I couldn't sleep. All I could do was think about that woman — that witch.
What she'd done to Brianan couldn't be forgiven.
But why? Why would someone go to such lengths just to strike me and Brianan down?
I turned it over in my head for hours before it clicked.
The cultists. The ones from the cave. Was she their leader?
That had to be it.
Fuck fuck fuck. This is such a terrible idea. Vulxan warned me not to go after her. We are so thoroughly dead.
I pressed a hand against my forehead. "Let's stop stressing about it," I muttered to no one.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and I slipped into a shallow sleep.
The Armory, early morning.
"Ready stance!" the head of the capital army bellowed.
Twenty armored guards snapped to attention, right fists slamming into their chests, left arms rising to their brows in salute.
"Sir, yes sir!"
I stood near the back, off to the left, dressed in standard-issue iron militia gear, an iron sword clutched awkwardly in my hand.
This feels so weird.
I turned the blade over, testing its weight. Nothing like a woodcutter's axe.
"Follow!" the head yelled, already marching toward the square.
We fell in behind him, boots striking the stone floor in unison, each step punctuated by a shout. I wondered, absently, if the noise was meant to steady our nerves or just drown out the fear.
We reached the capital square. King Cailean stood on a raised podium, and at the sight of him the soldiers snapped back into formation. I followed a half-beat late.
He raised his hands. The crowd stilled.
"Today we march," he called out, voice carrying easily over the square. "We march for our brother Brianan. We march to bring him home." He pointed toward the treeline beyond the gates. "A witch has made her nest in that forest. Today we march not only to rescue our own, but to purge that witchcraft from our lands!"
The crowd roared its approval.
I didn't join them.
Something in my gut told me this wasn't going to end well. That woman had put me on the ground with nothing more than a fingertip to my forehead. She would tear through these men like paper.
The march began.
We followed the army's commander, a hard-eyed man named Kilen, into the woods. The forest swallowed the noise of the city almost immediately — no birdsong, no wind, just the crunch of boots on frost-stiffened grass and the fogged breath of twenty soldiers who didn't yet know what they were walking into.
One step. Two steps. One meter closer. Two meters closer. One second nearer to dying. Two seconds nearer to dying.
I pushed forward until I was walking beside Kilen.
"I really think we should reconsider this," I said. "I've seen what she can do. She controlled five stone constructs and put Brianan down in a single hit. She put me down in a single hit."
Kilen laughed, low and dismissive. "These are some of the finest soldiers I've ever trained. Stronger than Brianan. Stronger than you, no offense. I trust them."
A soldier a few paces behind us spoke up. "We've got this, don't worry. Simon, was it? We've put down worse than some forest witch."
He glanced back at the group, grinning. "Remember that cultist leader — the one with runes crawling up his arm? Now that was terrifying. This woman's got nothing on him."
It didn't reassure me. If my suspicion was right, that "forest witch" outclassed the cultist leader by a wide margin.
My thoughts drifted to Brianan.
God, I hope he's okay.
Vulxan. Can you hear me? I could really use your help if this goes bad.
Nothing.
Hello? Are you there?
Still nothing.
I raised my arm, willing the golden runes to surface.
Nothing answered but silence and the cold.
I was completely powerless.
The path opened into a clearing, and the column stopped dead.
Ahead of us stood a massive stone construct, taller than the trees around it, etched with glowing purple script.
One of the soldiers reached out and brushed his fingers over the carved letters. "What does this say?"
A voice answered from behind us — soft, amused, and entirely too close.
"It reads: Silence the Golden Flame. Return the Crown to the Void."
We turned as one. It was her. The witch. The same woman who had dropped me and Brianan with barely a gesture.
Fuck.
Before anyone could react, nearly fifty cultists dropped from the tree line and the walls surrounding the clearing, spears tipped in the same violet script.
They didn't hesitate.
One by one, the soldiers fell — spears driven through the same precise point on each man's face, like the strikes had been rehearsed a hundred times.
Nineteen left after the first man dropped.
Eighteen, struck in almost the identical spot.
This wasn't an ambush. This was an execution.
Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.
Eleven soldiers remained — the only ones fast enough to block the first wave.
Behind us, more cultists rose from the underbrush, bows already drawn. Arrows hissed through the clearing.
Ten fell as one buried itself in a soldier's back.
Nine. Eight.
Seven left when I was knocked flat trying to block a strike meant for someone else.
Men were dying all around me. Good men, following orders, none of them deserving this.
I can't do this. I can't just lie here.
I have to save who I can. I have to.
"You have to let them die."
The voice was unmistakable. Vulxan.
"I told you to stay away from her, Simon. Let them die. Save yourself."
No.
I won't.
It's not what my mother would have wanted.
I screamed — pure agony tearing out of my throat — as my arm rose on its own, golden light bursting from beneath the skin. It burned. It burned like nothing I'd ever felt, the runes carving themselves into my flesh, unmaking my arm from the inside even as they saved my life.
I swept my arm in a single arc. The cultists in front of me were simply gone.
I turned. The ones behind me flinched back, too late — gone as well.
Only the witch remained, standing untouched at the clearing's edge, her pointed hat tilted just slightly, watching.
She raised her left hand. Seven orbs of black shadow bloomed above her open palm.
"Don't worry," she said pleasantly. "It's painless."
She snapped the fingers of her right hand. One orb winked out of existence.
Beside me, a soldier crumpled without a sound.
Six.
"What — what did you just do?" I stared at him, at the stillness where a moment ago there had been breath. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"Is he... is he dead?"
She only smiled. "This is his soul. I'd take yours if I could, but the trick only works on the powerless." She gestured to the remaining orbs with her other hand. "One snap, and it's gone."
She snapped again. Another soldier fell.
Five.
"Stop. Please, stop."
"I'll make you an offer," she said, almost gently.
My arm was shaking — whether from pain or something closer to grief, I couldn't tell anymore. The golden light hadn't faded; it kept eating through the muscle, and I knew, distantly, that arm wasn't going to be worth much for a long while.
"Come with me. To the castle," she said. "You want your friend back, don't you?" She extended a hand, palm open, patient. "Do that, and these five walk away untouched."
"Do we have a deal?"
Her hand stayed there, waiting.
Present.
"The witch has finally shown herself," Arkais said quietly.
"I've never seen a vessel take this path before. This is incredible." Arthur leaned forward, practically bouncing.
Lucia's eyes stayed fixed on the arm — on the runes still tearing through it. "My beautiful boy is going to kill himself if he keeps this up."
"All this, to save people who aren't even real?" Endor's voice was flat, unimpressed. "That's not courage. That's stupidity."
Mizuki didn't glance up from his phone. "He feels connected to them. Doesn't matter that they're constructs. They still act like people to him."
Vanilla perked up. "You sound like you know a thing or two about connection, Mizuki. Got a sweetheart waiting somewhere you haven't told us about?"
Mizuki's expression soured. "No."
"Mm-hm. Sure."
"Can we get back to the vessel," Arkais cut in, "instead of Mizuki's love life? Vulxan's taken an interest in this one — telling him to abandon the villagers and save himself. He's never intervened like that before. He barely lends his power out at all, and he's practically handing it to Simon."
"And Simon's going to burn through it and die anyway if he keeps forcing it without Vulxan's consent," Lucia said, something tight in her voice. "Look at his arm. He's already lost most of his control. His body won't survive many more of these."
Endor said nothing for a moment, then shrugged. "If he dies, he wasn't strong enough. Simple as that."