother.

“I see you have lost your manners living in the wild,” Varian said. “What would your mother say?”

“Don’t you dare speak of her!” Ithan snarled, raising his glaive to Varian. “You have no right, you murderer!”

“She betrayed her kingdom,” Varian replied, readying his bow. A crystalline arrow materialized in Varian’s hand as he took aim at Ithan. “She betrayed me.” Ithan ducked down just as Varian released his arrow, and a stream of light shot through the cavern. Ithan lunged at Varian before he could fire another, forcing him to the ground. He smashed Varian’s hand beneath his hoof, causing him to cry out in pain as he released his grip on his bow. He pressed his other hoof against Varian’s chest.

“Was exile really not enough for you?” he growled. “She left with me willingly, so why‍—”

“She birthed an abomination,” Varian gasped. “She was just as unfit for this world as you.” In a rage, Ithan lifted his glaive up, then thrust it down with all his strength through the king’s chest. As Varian began to grab at the blade, Ithan leaned down to meet his gaze.

“This ‘abomination’ shall see your kingdom ruined,” he whispered as Varian exhaled his final breath, his body going limp. “Farewell, Varian of the Golden Dawn.” Ithan pulled the glaive from the dead king’s chest and stepped back to regard his work.

I suppose that’s it, then. He looked up past Varian’s body to see if there was any sign of his friends. He grimaced. Surely none of them were left alive, especially if Varian knew they were with him.

Is this the part where you enslave me?

That time has not yet come.

What do you mean? He’s dead. I killed him. It’s over.

I would not be so sure of that.

“What…” Ithan looked back at Varian and stumbled backwards as the dead king’s armor lost its luster. Ithan fell to the ground, dropping his glaive as Varian’s hair began to shorten. His armor was now nothing more than simple leather. The same leather that Ithan and his friends wore. Ithan slid back against the wall behind him, unable to process what was happening before him. As Varian’s golden hair continued to shorten, its color started to fade. Ithan clutched his head in his hands and screamed as the fallen king’s bronze skin darkened to a deep blue.

“Over here!” Ithan heard Taer’inar shout. By the time he and Dhurik appeared, Ithan had already begun sobbing uncontrollably. “What happened to Storm?!”

“I thought… And then I…” Ithan could hardly speak through his tears. He looked up briefly and inhaled sharply at the blood pooling around the auran’s body. He curled himself up tighter against the wall. “I… he’s…”

“You killed your friend, oh what a shame,” Varian’s voice taunted. “Do not fret. You will join him all the same.”

“Stay alert,” Taer’inar ordered. Dhurik grunted in reply. “Mor’lavan, you need to get up. We need to move.”

“I can’t…” Ithan trembled as he spoke. “Leave me…”

“Oh, for the love of Vast’ira,” Taer’inar muttered. “Grab him and let’s get out of here.”

“No!” he yelled as Dhurik lifted him up over his shoulder. “I won’t leave him!”

“He’s gone, Mor’lavan!” Taer’inar argued as he ran behind Dhurik. “I don’t want to leave him, either, but we can’t carry both of you, and you’re still alive!” His words were cold, but there was a deep sadness in Taer’inar’s eyes. Past him, a shadow hunched over Storm’s body before it began to give chase.

“How much further?!” Dhurik shouted as he shifted Ithan’s weight on his shoulder.

“Not far! There’ll be a crack in the ceiling!” Taer’inar turned to cast a spell against the shadow chasing them, but he missed his mark as he stumbled over a rock. He cursed in Elvish as he returned his attention to running. The shadow screeched, trying to swipe at Taer’inar as it grew ever closer to the group. “There!” he suddenly shouted, pointing up at the ceiling. He pulled out his swords and turned to face the shadow.

“What are you doing?!” Ithan cried as he was enveloped by light‍—the sun shone through a hole in the ceiling. When he looked back at Taer’inar, the elf had already begun casting another spell. His blades glowed with a brilliant green flame, and he stabbed at the approaching shadow. It in turn continued to attempt to pierce Taer’inar with its claws. As Taer’inar evaded the shadow’s attacks, Dhurik flung Ithan to the surface, and he landed in a field of grass beneath the setting sun. He scrambled back to the hole and helped Dhurik finish climbing out before extending his arm out to Taer’inar.

“Get outta there, Birdbrain!” Dhurik yelled. Taer’inar looked up at Ithan for a split second before casting another spell, and just before the shadow could land a blow against him, he vanished. The shadow screeched and attempted to fly up to Ithan and Dhurik. It began to convulse as soon as it entered the sunlight, and quickly retreated into the darkness of the cavern.

“You escaped this time, that much is true,” it whispered, “but sooner or later, the thirst will get the better of you.” With a final ghastly chuckle, it disappeared.

“Where…” Ithan mumbled as he searched the cavern for Taer’inar.

“Over here,” a voice called from behind him. He turned over onto his back to see the elf safe, albeit a bit bloodied. “I would highly recommend getting away from that hole.” Ithan obliged, flipping onto his hands and knees and crawling toward Taer’inar and Dhurik. He wrapped his arms tight around Taer’inar’s waist and began to sob again.

“Torvik’s bane, you’re a blubbering mess,” Dhurik said. “Pull yourself together!”

“Dhurik…” Taer’inar muttered before bending down to Ithan’s eye level. “I don’t know what happened down there. But it’s not your fault.”

“But I… and he…” Ithan had been prepared to kill his father. He was even prepared to kill anyone who stood in his way. But Storm was his friend. The cruel revelation that he had died by Ithan’s hand shattered him.

“The shadow deceived you,” Taer’inar said. “It made you see something that wasn’t there. You didn’t do it of your own volition. You were afraid. Please, Mor’lavan… we need to keep moving.” He pulled Ithan up to his feet, and Ithan tried to stifle his tears.

“So where are we now?” Dhurik asked.

“The Lizard Marsh, it seems,” Taer’inar replied. He placed a hand on Ithan’s shoulder. “We should leave while there’s still daylight,” he said softly. Ithan stumbled behind Taer’inar and Dhurik as they began their long journey home. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…

❧

By the time the sun had set, the group had managed to find their way out of the marsh and set up camp near a stray tree. Ithan had cleaned Storm’s blood from his hands along the way, but they still quivered whenever he looked at them. The blood may physically have been gone now, but within his mind it could never be washed away.

“What happened in there?” Ithan asked quietly as he stared at the fire that Dhurik had started. “Why did I see… What made me see Storm as someone else?”

“The shadow you saw is a creature of dark magic,” Taer’inar replied. “It plays tricks on the mind. It turns friends against each other by making them think they are enemies. Dhurik here very nearly chopped my head off.”

“So, the shouting I heard was you,” Ithan pondered. “Was Storm affected…?”

“I can’t be sure,” Taer’inar said. “I sent him away while I dealt with Dhurik. I suppose I may have been the only one who did not suffer any delusions.”

“He had the bow…” Ithan muttered as he thought painfully back to his encounter. “The… man that I saw.”

“Hm. Another illusion, perhaps. The fourth of that group had been a woman,” Taer’inar responded. “But it was only an illusion. Whoever that man was, he’s been gone for a long time.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Maybe,” Ithan said. “How did you manage to break Dhurik from its grip?”

“He bashed me on the head with a rock,” Dhurik grunted, rubbing his head. “You’re buying me a drink when we get back for that.”

“I would say we’re even,” Taer’inar said flatly. He whistled, and suddenly Nyctea appeared on his arm. He whispered something to her, then lifted her up into the air. She took flight ahead of the group, then began circling in a widening spiral around them. Then, after she was out of sight, Taer’inar began casting a spell in Elvish. “May we be unseen, unheard, and unharmed,” he chanted. After a few moments, the air around them grew considerably warm and still. “We shouldn’t be disturbed in here,” Taer’inar said as he prepared to rest for the night. He inched closer to Ithan before settling on a spot near the fire that he seemed content with. “I’ll be right here if you need anything,” he said, taking his meditative stance.

Ithan frowned as Dhurik lay down, his back to the fire across from him. He was left alone now, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. He stared blankly at the sky. It was a clear night; the stars were as brilliant as they had been when he had first ventured to Rockfall. Shades of blue and purple were strewn about, giving Ithan a pleasant view. Though the wind did not penetrate whatever magic Taer’inar had set in place, Ithan could still hear it blowing softly through the grass around them as the campfire crackled. It was peaceful here.

I suppose we are back to our original plan.

Ithan scowled and clenched his fists as the pressure from his master’s presence invaded his mind.

Why didn’t you do anything?

I was clearly not needed. You seemed to have the situation under control.

I was hallucinating. How is that “under control?”

You remain unharmed.

I killed my friend!

I warned you before about getting close to them. You chose not to listen. This is the consequence.

You knew this would happen.

I knew you would defy me if the bow had been found. The auran’s death was insurance.

But we didn’t find it. Whoever has it is long gone.

Ithan’s eyes began to tear up again as he lashed out against his patron.

Even more reason to get on with finding the Crypt, isn’t it?

The intensity of Kiraan’s aura faded, leaving Ithan to cry silently in the night.

When the campfire began to die out, he wiped the tears from his eyes and made his way over to the tree to look for more firewood. Nyctea roosted on one of the tree’s lower branches after returning from her survey of the area. She watched him as he gathered what few sticks he could find, ruffling her feathers as he drew close to the tree. She knew what he had done. He leaned down to pick up a stick next to the tree, trying to keep eye contact with the owl. When he stood back up, though, she swooped down and clawed at Ithan’s face, causing him to stumble backward onto the ground, sticks scattering as he fell.

“Stupid oversized pigeon!” he roared as he swatted at his assailant. Nyctea scratched up his face and arms as he attempted to shoo her away, only stopping when Taer’inar whistled behind them. She flew over to him and perched on his shoulder, nuzzling up against the side of his head. Ithan glared at her as Taer’inar stepped toward him. “Keep that rat away from me.”

“Go on, then,” Taer’inar muttered in Elvish as he turned his head toward her. “Say you’re sorry.” Nyctea chirped nervously, then hopped along his arm toward Ithan. She stopped at his wrist, looking back at her master hesitantly. Taer’inar nodded, and with another anxious chirp, she bounced onto Ithan’s shoulder. She shook violently as she sat there, and Ithan fully expected her to begin pecking at his face again. Instead, she slowly pressed her head against the side of his, much like she often did with Taer’inar. Bewildered, Ithan carefully reached his hand up to her and rubbed the area just above her eyes. Taer’inar grinned. “You see? He’s still our friend. He’s just having a hard time.” Nyctea’s shivering slowed as Ithan scratched her head, and after a few more moments, she cooed softly.

“I didn’t mean to call you a stupid oversized pigeon,” Ithan laughed quietly. Nyctea cooed again in reply before hopping off Ithan’s shoulder onto the ground. She collected a few of the sticks Ithan had dropped and presented them to him. “Thank you,” Ithan said with a smile as he and Taer’inar picked up the rest. She flew back up to her roost as Ithan and Taer’inar returned to the campfire. “I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Taer’inar replied. “She doesn’t usually behave that way. I suppose the stress we’re all feeling is affecting her, as well.” He frowned as he tossed his sticks into the fire. “I truly am sorry for what you experienced back there. I… know how difficult it is to overcome such trauma.”

“Have you…?” Ithan started. Taer’inar sighed and looked up at the sky.

“In my youth, I was sent to explore some ruins around the eastern border of Nylserine. There were five of us: myself, Gyr’ital, Sona’rae, Mala’nai, and my mentor Val’themar. There had been rumors of a gnoll infestation there, and we were expected to eliminate any threats. What we found there…” Taer’inar shook his head. “They had sacrificed countless elves in the name of their foul god. And we unfortunate few had stumbled into their ritual grounds. The entire horde was there that day. An entire horde of gnolls against five of Nylserine’s greatest warriors. We fought valiantly, but in the end… Val’themar ordered me to return to Nylserine to alert the council.” He stared intensely into the fire. “I left them to die. My comrades… my friends… Slaughtered while I alone escaped.”

“But your kingdom was spared,” Ithan said.

“Yes,” Taer’inar muttered. “They gave their lives for their kingdom. I do not blame myself for their deaths.” He looked straight at Ithan through the flames. “And you should not blame yourself for Storm’s.”

“It’s not the same. You didn’t kill them with your own hands.” Ithan looked down at his own hands. The glow of the flames made it seem as if they were still stained with blood. “It’ll never wash away.”

“Mor’lavan, please,” Taer’inar said. “It is only natural to grieve. We suffered a heavy loss, and we will all need time to recover. But if you put blame on yourself, you will only suffer more than you already have.”

“I’ll try,” Ithan sighed. “…Thank you, Taer’inar.”

“Of course,” the elf replied. “Now, please try to get some rest. We’re not home just yet, remember.” He returned to his meditative state, closing his eyes and breathing steadily. Ithan lay back and watched the sky for a bit longer before finally falling asleep beneath the blanket of stars.

🙡◊🙣

Ithan sinks into a pool of darkness as he desperately tries to reach for Storm. The shadows around him grab at his arms and legs, keeping him from saving his friend. Crystals begin to form on Storm’s body, creeping across it until it is fully enveloped. Then, it shatters, leaving nothing of Storm behind.

“One down,” Varian’s voice taunts. “I wonder, who will be your next victim?”

“Shut up!” Ithan growls. “Give him back, you monster!”

“Oh, Ithan, you just never learn,” Varian laughs. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Soon, everyone will see you for what you truly are.”

🙠◊🙢

“Welcome home!” Fenvyre called as the trio stepped through the doors of the tavern. Her voice seemed especially shrill to Ithan, but he managed to smile weakly at her. “Lava, you look like a wreck!”

“It’s been a difficult couple of days,” Taer’inar interjected. “Why don’t you let him be for now, hm?” Ithan trudged past them without a word and began ascending the staircase toward his room.

“All right,” Fenvyre replied. “Hey, didn’t Storm go with you guys?” Ithan winced at Storm’s name, quickening his pace so that he could get away from hearing the rest of the conversation. He shambled down the hall and entered his room. When he collapsed on his bed, a grunt from beneath it made Ithan growl in frustration. He reached underneath and pulled Ian out by his leg.

“Get out,” Ithan grumbled.

“Hey, grumpy,” Ian said. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” Ithan replied as he sat up in his bed, “is that every time I come home from anywhere, I have an annoying little rat hiding under my bed.” He lurched forward and grabbed Ian’s cloak, dragging him to the door and throwing him out against the door on the other side of the hall. “I’m not warning you again. Stay. Out.” Ian, with a look of awe and bewilderment on his face, stood up and scrambled away to his own room.

As Ithan turned to resume his self-loathing, the door across the hall opened, revealing a woman dressed in white ceremonial robes gilded with intricate designs. Both her hair and eyes were a brilliant gold, her skin as pale as Taer’inar’s. She certainly could be mistaken for an elf were it not for her feathered ears. Like Storm’s. Her gaze was unsettling, as if she was staring into his soul.

“Lady Irse?” a voice called from the stairway. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, it is nothing,” the woman responded, her eyes still fixed on Ithan. She strode past him and to the other auran that now stood at the top of the stairs. He wore the same robes as this Lady Irse, and he held a ceremonial staff. He whispered something to the woman when she reached him, and she glanced back at Ithan once more before the pair descended the stairs. He slammed his door shut, cursing under his breath. Just leave me alone.

❧

Ithan spent most of his time in his room over the next several days. He barely slept, and the little food he ate was mere leftovers that he would scrounge from the trash in the dead of night. He refused to answer the door when anyone would knock; he even ignored Fenvyre’s frequent check-ins. He spent hours on end staring at the ceiling, going over the events of that day in his mind. Storm would still be here if he weren’t so weak. His mind had been so easily muddled by the shadow’s influence, and his patron had not bothered to deflect it. If only he were stronger, like Taer’inar…

Of course, that was why he set out on this journey in the first place‍—to become stronger. Strong enough to take down Varian. Kiraan had promised him the power he needed, but Ithan was insistent on doing the deed himself. His pact was meant to protect him while he prepared himself for his eventual clash with Varian. Yet Kiraan seemed less interested in seeing Ithan complete his mission and more interested in torturing him along the way. He was nothing more than Kiraan’s errand boy, and whatever disaster befell him was none of Kiraan’s concern. The pangs of hunger gnawed at his stomach. He usually tried to wait until the tavern was emptied before seeking out food, but this time the pains came at midday, and he was not sure he could hold out until the evening. Reluctantly, he shuffled out of his room and down into the tavern below. The place was lively as ever; dragonkin lined the bar and filled up almost every table in sight. At the guild’s usual table, Taer’inar and Dhurik seemed to be having an argument of some kind, based on Dhurik’s hand gestures. Ithan tried to avoid being seen by his friends and slink into the kitchen but was caught by Briryn before he could slide past.

“What’s with all the sneaking around?” he asked, blocking Ithan’s path.

“I just wanted to grab some food,” Ithan mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with the innkeeper.

“Oh, I’ll let you eat,” Briryn continued, “right after you wipe that desolate look off your face.”

“I can’t… Storm…”

“Yeah, I know what happened,” Briryn said, putting a hand on Ithan’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it. But you can’t keep going on like this. You’re wasting away doing this to yourself.”

“Maybe it’s better that way.” Briryn dragged him through the kitchen and out the back door. He closed the door behind him and looked around to ensure they were alone.

“Don’t you dare give up on yourself, boy,” Briryn asserted. “You’ve got a lot of people behind you. As impossible as it may seem right now, you have to pull yourself together and move forward.” He gripped Ithan’s shoulders tightly as he spoke. “Nothing good ever came from dwelling on the past.” Perhaps that was the reason for his seemingly ever-present misfortune. He was so focused on vengeance that he had hardly even lived for the past two years. And now that he had been in Greenreach for some time, he had begun to feel like he belonged here. But reality quickly set in‍—his life was forfeit, doomed to be Kiraan’s eternal puppet. It was his greatest torment, knowing that Kiraan would one day strip away all that he had grown to care for here in the edge of civilization. Maybe Briryn and Taer’inar were right, but it was too late for him now.

“Nothing I do can change what’s happened,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” Briryn said quietly. “That’s why you shouldn’t let it hold you back.” He let go of Ithan and turned to walk back inside. “You’ve got a lot of potential in you, kid. Don’t let this be the rock that weighs you down.” Ithan followed him inside, and before he could walk much further than the door, Fenvyre grabbed him and wrapped her arms tight around him. Tears began to well up in his eyes as Bimpnottin, Taer’inar, and even Dhurik joined in to surround him. He had people to support him through this. It would take time, but perhaps it was possible to pull himself out of this dark abyss after all, with their help.

“We’ve got you,” Taer’inar said as they huddled together around Ithan and Fenvyre. “We’re in this together. Until the end.”