The Legend of Kimberly: Inheritance

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by J.R. Leckman

Edited by Anne Victory

Cover art by Isabell Weise

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

J.R. Leckman

Visit my website at www.jrleckman.com

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing: October 2011

Paperback ISBN 13 978-1-4664292-6-0

Smashwords ISBN 978-1-4658-1355-8

Dedications

To my wife, for reminding me why I write.

To James “Papa” Aker. I wrote this for you. I miss you every day.

To Alex, for being Kimberly’s very first fan.

Prologue
“I’m going to die tonight, Ip.”
The little fox in Hal Stone’s lap lifted his head and looked up into Hal’s face. It was a questioning look, eyes wide and ears up. Hal smiled and rubbed Ip’s head, imagining for a moment the sorrow the little fox could see written on his face.
“Yes, I’m sure. My information is never wrong.”
Ip let out a mournful sound, a cross between a whimper and something human. Hal laughed and scratched at a tiny spot between Ip’s ears; the fur there was the softest, and Ip let out a bark of approval.
“Come, Ip, we have much to do.” Ip jumped down and Hal stood, taking a moment to savor the cold feel of the floor on his toes.
Hal wrote down the things he needed to get done. Everything was far too important to leave to his aging memory. Checking his list for the third time, he chuckled to himself. It didn’t look like the list of a dying man; rather, it looked like the list of a businessman. 
He spent a large part of the morning filling out paperwork that his attorney, Lance, would need to finish the things he could not. Ip sat in his lap while Hal put everything together, watching the old man’s fingers type, write, and seal.
Hal kept himself busy all through lunch. His one break came when the messenger service arrived to pick up a few things he needed to have sent out. The woman picking up his packages was pleasant, and he regretted that he couldn’t enjoy even a few moments of her company. Far more important things remained to be done.
As night fell, Hal found himself walking aimlessly through his house, lost in personal thoughts. The list was in his pocket, every item crossed off. Years of successes and regrets flitted across his face in all-too-brief moments. Ip followed at Hal’s heels in his wanderings, a warm presence in the silent house.
“Just a couple more years, Ip. Just a couple more.”
 He had been saying it all day. In just a couple of years, his granddaughter, Kimberly, would be eighteen. Not only would she be free of her father, the tyrant, but she would be old enough to choose her own path. He could tell her everything then, tell her the secret she so badly needed to hear.
He caught his reflection in a hallway mirror and frowned. Sad lines were written across his face, lines that made him finally look as old as he felt. His hair was almost white, his skin sagging in places. He met his reflection’s gaze, staring deep into bright blue eyes that mirrored his thoughts. The judgment he saw there made his lip twitch. 
“We can’t change the past, Ip.” He looked at the little fox, ever present in his footsteps. He smiled then, letting out a chuckle. “We can, however, choose what’s for dinner.”
Ip barked his approval. Prancing behind Hal, the two walked through the quiet hallways, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.
That night he made himself a giant dinner, cooking all of his favorite foods. Still wearing his chef’s hat, he and Ip shared steak, mutton, stew, and seven kinds of cheese. Ip wagged his tail every time Hal pushed another portion of food in front of his paws, a motion that made Hal think of a giant, drunken paintbrush.
His library reminded him so much of the one he had grown up in, full of stone and oak and smelling, just faintly, of dust and paper. The books reached ever upward in long, tall bookshelves, a good portion of them written by him, constructing walls of adventure and excitement just waiting to be held and tasted by the mind’s eye. He couldn’t think of a better place to die.
Easing himself gently into his favorite leather chair, he stared at the large grandfather clock across from the fireplace. The pendulum swung back and forth, every remaining second of his life now on display.
“You’ll take care of her, right?” He turned his attention to Ip. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small metal key, the kind that looked old and locked only important things away. He placed the key between Ip’s paws.
Ip picked up the key in his teeth and spun around once. Facing Hal again, the key was nowhere to be seen.
 Hal smiled and settled back in his seat, knowing that it was out of his hands now.
Several minutes passed in near silence. Hal was so busy watching the clock tick his life away, he didn’t notice Death’s entrance. Turning his head to look at the shadowy spirit in the doorway, he smirked.
“Don’t suppose you’d be up for a game of chess?”
Laughter like rustling leaves came from beneath the figure’s hood. Death knew better than to take the bait. The dark spirit approached and reached out with long, bony fingers.
“Well met, old friend.” They clasped hands in greeting. Death pulled Hal forward, drawing his spirit away from his body. As they walked away, Hal paused once to look back at Ip.
Ip’s eyes sparkled with tears. The fox let out an almost silent whine.
“Goodbye, Ip.”
Hal looked at Death and smiled. “I’m ready.”
There was a bright light. He felt warmth on his face and heard a woman’s voice calling his name. His heart soared in recognition, and then he was gone.

A Father’s Summons

Kimberly Stone sat alone on one side of her own private train compartment, staring over the top of her book at her well-dressed escorts. The gentle swaying of the train was doing its best to lull her to sleep, and she didn’t like the idea of her father’s suits watching her while she did so. Sighing to herself, she looked out the window. The mountains hugged the train tracks closely, breaking open on occasion to beautiful, untouched landscape views. The sight, a rare one in the United States, was something that most people would never have the chance to see. She always enjoyed riding on the train for this reason, a train that her grandfather sometimes referred to as the Hogwarts Express. She couldn’t remember much about the book the Express was from; it was one written well over a century ago. She could, however, remember her grandfather reading it to her in bed when she was three. It had been the first of many such books, kindling a love affair with the written word that had come to define her very existence. 
The young woman’s thoughts briefly flickered to her grandfather and she wondered what he was up to. Staring at the suits, she sighed and wondered why she was even here.
Kimberly had been preparing for her first lesson of the day at Whitman’s Prep Academy. The academy was incredibly exclusive, hidden deep within the mountains and accessible only by train or helicopter. Walking beneath the tall trees on campus, she had been intercepted by one of the headmasters. Given little explanation, she had been forced to pack her things and was delivered to the train station. Upon seeing the two men in dark suits disembark, she had sighed inwardly, realizing this had something to do with her father.
Her father, Nathan Stone, was a very powerful corporate attorney, the kind a company approached when they needed delicate business attended to. Being an important man, it was often assumed that the men were there for Kimberly’s protection, but she knew different. They were her father’s eyes. Anything she said or did would find its way to her extremely ill-tempered, controlling father. He always sent two men, and they always had military haircuts, dark sunglasses, and rarely spoke. Kimberly referred to them mentally as Ted and Ed, their real identities pointless to her.
She wondered if her father’s summons had anything to do with the letters from her grandfather. How he accomplished getting his missives through to her was nothing short of magic. The school knew she was to have no contact with him, yet they still appeared like clockwork in her mailbox, her name written in his familiar scrawl. She didn’t care how she got them; each one was considered a treasure. 
Maybe a treasure that had finally been discovered? Kimberly found herself wondering if her secret mattress stash had been found.
The train went into a tunnel. Her attention turned outward, she was now looking at herself. With her school uniform on and her hair parted just right, she considered herself pretty enough to get by. True, she was still a bit scrawny for a girl her age, and she wouldn’t mind filling out just a bit more.
Staring at her reflection, she got a strange chill up the back of her neck and a bizarre feeling like déjà vu. The one thing she had in common with her father was her eyes. Like mercury pools, seeing them so reflected at once made her think of Nathan Stone.
Not that she needed them to be different from other kids her age. While most kids were unaware of Nathan Stone’s success as a corporate monster, they were all familiar with her grandfather, Hal Stone. The writer of well over sixty fantasy novels, he was often considered the greatest author of his time. He was kind, generous, and Kimberly’s favorite person in the whole world. 
Thinking of the two men in her life, she pictured her father as a shadow, creeping behind the light that emanated from Hal Stone. A sick balance had somehow been struck, leaving her father’s heart crippled and bitter. 
It had been over two years since she had seen her grandfather in person. If not for the letters, she would have been left to wonder why.
 Explaining it all in his first message, he had been candid with her about the lawsuit and his attempt to gain custody of her. Her grandfather, seeing that Kimberly never fell down the stairs at his own house, had finally put two and two together and made a stand.
Eventually the lawsuit had gone public, casting a cloud over Kimberly’s life. Her father’s power in the judicial system had proved insurmountable, and her grandfather’s power with the public had proved irrepressible. In the end, a judge had ruled that Kimberly would remain under the care of her father. Oh, how she had paid for that on a nightly basis, often running to hide from the man when she heard him coming. She could picture those gray eyes peering at her hiding spot in the closet or under the bed, promising even more violence.
One day she had come home from school to find her bags packed on the front porch. Ted and Ed said little that day, taking her to a town car and then to the train station. Nathan’s image had finally become more important to him than a teenage punching bag – an image that Hal had threatened to publically destroy. 
In truth, the school wasn’t that bad. She never had to explain away injuries, rarely got yelled at, and even made a few sort-of friends. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend time under her father’s long shadow, a shadow that was currently happy just letting her be.
Kimberly groaned inwardly and shifted in her seat. Congratulations, she thought, you have officially depressed yourself.
Pulling a blanket down from her overhead bin, she made herself comfortable under the stares of Ted and Ed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, hardbound book. Holding it up, the two got a good look at her International Finance textbook, the one with a picture of a bullet train on the front. 
“Guess I’m going to study now. Hope I don’t get motion sickness.”
Neither of them so much as twitched. Kimberly rolled her eyes, wondering if their pay was docked each time they spoke. She balanced the book in her left hand and scribbled on a notepad with the other. Every few minutes, she would make a little note on the pad. She hoped Ted and Ed noticed how hard she was studying.
In reality, Kimberly was simply recreating an assignment she had done last night. The truth was that she had two copies of International Finance. The first was in her bag. The second had been heavily altered to act as a sleeve for her grandfather’s latest novel, a book that had somehow appeared in her room one day during classes. 
It was supposed to be the first of a new trilogy. Entitled Elurra’s Journey, it chronicled the story of a young woman about Kimberly’s age who would discover a weapon made of magic while hiding from bandits in the swamp. The bandits were ruled by a being known only as the Black Knight, an individual who roamed the countryside with a sharp blade and a penchant for killing everybody who opposed him.
On the day she got the book, she stayed up all night to read it. Thrilled, Kimberly had been there when Elurra had faced down the Black Knight, a strange being that was little more than evil in a suit of plate armor. Cutting through the creature with Willow, her enchanted sword, Elurra had defeated evil and restored goodness to the land.
Obviously, there was more to the story, seeing as how the sequel was due in the fall. Kimberly couldn’t wait. Something about Elurra reminded Kimberly so much of herself. 
The book had quickly become her most prized possession; she never went anywhere without it. Kimberly also knew that its discovery would cost her dearly. The price for openly defying her father, particularly where her grandfather was concerned, was always high. A broken collarbone when she was twelve had taught her that lesson.
An hour passed. Kimberly looked up from her book occasionally, the fixed alien stares of Ted and Ed on her face. She shuddered, wishing she could see where they were looking. She often pictured black hollows where their eyes were, like something out of a bad science fiction movie.
Closing her book, she sighed and looked out the window. The thought of going home had finally overwhelmed her. Even Elurra’s adventures couldn’t keep her mind distracted now.
With three hours left on the train and an unknown situation at home, Kimberly decided that some sleep was a good idea. She put her book away, deep in her bag, buried beneath the real textbook. Adjusting the pillows under her neck, she pulled the blanket up and closed her eyes, the gentle rocking of the train her lullaby.
It never took long. For Kimberly, falling asleep was like sinking in a pool of warm water. Her mind stretched out like taffy and her thoughts fizzed like soda pop. Her trip through time was brief. She was standing in her grandfather’s house, the safest place in the world. Her hands were small once again and she was wearing a sundress that hadn’t fit her since she was ten.
In her dreams, her fuzzy logic let her recreate broken memories. This was the time Grandfather had taken her to his private island for the first time. He lived on a lake and owned the land all around it. In the middle of the lake was a small lump of land with a few trees and a cave. He had told her that he had built it, but her current mind argued this fact. All the money in the world couldn’t build you a natural formation.
“Are you ready, kid?” Grandfather smiled at Kimberly, his blue eyes sparkling. When she nodded, her floppy yellow hat bobbed down over her face. She held out both hands to carry the picnic basket he had prepared. It was heavy, and her legs bumped into it when she walked.
With a warm hand on her shoulder, he led her around his house and down the hill to the shore. Arriving at the little wooden dock in the lake, they pushed off in a tiny blue rowboat. Grandfather sang old sea chanteys, ones he claimed he had learned from pirates. Kimberly tried to sing along, but kept getting the giggles during some of the funnier lines. While some details of the dream were blurry, she could clearly see her grandfather’s face, his mouth stretched out comically to accommodate the words.
Time stretched and popped again. They were now at the little island. Grandfather got out and dragged the boat up onto the island. Placing big hands on both sides of Kimberly’s waist, he hauled her up and over the side of the boat. Walking along the beach with the picnic basket, he directed her to a well-shaped grouping of rocks. They sat, they ate, and Grandfather told her stories. These were the stories that had never been shared with anyone else. These were the tales of Auviarra, the world of Hal’s imagination; it was a place where knights did good deeds and dragons spoke in hissing riddles. He shared these bits with her and she ate it up with wide eyes.
Her mind skipped ahead once more. They finished their lunch and Grandfather took her further into the island. A cobblestone path led the way, and Kimberly skipped along it. Grandfather skipped as well, their hands entwined.
They came to a door. Looking around for pirates, spies, and dinosaurs, Grandfather put his fingers to his lips and revealed a key that he wore around his neck. Kimberly nodded and placed a finger of her own near her mouth. The pact of secrets had been struck. Grandfather turned the key in the door and they stepped inside the cave.
Her mind went fuzzy and Kimberly clung tight to the dream, afraid to wake. She slipped deeper into sleep and was near the top of a long, winding staircase. She briefly pondered its impossible existence, but was captivated instead by her memory of the special room she now stood in.
Hal Stone was well known for talking about his stories as if they had happened. The fact that he often showed items from his books drove his fans—specifically collectors—crazy with envy. 
Blue-hued Mermaid Blade from his first series? By the door. Sir Raggly’s suit of plate mail? Further in, and it had a huge bite mark taken out of it, compliments of a water dragon that had eaten Sir Raggly toward the end of Pirate’s Bounty.
Weapons and magical artifacts of all kinds resided here in his collection. Grandfather’s trove was often mentioned whenever they made a movie based on one of his stories, or whenever he was feeling particularly friendly during an interview. The fact that he kept these things on the island was the big secret, though. This was something he made Kimberly swear to never tell anybody about.
He let her walk around the room and hold the different items. Feeling the weight of a sorceress’s cloak was far better than reading about one. They donned some of the items and played out mock battles on the island during many of Kimberly’s visits. So many island trips filtered through her mind all at once, random items appearing in her hands as they reenacted her grandfather’s tales.
Memories mixed like paint in her head and she fought to regain just that very first visit. In the middle of the room, underneath a single skylight, was a dull gray sword sunk deep into a piece of marble.
“Grandfather, what story is that from?” Kimberly approached the sword and reached out a hand to grab it by the handle.
Her grandfather caught her gently by the wrist, turning her back around to face him.
“You are never to touch that one, my dear one. It is dangerous.” He had a serious look on his face.
“Which story is it from?” She turned to try and look at it again. The pull was undeniable.
“Perhaps one day I’ll tell you all about it.”
The sword had to be Willow. Her current mind raced at the possibilities. Locked in a memory, she reached up with a child’s arms to her grandfather. He picked her up and hugged her close, his whiskers tickling.
“Do you know why these things are important little one?”
“Because they’re awesome!” Young Kimberly declared.
Grandfather laughed, a booming sound that brought great joy to the little girl. “Yes, they are awesome. There is a much bigger reason than that.” He ran his fingers along a spear hanging from the wall.
“The reason these things are important, the real reason, is that this is a world without magic of its own. These items all act as a gateway for our imaginations, a portal that leads us to a world where magic is real. This world is so starved for magic that it eats up my stories like a water dragon eats up fishing boats. It has made me wealthy beyond my own imagination and given me opportunities I have never expected. Even here, these items have a magic all their own. And what is the number one rule of magic?”
“Intent.” She knew these rules by heart. Magic was never good or evil on its own, it always needed the push of the spell caster.
“That’s correct. Like a good wizard, we never want powerful magic in the wrong hands.” Grandfather started to say something else, but his face distorted and popped like a strange bubble. Kimberly blinked twice in astonishment, realizing that she was now awake.
The train was slowing, and Kimberly rubbed her eyes, staring at the ceiling of her private compartment. She would be allowed to disembark first, and then the tourists and travelers who rode the train would be next. Sitting up, she straightened out the skirt of her school uniform and made sure her belongings were together.
The train stopped and the suits promptly walked her straight to a waiting car. Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, she climbed in the back and faced forward. Whatever her father had planned, she would soon find out.
*   *   *
Nathan Stone stood in his office, looking out his window at the city below. Standing up on the 112th floor gave Nathan an unparalleled view of the city beneath him, an empire he liked to consider his own. He sometimes watched the tiny little people below, insignificant specks to his existence, and imagined crushing them between his forefingers. This was the view he liked most in the world, the one he looked at right before a hostile takeover of someone else’s company. It helped to remind him of his place in the world.
Not today. Something far bigger than business had been on his mind this day, something far bigger than anything he could think of. Still sitting on his desk was the note. Written on yellow paper and folded neatly in the middle, his secretary delivered it to his desk during a 6 a.m. conference call with a powerful West Russian corporation.
He immediately cancelled all of his appointments for the day. Standing here, looking out his window, he was still uncertain how the news made him feel. He had summoned his daughter to return home right away. She was a loose end, a mistake he often regretted. During this time, she needed to be under his personal watch.
He judged his own reflection in the shaded glass. Much like an anorexic may see a fat person staring back, Nathan could only see his own weaknesses. His hair was immaculate, his suit worth thousands of dollars. Yet for years, he had been under a shadow, a shadow that may have finally dissipated, revealing to him the light of day.
He allowed himself a rare smile. Today, there was no weakness; only a grim sense of satisfaction. His skills were unparalleled; he was mighty. Now nobody in the world stood taller than he.
He turned away from the reflection in the glass, hardly noticing that his reflection’s movement was slightly delayed.
He tapped the screen on his desk, his first real course of action in over ten hours. His secretary appeared on the screen, at the ready.
“I think it’s time to go home.”
“Yes, Mr. Stone.” Always loyal and unquestioning, his wife vanished from the monitor and his office door opened. Approaching his desk, she packed up his things, careful to put everything exactly where it needed to go. He grinned at his ever-faithful bride as she held out his case.
“Everything handled?”
“It is,” she answered. “The boys were told to come straight home from school. Kimberly was pulled from the academy this morning and should already be home.”
“Anybody talk to them?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Who knows?”
“So far, only immediate family. The press will find out eventually, but for now, it’s under wraps.”
“Good.” Together they walked to the elevator and his wife pushed the button for the lobby. The doors shut, leaving the office empty.
In Nathan’s office, a barely tangible shadow crossed the room and stood where Nathan had, staring out into the city. It opened something resembling a mouth and shook. If anybody could have heard it, they would have recognized laughter.
*   *   *
Kimberly exited the black sedan and grabbed her suitcase. She watched the car pull away, down the long drive, the gate closing behind it. From the street, all that would be visible would be a ten-foot-high privacy fence and a large stone panel with the family name. People, in search of her grandfather, often came to the house thinking that he lived here. 
Walking through the house she had grown up in, she was immediately struck by its sterility. It was full of expensive art, a lot of which Kimberly was forbidden to touch. She walked to her room, looking out a window on her way. Her dipstick older brothers were out back, throwing a football back and forth.
If anyone had ever asked her if her father believed in a god, she would have answered yes. Football was the closest thing to a real religion in the Stone household. Nathan often went to his private place of worship, a beautifully decorated home theater which cut its viewer off from the outside world completely. At one point, when she had still lived at home, she knew the game schedule by heart. Those were the best times to quietly disappear to her room and fall into a good book, usually her grandfather’s.
She opened the door to her bedroom. It was still untouched from her last visit. She was quick to unpack her suitcase and even quicker to hide away her grandfather’s novel. She was hanging some shirts in the closet when she was struck from behind. Gasping, she turned to see her brother, Billy, in the doorway, grinning. His football rolled on the floor behind her.
“Look who’s back.” He took three steps into the room and picked up the ball. “You here to make more trouble for Dad?”
“No. Father said I had to come back.”
“Sure.” Billy tossed his ball up once and caught it. He jerked his arms forward like he was going to throw it at her face and Kimberly flinched. Knowing better than to do something that might leave a mark, Billy was content to know his little sister was still scared of him.
“It’s the worm.” Zane, Billy’s identical twin, was in her doorway now. If Billy was the muscle, then Zane was the brain. His words often stung more than Billy’s kicks or slaps. His favorite nickname for Kimberly was born of her love to read, and also the wriggling motion she made when pushed down hard and punched in a kidney.
“Leave my room.” 
“Make us.” Billy pushed her down on the bed and Zane hit the light switch. They closed the door on their way out, annoying her even further. Kimberly stood up and rolled her eyes dramatically. Her brothers had only come to make their presence known, luckily. They treated her the way that only their hero, her father, could approve of.
It was getting dark, and Kimberly snuck to the kitchen to get a snack. A large crystal fruit bowl was kept continuously stocked by the best produce science could make. Picking out a large red apple, she took a bite, relishing the crunching sound. Knowing her father was likely to be home soon, it would bode well for him to see her hard at work on her studies. Stopping only for a glass of water, she set her things up and dove into it.
It wasn’t long before her mind wandered. She was riding a horse with wings over the ocean, using a magic staff to fire bolts of lightning into a kraken. She was jumping off of thousand-story buildings, only to unfurl her arms at the last moment and fly away. She was—
The crunching of gravel outside told her that her father had arrived, snapping her free of her reverie. She looked out the window to see her parents get out of the car, a new expensive one she hadn’t seen before. She looked at her desk and saw that she had scrawled a few doodles in the margins. She moved quickly, burying the offending papers deep in her bag and pulling out a half-finished geography assignment.
Kimberly kept her face down in her books as the front door opened. She felt certain that gallons of sweat were pouring down her body, knowing that her father would soon walk by.
Her mother passed the room and looked in.
“Hi, Kim.” Her mom kept walking. It was the first time they had seen each other in months, and it was likely the only conversation they would have. Strange as it was to witness, her mom had little time for anybody who wasn’t her father.
Not too far behind, the steady clicking of heels was soon amplified by the beating of her terrified heart.
Nathan stopped in the hallway, turning his head to look at her. It was more than just a glance; it was a full appraisal. Their eyes met, identical sets of gray eyes flecked with silver.
He walked over to where she sat and looked down at what she was doing. She was halfway through scrawling a sentence about New China.
She could feel it in the way he stood, see it etched on his hard features. She was a complete mystery to him. The feeling was somewhat mutual; she tried hard not to flinch away.
Not sure what to do, she resumed her studies, trying to appear busy. Nathan reached down and opened up her school bag, pulling out her International Finance book.
He flipped through its pages and grunted in soft satisfaction. Kimberly was always thorough. She had highlighted text and made extra notes in the margins. Even so, she knew he could sense her defiance.
He set her book on the table and started to leave. At the door, he stopped. Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat, seeing the familiar set in his shoulders.
“Where is your coaster?” He turned back around, a mixture of rage and satisfaction on his face.
Kimberly looked over at the glass of water. Moisture from the glass had accumulated on the outside, beading and running down to the fine rare wood that Kimberly’s desk was made of.
To the outside world, Nathan was often seen as cool and collected. Kimberly knew better. He kept an animal caged up inside, an animal that loved to come out and play.
Moving quickly, he grabbed the glass from her desk, spilling water along her blouse. He snarled in her face and threw the glass into a corner where it broke. He grabbed her arm, hard, and lifted her small frame from its seat. She watched his features twist into a smile as her own twisted into a grimace.
Twisting her around, her arm up behind her back, he pushed her face down to within an inch of the watery stain.
“Is this how you thank me? I send you to a good school, I pay my hard-earned money to keep you in clothes, and you can’t even put out a coaster?” He spun her back around to face him. “Where is your sense of pride, Kimberly, where?” He jabbed her near her stomach, pushing her away from him. Her arms pinwheeled around wildly, trying to grab a piece of her own skirt to wipe up the offending stain. He pushed her again, hard, and opened up one of the drawers. He pulled out some oil and a stack of rags.
“Pride in ownership. I want this whole desk polished.” Her father’s features relaxed as he recomposed himself, locking the animal back in its cage.
Kimberly hated crying in front of her father. She hated her father in general. Still, tears had begun running freely down both sides of her face. She grabbed the rags and began polishing, thinking of Cinderella the whole time and wishing that her grandfather had won the custody battle when she was younger.
It took her a bit, but the polishing was completed. The spot under her ribs where her father had jabbed her was sore, and she knew there was likely to be a bruise by morning. When she was done polishing, the broken glass was next to go. Frustrated, she started to sit down when Billy appeared in the door, his smirk matching the spikes in his blond hair.
“Dad wants us.” He disappeared and Kimberly snorted. He was Dad to her brothers, but she had to call him Father, or sir. Standing, she navigated her way through the large house, going instinctively to her father’s office.
She stood in the hallway, staring at the heavy wooden door. For whatever reason, her father had flown in an expert on medieval architecture to create the perfect room for a corporate giant. It reminded her more of a door to a dragon’s lair.
Pushing the door open with both hands, she saw her father sitting behind his desk. Her mother stood just behind him, a hand on his shoulder. The twins waited, standing just off to the side.
“I have a family announcement.” Nathan took a sip from a tumbler of whiskey and set it down on his desk. Kimberly noted in the back of her mind that he wasn’t using a coaster.
“My father is dead.”
Nathan was watching Kimberly for a reaction and he wasn’t disappointed. Her chin trembled as she fought to control herself and he could see the questions she desperately wanted to ask.
“Due to his celebrity,” he sounded the word out slowly, “as a family, we need to be very aware of anything we say to the media.” He looked specifically at Kimberly. “Or what we don’t say. Tomorrow morning we leave to meet with his lawyer and settle his estate.”
He was done. Kimberly felt that cold place in her heart explode outward suddenly, ripping holes through her body until she finally melted into sobs and ran from the room, her head in her hands. She felt her father’s eyes on her, felt the joy behind the look.
Kimberly shut the door to her room, flipping the lock. Pulling her bottom dresser drawer out, she pulled out the forbidden copy of Elurra’s Journey and opened it to the back page. Her grandfather’s smiling face was there, waiting for her. Crying uncontrollably, she clutched the book to her heart. In the whole universe, her grandfather had provided the one spot of light for her to stand under. Without Hal Stone, Kimberly had fallen into darkness.
“Grandfather, I need you.” Her tears soaked the pages of the book.

Ip and Grandfather’s Estate

The Stone family took a plane. Nathan got them all seats in first class and Kimberly became the odd one out, sitting toward the back of the section. This suited her just fine, because it meant she was away from her callous father. Staring at the back of his head, she sent him thoughts of anger in the hopes he would drop dead of an aneurism.
Occasionally, she would see her mom turn to say something. Watching the woman who used to be the smiling girl in old photographs, Kimberly wondered what had changed. When she was little, her mom used to call her the names other moms called their children.
Then something changed. It was like watching a plant wither away over the months. A divide had somehow formed between the two of them, a rift she was certain her father had placed.
Her brothers were just colossal wastes of space. She watched them chatter at each other, two rich, preppy boys who would undoubtedly drink too much while barely making the grade in college. In her father’s eyes, they could do no wrong.
And here she sat, the smallest girl in the universe, in the tenth row, wishing they would all die. Being honest with herself, she realized she was in the anger stage of the grieving process.
The man sitting next to her was perusing his laptop, his fingers clicking away at the keys. Judging by the suit he wore, she could only assume he was reading stock news or something else business related.
Kimberly sniffled and rubbed her eyes. They were red and irritated from crying.
During the flight, she read all of the magazines in the little pocket in front of her. Finding a crusty old pen, she doodled in the margins. Watching her family, she was frustrated by their apparent comfort during the five-hour flight.
The man next to her let out a sigh, the first noise she had heard from him the whole flight. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at Kimberly.
“Sorry, I just read some bad news.” The man wiped the beginning of a tear from his eye. He ordered a drink from the attendant and sat back in his seat, then looked up at the ceiling with a strange expression on his face. When his drink arrived, he tucked his computer away. Kimberly turned away from him, wondering what his issue was.
“You ever read this?” She turned back and saw that he now held up an old battered copy of The Knights of Everbrave. Her heart skipped a beat. It was the first book that Grandfather had dedicated to her. She just nodded her head, unsure what to say. Looking forward, she half expected her father to turn around in his seat and spew fire around the cabin in reaction to her grandfather’s book.
“My father gave me this book when I left for college. I didn’t read it until my junior year.” The man opened the cover and flipped to page in the middle. “I was failing out. I left town for the weekend to think over my options and brought it with me on a whim. One night, I was getting ready to hit a bar in a little ski town, but I saw this book sitting there in my stuff. I had fifteen minutes till I needed to leave, and the room didn’t have cable. I sat down on my bed and read.”
He leaned back in his seat and smiled.
“I sat there and read the book straight through until eleven in the morning. I think I stopped to order a pizza, but that was it. And you know what? It didn’t matter to me that the characters aren’t real people; it didn’t matter that they used swords and magic to save their kingdom. What mattered was they started as ordinary people like me.” He showed her a spot in his book. Kimberly could see where fingers had stained the pages edge numerous times. “This is the scene where one of the knights, this guy named Brevor, is about to die. His friends are fighting just to survive, and he can barely walk—he’s full of arrows. Well, he stands up, he draws his sword, and he goes running in full steam ahead. This line in the book really caught me.”
He looked at the words, but Kimberly could tell he was reading from a page in his heart. “Brevor stood, pain and panic on his face. These would likely be his last moments alive, but it no longer mattered. All that mattered was what he did, right now. Whatever came next was going to happen anyway.” He closed the book and chuckled. “The man who wrote this book never knew it, but that one line struck something deep in me, and that something made me turn things around. I got my degree and moved on to get a masters. I make good money and have a nice life because of him. I just found out from the news that he died.”
The stranger turned to look at Kimberly and a connection was instantly made. He was sitting next to somebody who understood.
“It’s like losing a childhood friend.” He held the book lovingly in his hands. “Man, I’ve read most of his books.” He drank, the ice clinking in his glass.
They talked for the remainder of the flight. They talked about Hal Stone’s early books, some of the movies that were made, and about his last book, one they had both read. She never told him who she was, and it didn’t matter. She had found kindness in a stranger and she soaked up every last drop of it she could. When the plane landed, he offered her a slight wave of his hand, his book still tightly clutched in the other. She knew that he was going to read it from start to finish once he got wherever he was going.
A car waited for them at the airport. Getting in, Nathan asked Kimberly about her companion, suspicion in his eyes. She told her father the truth; the man was feeling chatty and told her how he got through college. This satisfied Nathan, who got in the driver’s seat. The drive to her grandfather’s home was over two hours long and the only noise she heard was the occasional exchange of the twins while they were awake.
Pulling up to grandfather’s home was bittersweet. Hal had built a mansion on the side of a hill, overlooking the lake. His home looked like it was straight out of a storybook. Wrought-iron bars with creeper vines and roses were placed along the perimeter and the house was made of both stone and wood. Every time she had ever been to this home she had seen it as an escape, a place to be loved and cared for. The world outside of this house was a cold, lonely place. 
And now the world inside would be, too.
Kimberly could see her father’s face in the rearview mirror. His face had twisted into a mix of emotions. She recognized anger and disgust, but she saw one she had never seen before.
Could it be… fear?
Nathan entered a code into the gated entryway. The doors swung open and they proceeded up the paved driveway.
As Kimberly got out of the car, she saw that a few people had already gathered outside the gate. To say that her grandfather was loved by his fans would be a humble understatement. She guessed that by tomorrow, the number of people would be triple and that they would need an armed guard just to get out the gate in a couple of days.
Two men waited at the door. The first man Kimberly recognized from her father’s business functions. Carl Gass, exactly the kind of textbook, greasy, slimeball lawyer that actors portrayed for any show or movie. He had flirted with Kimberly openly after she hit puberty and always gave solicitous looks at Kimberly’s mother. He was also good at what he did, and was therefore one of the few people on Earth her father considered even close to a friend.
The other man introduced himself as Lance. No fancy last name, no comb-over. This was her grandfather’s attorney, a man in a simple blue jacket and slacks. He smiled in greeting and offered his hand. Upon seeing Kimberly, he clasped her hand warmly in both of his.
“Hal has told me so much about you.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Nathan.
“When is the reading?”
Lance frowned a little but pulled out a notebook. He handed Nathan a couple of forms.
“Tomorrow at 11 a.m. at my office. Those forms will help us expedite the process; I understand that you want this to be over with as soon as possible.”
“Yes.” Nathan handed the forms over to Gass, who made them disappear into a briefcase. “I understand we are to stay in the house?”
“Per your father’s instructions. One night in the house before the will is to be read.”
“An unusual request,” Nathan said.
“It’s in there, Mr. Stone.” Gass turned to Nathan. “I’ve been over preliminary instructions. No way around it.”
“I’m sure. Very well.” Nathan turned to Lance. “If there is nothing further, then I suggest we get on with it.”
Lance gave Nathan a sad look. It was obvious he wanted to talk about it. He looked at Kimberly with a grim smile and made his way over to his car. He started to get in and stopped.
“Oh, I meant to mention… Ip is probably still in there somewhere; nobody has seen him.”
Ip? Kimberly looked at the windows of grandfather’s house. Ip was Hal’s pet fox. He was some strange breed, similar to the fennec foxes of the late 21st century. Kimberly remembered playing with him on several occasions, chasing him through the house. What would happen to Ip?
“We’ll take care of it,” Gass said. He waved to Lance and watched as the lawyer got in his own car. He turned to Nathan.
“If I see the thing, I’ll call you to come and retrieve it.” Nathan threw a glance at Kimberly, daring her to say something.
“You got it, sir. See you in the morning.” Gass got in his own car and followed Lance down the drive. Kimberly glared at her father, who was no longer looking her way. He certainly was being a bastard today.
What was her father staring at so intently? Kimberly turned and looked out into the wooded area surrounding the house. She didn’t see anybody there.
“Let’s go see what we have to deal with.” Her father began ushering everybody inside. As she walked past her father, she saw that he was still watching the forest.
*   *   *
The night passed in almost complete silence. They ordered in and sat at the long table that, according to her grandfather, had been built just like the tables in a knight’s hall. Kimberly didn’t eat much, but she did squirrel away some of her meal for Ip, if she ever found him. Her eyes darted around the house constantly, hoping to see a sign of his presence.
The fox usually wore a bell, mainly because he moved so quietly. Kimberly was certain that the bell would sound at any moment and it would be a race to see who found him first. Ip was her grandfather’s only pet and he’d been around since she was a little girl. She briefly wondered how long foxes lived to begin with, hoping that Ip hadn’t died shortly after her grandfather.
As to how her grandfather died, that was something Kimberly had finally discovered through a news broadcast. A friend had come to check on him and found him curled up in his favorite chair in the library. Apparently her grandfather’s heart, the same heart that donated almost ninety percent of his considerable income to charity, had finally run down. 
That night, Kimberly stayed in the room that Grandfather had decorated solely for her. That is, after her father had swept through with a garbage bag, removing all of the books from the shelf. She wept and screamed in rage as her father committed the deed. Each book was a first edition of Hal Stone’s work, and each one had a special note written inside to Kimberly from him. Notes that referred to her as Little One, and Fairy Catcher, and other sweet nicknames a grandfather calls a child. Kimberly called her father names of her own. Names like monster, tyrant, and even went so far as to address him as a horrible demon. 
Nathan took the whole thing in stride until being called a demon. At that point, he turned around and slapped her hard enough that she fell. He stared at her with the same look he gave her the time he broke her hand. She waited for the blows to come, but she saw him fight it back. He stormed out, taking Hal’s stories with him.
After Nathan went to bed, Kimberly snuck through the house trying to find Ip. Unsuccessful, she hid the extra food from dinner under her dresser, hoping to hear him in the middle of the night. She drifted off to sleep, the glow of the candlelight vigil on the property’s edge giving her comfort.
*   *   *
Lance’s office was warm and smelled a little like honey. Gass commented on how small it was several times before Lance finally appeared. Smiling, he sat down behind his desk and offered everybody a cookie.
Gass snorted, Nathan scowled, and Kimberly’s mom said nothing. The twins sat quietly in the back, taking turns pinching their sister in the sides. They, at least, seemed happy to have her back. She had overheard them make a bet. First one to make her yelp got five bucks.
Irritated, Lance sat back and pulled a copy of the Last Will and Testament of Hal Stone from an envelope. The reading of the will was long, due in part to how many different intellectual properties he owned. He left almost all of his money to different charities, something that came as no surprise to anybody, especially Nathan. He never saw the purpose of making all that money just to give it all away. If he had kept it, Hal would have been one of the richest men in the world.
Nathan really didn’t care either way. He just wanted the ordeal to be over, to erase his father’s memory once and for all.
Kimberly was openly squirming now; pinches were coming harder and faster.
“And in the matter of my house and home, the lake property: I leave it and all of its contents to my granddaughter Kimberly.”
The only place she had ever called home was now hers. She imagined what it would be like to live there someday.
“Get with some of our people. We’re liquidating the entire estate.” Nathan barked the order.
Gass nodded at Nathan and pulled out a cell phone.
“That isn’t your decision, Mr. Stone. Ownership of that property is completely under Ms. Stone’s control.”
“No, you listen. This building you’re in is smaller than my office. I ride an elevator every day that is bigger than your lobby. In a heartbeat, I can have a team of lawyers crush your very legal existence.” Nathan was building steam as he stood, towering over Lance. “And before I’m done, I will make every one of your clients question whether or not you truly acted in their best interests, I will have you disbarred, disbanded, destroyed.” He swung a hand and knocked the cookie plate off of the desk. “She is my daughter and I will decide what is best for her and I will not have that horrid man influencing her from beyond the grave.”
Lance looked up into Nathan’s eyes and shook his head, disappointment on his face.
“He hoped so much better of you Mr. Stone. I know about the beatings, the missing evidence, all of it. Maybe I can’t stop a monster like yourself from ruining your life, but I can tell you what I think of you. You are the epitome of what is wrong with the world: a greedy, domineering bastard. You will never crawl out from under his shadow, Mr. Stone. You may be feared, but you will never be respected or loved by anybody.” Lance thrust the will in Nathan’s face. “Go on, take it. We both knew this was only a formality anyway. I’m through.”
The whole room looked at Nathan, unsure of how he would handle the situation. Nathan just laughed and grabbed the documents.
“My father was a dreamer. To be a dreamer, you have to have your eyes closed. My eyes, however, are wide open.” He grabbed the paperwork and handed it to Gass. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
As they all began to file out, Kimberly saw Lance give her a sad look. Out in the hallway, she heard her dad and his crony laugh.
“I’m sorry.” Lance’s voice trembled. He had been a personal friend of Hal’s and knew just how important Kimberly was. He felt like he had failed.
“I’ll be fine.” She said it and did her best to believe it.
*   *   *
They walked into the house, Nathan victorious and Kimberly defeated. It had taken them forever to get people to get away from the fence so they could get in, and Nathan was already making calls. Not too long after, a team of men showed up to escort Hal’s mourning fans from the premises.
Nathan thought it particularly funny to hand his daughter a box of trash bags and make her clean up all of the gifts and cards left along the fence. Tears ran down her face again when she saw the words written on the cards; saw the little bears, the candles, all of it. Nathan laughed as he watched her. This was just the first step in reclaiming what was his. He walked into the shadows of the house to make some calls.
Kimberly walked along the perimeter of the property, mainly by the entrance. She had filled three bags and was working on a fourth. 
He came out of nowhere, and for just a second, he looked like smoke on the wind. Kimberly was reaching for a card when a clammy hand grabbed her own through the fence. Startled, she jumped back, the wrought-iron bars separating her from the stranger. He kept his hold on her and pulled the card from her hand.
He was tall, thin, and wearing a black suit. His skin was pasty white and he smiled at her with pupil-less eyes.
“Is it true?” His voice was strange. When he spoke, Kimberly heard other voices whisper along with his.
“What?” She tried to look back at the house, but suddenly she couldn’t move. It was like icy fingers were holding her still.
“The old man. Is he really dead? Gone? Worm food?” The man looked up at the house and opened a mouth full of teeth—sharp, pointed shark teeth.
“Yes, he is, you ass.” Kimberly fought hard to resist and he let go. She took a step back, and then another. He crooked a finger at her and beckoned. She was dragged back toward him by an unseen force, her feet leaving grooves in the dirt. A clammy hand reached through the bars and stroked her cheek.
“Temper, temper.” He laughed, a whispery noise that seemed to come from all around her.
Standing there in terror, she shuddered, unable to move her body.
Ip appeared, hopping up on the gate between the two of them. His body was only slightly larger than a kitten’s, and his ears were full size. They looked like giant satellite dishes on his tiny little head, dishes that were now pointing at the stranger.
The stranger acted as if he was burned by fire. He let go of Kimberly and hissed through pointy teeth. Kimberly heard a door slam behind her and she turned to look. It was just Zane with a trash bag of his own. When she looked back, she only saw a dim shadow fading into the bushes.
Ip had disappeared as well, but Kimberly didn’t bother calling him. She could tell the little fox was watching.
That night, they all ate dinner as a family. As Kimberly sat quietly with her food, she watched her brothers talk to each other and Nathan. Her mom sat off to the side, mute as usual. 
She hated them all.

Dark Dreams, Darker Deeds

She was walking through her grandfather’s house, and this time she was only eight years old. The house was full of a dark mist, a mist that blocked out the light in the windows. She shuddered, knowing that there were rules, rules she couldn’t utter out loud.
The noise started somewhere else in the house. Whatever room that was in, that room was now off-limits.
She had to move, before it came. She wasn’t sure what it was, but her dreaming mind told her it was bad. The atmosphere in the room became hot and oppressive and she ran.
She was now in the living room. A picture of her grandfather was up on the wall and she could hear him screaming her name in terror. She opened her mouth, but it was full of fear and molasses.
The picture began to burn away and the room filled with her grandfather’s ashes. Somebody laughed and Kimberly had to flee to a new room as the earth shook. The house only had so many rooms, but the rules said she had to go to each one once before she could leave the house.
In this manner, she ran through the house. Some rooms were sideways, some were upside down. She found herself in rooms that didn’t exist at all until, finally, she was in a room that was merely a long silver rectangle. Frantic, she turned around to see a figure in the doorway.
It was the stranger from before. The knowledge of dreams buoyed her memory.
“You’re a homunculus.” It was an accusation Kimberly made with confidence.
The homunculus nodded and started walking forward.
“You are correct; I am. And I am here for you. Do you feel… vulnerable?” Long, leathery wings sprouted behind his body, somehow passing through his suit jacket.
He was right. She was defenseless. She was wearing just a long t-shirt and panties, the same ones she had worn to bed.
“I can do things to you here. You know that, right? Sharp things, screaming things. And you won’t wake up. I can do this all night and you will sleep through it all.” His fingers looked like knives, and he grinned a devil’s grin. “I could chew your flesh like gum and blow a bubble in your brain.”
He was nonsensical and completely right, all at the same time. Kimberly scrabbled at the wall behind her, unable to help herself as he approached.
Suddenly, he was gone. Kimberly opened her eyes to two dark, almond orbs staring into her own. Ip looked at her for a moment, then curled up in the crook of her arm. This time when she fell asleep, she dreamt about swimming in the lake with mermaids.
Outside her window, a shadowy figure faded back into the night. He left scratch marks in the glass with long, taloned fingers.
*   *   *
Kimberly stumbled her way through the house, rubbing at her eyes. She woke up with a pounding headache and vague memories of nightmares from the previous night. Sighing, she made her way past a group of hired hands who were busy packaging up furniture. Her father’s partner, Gass, had gotten on the ball quickly, and a team of appraisers was boring through the home, assigning values to belongings that rightfully should have been hers.
She walked into the kitchen and got a giant glass of orange juice. Making herself some toast, she sat down at the table across from her mother, who was busy conducting business on her laptop.
Kimberly peeked at her mother’s face. It was strange to think of her as a person anymore. When Kimberly was little, she vaguely remembered a woman who would at least smile on occasion or even talk to the other mothers. Now, she was just her father’s secretary most of the time and his assistant the rest.
Seeing a newspaper on the table, she opened it up. Several stories about her grandfather had been printed in tribute and she soaked them all up. She began chugging down her juice and didn’t notice when her brothers sat down next to her, pinning her in the middle.
Zane was eating the last of the lunch meat from the fridge and Billy was eating a bowl of cereal. Lowering her paper, she saw that her mom had left, leaving her alone with the twins.
“No, seriously, I found this in his room.” Billy pulled out a knife with what looked like gems in the handle. “It was under the mattress.  It’s sharp too.” He jammed it down into the wood of the table and Kimberly winced.
Zane just smiled. “I found a mace.”
Billy wrinkled his nose. “That spray shit?”
“No, stupid, a mace. It’s like a big club, big as my arm. It just fits in my suitcase. You could bust up a car or something with it.”
“I bet there’s some other cool shit here. We can sneak it home and sell it ourselves. Hey, Worm, where did the old guy keep his good shit?” Billy poked Kimberly. The twins had almost never been to the house, not since they were very little.
“I don’t know.” She dropped the paper and started to stand. Zane nodded at Billy and they stood up, each placing a hand on her shoulder. They pushed her back down.
“Sounds like the worm is lying.”
“Of course she is. That’s because all this crap is hers. Dad is selling it all.” Zane got in her face. “How about it, Worm? If you tell us where the good stuff is, we’ll help you smuggle some of it back.”
“Yeah, like that collection everybody is talking about. I heard that people on the internet are pricing six figures for helmets and stuff.” Billy held her shoulders down and spoke above her. “Dad isn’t going to give you the money anyway. You could sell stuff and run away if you wanted.”
Kimberly knew this game. When she was little, the twins had lied to her about all sorts of things. She had a suspicious feeling that this was her father’s doing. He didn’t know about the secret cave on the island and likely would sell the land to somebody who might discover it later.
“I don’t know.”
Zane pulled on her feet and wrestled her to the floor. Kimberly swung her fists, but was overpowered. The twins stretched her out and pulled off her socks.
They began to tickle her. Not the fun kind of tickling, but the vicious kind that would likely leave scratch marks behind. Kimberly rolled and fought, struggling through her gasps to pull air into her lungs. Both of her brothers were well built from all the sports they played and it was easy for them to resist her.
 “Stop it!” Kimberly tried to fight back, but her brothers were simply too strong. She wasn’t sure what was coming, but it made her jumpy.
“We haven’t had much to do ourselves, you know. No friends, no basketball. So, we’ve taken up gambling.”
“Get off!” She tried to bite Zane when his hand came close, but he just pulled it away. He fought to pin her arms upward, making her very uncomfortable.
“Guess what we started betting on?” Billy had pulled her pant legs up a bit and now held her ankles in his hands.
“What do you think, how much juice did she drink with breakfast?”
Kimberly’s eyes widened as she realized what they were after.
“Maybe two minutes?” Zane smiled and gazed down into his little sister’s face. Not yet eighteen, she could still see the reminiscence of a young boy in the lines of his face.
“I bet you five.”
“Don’t punch her in the stomach. That’s cheating.”
“Agreed.” Billy began working her feet and Zane started doing her armpits. Their fingers dug in and started wiggling around on her sensitive skin. Losing control, she giggled and screamed at the same time, hoping that her mother hadn’t gone far.
“Wiggle worm, wiggle worm,” Billy chanted.
“Oh, look at her squirm.” Zane joined in.
“Don’t make a mess, Worm!”
“Don’t mess your dress, Worm!”
Between the two of them on top of her and the incessant tickling, Kimberly felt her abdominal muscles starting to spasm. She fought back harder, but to no avail. This was a new level of degradation on her brothers’ part, one more thing to add to her growing list of hate.
As her body twisted and writhed, she caught a glance at the window into the kitchen. She briefly saw blue sky and part of the rose bush outside. Zane twisted and blocked her view for a moment, but when he moved back, she saw something different.
The stranger smiled at her with his big pointy teeth while the breath from his nostrils left streaks of condensation down the glass. He watched in delight as the two boys tormented their sister.
The man started doing a little jig outside, in time with her brothers’ chants. She could see his arms flail skyward in a whirling motion as her misery became his delight. Her screams had still gone unnoticed by her mother and the skin on her arms and legs was already starting to chafe from the carpet. The stranger covered his eyes with his hands, like he was playing peek-a-boo.
He pulled them away to reveal her father’s eyes.
Kimberly felt her bladder relax. She pretended not to notice her brothers as they became disgusted. She closed her eyes, violated, and let the tears flow freely as the sadness in her heart overwhelmed her.
“Ah, gross.”
“That is nasty. Way more than one glass of juice.”
“And way less than five minutes.”
“Fine. Here’s your damn dollar.”
Her brothers left her on the floor, the wet stain in the crotch of her pants spreading down her legs. When she tried to get up, it felt like her stomach was torn. 
When she opened her eyes to look out the window again, the stranger was gone. 
At an all-new low, she stood and limped back to her room, careful to avoid the strangers in the house. In her room, she took off her clothes and threw them in a trash bag. She would never wear them again.
Stripping free of her clothing, she stared briefly at herself in the mirror. She was weak, pathetic, and alone. The room she was in was stripped of books. Her life had been stripped of light. And now…
She felt the anger build. Maybe she should go take a few things from grandfather’s collection. Maybe then she would have at least something to remember him by.
She showered and changed into clean clothes. Wrapped in a towel, she walked out to see Ip sitting on her bed, his giant ears cocked. He had something in his mouth.
“What do you have, Ip?” She put out a hand and Ip dropped the item and jumped off the bed, his tiny feet silent on the hardwood floor. He looked up at her as she regarded the cold metal key in her hand. The one that opened the door on the island.
Kimberly looked down at Ip and it occurred to her that her door had been shut. 
The events of the last few days made her stop for a moment. A flash of her dream came back and a word popped into her mind.
“Homunculus. He’s a homunculus. And you,” she looked at Ip. “I’m starting to think you’re not a fox.”
Ip smiled, his tiny tongue rolling out the side of his mouth.
She ran to her closet and opened it. The inside was painted pink and along the bottom were drawings that her and Grandfather had done in crayon. She could vividly remember lying on the floor with a pack of crayons, doodling without inhibition. Even there, a tiny picture of Ip was standing next to her. The picture was from when she was five—ten years ago. 
Ip wandered in and sat, watching her. Kimberly ran her fingers over the drawings. She would wait until tonight to take the boat out to the island. And then she and Ip would leave.
She closed the door and curled up on the floor. Ip watched as she fell asleep, the stress of the situation catching up to her. Ip’s eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting a light with no source.
*   *   *
The homunculus was little more than a mist to anybody looking. Confident he wouldn’t be discovered, he stared through the upstairs window of Hal’s home with hunger, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got what he most desired. He was watching Nathan Stone pace back and forth, chuckling at the anticipation he knew the human was experiencing. With phantom fingers pressed up against the glass, it took a chance and sent its consciousness forth, entering Nathan’s mind. 
The homunculus felt Nathan’s satisfaction as he watched the house stripped of its décor from the upstairs landing. Nathan thought about how he and Gass had crunched the numbers and the liquidation of the estate would be extremely profitable. The money was all Kimberly’s, of course, but in a show of humanitarianism, she would decide to donate it to charity. His daughter would never see a dime of it.
The homunculus listened for a few more minutes. Every time Nathan thought of the girl, the homunculus grinned with smoky teeth. Oh, how Nathan hated the girl.
He was hungry. The homunculus began to fan those flames of hatred, tickling the poisonous thoughts in Nathan Stone’s heart. It wouldn’t be long.
*   *   *
Nathan had been content to watch the slow demolition of his father’s memory. Every time something else left the front door never to return, his heart soared a little higher.
However, something that started as a tickle in the back of his mind wormed its way forward.
Kimberly.
Nathan realized that Kimberly was still holding on to the old man’s memory. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt an overwhelming desire to punish her for it, teach her a lesson she would never forget. He started pacing even more, nervous energy flooding his limbs.
He couldn’t let go of the thought that she still held Hal Stone in such high regard. It was with no amount of surprise that he found himself drifting through the house to his daughter’s bedroom. Looking inside, he saw that she wasn’t there.
Uncertain of his next actions, he felt another thought wriggle free. The old man was still with her somehow, his influence still in this room.
The bag, a voice said. He’s in her bag.
Nathan furrowed his brow for a moment at the mental intrusion and saw what the voice wanted him to see. Kimberly had partially tucked her schoolbag beneath her bed.
Guided by a strange instinct, he opened up her bag and pulled out one of her textbooks. Trembling fingers ripped the binding back to reveal a different book inside.
“I knew it.” His father still had Kimberly in his grasp. Clutching the book, he began to wander through the house, bellowing her name. He saw his wife duck away into a room ahead of him, which was good for her.
“Kimberly!” He took a swing at a piece of furniture and knocked it from the wall. He ordered the twins to find her and began storming through the house, causing the appraisal people to soon clear out. The louder he screamed, the louder the creature outside laughed. It wasn’t long before his head was pounding and the sun was setting. Seeing his wife in a corner somewhere, he informed her to send him the girl when she was found. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and went to his father’s library.
He sat there with the lights off, his head beginning to pound and his thoughts becoming muddy.
*   *   *
Outside, the creature smiled. He ran shadowy fingers along the glass in circles as his excitement built. The homunculus had Nathan in his thrall now. Watching through the window, he began playing Nathan’s sanity, strumming the strings of reason until they began to snap.
*   *   *
Kimberly had heard her father’s voice earlier, but knew better than to answer. She stayed hidden in the closet, hoping nobody would open the door. Ip stayed with her the whole time, giving off more warmth than a creature his size should. Something in the air created a thick sort of anticipation, like a coming storm. Much like her nightmare, she felt like strange rules were being set in place, rules that no longer followed logic.
Several times she heard her mother and her brothers stop by her room. She couldn’t be sure what time it was, but eventually, she knew they would look in here. Their unfamiliarity with the house and its sheer size were her temporary allies.
Waiting for quiet, she opened the door of her closet. She pocketed the key and looked around her room. This wouldn’t be the first time she had run away, but hopefully it would be the last. There was nothing she needed to take with her other than the key and Ip.
She held the fox in her arms and snuck through the house, trying to make it to the back door. In the living room, Billy was sitting on a chair, shouting Kimberly’s name every couple of minutes while he looked through a dirty magazine he had brought with him. Kimberly chuckled inwardly, happy at her brother’s laziness.
Taking the route through the kitchen, she started to walk to the back door and had her hand on the knob when another hand closed over her own. She turned and saw her mother staring down at her. Ip barked once and jumped down, disappearing around a corner.
“Where have you been? Your father has been looking for you.” Her mom pulled Kimberly’s hand off the knob. “Honestly, I have no idea why you would be so selfish. Your father is under a lot of pressure, his dad passed away, and you can’t for a moment think of anybody but yourself.”
“Mom, do you love me?”
The question caught her mom off guard and she almost let go of Kimberly’s arm. Almost.
Her mom started to answer, stuttering over her own words. Kimberly watched her reaction carefully, realizing the truth of the matter. Her mom had no emotions, opinions, or independent thought. She did as her husband dictated, thought as he told her. 
Without an answer, her mother dragged her away. Kimberly fought against her, but was still incapable of striking her mother. They walked to the library and Kimberly was pushed into the room, the door shutting behind her.
Before his death, the library had been floor-to-ceiling books. The first ten feet of bookshelves recessed into another floor, which had another ten feet of books. The room itself was circular, with rolling ladders and the works. In the middle was a set of reading couches and a great big fireplace that warmed the room.
Now, though, the room had been stripped of decoration. All the furniture was gone, save for a single black leather chair. Kimberly saw the haggard figure sitting in the chair and almost didn’t recognize her father. Something much deeper than anger had changed his appearance.
Nathan Stone sat, a snifter of brandy in one hand. His hair was ruffled and sticking up in every direction. His face belied his full forty-eight years, sagging in places Kim had never noticed. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, something she had never seen before. Even though his demeanor had changed, his eyes still held a cruel clarity to them.
“Kimberly.” It was remarkable how many unsaid promises could be heard in a single word.
“Yes, sir?” She could tell he was on the edge of being drunk. History screamed at her to run away before the conversation went further, but fear rooted her to the spot.
“Come here.” He beckoned her with one crooked finger, and then pointed to the floor right in front of him. “Now.”
She stood before him, hands held together at her waist. His breathing was raspy and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He regarded her for almost a minute in silence, and she waited.
“Hand me that.” He pointed behind her. She turned around and saw that a metal lighter had been placed on the desk. She grabbed it and handed it to him. His fingers closed around the cool metal, but their eyes never met.
“When I was your age, I suffered living with the man who owned this home.” He sighed and gulped half of his glass away. “To you, he was just a crackpot with too many wives’ tales and fish stories. To the world, he was a creative genius.”
Nathan chuckled to himself and began flicking the metal lid open with his thumb, then slamming it shut with the flick of his wrist.
“This world welcomed his collective crap with open arms. Those stories of his made movies, toys, millions.” He looked wistfully at the now empty library, its shelves stripped bare of their contents. “Only I knew him for what he truly was.” He flicked the lighter open and a flame jumped from its depths. It seemed to calm Nathan momentarily.
Kim sat and waited for her father to continue. Nathan regarded his daughter past the flame.
“He was a madman. An unleashed terror. Do you know how I know this?”
Kim shook her head.
“Because he actually believed his stories had happened.” Nathan flicked the lighter shut and stood. He walked over to the fireplace, which was cold and empty. One click of a knob and it sprang into life, warming the cool air around them. Nathan sat back down at his chair, dragging a cardboard box Kim hadn’t seen with him.
“When I was little, it was all he could talk about sometimes. How much he missed the Lake of Mists. His cottage up in the Wheatly Hills. Sometimes he would read the paper and comment about how something would never have happened in the City of Light. He was sick.” Nathan’s breathing had accelerated and he chugged the last of his brandy. He held the glass up in front of his face and Kim expected him to chuck it into the fire. Instead, he set it down on the floor to his left.
“And this sickness is something he passed to you.” His eyes were like fire as he stared her down. “This illness of his is in your blood; it lies in wait; it creeps through the folds of your mind.” He poked her hard in the forehead. He had been biting his nails, something he never did, and the jagged edge broke her skin. Nathan didn’t notice.
“This, this was his drug of choice.” He reached into the box and pulled out a leather-bound volume. He waved it in Kim’s face and she was able to read the title. She gasped when she realized it was one of the books from her room “It started with this one right here, this escape from reality. He was so proud. So proud.” He opened the book up and stared into its pages.
“These words…” He gripped the pages with one hand and pulled. Sheets of paper tore themselves away from the book’s binding and he crumpled them up in his fist.
“No, don’t!” Kimberly started to step forward, but a look from her father halted her motion.
“Do you know how one deals with a disease when there is no cure, Kimberly?” He flicked the lighter open and held it underneath the crumpled pages. “Purification. By fire. You burn it out!” The pages caught and he watched them in a fever as they crumpled upward. Just before the flames licked at his fingers, he threw the pages into the fireplace, followed by the book. 
Kim choked back words, words that would have made things worse.
“These things consumed him, drove him further away from his obligations, from reality.” Nathan pulled another book from the box and flipped it open. He shoved it into Kim’s face. “These words of little meaning. Their hold over you is pathetic.” With that said, he gripped another handful of pages and tore them out, casting them into the fire. The second book suffered far worse before it was cast into the flames.
“What power indeed. Months, years to compile, so easily cast aside.” He grabbed two more books and tossed them into the fire. “Don’t you understand, Kimberly? You are either the fuel or you are the flames. Those meaningless words don’t protect those books from being burned. Nothing in them is of any real use.” He pulled another book from the stack and shoved it in her face. “Tell me! Tell me what this one taught you!”
Through tear-stained eyes, she could just make out the title.
“That love can be the greatest weapon in the world. Sir.”
He slapped her. She held her ground.
“Oh really? I remember you once told me that you loved these stories.”
“I still do. I always will.”
He hit her again, harder than before.
“Well then, save them! Use your love as a weapon, free them from the flames!” He tossed the book in with the rest. The smell of burnt paper and leather made the room stink.
“And this one?” He held it up in front of her. “Tell me!”
“That friendship is powerful. That risking it all for a friend means everything.”
“Oh really? Go save your friend.” He tossed it in. The fire roared higher than before. Nathan walked over to the fireplace and adjusted the flue. He stared into the flames as they burned away the many worlds of Hal Stone.
“What is their power over you? What is your power over her?” Kim realized that he wasn’t talking to her as he paced over to the box.
“Well, Dad, what is it! Huh? Where are you now?” He kicked the box and it slid across the floor. “Was it really worth it, Dad? Were these fables worth it?” He was screaming as he grabbed the box and held it in the air.
“These things meant so much to you! Much more than a son who wanted a dad to play catch with! More than a son who wanted you to come to his games! Look at them now, Dad! Watch them burn with me!” He tossed the box into the fire.
“You’re dead and gone. You left me a long time ago!” He grabbed his empty glass and threw it into the fire. “You never cared. I accomplished so much and you never cared. You bastard. I will never make the same mistakes you did. I would never ignore my own children.” He turned and looked at Kim. “I always have my eyes on my own kids.” His words rang ominously as he walked over to the chair and lifted up the cushion. He pulled the copy of Elurra’s Journey from its hiding spot and Kim’s heart stopped, ice flooding her veins.
“How long have you had this?” His eyes were full of murder.
For a breathless moment, Kimberly simply shuddered. Deep down inside, she felt a fire of her own begin to burn.
“It’s mine. Give it back to me.” She met her father’s gaze with a murderous one of her own.
“How long have you had this?” He leaned forward and screamed, spittle hitting her face. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. It was the sound of her mother stepping outside so she wouldn’t hear anything.
“He sent it to me.”
“When?”
“At school.”
“I see.” He leaned forward and his nose briefly touched hers. “It’s the last thing of his you will ever see.”
Nathan turned and cocked his arm sideways, making to throw it sideways into the fire. Kim reached out and grabbed onto the book with both hands. Nathan stopped and looked at her, his tie crooked, sweat under his armpits, anger pulsing under his face like lifeblood.
“Let go or I will hurt you.” His words went beyond promises.
“Try and take it from me.” Growling, she leaned forward and bit the back of his hand. Nathan howled and let go, sending Kim backward onto the floor. She struggled to stand and run; Nathan was too fast. He grabbed a handful of her hair in a tight fist, fresh blood along the back. She reached up and clawed frantically at his fingers.
“You stupid bitch.” She turned away and he caught the side of her face with a closed fist, just below her left eye. She dropped to the floor, clutching the book to her chest and sobbing uncontrollably. 
“No child of mine disrespects me.” He tried to take the book, but Kimberly held tight with both hands, her eyes closed. He pulled harder and harder, dragging her across the floor toward the fireplace. When she turned to look up, he slapped her across the face and the book slipped just a little from her fingers. His grip was like iron as he slowly pulled it free.
“I said, give it to me!” He slapped her again and the book slipped some more. With the fire reflected in his eyes, Nathan grunted as he yanked on the book one last time. The binding ripped and the book was now his. He howled in triumph, holding it up in the air.
“You’re gone for good, you bastard!” He tossed Elurra’s Journey into the fire and pumped his fist in the air. Kim tried hard to stand and make her way toward the door.
“We aren’t finished yet.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and started to pull her up. Kimberly screamed in rage, struggling for freedom. 
Ip appeared from out of nowhere, leaping down onto Nathan’s arms, biting and scratching. Nathan got a good grip around the little fox and threw him off into a corner.
Kimberly saw her opportunity and took it. She stepped forward and kicked Nathan in the groin as hard as she could. Color drained from his face and his lips curled into an O. Struggling to keep her balance, Kimberly limped toward the door, her eye swelling shut. Ip barked once and she picked him up on the way out. The door closed silently behind her.
*   *   *
A hateful minute passed as Nathan gasped for air. He struggled to stand up, weak in both mind and body. Even a small part of him recognized that he had gone too far, a part that was quickly shuffled away, covered up by evil thoughts, thoughts about ripping and tearing.
A cool breeze from an open window blew across his back and an icy hand gripped his neck, lifting him up. Nathan turned and fell back. A man in a black suit smiled at him with pointy teeth.
“Who are you?” That was all Nathan could choke out. 
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. It has been so many years.” This close together, they were the same build and height. “I guess you could say I am the reason you’re only half the man you could have been.”
“I don’t understand.” Nathan was guided to the chair. He sat down and faced the dark figure.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” The stranger waved his hand over at the fire and smoke filled the air. It coalesced behind the stranger who then sat on it like a chair. “I am you.”
Nathan laughed. The idea was absurd and he was drunk.
“No, it isn’t absurd.” His voice echoed, whispered, and shouted all at once. “You and I, we used to be the same. We had such a strong destiny, a world to conquer together. Our father didn’t want that for us.”
“My father.” Nathan was confused. Between the alcohol and the stress on his mind, he was having too much trouble focusing.
“Yes. Think back, to when we were six. Do you remember?”
Nathan tried really hard to. Truth be told, he had no memory of his childhood.
“Let me help you, brother.” A cold hand touched his own, and images filled his mind. Images of discovering he could fly. Images of melting into shadows. Images of dropping down from above and ripping a human being apart.
“That’s right. He found out.” More images now, images of his father standing outside a circle, one that Nathan couldn’t cross. Nathan screamed in rage, he was nine now and the skin of his hands was black like ink. His father spoke words and summoned fire everywhere, fire that burned, fire that forced Nathan to push his way from the circle, the sensation of ripping apart and screaming.
“He ripped us apart. He ripped us apart and left me to rot in that circle while you lived.” Nathan was back in the room now. “I was nothing more than a shadow, your shadow. And I hid from him in the darkness, waiting to step back into the light so that we could be one again. Make no mistake, a father’s love won’t save us this time.”
“My father’s dead.” Nathan felt a rush inside him, the rush of success, of fear, of everything in between.
“Yes. Now nobody can stop us. We can do whatever we want. But,” he said, waving a finger in Nathan’s face. “You have to want it. You cast me out when you walked from the fire. You have to accept me once again.”
“I don’t know.” Nathan was so confused right now; his mind was murky. Was he dreaming?
“Watch.” The creature stretched his arms wide. Every window in the library cracked and a screeching sound filled the air. They all blew inward, showering the room in glass. “This is our power, just a tiny bit. I am your heart, Nathan. You are the body, and together we can be whole once more.” 
Nathan watched the show of power in awe. It felt familiar, and he wondered if all these years the feelings he had now were the ones he had been pursuing. He stood up and stared at his other self, smirking.
“I accept. I want to be whole again.”
“Good.” The stranger rose and grabbed Nathan by his shoulders, and Nathan flinched. “We’re going to accomplish great things. Great things.” His teeth soon loomed in Nathan’s face and Nathan started to fight. “I need you to know something. This is going to hurt you. A lot.”
The sound of ripping skin and screams filled the air.

An Evil Reborn

Screams filled the house, screams of pain, fear, and delight. Billy stood up, his dirty magazine falling to the floor. Was that his dad? Billy ran through the house, tracking the noise up the stairs and to the library. The door sat crooked in the frame; it fell to the floor when he pushed it open. Inside, he saw his father’s back and more than a little blood on the floor.
“Hey, Dad, are you okay?” Billy walked forward and slipped on something. It was like blood, only darker, like it had been mixed with dirty oil. He leaned forward, watching his father.
His father looked slightly taller. It was because his feet were hovering above the ground. Turning around, he opened up his arms and smiled. His teeth were filed to points and when he opened his mouth, there was a second row behind the first. His pupils swirled between gray and black, like they were still being mixed.
“My son!” He vanished and reappeared in front of Billy, holding out a hand. Billy took it, his eyes wide in awe. Something deep inside Billy recognized the magic in his father. Without a word, Billy fell to his knee and bowed. He was now part of something bigger.
Zane was already in the doorway. He watched Billy bow down and gave his dad a curious look. His dad simply smiled and a queer wind rustled through the room.
“Zane. My son.” Zane approached, feeling something in his blood boil. His heart pounded in his chest. He knelt by his brother’s side.
The boys looked at each other and smiled. Something deep inside both of them, something dormant, was waking up. 
“Honey?” Nathan’s wife stood in the door, looking at her husband. She had a confused expression on her face, her eyes flicking to the space between Nathan’s feet and the floor. She wanted to leave, but couldn’t move.
“My wife.” Nathan curled his hand and she slid across the blood on the floor, only her toes touching the ground. She stopped before him, motionless.
“Merely a shell of the woman you used to be. I have you to thank for this. My darker, better half has been feeding off of you for years, waiting for the moment we could return to our former glory” He reached out his hands and caressed her face. “You gave me three children. Two boys who make me proud.”
He lifted her up and she started to struggle. Dark fire bubbled up from his fingers.
“And a daughter who disappoints me.” The fire pulsed along her skin and her struggling ceased. She began to age at an accelerated rate. Billy chanced a glance at Zane, saw that they shared a smile. When Nathan set her down, she was just a husk, an old woman who could barely move.
“And now, my children. Let’s unlock your full potential.” He placed his hands on their heads and raised his eyes to the sky. “It begins.”
Fire filled the room. Shadows danced around the room and began to twist and distort in time with the magic.
*   *   *
Running from the library, Kimberly had passed her mother standing on the back step. Her mother started to protest, but Kimberly was moving too fast. Making her way around the property, she found the long stairs that would take her to the shore.
Halfway down the steps, she looked back at the house. She thought she had heard breaking glass. The moon was rising over grandfather’s house and she used the light to make her way to the dock.
The boat was still there and the oars were in it. She looked out onto the water. The island was invisible from here, so she started to paddle. Figuring it was probably a straight shot, she put everything into it. Ip stared back at the house while they moved out on the water and Kimberly heard what sounded like a scream. She began rowing faster, knowing she would disappear on the water.
Time passed and a mist began rising from the lake. She kept paddling, her arms now sore, but she felt lost. Ip ran past Kimberly and stood off to the side, looking into the night. Getting the hint, she corrected the course until Ip was directly behind her, using his eyes and ears to guide them. The house was becoming tiny now and she watched in horror as it caught on fire.
“Oh my god.” The flames and what they meant stunned her. Had her father completely lost his mind? She debated for an instant going back, but realized that was a fool’s course. Something in her chest tugged at her, though, an irrational compulsion. She fought it easily, buoyed by her hatred. She continued to paddle.
“Kimberly!” It was a shout that knocked the mist from the water, a shout of many voices. She recognized it right away and turned around. The island was in view and closing fast. She wasn’t quite sure what optical illusion made it invisible from the shore, but she was happy that it was.
The voice called her name again and she fought the urge to call back, to let the voice know she was here. What was wrong with her?
Ip growled at her and she shook the cobwebs from her head. She made her way up to the beach, pulling the boat as far ashore as she could, and ran up the cobblestone path. Ip was with her the whole way.
The voice was echoed by two other voices. Something else was looking for her now. She reached in her pocket for the key and turned it in the lock. Dashing inside, she closed the door behind her and locked it.
She wandered blindly for a moment when the lights came on by themselves. After her eyes adjusted, she walked up the stairs slowly, knowing nobody would find her out on the island. Ip seemed inexplicably rushed and kept turning around to bark at her from several steps up. Her adult mind informed her that even though the island’s highest point was only fifteen feet tall, she had already ascended four or five stories. Shaking her head, she could only acknowledge that things were no longer what they seemed.
As she climbed, she swore she felt somebody holding her hand. It was warm and familiar and it didn’t matter to Kimberly what the source was. She squeezed back and pretended that her grandfather was once again making the trip with her.
Her legs burned from the long climb. Summiting the stairs, she walked into the great domed room, the artifacts still where they had been, and smiled. This was a place unsullied by her father. In the middle of the room, she saw the sword in marble. Walking closer, she frowned.
The sword wasn’t Willow at all. Willow, in the stories, had been described as the life force of nature personified in a weapon that was both wood and metal. Vines twisted around the hilt of Willow, and the sword would cling to its wielder.
This sword was different. Up close, she saw markings on the blade and handle; other than that, the blade was ordinary.
She wandered around the room, taking her time. Ip followed her, temporarily complacent. She looked at various items and pulled a few down to inspect them. There were enchanted rubies, fine chainmail, everything a fantasy writer would ever talk about. She smiled at Ip.
“It’s too bad Grandfather never wrote about anything like lembas bread, huh Ip?” Ip answered with a little bark and walked away. Kimberly had no food to eat and she was getting hungry.
What should she do now? Looking around the room, she realized that she didn’t have a clue what to do next.
*   *   *
Nathan was angry. He stood outside the burning home and scanned the lake with eyes that no longer distinguished between night and day. Below him, his sons shuffled around on the shore, looking for their sister.
He needed the girl. She had something that belonged to him, something he wanted back. His sons had given it willingly and had been amply rewarded.
It was obedience he desired.
A robed figure appeared behind Nathan, its features obscured.
“The boat is missing, Father.”
Nathan turned to look at Zane and smiled. He turned to look at the lumbering figure down on the beach. The qualities that had distinguished them from each other as mortals were now amplified in their true forms. Nathan called down to Billy, getting his attention. Billy turned a large, helmeted head toward his father’s voice.
“She’s out on the water.”
Billy nodded and marched into the waves, his body disappearing beneath the water’s surface. Zane had vanished already, turning into mist.
Nathan spread giant leathery wings and lifted free of the ground. He flew out above the lake, distant memories of doing the same thing when he was younger coming back to him.
They searched for quite some time, but Nathan was unconcerned. There was no place Kimberly could go that he couldn’t find her. And when he did, he would claim her once more.
Eventually, a voice in his head informed him that an island was spotted. Following Zane’s directions, he arrived shortly after. Zane stood next to the boat, looking out on the water. Billy’s head broke the water’s surface as he stomped his way up, his body now a huge cacophony of armor. Nathan stood there, surveying the little boat.
“She was here,” Zane said. “I can see the heat of her footprints. They go this way.” They walked as one up to a strange little door in the side of the cave.
Nathan made a yanking motion with clawed fingers; the door ripped free. His sons ran in first, eager to please.
*   *   *
“Ip, what’s the matter?” The little fox was growling at the stairs, his hackles raised. Somewhere down below, she heard the wrenching sound of wood and stone being pulled apart. Sounds drifted up the long staircase, two eerily familiar voices.
“Kimberly,” one called, dragging her name out.
“We’re coming to get you, Worm,” the other promised.
Frightened, Kimberly looked around the room. As the voices got closer, things in the room began to react. The Mermaid Blade by the opening was starting to hiss and spit steam out in every direction. A phoenix cloak burst into flame, melting the stand it was on. Turning around, she found that she was in the center of the room when they came around the corner.
They looked different, but she could feel who they were. Zane was a dark figure in robes, his cowl pulled so low he shouldn’t have been able to see. Billy was a metal monstrosity with angry red eyes glowing deep from within his bucket-shaped helm.
Kimberly moved quickly. She grabbed a staff from its stand and waved it in their direction. Billy laughed until lightning blew him back down into the stairwell.
“The staff of Meritus, Billy.” She flipped the staff over and cracked it on the ground. Thunder rattled the whole room, thunder that caused Zane’s billowing robes to waver. “Meritus, the king of storms.”
Zane fought against the pressure, but his form was still new to him. He turned back into a mist and was scattered around the room, his mental control temporarily broken.
Kimberly had gambled and succeeded. Everything in this room was from one of grandfather’s stories. And everything in this room was real.
Billy climbed back out of the stairwell and Kimberly blasted him with lightning again. His joints locked up as the current rammed through him. Billy tipped backward, his mass headed for his father. Nathan turned into a shadow and watched his son pass. Becoming solid again, he continued to climb.
Zane, regaining consciousness, gathered himself behind Kimberly. Sensing his arrival, she tried to strike the staff on the floor, but Zane stretched himself out to create a foot beneath her. Blocking the necessary strike for thunder, he ripped the staff from her hands and struck her with it. She fell down and away from him and he made to blast her with its lightning.
“Not yet.” Nathan closed a hand on his son’s shoulder. Zane lowered the staff and fell back as Nathan beckoned Kimberly toward him.
Her heart was beating fast as, against her will, her legs pushed her closer to her father.
Ip jumped between them.
“Ah, I was wondering where you’ve been.” Nathan lunged forward, taloned fingers outstretched. He grabbed Ip with both hands and began to squeeze as hard as he could, determined to crush the life from his father’s devoted pet.
It was a mistake.
Ip burst into flame, knocking Nathan back. His size doubled, then tripled, until Ip was no longer the size of a small cat. Instead, he was now more similar to a small bear. He still looked like a fox, but now his fur was made of fire and his muzzle lined with razor-sharp teeth. He roared like a lion, the force enough to topple over many of the racks and items in the room.
Billy tackled him and they fell to the ground, Billy punching and Ip biting. His hold on Kimberly broken, she turned and ran for the nearest weapon she saw, the sword in the block of marble, hoping it would slide free and become a weapon she could use. Her fingers closed on the hilt just as Zane appeared, reaching out a shadowy hand to grab her.
Her fingers closed on the sword.
The world around her froze. A heavy feeling filled her gut and a foreign intelligence spoke to her in her mind.
I have awoken.
Kimberly tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Instead, she pleaded inside her mind, hoping it would work.
Please, help me, she begged.
You would draw me to protect yourself. Would you draw me to protect others?
Yes, anything, she thought, desperation crawling forward in her mind.
Too long have I slept.
Slender vines broke free from their hiding place beneath the marble and wrapped themselves around Kimberly’s arm like a bundle of snakes.
Light filled the room and Kimberly felt strength fill her body. The marble around the blade cracked and shattered outward and she watched as more leafy tendrils crawled up her body, burrowing beneath her flesh in places and sprouting protective bark.
I am Willow, The Living Blade. Blue fire erupted around the sword’s edge.
Kimberly turned, Willow held forward. Zane was lunging toward her and a swipe of Willow knocked him across the room, starting several magical fires in the process. Billy knocked Ip away and charged forward, reaching out with metallic hands. Kimberly sidestepped, moved by experience and knowledge that were not her own. She cracked him on the back of his helmet and knocked him to the floor.
“No.” Nathan was there and he grabbed Kimberly’s head. She moved to swing at him with Willow, but Nathan caught her other arm up high.
“There is nothing you can do. I will rule this world with power it has never seen once I am finished with you.”
He stoked the dark fires hidden deep within his daughter, fires that would consume her, change her into a dark thing. He could feel her resisting and laughed, knowing it was futile.
No! The word echoed through the room as Willow’s fire blew outward in a ring of magic.
The room began to crack and crumble around them. Nathan made a grab for the blade and Kimberly reached up with her other hand and clawed at his eyes. As the two struggled, stray flashes of magic fired outward, vaporizing the room and revealing a night sky. A flash of light struck Zane and he vanished. A similar beam struck the ground under Billy and he fell away into darkness. Nathan threw her down on the ground and Willow’s edge ran hot with blue fire. 
Kimberly stood and rushed forward, driving Willow through her father. His eyes went wide in surprise. He struck her, hard. The room fell away beneath him and he disappeared, screaming her name.
“What’s happening?” Kimberly reached out and grabbed Ip, who had shrunk back to his original size.
We go back. Back to where it began. Back to make things right. The sword hummed powerfully in her hand.
The room blew outward and she was now falling through darkness.
Back to Auviarra.
*   *   *
Lance arrived at Hal’s home, panic in his eyes. Firefighters had arrived first and they were doing their best to contain the mysterious blaze. Stepping around a cluster of reporters, he got as close to the house as he could. He called out for the girl, hoping she, of all of them, had survived.
As part of the house collapsed, a blue light exploded upward into the night sky from the lake, traveling past the moon and out into the stars. Nobody saw it.

Lord Domen’s Party

According to his guards, it was raining outside. Not that he cared, but he did insist on guests not dripping on the floor. The room had been meticulously decorated with his family’s colors, large black and red flags hanging down the inner stone walls. He didn’t want puddles on the floor.
Lord Domen smiled. The last two months were very busy. Deciding to expand his territory had been the best decision he’d made in years. The hard part had been convincing his new countrymen to grant him their fealty. His men had reported occasional resistance, resistance he’d ordered crushed.
In honor of his new territory, he threw himself a formal ball, inviting other lords from the region. Content that he was well on his way to becoming a greater power in the Halls of Romus, he felt like his night couldn’t get any better.
Sitting on his throne, he overlooked his guests. Most of Romus’s nobility was in attendance this night. They sat at the dining tables, enjoying the culinary delights his staff had prepared. He took a big bite of roast rabbit, juices trickling through his beard.
His steward, Amnus, knelt by his side. “M’lord, there are some traveling entertainers requesting entry.”
“Entertainers?” Domen’s lip twitched; he turned to his faithful servant. “What kind of entertainers?”
“Four of them sire. A fortune teller, a dancer, a strongman and their troupe leader. They heard of our celebration and have come, hoping to earn some coin.” 
“Interesting.” Domen looked out on his guests. “I would think my guests would have very little use for these entertainers.”
As it was, his guests would likely take offense to such a performance. He couldn’t imagine what sort of whispers would transpire if he were to let some filthy street performers in his halls.
Amnus cleared his throat and spoke again. “M’lord, the dancer is quite beautiful.”
Domen turned his head. “How beautiful?”
“Stunning, m’lord.”
Domen laughed, scratching his fat belly. He could trust Amnus’s judgment. “Tell them she alone may enter. If they truly wish to earn some coin, they should not mind.”
“Agreed.” Amnus vanished.
Domen took a sip of his wine. 
Some minutes passed before Amnus dramatically opened the door to the great hall. The noise and laughter died down as a wet, robed figure walked in behind him.
“M’lord, if it pleases you and your guests: the dancer, Helena.” Amnus bowed and stepped aside. 
The dancer lifted a hand in the air and made a simple gesture at the minstrels. The minstrels began playing something slow with a heavy beat. She began swaying with the rhythm. Slender hands pulled the hood back, revealing a young woman with silvery-blond hair. She rolled her hips seductively beneath her robes, moving further into the hallway. When she reached the middle, she parted the robe and let it pool at her feet. Her flimsy garments accentuated her movements. 
The nobility were silent and Domen gaped in awe.
Helena danced, her movements seductive. She approached the lords on one side of the hall, leaning toward them suggestively. They groaned in frustration when she smiled and backed away, shaking her hips. The men on the other side of the hall got an eyeful as she neared them. One man reached out to grab her, but she was quicker, twisting away coyly. Even some of the women in attendance were enthralled. Such a sight was uncommon.
Helena made eye contact with Lord Domen. He dropped his wine.
“If it pleases m’lord.” Helena stopped her movements. “I have a very special dance just for you.”
“It pleases me.” Domen’s lip quivered. Oh gods, did it please him.
Helena signaled the minstrels, and they began playing a different tune. Faster than the first dance, her arms and legs stretched out, folding back over themselves like embracing lovers. Helena’s flexibility was only matched by her acrobatics; she bent her body in ways Domen had never seen before.
She drew close; he could smell a mixture of rain and perfume on her body. Standing, his thoughts were muddled, all eyes on the mysterious dancer in his hall. Domen’s thoughts were many, but only one fought its way to the surface.
She would be his.
She was close now, so close he could touch her. He reached forward, ready to claim her with his hands.
“Lord Domen!” The shout rose above the music.
A rain-covered stranger stood in the entryway. Helena turned in surprise; Lord Domen stepped past her, protecting his newfound treasure.
“Is this how the lords of Romus celebrate tyranny?” The stranger was middle-aged, his hair just beginning to gray. His stance and hair marked him as a soldier.
“Tyranny? I see no tyranny here.” Domen spread his arms out wide indicating the hall. “I do, however, see somebody who was not invited.”
He snapped his fingers. Four of his guards moved forward, swords drawn.
The stranger drew his sword. “I would not recommend that, Lord Domen.”
Domen started to laugh when he felt a hand yank his chin upward. Something sharp was placed against his throat and he did his best not to swallow.
Assassin!
“Wait.” His guards halted their advance. Surprised eyes turned to take in the new situation. “What is it you want?”
“My name is Trey Arrol. Two weeks ago, your men took into their possession a peasant girl, one who caught your eye in passing. We have come to retrieve her.”
“Amnus. Go get the girl from my chambers.”
Amnus, his face pale, nodded.
“Is that all?” Domen asked. He could feel a slow trickle of blood run down his throat.
“No, it isn’t. On our journey to get here, we learned that you have expanded your territory. Killed innocent women and children.” Trey stepped further into the hall.
Lord Daeus, one of Domen’s closest allies, stepped forward from the crowd, blade at the ready. He approached Trey from behind, hoping to strike a killing blow.
Trey twisted around once and cleanly lopped the man’s sword hand off. As Daeus fell back, Trey leaned down and picked up the fallen blade. Somewhere a woman screamed.
“That was foolish.” Trey now held a blade in each hand.
Amnus reappeared, dragging a bedraggled and scantily clad girl with him. Her eyes were glassy and she stumbled when she walked.
The dancer, Helena, whispered something vile in Domen’s ear and his face burned red. She was not very happy with him.
Amnus pushed the girl forward. She stumbled to the ground in front of Trey.
“Maria?” He asked. She looked up at him. “I’m here to take you home.”
The peasant girl looked at Trey blankly.
“Brave Lord Domen, abducting children from the countryside for his bed. You really are a big man aren’t you?” Trey dropped one of his swords and offered a hand to the girl.
“Just take the girl. I have honored your request,” Domen said. He felt the blade at his neck push deeper. Helena pushed him forward toward Trey. When they were only a few steps apart, he was spun around to face his guests.
“That is only half of our request.” Trey spoke from behind him “You will also renounce your lordship before all of your guests.”
“Impossible.” He couldn’t renounce his nobility; it was unprecedented.
“Do it or die,” Helena hissed in his ear.
“I renounce my lordship!” Domen hollered, panic creeping into his chest. 
“I want everybody here to remember this moment. The moment the former Lord Domen let you all see his cowardice. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
A cold blade was slipped down the back of his pants and pulled away. Domen’s pants slid free falling to the ground. Stunned, Domen was shoved violently forward. He hit the floor hard, biting through his lower lip. Stuttering, he rolled over in time to see the door close.
“Kill them!” He screamed, blood in his mouth.
*   *   *
The door to the hall opened. Helena pulled Maria out into the rain and Trey followed.
“Ronnee.” Trey motioned at the door. Ronnee, a half giant, began tossing some of the men they had killed in front of it.
“Hurry, let’s go.” Helena mounted her horse, and Trey helped Maria up behind her. Shouts from inside the building began to rise from behind the door. “Ronnee, I said let’s go.”
Ronnee let out a chuckle as he fiddled with something on their ‘“borrowed” entertainer’s wagon. “I behind you.” He knocked a pin free from the yoke and mounted the giant horse that had pulled them in.
Trey mounted his own horse, swords at the ready, and spurred his horse forward. The others were close behind as they raced away from Lord Domen’s keep and toward the outer walls of his fortress. Cries from the keep were causing confusion, giving them a clear path to the exit.
Trey rounded the last corner. A small contingent of men was waiting by the gate, swords and spears ready. “Helena, the spears!”
Three crossbow bolts came from behind, dropping the spear carriers. Trey drew close, swinging swords from both hands. He cut several of them down, making room for Helena and Ronnee to go through. Up above the gate, he saw some men rush to the gate controls.
A silvery bade flashed twice, sending them both over the rails. Up above, a robed figure waved down to Trey, letting him know he was clear. Letting out a yell, he rode through the gate after his friends. The gate slammed shut behind him and the last member of his crew leapt from the wall, something that would kill an ordinary person. Trey watched her back as she mounted her own horse, hidden behind the stones.
“All set, Captain.”
“We ride.” The horses broke into a frenzied sprint as they climbed the hill outside the fort.
At the top of the small incline, just as the rain was starting to obscure the fort, the carriage full of lamp oil exploded, sending a flaming pyre into the night sky.
*   *   *
About five miles from the fort, the riders drew to a halt. Trey sighed as he looked back in the direction of the fort, wondering how long they would have. 
Ronnee pulled his hood back, a big grin on his face.
“Big boom.” Pleased with himself, he dismounted, standing a full head taller than his own horse. Trey smiled, knowing how proud Ronnee must feel. Half giants were rare and typically violent. Ronnee was even rarer; he was kind and intelligent for his race. The fact that he could think beyond his next meal set him aside from his peers.
“I need some help.” Helena was soaking wet, her flimsy garments clinging to her skin. Maria was clutching Helena so tightly she couldn’t get down.
Trey dismounted and disentangled the pair. When he pulled Maria free, she fell into his arms, sobbing. She was a farmer’s daughter, abducted during a raid from a village about fifty miles to the south. Trey had overheard her story as they passed through the town and had immediately ordered a rescue attempt. His original plan had been to sneak in, but the party had given him the perfect opportunity to give a lesson in humility.
The last of his crew arrived, having circled back to watch for pursuit.
“I was able to work out the pins. They won’t be able to open the front gate for at least two days, so any pursuit will be too slow to follow. The rain will make it hard to track us through the grassy fields, at least until the sun comes up. I think we’ll be okay for at least another three hours before we need to start moving.” Her voice sounded like a whisper. Trey nodded.
“Excellent work, Serra.”
Serra was the most unique of the four. She was a half demon. Unlike other half demons, she could actually control her compulsions—compulsions that made her a deadly foe and a powerful ally. She never talked much, and almost never to anybody she didn’t know.
“Okay, we have some time. Maria,” he addressed the sobbing girl, “we’re resting for a few hours. I want you to lie down for a bit and eat something.” Serra was gathering some bread and cheese from her pack. Ronnee was already eating. “Serra, you’re on guard.” 
“Yes, Captain.” Serra, who rarely needed sleep, disappeared into the shadows. Trey grinned to himself. Captain was a nickname that Serra had started calling him a few months back. It was a name that stuck, which was good, because Trey far preferred it to his last nickname.
The group settled into familiar routines. Helena finished tying the horses so they could graze. She had changed back into her travelling clothes, obviously happy to be rid of her dancer’s costume. Ronnee’s horse was given some extra water and some special grain for energy. Trey sat down next to Maria; she had eaten a little and was drifting off to sleep. Trey watched the girl, thinking back to a time long ago, a time when his life had been far more peaceful. Shrugging to himself, he lay back and closed his own eyes. No use dwelling on things he couldn’t change.
*   *   *
The journey to return Maria was brief and took only two days. She spent most of those days in the company of the women and Trey didn’t push the issue. The poor girl had been through a lot and she needed people she was comfortable with.
Their time in Maria’s town was short-lived, but full of cheer and laughs. They were hailed as heroes and rewarded with a banquet, the most the villagers could offer. Helena spent plenty of time dancing with men that night, and Trey was approached by more than one cute country bumpkin. Ronnee spent most of his time playing with the kids of the village, even lifting the back end of a wagon up for their sheer amusement. Serra spent her nights outside the village, and most of her days by Trey’s side. Though she rarely spoke, Trey always found her good company.
The evening before they left, Trey was sitting on a bundle of hay just outside the barn of the farmhouse they were staying at. Counting their rapidly dwindling funds, he almost didn’t notice Serra’s quiet approach.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“Bad enough.” He shook the small bag of coins; it jingled pathetically. “We need to find some way to make enough to survive through the season.”
Serra lifted herself onto the stack of hay, sitting by his side. “Any leads?”
“Well, it sounds like there may be some opportunities north of here. Typical mercenary work.” Trey sighed and looked up at the stars overhead. “The moment you learn to swing a sword, you never truly find peace.”
“Peace doesn’t always bring in enough money to eat,” Serra said, dragging her pointed fingers through the hay. It made an intermittent rustling sound.
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Trey tucked his coin purse away. “Who wants to die a farmer anyway, right?”
Serra gave him a rare smile. “See you in the morning, Captain.” She scooted off the hay and wandered off. Trey watched her until she vanished. 
They left before first light. Travel was rough at first. The quality of the roads quickly deteriorated and twice they were attacked by bandits. They left none of the thieves alive.
They blazed their own trail over time. Known as both villains and heroes, it was wise to avoid the main roads. This did little to bother the band of misfits. Every night, they camped under the stars, told each other stories, and laughed. Sometimes Helena would play a musical instrument, and if Serra was in a really good mood, she would do shadow puppets that would come to life and dance around the campfire.
Eventually, they made it to the Plains of Garezabeth, a five-day stretch of ground that consisted solely of tall grass. A dangerous place to travel if you were being hunted. An even more dangerous place if you were caught in a storm.

Lightning Spiders

“The horses!”
Helena screamed, but the wind was louder. Her hair was tied back to keep her vision clear, but the dirt blew so hard it blinded her. Before mid-day, giant black cauliflower clouds had climbed over each other in the distance. Growing up near the desert, she had never seen clouds quite like them. Still, she was no stranger to bad storms and felt the primal force of it, making her heart beat faster in both excitement and fear.
Serra’s horse screamed. Helena struggled to keep hold of her own mount as it desperately reared away from her. There was nowhere to take shelter, and a storm of this magnitude could scare their horses into running until they dropped, easy food for the local predators.
Her horse began to pull away again and she felt the heat of the rope through her gloves. It yanked one more time and almost pulled away, but a giant fist closed over Helena’s hand. Ronnee pulled the horse toward him and held it in place while Helena undid the bags. She would rather lose her horse than her supplies. She slipped the knots loose and her horse reared. It ran in an aimless circle before galloping away with the others.
Trey stood calmly, his horse long gone already. It had taken most of his swords with it, but they were easily replaced. He carried just two now. One was well balanced, a masterfully crafted blade with a true edge to it. The other was a blade he seldom drew. It looked like something a farmer might forge: its sheath was nondescript, and the hilt had no decoration to speak of. It was Trey’s most prized possession.
The wind blew up and the group hunched against each other for support. Ronnee took the lead as they struggled to find any sort of ditch or similar structure to hunker down in.
Lightning stretched across the sky and blinded Helena. Thunder roared louder than the wind; her ears started to ring. The wind blew harder now, ripping the tie from her hair.
“It’s a construct; I can feel it!” Serra was by Helena’s side for a moment. “Powerful magic.” Helena could just barely make out Serra’s voice
She was right. Lightning lit the sky. It balled together into a massive figure with eight legs and a tiny orb for a body. She had once heard a bard speak of lightning spiders. They were extremely rare, and when they formed, they would march across the land generating terror and multiple fires. People wondered if they had any sort of intelligence or if they were mindless beings. Right now, all Helena knew was they were both beautiful and absolutely terrifying.
Several of them formed. The spiders walked across the plains, every step they took a lightning strike. The group struggled to avoid their paths, for a strike would surely kill one of them. As they ran, Helena swore she saw an object the size of a bookshelf fall from the sky.
It was raining stones, as if one of the gods had picked up a building and crushed it with his hands. They were helpless now, for any of those stones would instantly kill any of them, with the possible exception of Serra.
A suit of armor blasted a crater in the ground next to Helena. Stunned, she froze in place. A big hand waved in front of her eyes and she blinked. Ronnee pointed up ahead and she saw what looked like a spear rack buried in the ground ahead.
A sword landed to her right, point down in the ground. It shattered and metal shards bit into her skin. The cuts weren’t deep, but blood flowed quickly along her cheeks.
Smaller pieces of stone fell. Ronnee held the blade of his axe over his head to deflect what pieces he could. Helena found a shield on the ground, another random item from the sky. She lifted it up and over her head, hoping to keep herself safe. Trey scooted in close and helped her.
The shield saved them both. Something big collided with it; they were both knocked to the ground. Stunned, Helena tried to stand, but her legs were numb. Serra pulled her to her feet. Ronnee picked up Trey, his body limp.
There was a series of heavy thuds; Helena could feel them in her feet, something different than the thunder. They looked up to see what new surprise the storm was bringing. In the distance, lightning spiders fanned outward, destined to keep moving until they hit the sea.
“Is everyone ok?” Helena was relieved to hear Trey’s voice.
They all answered and stood up. The ground was pockmarked with small craters and debris of all kinds. Weapons, armor, clothing, and a lot of building material.
“This is different.” Serra held up a damaged helmet, dented from impact. “It’s like a flying castle fell apart.”
“Don’t see many of those anymore,” Trey said as he examined Helena’s face.
Ronnee turned his head and held up a giant hand, indicating silence. They were all quiet, waiting patiently. A sound like the shifting of metal filled the air.
“Someone nearby.” Ronnee rarely spoke, so when they heard his rumbled words they immediately headed toward the sound. They caught a few glimpses of something shiny moving through the grass.
Pushing a tall clump of grass down, they all stopped. Before them was a four-foot-deep crater with a tiny pool of water in the bottom, but that was all.
Helena heard the grass behind them shift.
*   *   *
Serra sensed the dark thing’s intent and pushed the others forward into the crater, including Ronnee. She took the blow to her head and staggered forward. Turning, she looked upon a dark suit of armor, easily the size of three men. Its body was covered in curving spikes. Its clenched fist was like a giant mace. It roared in rage and the thing jumped down into the crater with them.
Ronnee caught the suit of armor by the forearms and yanked back. Its bulk cleared the rest of them and they all scrambled away to give Ronnee room.
“What is that thing?” Trey looked to Serra for guidance. 
“It doesn’t feel like anything I have ever felt before.” Serra’s heritage gave her unique insight into anything demonic in nature, insight that had saved them all on numerous occasions. “It is made of many things.”
Ronnee yelled and knocked the thing back, picking up his axe. He brought it down in one giant swing and caved in the monstrosity’s torso. The armor fell apart into a loose pile of metal.
“Now it is many pieces.” Ronnee smiled with satisfaction and pulled himself out of the hole.
Serra looked at the pile with doubt in her dark eyes. The lightning storm had messed with her demonic powers and she was in a weird halfway state between human and monster. She was certain that wasn’t the end of the thing, but could detect nothing else in the area.
They walked away, wary of anything else. Talk of tracking the horses was muted when they saw that any tracks had been blown away by the storm. They found Serra’s horse, though. A lightning spider had obviously stepped on it, cooking it from the inside. Serra took a moment to kneel by the dead beast.
“Will someone say a prayer for me? It was a good companion.”
Trey nodded and did the honors for her. Praying was one of the few simple everyday things that Serra was forbidden to do, much like entering a church. After Trey said a few words, they walked away, Serra deep in thought. She had really liked that horse.
*   *   *
They came to the top of a hill and saw a bigger crater than the first one. It was almost twenty feet across and the edges had been burned, as if by a massive fireball.
“Should we go around?” Helena had one of her crossbow bolts ready.
“We could,” Trey said. “I’d rather see what landed there with my front than my back, though.” He put one hand on his sword.
They approached cautiously. The air stank of magic so bad that everyone could taste it. Huge rocks and clumps of dirt had been blasted free of the crater by whatever had landed there. Peering over the edge, Helena gave a questioning look to Serra, who looked to Trey for guidance. Trey himself was puzzled.
In the center of the crater was a young woman. Curled up in a fetal position, she clutched something tight against her chest. Her clothing was odd and covered in bright colors, a strange cross between travel clothes and finery. Water had already begun to pool around her and she appeared to be completely unconscious.
“What do we do?” Helena kept her crossbow on the girl. “It could be a trap.”
“It could. But it could also be someone who needs help.” Trey let go of his sword and picked his way down the slope. “You three keep an eye on things up here.”
Trey crawled down the torn earth, his attention on the girl. Getting to the bottom, he saw that she was breathing
“Hey, wake up.” He nudged her with a boot first. She mumbled something unintelligible, caught in a nightmare. He reached out and touched her forehead. The girl was suffering from a fairly serious fever.
Grabbing her shoulders, he tried to roll her upward. When she turned, he saw that she clutched a tiny ball of fur. He reached for it, only to see a pair of dark eyes open. The ball of fur growled at him and he held up his hands.
“Don’t worry, I’m a friend.” At least, he hoped he was. The creature seemed satisfied with his answer and continued to watch him.
“Hey Ronnee, I could use a hand.” Ronnee walked down into the crater and knelt by the girl’s side. The little ball of fur seemed to understand they had good intentions and remained silent.
She looked so tiny next to Ronnee’s arms. Ronnee scooped her up with his big hands and her arm sagged. It looked like a sword; its hilt was warped and metal tendrils had latched on to her upper forearm. Trey reached out his hand for the weapon when he felt his sword, the one he hated wielding, pulse at his hip.
Keeping his hands away, he let Ronnee deal with it.  Ronnee adjusted her arm momentarily so it lay across her legs and then picked her up. As he carried her out of the damaged ground, Trey could only marvel at the item she carried. Looking first at the girl, and then at the two ladies above him, he chuckled to himself.
“I always meet the most interesting women,” he muttered and climbed his way back out.
*   *   *
Serra watched as some dark thing in the distance flew away on leathery wings. The dark waves it gave off were enough to make the human part of her feel ill at ease and the demonic part of her tremble in delight. She wished it was later in the evening, because then her eyesight would sharpen dramatically and she might be able to tell what it was.
Ronnee and Trey emerged from the hole, Ronnee carrying a small girl. Serra’s eyes narrowed. She could feel the darkness in her, too. It was muted, far less oppressive than the armored thing from before.
The little girl suffered a fever. Serra examined her features, flaring her pale nostrils. “She reeks of magic. That sword she carries, it changes her.” Something about the girl made her uncomfortable. “We should remove it from her at once.”
“Absolutely not. To try and do so would be futile.” Trey put his hand on the girl with a grim smile. “The sword she wields will not let her come to harm. The most we can do is make her comfortable.”
Serra shrugged. If Trey said it was okay, she wouldn’t question it. Trey was the only person in the world that Serra would obey without hesitation. After all of the years following him around, she had come to understand that he never made decisions without putting the welfare of others first. It made him a good leader, a wonderful tactician, and one of only three people in the world she called a friend.
As they walked, she mentioned the dark thing she had seen. Trey acknowledged her with a nod, but she could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. Nobody questioned him. If he had something to say, he would.
*   *   *
Helena scouted ahead, using the land to navigate. Over the next two days, they set up camp out in the open; there was no other choice to be had. On both nights, the girl muttered in her sleep and called out names nobody recognized. At other times, she could be overheard pronouncing words of power, words that the sword she carried guided to her lips. And on both nights, Serra could feel them out there—dark things, watching. She was uncertain of her pursuers’ identities, seeing a shadow once fade away into the twilight. The fact that a creature could elude her during the dark hours spoke volumes to its abilities, volumes that did not sit well with Serra.
The little creature that the girl carried never left her side. It did not eat or sleep, and took no water offered to it. Ever faithful, someone eventually spotted that it was some type of fox when it perked up its ears. It allowed them to treat the girl, and give her water through her lips. Serra noticed that it also seemed to track the dark things, often looking out into the night in their direction. 
There were so many questions to be answered. On the third morning, the strange girl opened her eyes.

Her Grandfather’s World

Crawling her way up to consciousness, it occurred to Kimberly that she should have known. Signs had been there all her life, little hints and peeks at the truth of things. Grasping this thought as she awoke, it still slipped from her mind as the memories of the last few days tried to piece themselves together.
She opened her eyes.
The sky was blue, bluer than she had ever seen. White birds flew overhead; so far up she could just barely make out their wings. Shaking away sleepiness, she realized that something furry sat on her chest, something with big ears and fox breath. Sighing, she patted Ip’s head. When she shifted, something cold and heavy dragged her other arm down.
She should have been puzzled, but in the dopey state between waking and dreaming, she just accepted it. No reason to worry about the little things.
A huge head appeared in her field of view. It took her eyes a second to focus on the brooding features, huge nose, and the grin that went from ear to ear.
“She’s awake.” His voice was low and rumbly, like a fat scooter. The cobwebs in her head began to curl up and blow away. More faces appeared now. A beautiful blonde with long hair and crystal-blue eyes came into view. Beside her stood a sickly looking woman with thinning, black hair and pale skin. The last to appear was a man with sad, brown eyes.
“You’re up.” The way he said it made her feel good, like she had been done something well, maybe even worked hard for it. Staring at the strange faces, she struggled hard to say something memorable.
“Yeah.” That was all she had. The strangers helped her sit up, and Ip left her side for the first time in days. Looking around, she saw that she was in the middle of the biggest prairie she had seen in her entire life; it spread out to the horizon in each direction. Pieces of land this untouched were extremely rare on Earth. Her fingers crossed, she turned to the man with sad eyes.
“Am I in Auviarra?”
He nodded. “That’s a rather broad question, but yes, I have heard people use this name.”
Oh wow, she thought. All of her grandfather’s stories had taken place somewhere real, somewhere that actually existed. For years she had dreamt of visiting a place so full of life and color, a place where heroes roamed and did great deeds and mighty challenges were overcome. It didn’t feel like a dream anymore. She could feel the excitement building in her chest and she stood up. How could she put what she was feeling into words?
“I have to pee.” She groaned inwardly. Her mouth was obviously doing its own thing for a bit.
The man nodded and the blonde helped her into the grass. Kimberly had never had to do such a thing outdoors and struggled with the concept. She also wrestled with the fact that Willow had formed some sort of weird bond to her forearm, almost as if it had melted there.
Returning from the deed, introductions were made. The group explained to Kimberly how they had found her in a crater after a lightning storm—after battling something that sounded like her brother Billy-and being chased by lightning spiders. She nodded, unsure how to proceed, but she gave it a shot and was completely honest with them. She told them about Earth, about her grandfather, tearing up at his mention, and she told them about her father’s transformation and the struggle that had brought them here.
“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Trey said, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. “The sword you are holding is known as Willow, The Living Blade. It disappeared some time ago. I’m guessing it brought you here in an attempt to protect Earth from your father.”
Kimberly just nodded. Who was she to argue?
“Well, for the meantime, why don’t you travel with us for a while? We can help you learn the lay of the land, maybe even get you to a populated area, and then…” He spread his arms wide for emphasis. “Whatever.”
Kimberly accepted. She was thrilled at the idea of exploring Auviarra with people who understood it, people who carried their weapons with confidence.
“Let’s start with Willow.” Trey pointed to her arm. “I’m guessing that’s a result of not being able to sheath your weapon.”
“Oh.” She looked at the sword itself. The hilt had sprouted a bunch of tendrils and they wound around her arm creating what looked like a shell. “I don’t have a sheath for it.”
“You and the sword are bonded now. You share an awareness. I’m guessing it clung to you in your fall.” He stood up. “Don’t command it, don’t talk to it. Just do it. Imagine the sword is like another hand, grabbing onto your arm.”
Kimberly looked at it. It would be really awkward to travel like this; not only was it clinging to her at an odd angle, but she’d be unable to use it. She tried to concentrate, yet not concentrate; it was making her head spin. Just as her eyes were starting to cross, she felt something for just a moment.
“It’s okay, it takes time. The magic is part of you now.” Trey reached into his pocket. “Look.” He handed her a small mirror.
Her eyes were no longer gray like her father’s. Instead, they were a dark purple in color. She stared in awe, realizing that a whole new world had opened inside of her. 
She handed the mirror back and concentrated again. This time, the tendrils flowed like mercury, running back into Willow’s hilt. The sword was finally free and she held it comfortably in her hand. Strangely enough, Willow felt like it weighed almost nothing. She swung it a few times, only to have another sword cross her path.
“Please be careful with that.” Trey had a stern note in his voice and Kimberly’s heart sank just a little. “You almost hit someone.” He pointed down and Ip pouted up at her.
“Sorry, Ip.” She held out her free arm and the fox jumped up. Holding the fox and the sword, she looked at Trey for guidance.
“It’s likely the little guy will have to walk until we can get you a sheath.”
A memory bubbled up and popped inside her head: Kimberly remembered something from her grandfather’s book. Holding Willow by her side, tendrils blew out and wrapped around her waist like a belt. When she let go of Willow, it encased itself in a strong, durable bark.
“Impressive.” Trey nodded his approval.
Kimberly looked on as the group packed up their little camp. She kept quiet, afraid to be intrusive. Helena took the front, her dark green travel cloak flowing in the breeze. Serra walked in the middle. Trey walked in front of Ronnee, and Kimberly fell in stride beside the big man, who smiled at her constantly.
*   *   *
The thing that used to be Nathan slept under a rock for two days. After Kimberly had stabbed him, Nathan fell from the sky, flapping his wings furiously. He crashed hard without the benefit of a magic sword or armor to protect his fall. Struggling to rise, blood leaking from his chest, a lightning spider had promptly stepped on him. It had hurt badly; it was everything he could do to rise up and fly away into the night. Upon landing some distance away, a quick look around was all it took to confirm where he was.
Nathan’s being wasn’t complete. When he had merged with the homunculus, a duel of wills had begun, both of them demanding control. Nathan had emerged victorious, establishing his human mind as lord and master, but at a high cost.
Rediscovering his magic may have been a path to power, but falling into another world had been a detour to madness. The other half that had been assimilated was too far gone to establish control. Instead, his mind fought just to make connections, connections he desperately needed.
He found refuge under a rock and slept away from the sun. It was cold, damp, and safe. His sons found him shortly after. Billy, his body having reassembled itself, now stood watch over him. Zane tracked his little sister, reporting back often through his mental bond with his brother.
The transformation was hardest on Zane. When his father had burned them both with his black fire, he had released their true forms; ones that had been programmed into them at birth by the leftover magic still in his blood, magic of an unknown origin. Zane had always been the thinker of the two. Now that he had some time to dwell on the current state of things, he couldn’t help but be angry. While Billy could easily accept remaining stupid, Zane sometimes found himself asking questions about his new existence.
His compulsion to obey his father was something he wondered about a lot. Upon being released, he felt no desire to disobey, even after his dad had crawled under a rock to die. They heard little from him now, only rambling, angry thoughts and diatribes against Zane’s grandfather, a man he had never really known.
Another thing he struggled with was his complete lack of humanity. He was not much more than a mental compilation of magic that threatened to blow away on the next breeze. He was tied, in a way, to the cloak that was now his skin. He could generate limbs like hands and feet, and even make himself look human again. It was a farce. He could no longer feel with his sense of touch, at least not like he had. 
Still, the power he had was begging to be tried. The nights he had watched the group of people caring for his sister, he had wanted to simply float among them like a shroud of death. He had started practicing his talents on local wildlife, draining them of their essence and leaving behind dried husks. After doing so, Zane could become more substantial for a time, could move faster, maybe more.
He would never forget that first time. He came upon a rabbit, trying desperately to hide from him in the tall grass. Catching it had been easy; he turned into a mist, his hands encasing the terrified animal. It was warm in his shadowy clutches. He could feel its heartbeat, a beat that began to slow as he siphoned the life away. The light faded from the rabbit’s eyes and fur fell off in chunks. Dropping the dead husk, he marveled at how human his hands had looked once again, at how connected he felt. He wanted nothing more than to drink it all in and watch the land decay beneath him.
He was forced to follow Kimberly, instead. Something about her was important. Even if their dad were to die, Billy and Zane would continue to hunt her.
For now, though, Zane was just to watch.
*   *   *
Kimberly learned a few important things during her first full day in Auviarra. The first was that writers tend to gloss over long periods of travel. Nobody ever mentioned the long moments of silence and occasional boredom. The second thing was that all of that walking sucked. Her feet were blistered and her legs cramped. The group she travelled with set a fairly fast pace, something she wasn’t used to.
Sometimes she wondered if it should bother her that she didn’t miss Earth in the slightest. She hadn’t had any real friends, she hated her family, and her grandfather, the one person she loved, was gone. Even so, she was now on an entirely different planet and a small part of her felt guilty about leaving Earth behind without a care.
She watched her new companions closely. Serra was the quiet one, always hiding her face from the sun. Helena was cheerful, a spring constantly in her step. Ronnee was always smiling back at Kimberly when she looked at him, a smile that Kimberly couldn’t help returning. Trey was different; he carried sadness on his shoulders. 
That first day of walking, they spent a lot of time questioning Kimberly, something that didn’t bother her at all. Once Trey had questioned her sufficiently about her father and brothers, he was content to let the others ask about Earth itself. Describing things such as cars and planes wasn’t so hard, because magic did similar things. Describing something like a computer or television was tough. A significant difference between the two worlds was the apparent lack of leisure time here on Auviarra. Maybe that was because humans weren’t even close to the top of any food chain here. According to Serra, people who sat around all day were easier for monsters to eat.
At the end of that first day, Kimberly’s whole body was sore. She was surprised when Trey pulled her aside from the group. Calling it a necessary precaution, he began demonstrating the proper way to handle a sword, something he thought Kimberly should practice. Having walked all day, she was less than enthusiastic.
They practiced simple defensive moves. They came surprisingly easy to her. When she pointed this out, Trey agreed. Willow’s magic was changing Kimberly, and this change included a natural ability in swordsmanship. However, the years of practice and conditioning to get there were not—meaning she needed to get in shape. She would learn the moves quickly, but her body was not used to parrying a blade, or thrusting through bone, and she would likely hurt herself.
When they finished her first lesson, he sat on a rock and motioned for her to join him. When she did, he turned to her with a sigh.
“I suppose you wonder why I seem to know so much about your blade.”
Kimberly shook her head. It hadn’t occurred to her at all. 
“Willow is a legendary blade, forged by the forest goddess as a way of protecting man from complete annihilation. Over the years, your blade has become as legendary as its owners for great deeds.” 
“Like Elurra!” Kimberly said with excitement.
“Indeed.” Trey arched an eyebrow.
She’d told them about her grandfather’s books, but hadn’t spent time talking about all of them. After confirming that a couple of them had actually happened, she had left it at that.
“My grandfather’s last book was about a girl named Elurra.”
“I find that very interesting. As far as I know, Elurra was the last person heard of to wield Willow.” Trey scratched at his chin in thought. “Elurra was fairly well known throughout the land in her day. If your grandfather was able to write about her and Willow, it’s very possible she knew him. If they ever spent time together, it’s likely people would know who your grandfather was.”
Kimberly’s eyes grew wide, thinking of the implications. Had her grandfather been a warrior? Not likely. Perhaps a wizard, or even a sage. For now, she could only guess.
“I think our paths were destined to cross, Kimberly.” She realized she had been ignoring him. She watched Trey reach down and draw his own sword, the ugly-looking one.
Freed from its scabbard, the blade itself looked incredibly simple. In her own hands, Willow began to pulse in response. Kimberly watched the air around Trey’s blade shimmer, as if a great heat was being contained.
“I, too, wield a legendary blade. It is very rare for a person to possess one, rarer still for two of them to meet. Usually these meetings result in battle, though you shouldn’t worry about that.” Trey smiled at her. “For instance, Elurra once battled a man known as the Black Knight. He, too, was a wielder of a legendary weapon, a sword with different magic than Willow’s.”
“And she defeated him,” Kimberly added.
Trey nodded. “Now, the Black Knight fought with Elurra and she defeated him soundly. The point is, legends do not often leave room for each other. So I want you to be very aware. Once people hear that Willow is back in the lands, you will be hunted. Sure, it could be for glory. Maybe even for your aid. All I ask is that you keep one thing in mind.” 
“What’s that?”
“Never lose yourself.” Trey sheathed his blade. “A decision you make today can come back to haunt you in the future. I made several mistakes in my time, mistakes that people remember far more than my successes. I know a lot about your blade because, at one point, I was where you are now: young and lost. You need a direction, a direction I can help you find if you will let me. I promised myself never to let evil again roam the lands, a promise I made after…” He looked off in the distance and shook his head. “Never lose yourself. Understand?”
She nodded. It was a lot to digest but she understood.
“We should rest. Long day tomorrow.” Trey stood and walked away.
“What’s your sword called?” Kimberly asked, catching up with him.
Trey smirked and looked at her. “If you’re good, someday I’ll tell you.”
Kimberly couldn’t help it; she rolled her eyes at him.
*   *   *
As they approached the camp and bedded down for the evening, Trey watched Kimberly. He hoped she had been paying attention. She reminded him so much of his own daughter, Amberleigh. He couldn’t help but worry about what was coming next for the girl. Years from now, he hoped that Kimberly wouldn’t see the same amount of blood on her own hands that he saw when he looked at his own. Not the blood of those who would hurt others, but the blood of the ones he had sworn to protect. The ones he had slaughtered with his own sword.
Trey heard Kimberly laugh, a sound that helped to ease his mood. She was deeply engrossed in telling Ronnee a thing called a knock-knock joke. Trey heard Ronnee giggle in approval, a sound that reminded Trey of a goat. He smiled.
He could only guide her so much. She would have to learn the most important lessons on her own.
His blade pulsed at his hip. He ignored it.

White Cloaks

The little town of Bensin was built along the edge of the Garezabeth Plains. It was considered by many to be the last testament to civilization before entering the endless fields. Merchants often gathered there to form great caravans before making the long trek across the plains; this meant the city was stuffed full of gold, horses, and warriors.
To Kimberly, the town was just a loose collection of shabby buildings, much like a rundown trailer park. Walking down the main road into town, she could smell smoked meat and the occasional whiff of dirty horse on the breeze. Grit kept blowing into her mouth, teaching her to keep it closed.
Ip, cradled in Kimberly’s arms, was looking around with wide eyes and a twitchy nose. Kimberly could only imagine how many different things he could smell.
A sharp, clanging noise caught her attention. Kimberly watched a large man covered in soot and sweat banging on a piece of metal, fresh from the forge. With each clang of his giant hammer, she could see the edge of the red-hot metal take shape. The man pounded it a few more times and held something up that looked like a blade, perhaps for a shortsword. Satisfied, he dunked it in a barrel of water. The water hissed and steam rose into the air.
“Be less obvious,” Helena muttered. Kimberly looked forward, seeing that she had fallen behind. She had been warned about standing out.
Looking at the others, she couldn’t help but grin. Trey walked alongside Serra, his stride casual. Serra’s head was covered in a low cowl, her pale skin making her look sickly. To somebody watching the group, it was hard to choose between staring at the giant, the cloaked stranger, or the beautiful Helena. She doubted they could be anything but obvious.
They stopped in front of an inn with a hammer and shield on the sign. The words had long since faded away, but there was no mistaking the building’s use.
“Let’s get to it, people.” Trey tossed a money bag to Helena. “Try and get us horses. Flirt if you have to.”
Helena gave him a mock salute. Flipping her hair, she turned and wandered away, her hips swaying more than usual. Ronnee looked at Trey, waiting.
“See if you can make some money with those muscles of yours. I’m certain the smithy or the stables will have use of your talents. Catch up by dinner.”
Ronnee nodded and started to walk away down the street.
“Ronnee,” Trey called to the man.
The giant turned to look at Trey, his eyebrows raised.
Trey’s face was deadly serious. “Flirt if you have to.”
Kimberly giggled and Ronnee walked away, chortling to himself. Ip barked his encouragement at Ronnee, his bushy tail wagging underneath Kimberly’s arms.
Kimberly walked into the inn with Serra and Trey. She waited patiently while Trey worked out a deal with the owner. They found themselves in a large room on the second floor; it had two beds and a window overlooking the front road. Kimberly hugged Ip too tightly, excited to see something other than the hard ground to sleep on. Ip protested with a squeak and squeezed out of her arms. Indignant, he crossed the slightly dirty, wooden floor of the room and jumped on the windowsill, licking his paws.
“I’m going to talk to some contacts in town. The two of you should stay here for now.” Trey handed Kimberly some coins. “Just in case you get hungry. Eat in the room.”
Kimberly accepted the Auviarran money, wondering if she should just keep it instead. Fascinated, she turned the coins over in her palms, studying the strange faces.
“I’m going to lie down,” Serra said. 
Kimberly knew Serra didn’t need sleep, but she also knew Serra was weakest during the daytime. Shrugging off her dark cloak, Serra slipped under the covers and turned away from Kimberly. Kimberly blushed, remembering how many times Serra had caught her staring, curious about the half demon’s sinister nightly transformation. She figured Serra probably didn’t like her much and she really couldn’t blame her.
“When will you be back?” Kimberly asked, looking at Trey.
“When I walk through this door.” Trey ran his fingers through his hair, pulling some dirt free. “Ip, you’re in charge until I do.”
Across the room, the little fox barked in acknowledgement. Trey smiled and then walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Kimberly debated lying down for a bit. The thought of a long nap sounded so good. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she found she could see out the window. The activity on the street caught her attention immediately. She watched the people of the city go about their day for quite some time, happy to be able to stare to her heart’s content. At one point, she saw Ronnee walk by, giant pieces of steel stacked up in his arms. She called out to him and waved excitedly. The giant gave her a huge smile, sweat pouring down his face.
“I can sense the changes in you.” Kimberly jumped, having all but forgotten her roommate. Turning, she saw Serra had rolled over to face her, her body scrunched up and the blankets pulled over her head. Through a tiny gap in the fabric, she could just make out Serra’s dark eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“You are changing inside.” Serra squinted and her gaze was piercing. “It’s like watching hot, liquid steel get poured into water. They cannot mix, and each fights to win.”
Oh God, Kimberly thought to herself. I’m getting my first vague riddle.
“Your magic. The sword’s magic.”
“Oh.” She understood what Serra meant. In the last couple of days, the changes to her body were becoming more apparent. During practice, her movements were becoming faster, her strikes better. Muscle mass was beginning to build on her arms and legs at an accelerated rate, giving her limbs a slightly toned look. Even her hair was growing faster now, almost two inches since she had arrived in Auviarra. The same thing had happened to Elurra when she became Willow’s owner.
“It’s the sword. It has to change me so I can wield it right,” Kimberly said, explaining it to Serra.
“Uh huh.” Serra didn’t look so certain, but Kimberly attributed it to her weakened state.
“How did you meet Trey?”
Serra rolled over, ignoring her question. Kimberly stared in mild disbelief, but didn’t say anything. No reason to push her luck.
Ip growled. Kimberly turned toward the fox. Ip was watching something out the window. Curious, Kimberly walked over to see what he was growling at. Out in the street stood a large group of men; most likely they had just come in with a caravan. There were at least fifteen of them and they were all dressed the same. They wore long, white cloaks over matching robes and they were holding hands in a circle.
“Why are those guys praying?” Kimberly picked up Ip and stroked his fur. His growls were muted only slightly.
“What guys?” Serra rolled back over, her eyes squinting toward the window.
“A group of guys wearing white cloaks. They’re standing in a… hey!” Serra shoved Kimberly out of the way, her eyes intent on the street below.
“Oh no,” Serra whispered, moving away from the window. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why? Who are they?” Kimberly racked her brain, trying to remember if they had ever been mentioned in her grandfather’s books.
Serra turned toward Kimberly. Her dark eyes were full of fear.
“Most people call them demon hunters. That’s not entirely true.” She pointed toward the street. “They’re religious zealots, purity seekers. I may have killed a few of them over the years. Self-defense,” she added, raising her hands. “They have their own agenda. They hunt creatures like me purely to promote their cause.”
“Well, we should be fine if we just wait here.”
“Not true. They can sense the darkness in me. And in you. If they haven’t sensed either of us yet, it will only be a matter of time.”
“I don’t have any darkness,” Kimberly protested, but Serra ignored her. Serra, still weak, was lying on the bed in an attempt to put her sword belt on. Kimberly looked back out the window and was surprised to see one of the men looking back. It wasn’t a friendly look at all.
“Uh oh.” Kimberly saw the men break into two groups. One group circled around the side of the building, disappearing from view. The other group walked underneath, presumably through the front door.
Serra muttered a few choice words about the men and their ancestors. Kimberly blushed.
“I can’t fight like this,” Serra moaned. She was trying to pull her sword from her sheath, an act that had left her gasping for air already.
Kimberly made sure the door was locked and then pushed one of the beds against it. She placed herself between Serra and the door. Looking over her shoulder at Serra, she felt her hands begin to shake and fought to keep her voice from trembling. At her hip, Willow pulsed softly, giving her strength.
“You won’t have to.” Kimberly’s voice was quiet. She hoped she was right.
She felt a breeze on the back of her neck. Puzzled, she turned to see the window had been opened. Ip was gone.
*   *   *
Trey was in a quiet basement, sitting at a table covered in scrolls. The man across from him had said very little, admitting him on recognition alone. Every member of the Society knew who he was.
Rubbing his eyes, Trey dug through more information, looking for references to Elurra and the Black Knight. He had hoped to find something to help Kimberly, but found very little reference to Elurra after her legendary fight. It was as if she had disappeared.
“Are you sure this is all you have?” Trey asked, perhaps for the tenth time. The man across from him just nodded. 
“Damn.” He scratched his neck and grimaced, “Put the word out. Any info on what happened to Elurra after she fought the Black Knight. It is extremely important.”
The man, an acolyte of the Society, nodded and pulled out a candle. The word would travel faster than Trey could. The candle lit itself under the acolyte’s hand. The acolyte bent low and began whispering Trey’s request in one of the old tongues. The flame wavered under his breath, causing dozens of similar candles across the land to mimic its movements.
Trey thanked the man and let himself out, closing the door behind him. It all but vanished in the wall. The only hint it had even been there was a drawing of an eye with a flame for a pupil, marking it as an information center for Society members.
He had gotten lucky in finding the place. The Society was well hidden and for good reason. It was one of the few secrets he kept from his friends, but he had taken an oath. They had benefitted from the Society’s knowledge more than a few times and would understand.
He walked out of the alleyway and stopped. Ip was sitting on the road, almost like he had been waiting for Trey. Surprised, Trey asked “What are you doing here?”
Ip whined and ran back down the road, toward the inn. Puzzled, Trey followed. He wondered how the fox had even found him. They weren’t notorious for their tracking skills.
Then again, he had wondered more than once about Ip. There was more to him than what could be seen. He would bet his sword on it.
He could hear it now, the sounds of men calling to one another and of metal clanging together. He recognized one of the battle cries and scowled in anger. Putting his fingers to his lips, he blew a loud shrill whistle into the air, then ran toward the inn.
*   *   *
They were trying to push their way through the door, shouting strange threats at Kimberly through the various holes they had punched through the wood. Paralyzed by indecision, she could only stand there and watch as the barrier was slowly destroyed.
She felt incredibly small when they burst through the door. The first man through pushed the bed away, making room for his comrades. They wore intent expressions that gave Kimberly little doubt why they were here.
Her hands were shaking uncontrollably now. As the men came at her, their blades drawn, it occurred to Kimberly that she hadn’t instigated the encounter. It wasn’t something she had done to warrant this reaction, this wasn’t a result of some wrong she had committed.
For just a second, the men reminded her of her father. Evil, hate-filled faces lunged forward, filling her vision.
Her hands quit shaking.
The first white-cloak was the luckiest. She knocked his sword aside, her limbs moving fast due to the magic. Not totally committed to hurting them, she only struck him a glancing blow along his thigh. Her blade sliced through his robes without resistance, leaving a bloody wound that burned with blue fire.
The next man kicked out at her, a move that cost him a foot. Crying out, he fell back, holding his leg. As a third man pushed his way forward, she heard the sound of metal on metal behind her. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she swore. A white-cloak had come in through the window and was trying, unsuccessfully, to knock the blade from Serra’s hand.
Kimberly drove Willow’s blade into the floorboard and sent the tendrils billowing out. They wrapped around a white-cloak in the doorway, pulling him into the air. The wood groaned underneath Kimberly as the white-cloak sailed past, colliding with the man fighting Serra. They both tumbled out the window with a cry.
“How many more?” Serra asked. Kimberly shrugged, unable to remember how many men had been out there to begin with. Another white-cloak poked his head in the door and tossed something into the room.
“What is…” There was a flash of light. Kimberly’s legs went numb. The floor rose up to meet her.
*   *   *
Rough hands on her wrists yanked her up. Unable to control her body, her head rolled in circles as she was moved. Her heart was beating so fast, her chest felt like it was on fire.
“Take this one too.” A hand grabbed her chin, yanking her head forward. Her captor slowly came into focus, a white robe with big eyebrows and onion breath. Behind him she could see the doorway to her room. A shadow filled it completely and approached them.
A colossal hand gripped Onion Breath by the shoulder, spinning him around. Kimberly fell backward with her other captor and heard the sound of ripping fabric. Struggling to rise, she saw Ronnee had twisted the man’s cloak around his fist. The half giant yanked hard on the cloak and delivered a haymaker that would crumple an ox. The cloak ripped free and the white-cloak flew backward into the bed, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
The other white-cloak dropped Kimberly and drew his sword. He shouted out a battle cry and ran forward, his sword held high. The sword struck a ceiling beam, knocking the man off balance.
Ronnee laughed and engulfed the attacker’s hand with his own, pinning the sword in place. With a heave, he hurled the man toward the open window. Ronnee’s aim wasn’t the best; the man’s legs caught the window’s frame, sending him spinning out into the open air.
Kimberly fought to stand, but her legs were still numb. Ronnee picked her up, slinging her over one shoulder. She watched him do the same thing with Serra. He carried them out the door and through the building. Broken furniture and white-cloaks littered the halls.
Ronnee lumbered out into the street. As he turned, Kimberly could see the curious crowds that had gathered along the streets to watch the commotion. Ronnee ran along the side of the building and entered a narrow alley.
Kimberly heard Ip bark. She opened her mouth to call out his name. As she mumbled, an arrow struck Ronnee in the back, only a couple inches from her face. She prayed to all the Auviarran gods that she hadn’t just wet herself on Ronnee’s shoulder. 
Ronnee grunted and turned around. Kimberly’s world spun as she was unceremoniously dropped. Her legs were tingly and all full of sand now, and she crawled to an upright position. From where she sat, she could see Ronnee had picked up the archer and was swinging him into another man like a club. A third man appeared behind Ronnee holding a spear and moving in. 
“Ronnee!” It was all Kimberly could shout and it wasn’t near loud enough. The spear carrier was closing fast when a crossbow bolt pierced him from behind. He dropped to the ground with a gurgle and then Helena was there. She winked at Kimberly and reloaded her weapon.
“They are harbingers of the dark one!” A white-cloak with a long, greasy beard was hollering now at the gathered crowd. “They seek to bring darkness on us all!”
Trey walked up behind the man and skewered him with his blade. The man grunted out a curse before he fell.
“Time to leave.” Trey wiped his sword on the dead man at his feet. 
Kimberly struggled to stand. Ip ran over and barked encouragement. Her legs were still all rubbery. Helena grabbed Kimberly by the hand and pulled. Her legs were full of fire now. Ronnee picked up Serra and they quickly ran to the edge of town.
Cries of protest rose behind them, the shock of the attack wearing off. The little group started running again, leaving the path and disappearing into the woods. Kimberly’s heart raced as she fought to keep up. It wasn’t long before she could hear pursuit behind them.
An arrow buried itself in the ground just ahead of her, fletched with white feathers. Another soared just past her shoulder, hitting a rock and breaking.
Willow pulsed and Kimberly drew it. A white-cloak spun out of the trees ahead. She charged forward to strike, but Trey was there like lightning, slashing once with his sword. Kimberly saw the man’s face as he died, denial etched in lines across his face as he sank to the ground.
“Keep moving,” Trey shouted at her, his face tense. She could sense something boiling beneath his calm exterior, something that made her shudder inside.
The group spilled into a clearing. The trees cast ominous shadows across dead grass and broken rocks littered the clearing like jagged teeth. Hairs on Kimberly’s neck rose as she felt something about the clearing change, a tingling sensation that gave her chills. A dense fog billowed up from the ground, shadows moving around in it.
“Look for the caster,” Helena called out, her crossbows drawn. Kimberly tightened her grip on Willow and scanned the area. Ronnee set Serra down beneath his legs and drew his ax.
“Watch the shadows. And no matter what, don’t let them take Serra.” Trey directed his words at Kimberly, who nodded. The white-cloaks were going to great lengths to attack them. She tried to swallow her fear, but it was stuck in her throat like a cold piece of apple.
Ip barked; a white-cloak burst out of the fog, his body shrouded in light. Two bolts bounced off his skin, shattering. Helena cursed and drew her sword as a second rushed them from the fog.
“It’s a rift!” Kimberly shouted. She had read about this spell in one of her grandfather’s books. It was used to transport large numbers of troops across great distance. The rift had been wrapped around the little clearing, giving them nowhere to escape.
The white-cloaks weren’t holding anything back. More men came into the clearing, wearing cloaks of light. Ronnee caught two of them with a heavy swing of his ax, knocking them across the clearing but not hurting them.
A tall man with a beard lunged over Kimberly, his eyes white with anger. Willow cared little for the magic protecting him and a single thrust ended the threat. The next man was faster, sliding a dagger along Kimberly’s ribs.
Her eyes teared up in pain. Willow grabbed at the man with vines, yanking his legs out from underneath him. She swung high and drove Willow deep into the ground, pinning him in place. A third man tackled her to the ground, forcing her arms out.
Kimberly screamed at him and Ip was in his face, biting and clawing. The man fell back, clutching at the ball of fur, but Ip vanished, running underneath his legs as Kimberly decked him.
She heard a man scream. His scream was followed by several others. Shadows were rushing in now, and Trey had turned into a thunderstorm of fury. He was wielding his own magic blade now, a blade that killed with every swing. His movements were beginning to blur and his sword hummed audibly with every strike. In her hands, she could feel Willow begin to resonate.
The fog twisted and Kimberly caught sight of a man with a chalice in one hand, his arms high in the air. She could see his face screwed up in concentration.
“Helena!” She pointed in his direction. Helena drew her crossbows and fired twice. The cup was knocked free by the first bolt and the second pierced the man’s chest. He slumped forward and vanished from view. The fog melted back into the forest, leaving a small group of unprotected men.
They didn’t live long. Trey stood over their bodies, gasping for air, sweat beaded up on his face. The others were watching him with trepidation.
He sighed and sheathed his sword.
“Let’s go,” he said. Nobody argued.
*   *   *
Night fell on the group. Kimberly watched Serra go through the changes with the rest of the group. Her facial features narrowed while her limbs became thicker and sinewy. Kimberly could see the power in her frame increase exponentially until finally, after the sun set, Serra opened her eyes.
“How close did we come?” She stood and popped her neck to the side.
“Closer than I would have liked.” Trey handed her a waterskin.
“Who were those guys?” Kimberly felt like now was a good time to ask. They had fled the clearing in almost complete silence and nobody had spoken to her since they set up camp.
“That’s up to Serra to explain. It’s her story.” With that, Trey stood and walked away.
“Trey really hates those guys.” Serra rose and stumbled just a bit; Kimberly reached out an arm to steady her. “Thanks. It always takes a while to recover from a prayer stone.”
“Prayer stone?”
“Yeah, clever little name for that thing they threw at us. Only works on demons and other dark things.”
Kimberly thought on that statement for a second. If it only worked on dark things and demons, then why had it knocked her senseless?
The group ate dinner without the benefit of a fire, which meant cheese and dried meats. As each of them began to settle in for the night, Kimberly found herself sitting alone with Serra, watching the stars appear in the night sky.
“Those men were after me.” Serra’s voice was low. Kimberly turned to give Serra her attention. Both of them sat with their arms hugging their legs tightly against their chests.
“When I was born, my parents couldn’t have been happier. I was a cute little thing. All curls and ribbons, apparently. When I was six years old, my father disappeared, and we never heard from him again. Life went on until I was of child-birthing age. The other girls in my town got their blood cycles. I ended up running around at night eating farm animals.” Serra chuckled to herself. 
“My mother took me to a small group of healers, a group known as the Brotherhood of Zor. We both believed I had fallen under a dark curse, something that could be cured. The leader of the Brotherhood ordered me imprisoned right away, something that upset my mother greatly. When she tried to take me back, a man named Griklin ordered her purified. So they burned her alive, right in front of me. They trapped me in a cage of silver. I waited for the change to come that night, intent on murdering them all. When the change came, I discovered that silver burns those of us considered impure.” 
“Impure?”
“Not literally. It’s just a label. When I grabbed the bars of the cage, my hands were burned severely. My strength meant nothing. I tried to kill myself then, allowing my naked flesh to touch the cage. When I finally collapsed, the burns on my body healed themselves up, right in front of Griklin. Amused, that was when he told me about my father. He was a demon prince, cursed decades ago to wander Auviarra as a human. Griklin had found him when I was little, unaware that I existed. He was just going to kill me, but apparently my little show gave him an idea. 
“Soon he was parading me around, showing everybody his little demon child. Doing little tricks with light and shadows to cure my wounds miraculously. His favorite thing to do was stab me in the stomach, let my intestines spill out a little, then put me under a dark cloth that blocks out sunlight. Ta da!”  She made a flourish with her arms. “She is cured! Or he would keep me in the dark until he had a big crowd and then show how he could exorcise out my evil. Soon the Brotherhood had a following, and then it became a cult. Soon after, he was the mouthpiece of Zor, a man who could ask for anything and get it. The Brotherhood was now its own religion.”
Serra frowned. “When I was older, he started doing tests. He used me as a target for spells, weapons, anything that could teach him how to disable, hurt, and even kill a demon. His men got to practice their techniques on me. Can’t count the number of times I was stabbed, burned, whatever.” She shrugged at Kimberly and stared up at the stars above. “He used to get mad when I killed a few of them. I used to think it was funny.”
“That’s awful.” Kimberly frowned, her eyes watery. She thought back to her life on Earth, living under her father’s heel. She could see the similarities, wondering now if some of her father’s actions had been tests of his own.
Seeing Kimberly’s expression, Serra’s face softened, making her appear almost human. “Look, the point I am trying to make is that these men hide behind lies. They will commit many atrocities in the name of their god, and they will get away with it. They will extort innocent people with promises of salvation. They hunt people who are different. I have seen giants, merpeople, and other faerie folk murdered for the sake of purification. Especially half-breeds. Trey came across some white-cloaks exterminating a family with half-breed children. He killed the white-cloaks—all of them. Tracing them back to their camp, he came across a pathetic wretch they kept locked in a cage. No questions asked, he set me free.” 
Serra sighed then, an unusual sound. She leaned back and stretched her legs forward. Serra’s dark eyes seemed to search the stars for the courage to continue.
“I love him for it. I have seen both good and evil; I live somewhere in between. And I can tell you he has seen his fair share of both. He would die before he saw them take me away. If I could give my life to save him, I would.”
It was strange to hear Serra open up so much. Kimberly didn’t know what to say. Erring on the side of caution, she just nodded and watched as Serra got up, walking away into the forest to keep watch over them. Later, when Kimberly was slipping quietly into slumber, her mind struggled to remember a crucial detail of their discussion, but exhaustion won out.

Beginning of the End

Zane watched what was left of his father with immense disgust. Several days had now passed, and Nathan did little more than mumble to himself or cry out incoherent words. Though they were still bound to do his bidding, his control was gradually weakening. Billy no longer sat by Nathan’s side, content to roam the plains nearby and crush animals with his fists.
Zane was starting to wonder how much more he could take of this.
Over a week had passed since he had quit following Kimberly. When she had entered that town on the plain’s edge, he had almost lost his self-control. The sheer amount of life waiting to be sucked dry from the city had almost caused him to rush in without caution. 
Instead, Zane stayed out on the plains, perfecting his own peculiar grasp of darkness. He could now absorb the life force of his environment. He had left several large patches of death in the surrounding lands, leaving behind dried-up grass and animals. Zane could summon up bits of darkness, too, little balls in his hands that would expand or contract on his whim.
Billy, content with being able to crush things, never bothered to attempt anything else. 
The sun went down and Billy returned to Zane’s side with gore-covered fists. About to lecture his twin, he felt a shift in the environment. Turning to the night sky, he watched as stars blotted themselves out. Something was traveling across the sky, traveling right toward their location. Eager for a fight, he and Billy waited for it, hoped for it.
A cloud of darkness splashed down on the ground, billowing outward. A woman stepped forward from the darkness, her body cloaked in dark bits of cloth and metal. Her face was obscured by a mask of polished steel, an eerie replica of a woman’s face. 
Billy and Zane moved forward slowly. Zane could sense Billy’s murderous anticipation through their connection and if he had a face, he would have smiled. As they got closer, the woman turned to face them directly. Through the eyeholes of her mask, Zane could only see darkness. He was no longer moving, frozen by the woman’s gaze. He could sense that Billy had stopped, too.
She walked across the ground, right to the giant rock. Placing one hand on its lip, she easily rolled it away from the man beneath it. She knelt down and gingerly lifted their father’s crumpled form into her arms.
“Who are you to this man?” Her voice had a haunting melody to it.
“We are his sons.” Zane spoke from the depths of his hood. “Or we were, anyway.”
“Amazing.” She walked toward the two of them and knelt down. “Two little sheep, lost from the flock.” Cradling Nathan easily in one arm, she touched his forehead with her free hand. “Let me guide you forward now.”
Nathan’s body trembled with excitement at her touch. He opened his eyes and stared into the woman’s face. A gasp of awe and he reached up his hand, stroking her cold, metal cheek.
“Mommy,” Nathan said, his voice like a child’s. Billy and Zane exchanged a look.
“That’s right. Mother’s here.” She stroked Nathan’s hair and cheeks. “I’ve waited for this day for so long. Ever since you were taken away from me, all I desired was to have you back. As soon as I felt your presence, I came here.”
For the longest time, all she did was stare down into Nathan’s face. Finally she stood and the darkness billowed out around her.
“What you need is a release, don’t you? Something to help realign your purpose.” The woman reached down and dragged Nathan to his feet. 
“What you need is to feed.”
“Mommy, I’m so hungry,” he whimpered. His sons exchanged a look, a similar hunger deep within.
“I know, baby, I know.” She caressed his face with long, slender fingers. “Come.”
Nathan stumbled, his legs unsteady. Zane and Billy fell in behind him, Zane questioning the sudden appearance of the woman. She reminded him of a witch. Her skin was pale, which contrasted harshly with the dark clothing she wore.
She turned to look back at Zane. Her dark eyes were just like his father’s. He immediately felt it then, a bond that was both familial and magical. He wondered if this was how a bee looked at its queen.
She led them across the grasslands, making them walk. Zane couldn’t make out what she was saying to Nathan; her voice was little more than a series of whispers. He was getting impatient now, a sense of anticipation beginning to build inside.
Tiny pinpricks of light became visible, campfires from a faraway caravan. Behind Zane, Billy chortled with delight, making metallic crunching sounds by punching one fist into the other.
“You two wait here.” The woman turned and gave them a look that brooked no argument. “Your father needs this more.”
Billy groaned in frustration and sat down, his joints creaking. Zane glared at the woman in anger, the red coals of his eyes illuminating the ground. He could see her aura now, blacker than the night, and he stretched his magic out for a little taste of her power.
Moving with both grace and speed, she reached into Zane’s cloak and took hold of his very essence, squeezing it, somehow, with slender fingers. He felt his soul shiver under her cold touch, the first sensation he had felt in days. He decided right away never to anger her again.
“My, my, you are an ambitious one. Wait your turn and I’ll give you something much better than a few smelly travelers.” The smile in her eyes was genuine. She left the brothers, beckoning Nathan forward with her. Zane watched them approach the caravan, waited for the sounds of screams to reach him.
He wasn’t disappointed.
*   *   *
They walked through what was left of the caravan. Zane stared at the carnage left behind by his father. Wagons had been overturned, and bits of wood, metal, and flesh lay everywhere. A few small fires burned.
Billy stomped over to a severed leg and picked it up to show Zane. He mimed eating it like a chicken leg and chortled to himself.
What a waste. The mess left behind made Zane think of spilled soup. He could have feasted on them, absorbed their life force into his own, become more powerful. He could not, however, deny the effect that destroying a caravan had had on his father. Nathan stood on top of a wagon, staring into the night sky, his face finally calm. Zane guessed that the killing had restored some sense of purpose to his crazed father.
“Who is this girl he speaks of?” It was the shadow woman, sitting with her legs crossed on top of a barrel. Zane could not deny that she was attractive. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, yet Zane knew the truth. She was his grandmother. Yet another dark creature with unimaginable power and some sort of hold on all of them.
“Her name is Kimberly,” Zane answered. “She is our sister.”
“Strange.” She stood and tossed something to the ground. She had been toying with a severed hand. “I cannot sense her.”
“She’s different.” Zane floated in front of her. “She did not change when he touched her.”
“Then her darkness lies much deeper.” The shadow woman giggled to herself. “How delightful. If it were to ever emerge, she could walk among the lands as a god.”
“If not for that sword, we would have had her.”
The shadow woman stopped laughing and stared at Zane.
“What sword?”
“A strange sword with fire and vines that sprouted from it.” Zane gestured with one hand, summoning an image of his sister swinging the blade. “It’s what brought us here.”
She laughed again. It was a cold laugh. She curled the fingers of one hand over her chin and bent forward. Her long dark hair covered her mask.
“How delightfully wonderful!” She stood tall and stretched her arms at the sky. “That just gave me a delicious idea!” She called to Nathan, who swooped down and knelt by her side, eager to please.
“We can lure her in. It wouldn’t be hard.” She stroked Nathan’s head. “To do that, though, we need to gather a bit of a reputation.”
She reached behind her back and drew forth a ball of darkness. It curled and twisted in her fist like a handful of snakes, stretching and distorting. Finally, it eased itself outward, shaping itself to her whims.
She held an exact replica of the blade Kimberly wielded. Zane was surprised by the amount of detail she had put into it, enough that he couldn’t see the difference.
“Come, I know of a place not too far from here. A place where we can all feed.”
Billy howled in delight and pumped a giant fist in the air. Zane agreed with the sentiment.
*   *   *
Kaleiph stood at the edge of his field, the hot summer sun making him squint. He tore off his hat and wiped the sweat from his face with its brim. It had been another long day, and he had several more ahead of him, especially if he was going to have his land ready for planting spice melon seeds by the next lunar cycle.
The sun was close to setting in the hills and he was looking forward to the cool evening hours. He picked up his shovel and slung it over his shoulder. Smiling to himself, he surveyed his day’s work. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to see what looked like a man floating toward him. The man’s arms were stretched out to his sides, his palms pointed up, and wore what might have been a dreamy smile on his face.
Not sure how to react, Kaleiph just stared as the man drifted closer. He was wearing strange clothes Kaleiph didn’t recognize, clothes that had been tattered by the elements. He wondered if this was a heat-induced hallucination, the kind his father had warned him about. The weather had been hot and dry for a few cycles now, and sometimes Kaleiph forgot to drink enough water. Come to think of it, he did have a bit of a headache. He reached for his waterskin and took a swig.
The strange figure drifted closer now, and a sense of unease filled Kaleiph’s stomach. He dropped the waterskin and swung his shovel down in front of his chest. It was heavy in his arms and he tried to casually hold it in front of him.
The man drifted close enough that Kaleiph could see his lips moving, but he could only hear whispers. Stopping in front of Kaleiph, the stranger just hovered there, unmoving.
The quietly whispered words inevitably pulled Kaleiph closer as he strained to make out what the stranger was saying. Unnaturally black eyes opened and a double-set of teeth grinned at him.
“Boo.” The stranger said the word softly. Kaleiph didn’t know what it meant, but it made him jump just a little.
Kaleiph raised his shovel, ready to strike. The floating man reached out with clawed hands and sunk his fingers deep into Kaleiph’s skin. Sensing the end, Kaleiph tried to open his mouth and say something.
“Shh. You’ll spoil the surprise.” A large shape loomed behind the stranger, a metal thing with a hollow laugh.
Kaleiph felt pain flood his body. In the distance somewhere, he heard a woman’s voice say something about leaving witnesses. Then he felt nothing at all.
*   *   *

The Long Days Ahead

Kimberly stood in the river, the water flowing gently past her waist. Sighing, she cupped some water in her hands and splashed it on her face. The water was ice-cold, but she found it quite comfortable. Tiny tendrils sprouted from Willow’s scabbard, languishing in the water’s current.
“How can you stand to do that?” Helena was standing on the river’s edge, in the process of putting her clothes back on. The two of them had come to bathe, but Kimberly wasn’t comfortable being naked in the wilderness. Helena had no qualms about stripping down for a quick dip, but she had lasted only a few minutes before the chill had driven her out.
“It’s Willow. She enjoys it.” Willow pulsed at Kimberly’s hip in response. “Water brings life to all things, including her.”
“As long as I don’t have to come in and get you.” Helena pulled her wet hair across one shoulder and began brushing it. “I’ve had quite enough for today.”
Ip, contented to bat at minnows from the river’s bank, barked his agreement. He hopped onto a rock and smacked at something under the water. Pulling up a minnow with his paw, he watched it wriggle around on the rock.
Kimberly leaned back into the water, floating on the surface. Willow extended tendrils down, into the riverbed, anchoring her in place. She let out a deep breath, staring at the cloudless sky above.
The water flowed over her skin, washing her cares away. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of peace.
Kimberly.
There was a flash of light. Kimberly opened her eyes. She stood before a massive tree, its leaves stretching upward past the clouds. A woman cloaked in leaves sat between the tree’s roots. 
“Where am I?” Kimberly took a step toward the woman.
“You are where you stand.” The woman leaned forward into the light. Her skin was dark and her eyes were full of sunlight. “Hello, Kimberly.”
“Willow?” Kimberly asked, recognizing the voice.
“We finally meet.” Willow rose and stepped toward her.
“What do you mean, finally? We’ve been together for days.”
“I’ve been by your side, but you are still so far away.” Willow cupped Kimberly’s face in her warm hands. “There is much I must tell you.” This close up, Willow’s breath smelled of lavender and hay.
Kimberly’s heart beat as she touched Willow’s hands with her own. “Please, tell me everything.”
Willow’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“Kimberly!” There was panic in Helena’s voice.
Kimberly opened her eyes. She was back in the river. Something in the current had caught in her hair. Untangling the object, she saw that it was a crude arrow.
“Helena, what’s happening?” She stood up, her feet touching the rocks on the bottom. Along the riverbank, a group of squat creatures was advancing. They had determined looks on their ugly green faces.
“Goblins!” Helena fired her crossbow. A goblin grunted and fell forward onto the ground. Pulling a dagger from her belt, she threw it at another goblin who had taken aim at Kimberly with a bow. The goblin gasped, but still managed the shot.
The arrow pierced Kimberly’s shoulder, driving her underneath the water. She screamed in agony, bubbles rising from her mouth. She clutched the arrow’s shaft and tried to pull it free.
It hurt, but she managed to pull it out. Rising from the water, she saw that the goblins had Helena surrounded. Helena dodged one attack, spinning around to stab a goblin who tried to spear her. A third attack was thwarted with a well-placed dagger.
A goblin circled behind Helena, readying a strike with a crude hammer. Kimberly tried to cry a warning, but knew there wasn’t time. She cocked her arm back, feeling the tendrils of Willow’s hilt clutch tightly to her forearm. She hurled Willow outward with all her strength, concentrating on that one goblin. Willow’s blade struck him in the shoulder, knocking him down.
Kimberly willed the vines to retract, pulling Willow back into her hand. She took another step forward and threw the sword, catching another goblin unaware. Whipping the blade back and forth across the water, the goblins scattered. One drew a bow and made to fire at Kimberly, but a giant, flaming paw pulled him backward into the bushes.
Ip stepped forward, his body ablaze with fire. Now the size of a lion, he roared with great force, sending ripples out along the water. The goblins threw down their weapons and ran in all directions.
“Kimberly, are you okay?” Helena helped Kimberly out of the river and saw the blood across her chest.
“No.” Kimberly winced and touched the hole in her shoulder with a finger. “It burns.”
“Goblins sometimes rub their arrows in nasty stuff.” Helena examined Kimberly’s wound with a scowl. “Loathsome tactic.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Mostly their own poop.”
Kimberly shrieked. Pushing Helena away, she threw herself back in the water and began frantically splashing water on her wound.
“Kimberly, that’s not how you treat a wound.”
“Hey.” Trey appeared, his sword drawn. Serra and Ronnee were close behind. Kimberly saw that Ronnee was covered in dirt and blood. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Us, too.” Helena gestured at the dead goblins.
“Kimberly, what are you doing?” Trey approached the water’s edge.
“She was hit. Goblin arrow.”
Trey waded into the water and grabbed Kimberly. “Where were you hit?”
“Right here.” She pulled the collar of her shirt down. “It stings.”
“There’s nothing there.” Trey smeared the blood off of her skin. Kimberly looked, seeing only a puckered scar.
“But… I saw it.”
“I don’t doubt that. However, we don’t have the time to discuss this.” Trey looked at the others. “Goblin war bands, crawling all over the forest. We need to get moving.”
“War bands?” Kimberly walked with Trey out of the water. “Who are they at war with?”
“Who knows with goblins?” Serra said. “Stupid creatures.”
“Stinky,” Ronnee added. Ip, who had reverted to normal, barked.
They followed the river for a while. Around dusk, just when Kimberly was convinced they were safe, they were attacked again. They kept moving through the night after that, running into goblins twice more before dawn. Serra made short work of the goblins, giving the others a respite.
Days passed in this manner. The forest was large and the goblins plentiful. The lack of sleep had greatly affected Kimberly’s mood, even though Willow’s magic kept her body from fatigue. On more than one occasion, she found herself snapping at the others or giving them the silent treatment.
Even Ip was miserable. The little fox rarely had time to bathe himself and he had brambles and burrs stuck in his fur. He also pouted when nobody would carry him, sometimes abandoning the group for hours on end to walk alone elsewhere.
They hunted now for their food. To stand up for the innocent, and to kill in self-defense… that she could deal with. The first time she watched Helena fell a deer with a crossbow bolt wrenched her heart. The image of the animal, its life poured out on the forest floor, kept her up crying most of the night.
Traveling in a strange twisting pattern, they finally stumbled into a remote mountain village somewhere high in the Buzzard’s Pass. Relieved to see no trace of the white-cloaks or of the goblins, the group quickly sought refuge at a tiny inn with only one room barely big enough for all of them. They traded away a couple of Helena’s knives and a good portion of the furs they had collected, but managed to scrounge up enough coin to resupply themselves.
Sitting on the front porch of the inn, Kimberly was lost in a memory when she was surrounded by a group of grizzled men. Covered in furs and sharp blades, they had the look of trackers, men who acted as guides through the wilderness.
“Can I help you?” In no mood to be friendly, she tightened one hand around Willow. A month in the woods had hardened her up quite a bit, the magic even more so. Having cut her hair recently, it was halfway down her back now. The soft little girl from Earth was mostly gone.
“I tol’ ye, she matches the ‘scription.” A tracker with a huge, bushy beard jabbed a finger down at her. Ip, lying in a sunbeam, bared his teeth at the man.
“What description?” Trey stepped out of the doorway behind her, one hand draped casually over the hilt of his sword. 
“Some girly with a magic sword is gone to killin’ up the smaller towns.” The man crossed his arms and regarded Trey with beady eyes. “Folk say she travels with an older man, a giant, and a cloaked fellow.”
“Rest assured, we have done no wrong. Come, Kimberly. Let us leave these men to their ruminations.” Trey gave the group a steely-eyed glare. “Go on, leave.”
The group mumbled momentarily and Kimberly expected a fight. To her surprise, they dispersed, vanishing into the town.
“That was easy.” Kimberly muttered.
“Not everybody wants to fight with you. They were just concerned,” Trey said, scratching his chin. Kimberly could see concern on Trey’s face. She wondered where the men had heard such rumors, and if the white-cloaks would soon show up.
“You should head inside and get some sleep. I have a feeling we will be leaving tonight.”
Kimberly groaned as Trey walked into town. She wondered how long they were going to keep moving.
*   *   *
Trey found the mark of the Society on the back wall of a blacksmith’s shop. Nodding once to the man, he ran a finger down the stone and stepped through. Inside, the room smelled like lavender and candle smoke.
“I have been expecting you.” The man behind the small desk blew out the candle in front of him. On the desk, his hands were furiously scratching something out on a scroll of paper with a quill, possessed by the magic of the flame. He paid little attention to what was being written. He did give Trey a strange look, one that he was not accustomed to.
“Is there something wrong?” Trey asked.
“Where to begin…” The man pulled back his hood with a free hand, revealing the bald pate underneath. New acolytes in the Society lived under near-religious rules, especially when they were scribes. This included shaving the head and bathing twice a day.
Trey folded his arms across his chest and scowled a little. His last month in the woods had been extremely unpleasant and he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “Begin with the information I requested.”
“Working on that now.” The scribe’s hand was almost a blur now, pausing only to shift the paper. “I think we may have exactly what you are looking for, but it is a lot of information.”
Trey nodded. He could wait.
“However, it is not what you asked for that is troubling other members of the Society.” With his free hand, he reached over to grab a scroll and held it out for Trey. “It started with the incident in Bensin. The Society does not think much of the Brotherhood, and we don’t involve ourselves in their dealings. The girl you travel with, the one who wields Willow. She is making quite a stir.”
“How so?” Trey opened the scroll and felt the blood drain from his face. “This can’t be right.”
“May I ask where you have been for the last month?” Trey felt the magic building in the air, magic that could easily ensnare a man.
Or kill him where he stood. Trey placed his hand on the hilt of his blade. What was the Society’s game?
“We have been wandering the woods, evading the Brotherhood and dealing with goblins. It hasn’t been easy. I can vouch for the girl and my friends. At no time have we slaughtered entire villages.” He held up the scroll for the scribe to see, a scroll full of accusations. “There is a mistake here, a simple misunderstanding. We have taken part in no such evil.”
“You can understand why the Society would be a little doubtful? It wasn’t that long ago that…” The man froze as Trey drew his sword and the magic flared to life along its edge. Waves of pressure billowed out, knocking loose paper from the scribe’s desk.
“I swear that I have taken part in no such evil. As I have explained to the Society several times, the days of the Black Knight are long behind me.”
The scribe seemed doubtful, staring down the length of Trey’s sword. A moment passed and his hand stopped moving, the scroll completed.
“I apologize.” Trey sheathed his blade and held his hands out. “Please inform the Society that I will look into this matter personally.”
“Indeed.” The scribe relaxed. The oppressive feeling of battle magic left the air. “I am just the messenger, after all.”
“I understand.” Trey smiled at the man. “My darker days will never be forgotten. I struggle with them when I am reminded.”
“You fear for the girl, don’t you?”
Trey nodded. “I have a feeling that we share a deeper connection somehow. That, and I owe Elurra. She spared me when others would not have. A favor I intend to repay for the rest of my life. I will make sure the girl becomes the hero this land deserves, that she does not fall prey to the same dangers I once did.”
“Agreed.” The man paused for a second, like he was going to ask something, but Trey could see him change his mind. “Take care.”
Trey nodded and turned to leave, both scrolls now safely tucked away. He had a lot to think about. As he opened the door, he turned back to the scribe one last time.
“Just so you know—the girl has a name. It is Kimberly. If I’m right, the Society will be repeating it a lot soon.” With that, he left.
*   *   *
Kimberly and Helena were fighting a losing battle. They were both tired, their clothes stained in many places. Their adversary was huddled in the corner, teeth bared and tail bristling with rage. They were halfway done, though, and they couldn’t stop now.
Ip needed a bath.
Kimberly and Helena circled around the tub, moving slowly. Ip barked at them, muddy water running down his fur coat. When the women had brushed him out, the little fox had been happy to let them do it. However, the moment he hit the water, the barking and fighting had begun. Jumping free of the tub had put Ip in the corner, and he wasn’t going back in the tub easily.
“Now!” Kimberly yelled as she and Helena lunged forward. Ip squirted between them, running for the door. He was just under the frame when a willowy tendril snaked around his tail and pulled him back.
“You are getting a bath!” Kimberly scolded, Willow’s hilt in her fist. The tendril dragged the fox back toward the basin of water. Ip dug his claws into the floor, leaving long scratches in the wood. Helena picked him up and he growled at her. Together, the two women muscled him back into the water and began massaging some of Helena’s shampoo into his fur. He bared his teeth at the both of them as they scrubbed behind his ears. The water turned murky with dirt.
Serra watched the exchange from under a blanket and laughed at the three of them.
A knock on the door broke their attention and Ip struggled free. Trey walked in as Ip darted between his legs, free of his watery torment.
“What was that about?” Trey watched the little fox leave.
“He stinks.” Helena pinched some soapy fluff from Kimberly’s head and floated it in the water.
“You all stink,” Serra remarked from under her blanket. Kimberly stuck her tongue out at her.
“News?” Helena pointed at the scrolls he carried.
“Big.” Trey sat down on a chair. “We have a few leads on Kimberly’s grandfather.”
Kimberly felt her pulse quicken. Trey had her full attention.
“I read through this on the way over. A lot of little details, so I’ll sum it up for you.” He tossed Kimberly the scroll. “Your grandfather was a mage named Halston in the employ of King Grant of the Mountain Kingdom. They commissioned Elurra to track down what they believed to be a dragon, deep in a cave in the Skycutter Mountains. During the battle, the entrance was sealed. Elurra and Halston were believed dead for over six months. They spent those six months traveling beneath the ground, searching for a way out. During that time they became quite close.” Trey raised an eyebrow. “Very close.”
“You mean Elurra is my grandmother?” Kimberly’s eyes grew large.
“Yes.”
Kimberly let out a whoop and pumped her arm in the air. Willow pulsed gently at her side, feeling her happiness.
“The two of them were inseparable after that. Halston was released by his king, allowing him to travel with her. They went many places; the details are scarce. Eventually, though, something happened. Elurra became pregnant and they both vanished from the public eye.” Trey fixed her with a deep look; it was clear he was making a decision.
“Then what?” Helena asked.
Trey looked at the others. Kimberly could only guess at his thoughts.
“Clean yourself up.” He threw a towel in her direction. “You and I need to have a talk.”
Stunned, Kimberly dried her arms and looked to the others for guidance. Helena and Serra both shrugged. 
“When Ronnee gets back, let him know that we leave first thing in the morning.” Trey allowed Kimberly to walk past him before he shut the door.
“What’s the matter?”
Trey shook his head and beckoned for her to follow. Kimberly did, though she was puzzled. As they left the inn, Ip joined them, the sun having dried out his fur already.
They walked the length of the town and had continued outside its limits where Trey led her to a small copse of trees. Sitting down, he gestured for her to do the same.
“I need to talk with you in private, away from the others. It is not that I don’t trust them,” he added, seeing her expression. “Instead, I need you to realize that what I am going to tell you can never be repeated to another soul.”
“Okay.” Kimberly sat down on the grass and stretched her legs out. Her legs were long and shapely now. She had trouble deciding if they looked more like an athlete’s or a supermodel’s. Either way, she was happy with their appearance.
“I am in possession of a certain amount of information regarding your grandfather and Elurra. Now, this information, if I revealed it, would break an oath I made many years ago. What I can tell you is this: your grandfather was part of a centuries-old organization dedicated to the collection and preservation of knowledge. The rest of your grandfather’s story heavily involves this group. You have to make a decision.”
“Whether or not I want to join the secret organization?”
Trey shook his head sadly. “No. If it was that simple, I would just tell you to do it. Instead, I need you to decide right now if you even want to know.”
Stunned, Kimberly just sat there. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”
Trey shook his head again. “I have already perused the story written on that scroll. It isn’t pretty, and I warn you now that you may read about things you do not like. The mage Halston had to make some extremely tough choices, choices you may not agree with.”
Kimberly frowned and held up the scroll. “I want to know. I can handle it.”
“Understand also that once you read that scroll, you are obligated to keep its secrets.”
She nodded, anxious to get on with it. “Agreed.”
Trey tossed her a strange ring. She caught it in her free hand and examined its design closely. It was an eye with a flame for its pupil.
“You are about to become a Keeper. A Keeper is an individual who knows of the existence and purpose of the Society, though you do not participate in its actions. Some people become Keepers quite by accident. Others are sought out. The purpose of the Society is to protect and preserve. They record without bias, and only involve themselves if they believe it necessary. They are invisible to those who don’t know where to look, and they are always watching. As a Keeper, your only obligation is not to divulge the existence of the Society. Understand that by placing that ring on your finger, you are taking a magical oath. They will know if you violate it, and they may punish you accordingly.”
“Will they punish you for telling me?”
Trey smiled.
“If I wasn’t who I am, they might.”
Yet another cryptic response from Trey. Kimberly was used to them by now. She slid the ring on her finger.
The ring caught the light. For just a moment, the flame came to life, burning bright. Astonished, she held her hand up to see it better, but the ring turned to smoke and puffed away. She looked to Trey for guidance.
“No use keeping something a secret if you wear its symbol around,” he explained.
“Oh.” It was too bad; the ring had looked cool on her hand.
“This is a big thing to trust you with. Do not disappoint me.” Trey stood and walked away, pausing long enough to scratch Ip’s head. “You really do smell better now.”
Ip barked at Trey. Kimberly watched as he walked back into town. Looking down at the scroll in her hand, she slowly unrolled it and began reading.
As the sun set, its dying rays glistened off of the tears on her cheeks.

Halston

The night had been a long one. Halston rubbed at his puffy eyes, wincing at how tender the skin had become. At his side sat Ip, his head cocked to one side. He reached down to scratch at the fox’s ears, finding that soft spot right between them. He sat behind a giant oak desk that was piled high with books and scrolls of all sorts. Scribbled on parchment around him were dozens of different sigils and enchantments. The solution was evading him.
The door to his study opened. A young man in robes with a shaved head walked in.
“Message from the Society.” He held up a sealed letter.
Halston leapt to his feet, scattering papers everywhere. Running over, he grabbed it from the man and nearly ripped it in two as he opened it. His eyes flicked swiftly over the missive.
Halston could feel the heat rising in his face as he read the words before him.
“Damn it!” He crumpled the message in a ball and threw it in the air. It burst into a ball of fire, turning to ash.
Grabbing the messenger by his robes, he stared deep into his face.
“There has to be a cure, there has to!” He shook the man. Ip barked at him in admonishment. Realizing his position, he let go of the man.
“Please, I am sorry.”
The messenger placed a comforting hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Were I in your position, I would do no different.”
It wasn’t the sympathy that struck Halston, but the sincerity in the man’s voice.
“You’re a good lad.” He sent him out the door and scratched at his beard. Ip barked at him twice and he smiled. “You’re right, we should go see her.”
He turned and walked toward the window. Staring down at a building far from his tower, he put his hands in the air and drew his fingertips together, like he was connecting two points. In a second, he was in the other building. He saw his wife, his beautiful Elurra, sitting on her chair, holding their son.
“My beauty.” He knelt before her and kissed her hand. She sighed and ran her fingers lovingly across his brow.
“Any luck?” Her voice trembled with hope.
“Not yet. I have a lead, but… it is dangerous.”
“If there is anything I can do, please… tell me.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him up to meet her lips with his own. “If anybody can do this, you can.”
“You honor me.” He kissed her again and looked down at their son. Inky black pools for pupils. Their son was only two weeks old. He was already the size of a six-month-old. Magical wards in the building resonated deeply in warning every time she carried the child past. The magic that had taken hold like an illness was almost tangible now.
Halston had no idea where it could have come from. His best guess was that something had latched onto the magic of Elurra’s sword, Willow, lying in wait for a better host. Halston was much too powerful for the parasite to claim, but his son was not. His child would be a powerful mage someday, but not for many years. This magic that had taken hold truly baffled Halston. Magic wasn’t necessarily good or evil, it simply was. This magic, however, stank of corruption. The changes in his son were obviously related.
Looking into Elurra’s beautiful, brown eyes, he smiled at her. Over her shoulder, Willow hung at a place of honor over the hearth. He walked over and stroked the blade once, knowing it to be a living object. It vibrated gently under his touch.
*   *   *
Two days passed, and still no answers. Halston was reviewing some interesting research he had just received from the Society. He was halfway down one of the pages when a piercing shriek split the air. All of the wards were sounding at once. His eyes wide, he ran to his tower window and stared down at his home. Something was wrong.
Ip ran beneath his feet as he made two points with his hand and slammed them together. Instantly, they were in his bedroom. The chair Elurra always sat in wasn’t occupied and Willow was missing. His son’s cradle was empty.
“Elurra!” He ran out into the hallway and froze. Beneath a pool of blood lay one of the Society’s members. The Society had provided Halston the tower and the home when he had asked for their help. Day and night, his needs were catered to by its members. One of those members now lay dead at his feet.
Kneeling, he closed the man’s eyes with his fingers. Ip whimpered behind him. Turning to look at the fox, he stood up. With a simple hand gesture, knots on his robe undid themselves and the fabric refolded around his legs. Pants would be far better to fight and move in.
Running down the stairs and through the hallway, he found more bodies. Their wounds were erratic, which puzzled Halston. Who would dare to come all the way out here to attack his home? Not goblins, they were just as likely to kill each other, which would leave evidence. Davish? No, they hated water. It didn’t make sense for the dwarves or the elves to do it either, unless somebody had caught wind of his child’s condition…
Outside, someone screamed. Breaking into a sprint, he ran out into the front courtyard and stared at the carnage. Men and women lay all over the place, up in trees and torn apart. The damage to the yard was monstrous, similar to a basilisk attack. Yet, there were no stone bodies.
“Ip, watch me.” He clenched his hands together and sent his spirit skyward, leaving his body behind. Several hundred feet in the air, he looked around for signs of an orc raid, or even some gremlings. Nothing was seen. Almost a mile away, he saw the faint magical aura of Willow moving away from him at a steady speed.
Pulling his soul back into his body, he beckoned Ip to jump into his arms. He stomped his feet twice and they transformed into the flaming hooves of a Lava Jumper. He leapt forward, sailing over the courtyard’s wall and landing outside his estate. The guards outside were dead as well, their swords barely drawn. He threw himself forward again, leaping through the air faster than a horse could run. Fear powered the beating of his heart.
Ip barked as they approached Willow’s fading aura. It was as if something was overwhelming it. Halston hoped Elurra hadn’t been swallowed whole again. Especially if she was holding their son, Nathias. The time she had been swallowed by an antelix, he had treated her burns for days.
His pace quickened as he entered the woods. He cursed himself for never learning how to grow a pair of wings, or fly, for that matter. It wasn’t an easy trick for a emage whose art was strongest in the ground beneath.
Willow’s aura stopped moving up ahead. It pulsed gently, guiding Halston in over the trees. He leapt high into the air and spiraled down into a river clearing. Looking up, he saw what looked to be a giant spider hiding in the shadows, its long, thin legs over twenty feet long.
Something flashed toward him from the darkness. As it struck, he clenched his teeth, turning his skin to stone. The projectile bounced away and he relaxed his jaw. Becoming flesh and blood again, he saw that the thing had cut him.
Fire filled his hands. He threw it up high in the air, illuminating the clearing. Above him hovered an angry woman, one hand on a child, the other on her sword. Long, wooden tentacles had sprouted like legs from her waist, legs that carried her away from her home.
“Elurra! What have you done?” he cried, disbelief in his voice.
“You’re going to take my baby away!” she screamed. She sent Willow out again, striking the ground under his feet as he jumped. She was actually attacking him!
“I would never take him from you; you know that.” He ducked underneath a giant leg. His eyes grew wide when he saw they were tipped with black metal. Willow could sprout vines and flowers, but metal wasn’t a trick The Living Blade could accomplish.
“Elurra, please, I beg of you!” He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but his wife was now under the dark magic’s thrall. He summoned more fire and threw it in the sky. It came down in a wide circle, burning high. He would be damned if he let her get away.
“Leave me alone!” Her voice was raw, making Halston picture shattered glass. He covered his ears and looked at Ip. He sent the message telepathically and Ip ran away into the woods, unharmed by the wall of fire.
“Elurra, please, come down here and listen to my voice. The magic made you kill all of those people. Think of Willow! Willow was never meant to be an instrument of evil!” Elurra swung the sword at Halston, barely missing. She came on in a frenzy, her movements speeding up. He began dodging to the side, staying just one step ahead of her. He dropped small stones everywhere he could, covering the ground with unseen pebbles.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Her voice was frantic now. He could see her eyes had gone white. She was no longer in control.
It was time to turn the tables. Halston clapped his hands together. Each pebble he had dropped sprouted into a tree of stone. He created a petrified forest around his wife, guiding the growth of the branches to pin her in.
“Now, Ip!” Ip appeared, the size of a small bear and his fur ablaze in magic. He jumped from branch to branch, unseen by Elurra. Dropping from above, he snatched Nathias from her grasp, holding the child’s blanket in his teeth. Howling in rage, Elurra dissipated the spidery legs, dropping to the ground.
“Give him back!” Chasing Ip in her fury, she forgot Halston was still in the fight He forked his fingers and pushed them together. The trees bent and moved, trapping Elurra in a prison. Shrieking, she coiled vines around her arms and fired Willow forward, trying to pierce her husband from a distance. A giant stone fist rose from the ground in front of Halston and slammed shut over Willow.
Frozen, her arm extended, Elurra broke into tears. She let go of Willow and the wooden tendrils shrank away, disappearing into the giant fist. She collapsed, burying her face in her hands.
“Elurra?” he whispered. Walking forward, he pulled Willow free of the fist. It pulsed in his hands. Ip was waiting for him, Nathias’s bundle clamped in his teeth. He looked down at his son and flinched. A look of fury was embedded in his child’s face.
Had Nathias really caused all this?
“Please, you have to do something,” Elurra spoke from her prison. “I can feel the darkness, compelling me.”
Halston dropped his head in thought. He shook his head. “There is a spell I found. It could kill him, though.”
“No, please.” She reached through the bars. “There has to be another way.”
He shook his head. “It’s an ancient ritual. It would strip him of his magic, but there isn’t time to practice or test it first. Stripping a being of its magic can be dangerous.”
“Try it on me.” 
He looked at Elurra in surprise.
“Please, Halston. For Nathias. Try it on me.”
“I need more time!”
“We don’t have more time!” Her voice was desperate. “Please, just do it. If it works, and I survive, we can use it on him.”
He really had no choice. He moved his son from the clearing and began the preparations. He hoped this would work.
*   *   *
Halston sat there in the mud. It was pouring rain now, rain that he had created quite on accident. Uncontrollable tears ran down his face. Around him lay a prison of totems and lines of magic. He sat in the middle now, cradling his wife’s body against his chest.
Ip cried too, somewhere in the darkness. Loud, mournful howls at the night sky.
He had failed. He could even feel Willow’s anguish, the sword pulsating with grief at his hip. He had been there for so long now, hours maybe, he wasn’t sure.
That’s where the Society found him, sitting in the magic circle that had killed his wife. Nobody said a word; they helped him stand and led him away.
The next day, returning to his study, he was unable to focus. Flipping randomly through all of his notes, a picture caught his eye, a picture of a blue sphere covered in clouds…
Reading the caption beneath, he immediately put out the call for more information on a legendary land with no magic.
A land called Earth.
*   *   *
Trey watched Kimberly’s return from the window of their room. He could see the sadness in her steps, a sadness he wished he could help her carry.
Kimberly reminded him of his own daughter, who had died so long ago. Even though the magic accelerated her aging, he still pictured the little girl he met on the Plains of Garezabeth. It was hard watching the innocence he had seen in her eyes that day disappear. Such was life on Auviarra.
Behind him, the others were crowded around a map of the Golden Valley. They had placed cross marks over towns that had been wiped out. After a long discussion, they all agreed that Kimberly’s family was involved.
The door to the room opened and Kimberly walked in, carrying Ip in her arms. If Trey had to guess, she looked like she was in her early twenties now. Kimberly dropped Ip on the bed and sat down, her eyes red.
Helena walked to her and sat down, placing her arm across her shoulders. Kimberly leaned against her, sisters in arms. Ronnee, having returned from some chores in town, watched them with sad eyes.
Returning his attention to the map, Trey stared at a place called the Golden City. The monarchy of the Valley lived there, up against the northern mountain range. On the other side of the city was the Aluvean Ocean, a sea that carried trade south from the Wintern Passage. Around the Golden City was a large circle, drawn there as a result of a discussion between the others. Looking at the cities that had fallen, it was obvious that whoever was causing such mischief was ultimately headed there.
Trey hoped to get there first. With a few words to the others, they all bedded down for the night. First thing in the morning, Trey would get some horses. He wasn’t sure what they would find at the Golden City, but he knew a fight was coming their way.
He just hoped Kimberly would be ready for it.
*   *   *
In the morning, Serra and Helena revealed that they had gone out shopping and purchased a real outfit for Kimberly. Kimberly changed, excited to be out of what was left of her Earth clothes. Walking out of the inn, she now wore a simple blouse, covered by a leather vest, and a pair of leather breeches with snaps up the calves for when it got hot. 
Trey arrived at the inn with Ronnee, horses in tow. Within minutes they had their gear loaded and were on the road. Riding as if their lives depended on it, it took them ten days to reach the main road that would take them directly to the Golden City. Every time they passed through the rubble of a destroyed town, Kimberly felt responsible somehow. There was no doubt in her mind that her father was behind this, and she knew in her heart she would do whatever it took to end what she felt she had started.
In the valley between two mountains, her first sight of the Golden City took her breath away. It was huge, even from a distance. She could see giant towers floating in the sky, moving in lazy circles around a central palace. The whole city was guarded by a large wall that glowed with magic. Even at a distance, she could see a faint golden glow beneath the towers as they hovered. Helena told her the whole city would glow like a golden firefly at night.
Riding through the valley, Kimberly looked at the people she traveled with. Ronnee was the goofy older brother she never had. Helena and Serra were like sisters to her. She smiled at the thought. Helena was the pretty sister who taught you how to do makeup. Serra, the tomboy who would beat up the first guy who broke your heart.
And Trey…
Kimberly thought of Serra’s words outside of Bensin, words of love and loyalty. Trey treated everybody with respect and equality, but Kimberly sensed that their connection ran deeper than that. More than once she had drifted to sleep, under the stars of Auviarra, imagining what it would have been like if Trey had been her father.
Trey turned briefly in his saddle to look back at her. “How do your legs feel?”
“Fine.” They were sore from riding, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not to him.
“That’s good. It means you’re getting better.” He patted his horse’s neck. “When we get a chance, I’ll show you how to fight from one.”
“Looking forward to it,” she said. Trey nodded and faced forward again. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “…Dad.” She looked at the others to see if anybody heard. Seeing that nobody had noticed, she realized she wouldn’t have cared if they had.
Ip, content to ride in her saddle bag, barked in agreement. 
Nearing the end of the valley, they approached a giant stone arch, over forty feet high. They slowed their horses, approaching cautiously. The valley had been devoid of life, and the arch was no different. The arch was a natural gateway to the Golden City. Passing beneath it, Kimberly looked at her new family and felt chills go up her spine. One way or another, she had a feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

Fall of the Golden City

Only a few minutes from the stone arch was the official gate into the Golden City. In awe, Kimberly stared. Her horse’s hooves clicked on the cobblestone path that disappeared into the city.
“Something is wrong,” Trey declared. “There should be hundreds of people milling about, smells, sounds, anything.”
Kimberly frowned and took a second look. She had failed to notice the complete lack of people. It was if the city had died, leaving behind a hollow husk.
Kimberly looked at her companions in concern when they all drew weapons. She summoned Willow’s magic, wrapping her arm and torso up in Willow’s tendrils. She could do this with Willow still sheathed; it was something Trey had insisted she practice over and over.
“Serra, you getting anything?” Trey turned to Serra, who shook her head. It was still hours from sunset and her ability to sense life was hampered by her current state of humanity.
Ip sniffed the air and growled. Kimberly felt the tension rise. Helena cocked her crossbow and tucked a spare bolt in her boot. Ronnee slung his giant axe over one shoulder and shuffled forward, peering into the shadows.
“The towers are still moving.” Kimberly pointed into the sky. The giant towers continued their lazy path around the center of the city. “I bet somebody is still here.”
“Not necessarily true. Those towers have done that for well over a thousand years, with or without help. Good thinking, though,” Trey added, seeing Kimberly slump a little. “Something happened here, that is certain. I can’t imagine much that would cause an entire city to go into hiding.”
“Captain.” Ronnee pointed ahead. A twenty-foot steel portcullis lay twisted up like paper on the grass, which had died. “Where from?”
Everybody looked around. There were no gateways nearby.
“What could have done that?” Kimberly wondered. She began running through a list of creatures she read about. The list narrowed rather quickly in her head; none of the possible culprits were things she wanted to see.
“Extreme caution from here.” Trey wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “Be wary.”
The group agreed and rode deeper into the abandoned city. The floating towers were soon directly overhead, and Kimberly felt nervous in their shadows. They walked along Merchants Street and straight into the inner city, where most of the denizens lived. Weapons and armor were scattered about the ground along with clothing, baskets, and other household goods.
“Do you think they beat us here?” Kimberly asked.
Trey turned in his saddle. “Possible. What I see here truly concerns me.”
“Some fighting happened, but not much,” Serra said. “What bothers me is the lack of bodies.”
“Why?” Kimberly asked.
“If the bodies aren’t around, that usually means that something ate them or they stood up and walked away.”
“If something ate them, wouldn’t there be more blood?”
Serra snorted. “Not always.”
Cold shivers ran down her back. Willow pulsed gently at her hip, reassuring her.
Kimberly’s horse reared, nearly dumping her. The other horses began to spiral and whine in protest. Trey ordered an immediate dismount. As Kimberly stepped down onto the stone path, she could truly see the fear in the poor beast’s eyes. She felt bad bringing the horses to this dark, miserable place.
They quickly unloaded their mounts and let them go. The horses ran back toward the entrance and vanished. 
“Where do we go from here?” Helena asked. Trey furrowed his brow in thought. Kimberly stared down at her feet, feeling useless. She took out her frustration on a loose stone, kicking it into an open doorway.
Ip barked, startling everyone. Kimberly watched him sniff in a tight circle and then break into a run across a nearby bridge. Ignoring the protests of her companions, she followed close behind. Ip ran between the buildings themselves, disappearing into the shadows between them. As she ran through the tight corners of the alleys, she was led only by momentary flashes of his bushy tail. Gasping for breath, she stepped from the shadows and into a grassy field. The ground beneath her feet was set at an odd angle, making her feel like she would tip over. She stared in wonder at the strange building Ip had led her to. The fox barked proudly at the entrance, hopping about in playful manner.
“What is it Ip?” Kimberly reached out for the fox, who hopped a step away.
“Kimberly!” Trey appeared from the alley behind her, anger on his face. “That was extremely reckless.”
“What is this place?” The building made Kimberly think of the football stadiums on Earth. It was a giant domed building, perhaps a hundred feet tall at the top.
Helena, who had been just behind Trey, answered. “This is the power station for the towers. It’s where they keep the enchanted crystals that keep these towers up in the air. We shouldn’t have gotten this close, actually. This place is usually guarded like a dragon’s hoard.” Helena pointed up to several empty sentry points. “If somebody could take out the people here, what chance do we have?”
Trey looked worried by Helena’s remark. Kimberly could feel the oppressiveness sinking down on all of them.
Ronnee arrived, followed by Serra. The half demon wheezed like an asthmatic, pausing only long enough to give Kimberly a very dirty look.
“Ip want go inside.” Ronnee walked up beside Ip and crossed his arms. “I want go inside.”
The women all looked at Trey. He shrugged. “Ip may know something we don’t.”
Entering the domed building, they walked among its corridors. The walls glowed blue with strange symbols carved into the stone. Shelves had been carved into the stone as well. All along the corridor, piles of black sand could be seen in the shelves and on the floor.
“This whole building is like a storage shed for magic. Powerful artifacts can be brought here for safekeeping when they can’t be destroyed by normal means.” Trey pointed at the dust on the ground. “If I’m right, this is all that is left of those things.
Kimberly stood, admiring the glowing blue glyphs on the walls. Getting closer to one, it brightened at her approach. She touched one with her hand. The stone was cool beneath her skin, yet the light was now so bright that Kimberly squinted.
Ip barked at Kimberly. Turning to look at him, she saw that Helena had stopped to wait for her as well.
“Why haven’t the glyphs been drained away?”
“It’s likely the crystals power them, too.” Helena got closer to look. “As long as these are lit up, we don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Neat.” Kimberly watched the glyphs as they resumed their trek down the tunnel, smiling when they brightened in her presence.
Catching up to the others, Kimberly saw that Serra’s face had gone completely white and her teeth were slightly pointed, now that they were away from the sun. When Serra caught Kimberly looking, she made a goofy face at her, reassuring her that the mind inside the body was still human.
The hallway opened up into a giant space. Above them floated an array of blue crystals, drifting amongst each other in predetermined circular patterns. The group spread out and began to walk toward an altar in the middle of the room.
Ip growled as they drew close. The sound echoed all around them.
Looking up, Kimberly realized that the shape of the building was identical to the secret room on her grandfather’s island. The room was much bigger, but she could easily imagine artifacts of unimaginable power being placed along the dome’s edges. She had thought very little of her grandfather since reading the scroll in the mountains, a scroll she had tossed in the inn’s fire after reading. She had come to terms with his decisions though, realizing it was best to let the past stay buried and remember what he had been to her.
On the altar in the middle of the room, a dark, gloomy figure shifted before them.
“Hello, Kimberly.” The shadow stood up. It was Zane. His features blurred as he moved, and his eyes sparkled with different-colored lights. The temperature in the room dropped dramatically as he evaporated into smoke, reforming at the altar’s base. “Like what I’ve done with the place?”
“Zane.” Kimberly drew Willow, pointing the blade at her brother. “What happened to all the people here?”
“Ah, that is an interesting story.” He stepped to one side and stretched. The lights in the room dimmed visibly. “We just walked in, you know. Walked right into this room with no resistance. When I touched the crystals here, I could feel everything in the city, all of its people, all of its power. She let me have it all.” Zane turned into mist and reappeared right in front of them. “She left me in charge. In charge of the whole city. I drank it away, drank its magic and its life. Everybody here belongs to me now. And the best part is…” He held up an inky black finger and pointed it at Kimberly. “He doesn’t need you anymore.”
This close to Zane, she could feel her brother’s dark power. Power that had consumed the entire city. Power that could leave her as just a pile of dust. Stunned, she realized she couldn’t move.
“Your magic! It rages like wildfire!” Zane’s eyes blazed and he leaped forward, his body stretching out into smoke. A clawed hand filled her vision. “Give it to me!”
Willow pulsed in her fist and jerked Kimberly’s arm up toward the ceiling. A bright, white light filled the room, blinding Zane and driving him back. Staggering on shadowy legs, he attempted to move forward again. A bolt appeared in his chest and Zane shrieked. It sank deep into his flesh, filling the air with an acrid smell.
“Always carry silver,” Helena said, cocking another bolt in her crossbow. She fired again; Zane dodged away, vanishing from sight.
“I can feel them coming now. So hungry, so cold. They are everywhere.” Serra’s face shifted, a broad smile crossing her lips. “It’s time to play.” She drew her sword.
Without a sound, something much bigger than Ronnee stood up behind Serra. It was Billy. His body was larger than Kimberly remembered, and his metallic skin was adorned with spikes and sharp edges. He carried a giant metal hammer, a hammer crusted with days-old gore. Swinging his weapon, he caught Serra in the side with the hammer, knocking her several feet away, where she landed with a loud thud. The attack would have easily killed a human.
Serra, however, was only half human.
Standing back up, she cast aside her sword, which had been crumpled by Billy’s hammer. She raced forward, tackling Billy with razor-sharp claws, snarling like a feral beast. Billy tried to pull the angry woman off, stumbling around in circles. As Billy staggered back toward Ronnee, the half giant knocked Billy’s legs out from under him with his axe.
The light from Willow disappeared. Kimberly slumped forward, her arms shaking with fatigue. What had just happened?
Zane reappeared. His body became smoky and the silver bolt clattered to the floor at his feet. He floated toward Helena, his eyes shining with anger. Trey moved to intercept him, but Kimberly beat him to it. Getting in front of Zane, she thrust Willow forward, aiming for his heart. Zane billowed around her like a fog, intent on his goal. Trey was next; he swung at Zane’s head with his magical blade. When Zane dodged, Trey’s other blade shot forward and pierced Zane’s flesh. The sword burst into dust.
Zane laughed and reached for the man. Kimberly’s fist grabbed the edge of his cloak, pulling him backward and off balance. Since he was floating, his feet continued forward and up. He burst into smoke again and vanished.
“Look out!” Helena cried in warning. Shadowy figures had filled the doorway, bursting out along the wall like a horde of spiders. “Wraiths!”
Spirits of the dead who had been hideously warped by Zane’s dark magic, the wraiths moved toward the intruders. Helena’s bolts caused the shadows to puff away into smoke. Serra was still busy trying to rip Billy’s head off, and Ronnee swung at the shadows with no effect. Trey’s sword was beginning to hum, and the shadows gave him a wide berth.
Ip, all but forgotten, burst into a giant ball of flame. The now giant fox scoured the room in fiery circles, running faster than the wraiths could follow. The shadow men cried out and melted away from the beast as it tore them down with giant paws and teeth. Stopping to drag a big shadow to its doom under his paws, Ip was too busy to notice that Zane had reformed behind him, hands out wide, brimming with dark magic.
Kimberly, however, did see him.
She sprinted forward, Willow glowing blue with fire. Time seemed to slow as she crossed the room at an impossible speed, her legs vibrating with each impact. Slicing Willow upward, Zane’s hands fell away from his body. They lost form before hitting the ground, becoming nothing more than a black fluid. Screaming, Zane raised his wrist. A new hand formed before her eyes, a hand that summoned up a giant ball of energy. Zane released it into her stomach. It carried her up and away from him.
Her wooden armor protected her from the impact of the ground, but the breath was blasted from her lungs. Ip was by her side then, knocking away the shadows as they reached for her and tried to hold her down long enough to drink her soul from her lips.
Somewhere, Helena screamed. Kimberly turned her head and saw that Helena had been pinned to the ground by the shadows. Kimberly, helpless, could only gasp for air.
A mighty cry filled the room, something deep and primal. Kimberly rolled over to see Trey charging at Zane, sparks leaping off of his blade and hanging in the air like stars. Zane, hunger in his eyes, let him come. Trey swung his sword down. Zane caught the blade, grabbing onto it with both hands.
It was like the air had been sucked from the room. Zane stumbled away and fell to his knees, bewilderment on his face. 
“But… how?”
The blade in Trey’s hand hummed violently now, causing his arm to shake. Trey stepped forward toward Zane, pointing the blade at his chest. Under the weight of its power, Zane seemed helpless. His mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish.
“You are finished before your life ever truly began. I pity you.” Trey’s words were sincere.
With a single thrust, he ended Zane’s existence. As the blade pierced Zane’s flesh, Zane fell apart into nothing more than a dark fog. Billowing outward, it froze at the touch, causing Kimberly’s teeth to chatter. The shadow people in the room cried out as one, dissipating into nothingness along with Zane.
Billy cried out then, a ghastly sound like wrenching metal. Throwing Serra from his body, he fled the room. Ronnee started to follow, but Trey called out to him, stopping his pursuit. “Something’s wrong.” 
Kimberly could feel it, too. Something about the world felt very off, almost like everything was tilting sideways. A single thought flitted through her mind: a trap had been sprung.
The light of the crystals above flickered like candles in the breeze. One of the crystals wavered and fell, shattering when it struck the ground. 
Serra’s eyes widened and she looked up. “We must flee! The towers are falling!”
Kimberly struggled to rise. Serra was at her side, pulling her up by her armpits. Trey was helping Helena up, but something was wrong. She muttered something about stars in the sky. Trey ordered Ronnee to carry her and the group broke into a run, more crystals falling around them.
They sprinted from the building. Reaching the exit, they stepped out under the evening sky of the Golden City. Up above them, the giant shadows were leaning precariously, and objects had begun to fall from doors and windows.
“How did it get so late?” Kimberly asked.
“It was the crystals,” Trey answered. “Time passes differently in their presence. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.”
Kimberly looked at Trey. She hadn’t expected an answer.
“We’re not gonna make it,” Trey admitted. They were so deep within the city that only fast horses could outrun the toppling towers—horses they had been forced to leave behind.
Recalling Ip’s mysterious knowledge of the city, Kimberly turned to him. This was her first real chance to see him in his transformed state. His fur was made of red and white fire billowing gently in the breeze without heat. Golden eyes regarded her from within, eyes that watched her back with intense intelligence.
“Ip, can you lead us out of here?”
Ip roared and began padding forward. Careful to let the others keep up, already they were twisting through narrow corridors and running down steep, grassy slopes. He didn’t lead them out toward the city gates; he was guiding them further into the city. They all trusted that he knew something they didn’t.
Kimberly was in the lead now, Serra by her side. Trey stayed back with Ronnee, both men helping Helena walk. Kimberly looked over her shoulder to see the towers sink lower and lower in the sky. The only sound they could hear over their own ragged breathing was bits of stone and metal crashing to the ground.
The first tower tipped over completely off in the distance.. They heard the percussive eruption of an explosion, and fireballs leapt up into the sky: wild magic being let loose. The floating towers had all been homes to powerful wizards. Wizards who never once considered that their homes might someday crash.
As the first wave of dirt blew over them, they turned the corner and another tower dropped. Sprinting forward, they managed to get out from underneath it before it hit, crushing nearby buildings. Ronnee tripped and fell, dropping Helena. Serra turned and ran back for them, helping the gentle giant to his feet.
Kicking free of the rubble, they all began to move again, Ronnee visibly limping. Ip ran around a corner only to have a building tip over and land directly on him. Kimberly screamed, her heart pounding hard in her chest. A smaller version of Ip leapt free from the rubble. He barked once and headed off in another direction.
Looking up, Kimberly saw that only the smaller towers had fallen. The bigger ones were on their way, making a silent descent. One tipped over upside down and crashed into what had been the marketplace, driving a cloud of dust into the sky, followed by more fire.
“Keep moving,” Trey yelled to her as he ran past. Focusing once again on their flight, Kimberly tried to catch up with the others. They were running between two buildings when a shockwave caused the buildings to buckle and crash together. Kimberly’s vision was filled with falling walls as she realized she wasn’t fast enough. Something grabbed her, pulling her into an open doorway. It was Ronnee. They fell inside, dust billowing around them as their old path disappeared.
Kimberly heard Trey calling for the two of them. Ronnee swung his axe at a weakened wall. Wriggling through the hole, they saw that they were separated from the others by a collapsed bridge.
“Go around!” Trey cried from the other side. “Ip is leading us to the water supply.” 
Ronnee grinned at Kimberly like a little kid and limped up the hill. She came up from behind and together they squirmed through a collapsed building that led them to a large courtyard. On the other side of the courtyard, they saw the others running toward a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. Trey waved at them with one hand, holding Ip in the other.
They ran across the courtyard, the sky above completely black. Sensing the danger, Kimberly looked up. One of the towers had cracked along one side, shearing in half. The top was falling down on top of them now.
Powerful hands clamped across her waist.
“Bye, Kimberly.” Those two words were so full of emotion, Kimberly was stunned into silence. 
“What… wait!” Powerful muscles bulged as he lifted her up. He spun around once, gaining momentum. He threw her hard and high. Her arms spun wildly as the ground beneath her approached. Something scraped her back, knocking her further away. Kimberly landed on the ground, falling free of danger. 
Ronnee wasn’t so lucky. Tons of rubble crashed down on his bulky form, burying him underneath. This time, there was no room for survival.
Kimberly stared, frozen. Ronnee had just saved her life and died, all in a couple of seconds. It was heroism at its finest, but up close, it didn’t resemble anything brave or noble to be found in a storybook. Instead, she felt a cold spot in her heart crack open and break. She sank to her knees.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her to her feet. Trey was there beside her, anger in his face.
He didn’t have to say anything. It would be a cliché if he did.
Kimberly’s legs moved beneath her again as she ran for the opening. The sky was darkening again, the rest of the tower finally falling free. The opening in the mountain was like a huge mouth, hungry for their presence. They ran inside as the world behind them came to a close, covered in darkness.
*   *   *
Nathan watched his son’s handiwork as the Golden City, so alive and vibrant only days ago, fell apart at the seams. He grinned, tapping taloned fingers on his teeth as he watched the excitement below. Behind him, his mother waited patiently, letting him savor the view.
Over the next hour, the Golden City collapsed on itself, burying a millennia old legacy beneath stone and earth. As the last of the towers fell, the glow of the city died, leaving nothing more than a giant grave behind.
“What now?” his mother asked. “I very much doubt she survived.”
“Oh, she survived.” He turned and smiled. “I can feel that spark of darkness in her. It is growing now, even as we speak.”
His mother shook her head. “I thought you were past this?”
“This is something different. I tried to awaken her once before, but it didn’t work. Now though…” He sighed. “She has so much potential.”
“You don’t need her.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” He laughed. “But I really do enjoy making her miserable.”
His mother laughed too. For them, that was reason enough.

Losses

Kimberly couldn’t stop crying. It embarrassed her that the others could sit in uneasy silence while she bawled like a child. She had sobbed so hard that she now had the hiccups. The others were ignoring her. They knew that nothing they said would help.
Helena was mostly recovered from her ordeal. Being attacked by the shadow men, she had temporarily lost her wits. Even still, she couldn’t get warm and shivered uncontrollably. They had run as far back into the cave as possible, following water pipes to the edges of an underground water source. They had listened as the world outside continued to crumble, all the while hoping there would be another way out.
Serra was already pacing in circles, trying to detect air currents. Trey had sheathed his blade and stared ahead into the darkness, brooding. It was impossible to tell what he was feeling; his face looked like it was carved from stone.
Kimberly’s tears faded away, her tear ducts exhausted. She sniffled a few more times. Some hero I’m turning into, she thought. I must look pretty impressive—hunched over, eyes puffy, snot on my face. And all while in my favorite suit of enchanted armor.
Frustrated, she looked to Ip for guidance. The little fox lay by her side, sound asleep. She petted his head, right in that soft spot between his ears. Somehow, it made her feel a little better.
“We should camp here for the night.” Trey walked to the edge of the underwater lake that the city had used as a water supply. “We’re all tired and we need to swim across tomorrow, maybe find a way out.”
Helena unrolled a large cloak and crawled inside. Her body still shook from the chill of the undead. Trey would get no arguments from her. Serra, who didn’t sleep, sat on the edge of the water, gazing outward. Kimberly debated sleep as well, but Trey sat down next to her.
She didn’t know what to expect from him. When he turned to look into her eyes, she flinched. Her body tensed, waiting for the accusation.
“Nobody blames you. People die.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Her shoulders relaxed. “This is something I hoped you would never have to learn for yourself.”
“The only reason we even came here was because of me.” Kimberly stroked Ip’s face, careful not to wake him. “If not for me, he would still be alive.”
“Maybe. If not for you, he may have died days ago, instead. We can never truly know. You should waste no time wondering.”
“Captain.” It was Serra, calling from the water’s edge. “I can smell the forest.”
“That is good news.” Trey rose and stretched. “Let me know what you discover.” He walked over to Helena’s prone form and lay down next to her, wrapping her up tight in his own cloak. Kimberly watched his face, trying to recognize the look on it.
“He thinks of us as his children.” Serra had moved next to Kimberly without a sound. “If he does not lay blame on you, then neither shall I. However,” she said as she held up a taloned hand, “you will have to forgive me if I tear off your father’s head when I first meet him.”
“He’s not my father anymore. He barely was when he was human.” Kimberly looked at the sword on her hip. “I hope you forgive me if I kill him first.”
“We’ll see.” Serra smiled then, the grin of a demon. She scooted away, back to the water’s edge. Kimberly gazed at the small campfire they had set up. She felt like a part of her would never be warm again.
*   *   *
They stayed in the mountain for two days. Serra was able to catch some fish from the lake, just enough to supplement what little food they carried.
Helena was sick for most of it. While caring for Helena, Kimberly became aware of just how fragile and human the woman seemed. Serra was a half-breed; the magic in her blood protected her from many things. Kimberly knew that Willow’s magic would keep her from ever getting sick. She was willing to bet Trey’s sword did the same.  It reminded her of how vulnerable she used to feel around her family. Back on Earth. This was her family now. Being unable to help Helena in any real way made her feel guilty, and more than a little helpless.
The last night they were there, under the mountain, Kimberly came to terms with who she was and what she must do. Thinking of her father, she knew she would hunt him down. Billy had likely been crushed in the city. Once she was sure the two of them were gone, her new life could finally begin. Crawling underneath her cloak, she stared out into the darkness and scratched at her face. Turning over, she could see Helena breathing deeply in her sleep. The fire was warm on her back. Yawning, she held Ip close and fell asleep.
*   *   *
Serra squatted at the water’s edge, dipping her finger in the surface just enough to make a single ripple. She watched the water bead up and roll down her skin, leaving her finger dry. She found it fascinating how even water seemed to reject her existence.
She sensed movement and turned to watch Trey sit down next to her.
“Something is on your mind,” he said.
“Yes.” Serra nodded back at the camp. “Are you still sure she should be traveling with us?
Trey’s eyes narrowed, dangerously. “She is one of us now. Ronnee’s death is hard for us all. I will have nobody suggest her presence is unwelcome.”
“You misunderstand me, Captain.” She dipped her whole hand in the water. “I don’t mean to say that Kimberly should leave for our good. I think she should leave for her own.” She pulled her hand out of the lake and examined it.
“What do you mean?” Trey’s tone softened.
“She is still a child. I don’t care what she looks like. All of this is harder on her than we can understand. I mean to say that we should have taken her someplace safe, let her grow up like a normal girl, learn to use the sword over time. Let her be who she was meant to be, not who she must become. Instead, we drag her into danger; force her to kill in self-defense. I just love seeing the grief on her face, knowing it’s because she watched a friend die.” Serra hissed and slapped the water.
“Easy, easy.” Trey grabbed Serra’s hand and held it in his own. “You’re right. We did do all of these things to her. We can’t change what’s happened to her. Or to you.” Serra turned her face away from him, afraid he might see the tears in her eyes.
Serra stared across the lake, every detail visible to her eyes in the darkness. When Trey released her hand, she pretended to scratch her face. When the moisture had been wiped from her cheeks, she looked at him again.
“That isn’t all. She’s changing because of this.”
“It’s the sword’s magic.”
“Not all of it.” Serra looked back at the sleeping forms. “Sit with me until the fire dies; I will show you.”
Trey looked puzzled, but he did as she asked. They both waited for a long while; the fire had been built well. As it died down to just the embers, Serra reached into that darker part of herself, opening up her senses even further.
“Watch her face.”
Kimberly slept soundly, Ip curled into a ball by her side. Serra felt the surge of magic building in the girl, knowing if Trey blinked he could miss it. She pointed at Kimberly.
“Now,” Serra whispered. Kimberly shifted slightly, sighing in her sleep. As she moved, her eyes opened just enough that the purple light within lit the small area by her face.
Trey’s body tensed at Serra’s side. “How long has this been happening?”
“It started a couple of days ago. I could feel her magic, shifting like the tides. I wasn’t certain the first time I saw it, but have seen it several times since. It’s like something powerful is building up inside of her, threatening to burst out. And ever since we came here, it’s gotten much worse.”
“Halston was a mage; it is likely she inherited magic of her own.”
“Perhaps.” Serra waved a hand in dismissal. “I just thought you should know. Go get some sleep.”
Trey chuckled and followed her orders, curling up between Helena and Kimberly in the darkness. Serra looked out onto the lake again, silent in her rumination.
Behind her, she could feel Kimberly’s magic ebb and flow. It was hard to ignore.
*   *   *
Billy dug himself out of the rubble. He had been crushed underneath the falling towers, his body breaking apart into individual pieces again. He hated how it felt, that sense of being distorted. It reminded him of that crazy place between awake and dreaming.
The jackass with the sword had killed Zane. The brothers’ connection in the old world, a world he was forgetting already, had been strong. Here, with their powers unleashed, it had been something special. They had been able to see through each other’s eyes, speak each other’s thoughts. It gave Billy a thrill to feel so connected to his sibling, a sibling who had always been the leader.
He had felt it when Zane died. As Zane disintegrated, the sensation of being showered in fire and broken glass had filled Billy’s essence with pain he had never felt.
The light of day hurt his eyes, eyes that burned like angry coals. The dark woman, the one who said she was their grandmother, had told them about the dark magic, the stuff that had changed them. It had become part of their father when he was born.
She also explained how the magic was no longer intact. When he and Zane had been born, it was split between the two of them, a magic mutation of their father’s own power.
Kimberly had it, too. That compulsion of their father’s, the one that made him hunt her down, was a distortion of that need to control. Had he laid hands on her, he would have unlocked the magic inside, transforming her into one of them, making her obedient.
That’s why they had needed to kill so many. It controlled their father’s urges, made him listen to reason. He obeyed Death’s sweet song and had subsequently released the twins to do as they pleased with the Golden City. Zane had wasted no time draining the place dry of life, while Billy had been content to run amok, destroying as much life and property as he could before Zane beat him to it.
He had always listened to Zane, and now Zane was dead. Billy blamed his sister for the deed, and knew the only way to get even was to find her and kill her. He clenched his giant metal fists together in anticipation.
She possessed the same darkness inside that he did. It made it so much easier to track her.
*   *   *
Trey had found a couple of maintenance boats along the water’s edge shortly after they fled the falling city. Putting them to good use, they rowed out over the water. Trey and Helena paddled one boat and Kimberly and Serra rode in the other with Ip. Being in near-pitch-darkness for two days, Serra’s features were slowly losing the soft edges of humanity. She hated how far she had shifted, missing those moments of human weakness that reminded her of who she was.
Serra led the way with powerful strokes of her oars. Sniffing the air constantly, they rowed for what felt like hours. They searched along the rocky outcrops of the opposite shore for the opening that they all hoped was there. Serra kept catching just faint whiffs of their destination, enough to frustrate and excite her.
Eventually, Kimberly said she could smell something too. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and savored it. Serra saw the strange pulse of light flutter from beneath Kimberly’s eyelids, but said nothing.
She had sensed the magic in the girl early on, but never thought it would have become like this. This close to Kimberly, Serra was able to sense what was happening inside her. Two very different kinds of magic were building in strength, each trying to consume the other. One was a magic that felt like springtime and fireworks, reminding Serra of her childhood. The other was a magic of shadows and demons, the same kind of magic that flowed through Serra’s blood.
Serra had been lucky. Growing up, she had lived with an extremely loving family, until the change. She easily could have become a dark thing that hunted the weak. Instead, she learned to control that darker, chaotic side within, refusing to become the monster the Brotherhood considered her. Even now, while her body struggled to remain human, her mind was completely her own.
She hoped Kimberly’s inner struggle would end similarly. She seemed like a sweet girl, and it would be a shame if they had to hunt her down someday.
Ip barked from Kimberly’s lap and wagged his tail. He smelled it, too. Maneuvering the boats, they saw the thin glow of daylight between cracks in the wall. A hidden pathway was visible as they pulled the boats up and disembarked.
“Should we wait until nightfall?” Kimberly asked. “What if they’re waiting for us?”
“I doubt they could track us through a mountain,” Serra answered. “Besides, it would be good to get warm and dry under the sun.”
“I can’t wait to feel the light on my face again.” Helena said, struggling to stand. Trey helped her up the rocks, concern on his face.
They began to crawl up and over the sharp rocks, squeezing through tight openings. The ground was muddy in spots from water that dripped through cracks in the mountain. Everybody, including Ip, was soon covered in filth.
They followed the light until they stepped out into the open. Rain drizzled down on them from dark clouds through the forest canopy. The storm was almost past; the sun was already out. Light streamed down in patches around them.
Serra stepped into a patch of light and steam rose from her skin. The sharp angles of her face softened as bones and muscle realigned. She tossed her short, black hair back and grinned at the others.
Helena, too, walked forward into the light. Serra could see the look of relief on her face as the sunlight kissed her skin. Holding her arms to her chest, she had a strangely beatific look on her face. To Serra, she looked just like an angel.
Stepping out of the light, Serra felt her senses come alive in alarm. A shadow dropped down from above, landing in front of Helena. Helena stared at the monster of metal and magic, her mouth open in surprise.
It was Billy.
*   *   *
His fists came out and closed over the blonde’s head. Billy squeezed, locking his fingers together, until he felt something give underneath his metal palms. Fluid and goo ran between the plates of his hand and he giggled. It was like crushing a bloody peanut.
Shouting and screaming filled the air as he let go, the ruined mess of Helena’s skull hitting the ground with a squish. Serra was upon him first, but the sun had already weakened her. He grabbed her by the throat and leg, using her as a projectile to knock down the guy who had killed Zane.
Ip was next. Bursting into flame, he dove forward. Billy sidestepped, launching a devastating uppercut. He caught the fox square in the chest, knocking him out of view. Billy’s laugh echoed from somewhere deep inside. He was having so much fun!
His sister was the only one left. She stood before him, her face pale and her eyes dangerously wide. He pointed a finger at her and approached, his huge feet crushing pebbles and twigs as he moved.
“I’m gonna get you, Worm.” Billy pounded his fists together for emphasis.
Kimberly growled then, a deep visceral noise. Her violet pupils narrowed, giving them a feline appearance. Her body shook as she raised her sword to the side, bathing it in blue fire. He could feel the darkness in his sister building, a primal thing that had decided it was not very happy with him.
This was going to be easy. Loping forward, he slammed a mailed fist toward his sister, hoping to crush her into meat. Instead, she sidestepped and brought Willow upward in a flashing arc of light. The impact was tremendous, ripping Billy’s arm away from him, sending the metal limb into the air.
Unconcerned, he swung his other arm. He would grab her with this one and hold her down, maybe rip off a leg or two.
She caught the swing of his hand with her free arm and held it. Puzzled, he tried to jerk back, but she held fast with a strength that surpassed his own. She yanked him forward, tripping him up with her sword. With a snarl, she reached up and hooked her fingers into the edges of his helmet, pulling it free.
His body tried to move, but it was hard to concentrate with his head swinging around in circles. His head landed somewhere in the mud and watched as Kimberly knocked away his legs and his torso with that wretched sword of hers. He almost laughed then, for her efforts were pointless. He was immortal.
Dark fingers gripped the edges of his vision and he found himself in the hands of the demon woman. Curious, he wondered what she was up to. Carrying his helmet deep into the dark of the mountain, he felt the strength in her hands increase dramatically.
“Oh, you just wait. It’s nice and dark way back here.” She held him up where he could see her. Her features were shifting dramatically, anger in her eyes. Moving further into the darkness, she stopped.
“You’re gonna love this, you walking pile of junk.” Serra hooked both hands into the face of the helmet and began pulling.
Billy panicked, feeling his very essence starting to fracture. He screamed in agony as she screamed in exertion. All around, he could hear the sound of metal starting to give. With a giant yank, she ripped his head into two pieces.
He could see everything from two vantage points now. His mind was desperately grabbing for reason as the world slowly faded away into darkness. At first, he went somewhere cold and numb.
And then it got a lot hotter.
*   *   *
Ip limped back into the clearing, his legs and snout bloody. Serra, Trey, and Kimberly stood around Helena’s form. Trey, no stranger to death, had already covered her with his own cloak. Ip sniffed once at the cloak and, letting out a strange mewling noise, began to dig a hole.
They buried her that day, christening her grave with tears of loss. Few words were spoken, but whenever a glance was shared, it carried the same message.
Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Nathan Stone was a dead man when they found him.

A Sorry Lot

Kimberly and the others stumbled into Wells Deep, a small town just north of the Golden City’s mountain range. Exhausted, depressed, and hungry, Kimberly barely paid attention to the series of wells that made up the middle of town. She and Serra waited there while Trey wandered off to find lodging. They waited for quite a while. Kimberly felt the stares of the townsfolk the whole time. She ignored them, hugging Ip closer to her chest.
Serra sat down on a boulder, too tired to stand any longer. Kimberly rubbed her eyes with a free hand. She was too exhausted to think clearly.
Trey appeared, waving the women forward. Kimberly helped Serra stand and they followed him quite a ways down a side path. He walked into a large building with a sign out front that said The Broken Saddle. 
The group made their way down the oaken halls to their room. A young boy waited for them, handing Trey a key on the way in. Trey handed the boy a bag of coins.
“Have someone bring food. Use the rest to find us three horses, distance runners. You can keep the rest.” Trey waved the boy off, slamming the door behind him.
Hot water was pumped up to the room to fill the bath. Kimberly was first, washing the dirt and grime of weeks of travel from her body. She dragged Ip with her, ignoring his anger that he was to be cleaned as well. He tried unsuccessfully to escape on several occasions and finally resigned himself to his fate.
Serra gave the maid their dirty laundry while Trey stormed into town. He returned to their room in time to see Serra take Kimberly’s place in the bath. Kimberly, wearing just a towel, was too tired to protest his presence in the room. He gave Kimberly an odd look for a moment, like he was deep in thought. Nodding to himself, he walked over and handed her something.
“Here. You could use this.”
It was Helena’s silver brush. The handle spiraled like a unicorn’s horn and a few blond hairs were still tangled in its teeth. Kimberly’s eyes got misty and she mumbled a thanks. He checked in on Serra while Kimberly brushed her hair, tears streaking down her face.
Once it was Trey’s turn, Serra taught Kimberly how to do a special braid in her hair. She called it a devil’s braid, and it was something she had learned from Helena. In fact, it was something Helena once taught to Ronnee. Kimberly laughed at the thought of Ronnee and Helena sitting out in the sun, the giant braiding the beauty’s hair. It was good thought, even though it hurt a little.
There was a knock at the door. Trey answered it, returned with a tray of food. They took their meal in silence, Kimberly holding Ip in her lap. Once they were done eating, Kimberly used Helena’s brush on Ip. She knew Helena wouldn’t have minded.
The next morning, Trey left again while Kimberly ate her breakfast. When he returned, he was carrying a small map. He unrolled it on the bed and looked meaningfully at the women. It was a map of the region, with several markings made on it in a straight line.
“They’re at it again. Let’s go finish this,” he said.
Kimberly nodded. She was looking forward to it.


Homunculus

Kimberly stepped around some larger pieces of rubble, tiny bits of mortar cracking under her feet. She was standing in what was left of Pike’s Run, a tiny town just off the coast. They had rode into town almost an hour ago to find that her father and his companion had dropped by overnight, leveling the area much like a tornado would have. All around them were the sounds of the dying and injured and people calling out for missing loved ones. Townspeople were still being pulled from the destruction.
“Over those cliffs is the port city of Asmond,” Trey said, squinting in the sun’s light. He was holding the map. “You don’t suppose they are trying to head to the mainland?”
“Likely. I am unsure of the woman’s intent,” Serra spoke, a hand on her hip. She hadn’t bothered getting off her horse; she didn’t have the strength to help with excavation.
“I don’t think I care about her intent,” Kimberly said. Seeing a man trying to free his wife from underneath the wreckage of the barn, she knelt down and helped him lift up part of the roof. She held it in place while the man pulled his wife out by both hands. The woman, seeing Willow at Kimberly’s hip, cried out. The man pulled her close, telling her it was all right.
The people had reacted poorly to their initial arrival. Kimberly, feeling responsible, had spent her entire time helping to pull people free. Realizing that she wasn’t there to harm them, they accepted her presence. 
“If they aren’t heading to Asmond, they will have to cross the Wizard’s Forest instead. At least one of them could fly over it, the other…” Trey shrugged.
“Wait, the Wizard’s Forest is over those cliffs?” Kimberly gazed at the tall rocks in the distance. “That’s where they do the Rite of Passage for magic users.”
“Yeah. A forest filled with the most horrible creations known to man or beast. No path leads through it, just a single gateway to let you in. What would they want there?” Serra asked.
“Halston buried Elurra there,” Kimberly answered, a chill going up her spine. “Why would they want to go to her tomb?”
“Could it have anything to do with her being Nathan’s mother?” Serra asked.
“I don’t see him visiting for sentimental reasons.” Trey looked at Kimberly. “Any ideas why he would drop by?”
“None.” Kimberly thought back to everything she knew. There was no reason she could think of for her father’s visit. She snorted. There was no good reason for anything her father did, to be honest.
“Let’s not lose precious time.” Trey climbed onto his horse. Kimberly scooped Ip up and mounted her steed, silently praying that no matter what happened, they would still have horses to ride by the end of the day.
*   *   *
The view was terrifying.
The only path up the bluffs, an old hunting trail, gave them an extremely good view of the ocean a hundred feet below. Trey could just barely smell the salt on the cool breeze that traveled with them, a smell that inundated him with several old memories. He smiled, thinking of his childhood so long ago. Not many things made him remember back that far.
Scaling endlessly higher, the trees were soon replaced by large rocks and the trail became so narrow the horses could go no further. They decided to leave their mounts behind to graze; the group proceeded on foot. More than once, they found themselves climbing up through small cracks in the rocks.
Finding some flat terrain to walk across, Trey ran his hand along the hilt of his sword. No hesitation this time. Summoning the magic made him afraid. He couldn’t afford the cost of that fear any longer.
He could hear Serra panting behind them. Afraid to stop moving, he was also afraid they would meet their prey while she was still human. She would stand no chance.
Rounding a corner, he saw an attractive woman sitting on a rock ledge, swinging her feet from side to side. Her hair, jet-black, refused to reflect the sun’s light. She lifted her head to face him; she was wearing a silver mask.
“Weren’t there more of you?” She slid free of the ledge, falling fifteen feet to the ground. Standing, she threw back dark locks of hair. On her hip was an exact copy of Willow. Her eyes focused on Trey and he felt his muscles tense. She laughed, loudly, and held her arms out wide. “Oh, now this is a surprise!”
Kimberly was right behind him; he heard her draw her sword. His own sword was in front of him and he was terrified of what was going to happen next. 
It was impossible, but he knew who this woman was.
“I think we are more than due for a rematch.” She pulled the mask from her face and tossed it over the side, destined for the water. Her face was beautiful in a natural sense. Lightly tanned, a few freckles under the eyes, and a smile that could melt a man’s heart.
“Elurra.” When Trey said her name, he heard Kimberly gasp. In the background, he heard Serra arrive, wheezing for breath.
“It can’t be Elurra, she died!” Kimberly shouted. She stood even with Trey now.
“Well, yes and no.” Elurra walked forward, her hips rolling dramatically as she approached. “I’m what’s left of a memory. All of the good parts, anyway.”
“You are no memory.” Kimberly swung Willow for emphasis. “Elurra was a hero. You’re nothing more than a homunculus, an accidental creation of a living being from wild magic.” Kimberly stepped past Trey.  He could see her arms shaking. From where he stood, he could see Kimberly’s muscles begin rippling abnormally. Her body was trying to change again.
“Maybe. Now that you’ve come all this way…” Elurra widened her stance. “I would like to have my sword back.”
Elurra was fast. She ran up to Kimberly, ducked a swing, and grabbed Kimberly’s outstretched arm. She twisted Kimberly’s arm behind her back and shoved her, face-first, into the rocks. Stunned, Kimberly fell down, grabbing at her face.
Trey approached, summoning his sword’s magic. Elurra drew her own version of Willow, composed of shadows, and smiled at him.
“Does she know? Does the girl know this is all your fault?”
Trey paused, uncertain what she was getting at.
“Does she?” Elurra almost took his head from his shoulders, driving him backward onto his heels. A dark tendril sprouted from the shadows, and clamped around his neck. He cut himself free with a quick swipe. He made a lunge, diving to the side. When he stood, he swung high, looking for Elurra’s neck. She flicked his sword away with the back of her hand and bowled him over with a punch to the gut.
“Does she know about the sickness you once carried? The sickness you gave to me when I defeated you?” She went for an overhand swing, but Serra was there to intercept it. Still too human, Serra crumpled under the blow. Trey fought to regain his footing just as several tendrils slid over Elurra’s head, yanking her back.
“Shut up,” Kimberly whispered. Her voice was slurred, her mouth full of blood.
Elurra laughed and slid free. She ran at Kimberly, catching her by surprise. She covered Kimberly in shadow tendrils, pinning her arms out to the side. “I know all of your tricks. They used to be mine.” Elurra grabbed for Willow. Willow ignited with blue fire, driving the tendrils, and Elurra, away. “That one is new, however.”
The two of them crossed blades, tearing into each other with magic and vines. As the women fought, Elurra scored a devastating blow to Kimberly’s back. Blood ran down Kimberly’s blouse and she staggered.
“Your sickness infected my baby!” Elurra knocked Kimberly down and reached her fists around her throat. “It hid in me until he was born. And then he took my baby away!”
Ip jumped between the women and transformed. He knocked Elurra off Kimberly, dragging her down with teeth and claws.
“Get her, Ip!” Kimberly cheered, struggling to her feet.
Trey tried to stand, wondering what was wrong with his legs. His sword was humming in his hands now, begging him to release its power. Elurra flipped Ip on his back and stabbed downward, pinning the fox to the ground with her sword.
“No!” Kimberly cried as she ran toward the two of them. Trey had seen enough. He gripped his sword with both hands and summoned its true magic for the first time in over half a century.
A concussive blast emanated from his blade, knocking away the loose dirt around his feet. The magic wrapped around his skin like silk, hardening and expanding into thick metal plates. His vision dimmed slightly as a dark helmet enclosed his face, obscuring his features. He lifted his sword up as it changed too, becoming longer and wider. He saw the astonished look on Kimberly’s face as she turned to look at him. Elurra stepped back, on guard. A sneer crossed her lips.
The Black Knight had returned to Auviarra.

Rematch

“Several generations have passed since the Black Knight walked these lands. Can we expect a repeat of your last performance?” Elurra smiled at Trey. “Or maybe you’ve lost your nerve?”
Beneath his helmet, Trey sneered at Elurra.
“Things are different now. The darkness that consumed me is gone.”
“Indeed. I sense it growing in the girl.” Elurra laughed and pointed at Kimberly. “You are becoming just like your father.”
Kimberly took a step forward, but Trey moved, blocking her path.
“This is my atonement, Kimberly. You must let me do this.”
“Do you really think you can beat me, all by yourself? You lost to me last time, and I was much younger then.” Elurra curled her hand, pulling a ball of darkness from the air. “I’ve learned a few new tricks, too.”
She hurled the ball at Trey, and it scorched the air as it flew toward him. Stepping forward, he let it wash over his breastplate. The magic couldn’t hurt him.
Elurra cocked her head in surprise. Trey took another step forward.
Letting out an inhuman scream, Elurra lifted both arms over her head, rolling her hands open. Several more balls of darkness sprang into being, circling her body like fireflies. She dropped her arms across her chest, making an X. As a swarm, the dark fire came.
He let several hit his body, each letting out a peal like a blacksmith’s hammer. As his armor absorbed the magic, he became stronger and faster. He caught the last few on the edge of his blade, drawing them in. The air hissed with heat as he lowered his sword. No longer polished, it was now the color of obsidian. His sword arm shook slightly as he transferred the magic into his blade.
“When I was a monster, I was a slave to the magic.” Trey’s voice was calm, masking his emotions. “That was my undoing. It shall be yours.” He swung his sword with both hands, releasing the energy all at once. The band of dark fire was thick and menacing. Elurra braced herself for the impact, her arms up. Trey ran behind the blast, his armor clanking with each step. As the fire washed over her, he came with it, knocking her to the ground. Seeing his opportunity, he tried to cut her in half and missed.
Elurra stepped away and lunged forward with her sword. He dodged away, but shadow tendrils wrapped around his arm. The vines crept into the joints of his armor, locking him in place. Elurra grabbed the vines with her free hand and pulled. Trey fought to resist the building pressure.
“Do you remember this? This was how I defeated you last time. I ripped you out of your shell and left you to die in the sun.”
“You are only half right.” Trey sank his weight into his heels, leaning away from her. “Elurra didn’t leave me to die. The Elurra I knew showed me mercy. You’re just a sad shadow of a great warrior—a shadow in need of some light.” Seeing his chance, he lunged forward, catching her off guard. He drove his blade home, piercing her stomach. He slid it sideways, slicing his blade outward and opening up her guts.
Elurra laughed, stepping away to show him her wound. The edges were sharp like paper and her insides resembled mud. Pulling the wound closed, dark fluid leaked from the injury, sealing it shut again.
“You don’t understand, do you?” Moving fast, she encased her fist in black fire and struck. Knocked off balance, he tried to roll with the punch and away from Elurra. Standing up, he caught the whiff of salt in the air. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that he was on the edge of the cliff.
“The rules have changed. It takes a lot more than that to kill me.” Elurra swept his legs out from under him, knocking him on his side. She stabbed down, aiming for his neck. Catching the attack with his sword, her blade slid off his chest plate. Trey punched her in the face, knocking her back.
“You talk too much.” He rolled away from the ledge, using the momentum to stand. Elurra grabbed him from behind and they both fell to the ground, fighting to disarm each other. They both struggled up to their feet, slashing and blocking. The air around him hummed with magic as they fought. Seeing an unusual opportunity present itself, Trey reached out with his free hand and grabbed a fistful of hair. Balling it up in a fist, he yanked down, hard. As Elurra’s head was pulled down, his knee was there to meet her face. There was a loud crunching sound and Elurra’s head jerked up.
She was now off balance. Trey pressed the advantage, drawing his blade twice across her torso, his arms powered by his sword’s magic. Elurra blocked each strike, only to be knocked back by the sheer strength behind them. The sound of metal on metal made his ears ring.
Turning to attack, Trey saw Kimberly kneeling beside Ip out of the corner of his eye. Elurra, seeing the distraction, stabbed forward. Trey caught the sword with a mailed fist and pulled her close, twisting her around.
“You just made two mistakes.”
Elurra punched him in the face with a free hand. He ignored it, focusing all of his power into holding her still.
“Your first mistake was forgetting about the girl.”
Kimberly was behind Elurra now. Willow blossomed from Elurra’s chest, tendrils sprouting from Willow’s hilt and wrapping all around Elurra. Willow’s edge ignited in blue fire, filling the air with the scent of burning flesh. Elurra screamed and tried to twist away, but Trey struck her head from her body.
They both froze as Elurra’s head rolled across the ground. Her body stood there, black ichor pouring from her wounds. Her head came to a stop, her surprised eyes still focused on Trey and Kimberly.
“Your second mistake,” Trey added, “is that you made her mad.”
“Is it over?” Kimberly pulled her blade free, letting Elurra’s body sink to the ground.
Trey said nothing, his eyes on the head. Elurra looked at the two of them and smiled. Black fluid dribbled from her mouth.
Laughter came from the severed head, laughter that made Kimberly cover her ears. Trey ran forward and gave the head a kick, sending it over the edge and into the ocean below. The laughter echoed up the cliff wall for several seconds, and then it was gone.
Kimberly stumbled and fell back. Trey dispersed his armor with a popping sound and ran to her side.
“You were the Black Knight?” Kimberly asked.
“I was,” Trey answered. “Not by choice.”
“It was the dark magic, wasn’t it?”
Trey nodded. He had been cursed at some point, a memory long forgotten. The magic had taken him over, trapping him inside his magic armor. Forced to commit violence and bring chaos, he had watched silently from behind his visor, dreaming every day of escape.
“When Elurra freed me from my prison, I begged her to end my life. She pitied me and let me live. I have been trying to atone ever since. I’m sorry, Kimberly. I didn’t know it until now, but when she defeated me, the curse clung to her instead. Elurra was just a peasant girl who found a magical sword, she couldn’t be controlled like I was. Your father, however, is the son of a mage. He was controllable from day one. I am the source of your family’s misery.”
Kimberly opened her mouth to say something, but a groan came from Serra. They both stood and hurried to her side. Serra was gasping for air, bloody bubbles forming on her lips.
“Quick, cover her.” Trey helped Kimberly drape a cloak over her body. “If we can keep the sun off her skin, she’ll make it. How is Ip?”
Kimberly turned to look at the fox. He had reverted to his regular form, blood crusted on his muzzle. He barked and tried to limp toward her.
“I think he’s okay.” Kimberly walked over and picked him up.
“Good.” Trey smiled in relief. “Let’s go find your father. I have something I’d like to share with him.” He tapped the hilt of his sword.
Something wrapped around his foot. Looking down, he saw a thick, shadowy tendril wrap its way up his calf. Turning, he saw that the rope of darkness connected him to Elurra’s false Willow, held in the hands of her headless body. It stood at the edge of the cliff.
Elurra’s corpse jumped backward. He was yanked to the ground, breaking his nose. He struggled to draw his blade and summon its magic. Kimberly screamed his name and the air shimmered with heat. As the magic wrapped around his skin, he realized he was out in the open air.
The fall took a long time. The impact took his breath away.


Alone

“Trey! Captain!” Kimberly screamed over the side of the cliff. She had seen him hit the water, seen him disappear beneath the surge of waves. Still, it was impossible to believe it had killed him.
She sat there for several minutes, searching the water for a sign of movement. Nothing happened.
“Where is he?” Serra had lifted a corner of the cloak. “Where is Trey?”
Kimberly turned to look at her, tears in her eyes. She just shook her head.
An inhuman wailing sound came from Serra then, bringing pain into Kimberly’s heart. Kimberly clenched her fists and put her hot face in her hands. 
“What do we do now?” Kimberly walked over to Serra’s huddled form. It would be a few hours before darkness fell. Her friend was vulnerable until then.
Serra mumbled something from underneath the cloak. Kimberly knelt down, unsure of what she had just heard.
“Go ahead; I’ll catch up.”
“I can’t leave you here. You need help.” Kimberly sat by her friend’s side.
“Ip will watch out for me. There’s nothing out here we can’t handle.” As if in agreement, Ip limped over and plopped down on the edge of the cloak. “Once the sun goes down, I’ll come find you.”
“I can’t do it. I need to stay here.”
“Dammit, quit arguing! It hurts to speak…” A bloody cough came from Serra, making her choke a little. “If you let him get away, everyone will have died for nothing.”
“I can’t do it alone. I’m still just a kid.”
“That is your curse, Kimberly. Forced to grow up so fast. The magic has aged you; your body is no longer a child’s.” Serra shifted and a hand came out to hold Kimberly’s. “Just don’t let the darkness claim you. Now go. Find your father and tear his head off.”
Kimberly nodded and stood, wiping tears from her eyes. This was all her father’s fault. Trey, Helena, Ronnee, they had all died protecting her. If she hadn’t come…
No. She couldn’t think that way, it changed nothing. This life was supposed to be a dream come true, living in her grandfather’s world. Now it was a nightmare, chasing and being chased by monsters. She felt the anger build in her chest.
“I’ll come back for you.” Kimberly petted Ip, who licked her hand. “When I’m done, we’ll make everything right again.”
Walking toward the clearing’s edge, Willow pulsed at her hip. Kimberly looked up at the steep trail before her and smiled. The thought of killing her father made her heart race.
She found the energy to run.
*   *   *
Serra kept her body covered, doing her best to keep the sunlight out. Squeezed tightly into a ball, she wondered how long Kimberly had been gone. Would she find her father? If so, could she beat him?
She felt Ip shift beneath her arms. Shortly after Kimberly had left, Serra had pulled the little fox inside the cloak for her own comfort. Ip had been content to let her; he was hurt pretty badly. Every so often, he would whimper or cry out. Serra hoped he would make it. Kimberly would be crushed if he didn’t.
Her thoughts turned again to Trey. The man had seemed invincible since the day they met. She kept expecting to hear him walk up, softly calling out her name.
If things quieted down by nightfall, she would scale the rocks and at least try to retrieve his body. He deserved a proper burial. 
Sitting in silence, she heard soft footfalls approach. They were far too noisy to be Kimberly’s. Serra’s heart soared.
“Trey, is that you?”
In response, the cloak was torn from her body, letting in the sun and blinding her. As her vision adjusted, her blood ran cold.
Everywhere she looked, she saw men in white cloaks. The Brotherhood of Zor had found her.

Nathan

She had seen him from a mile down the trail, just staring off into the distance. Her head pounded with the exertion of running. There had to be a faster way. Drawing closer, she yelled, trying to get his attention. He ignored her. The only path up to her father was long and winding. She chose the direct route; using Willow’s vines and her bare hands, she scaled up a sheer rock face, ran along the trail beneath him, and climbed again.
Kimberly pulled herself up over the plateau by her fingertips, her cheeks red with the effort. Nathan stood facing away from her, his leathery wings spread out wide as he stared down into the Wizard’s Forest.
“Why? Why did you have to come here? Why did you kill all those people?” She heard him chuckle.
 “My daughter. You ask such silly questions. Does a mouse ask a snake why it is getting eaten?”
“You’re a monster.” She slid Willow free from her hip and the magic fire hummed along the blade, hungry for his flesh.
“Indeed.” Nathan Stone turned around. His lips had stretched into a permanent grin, deformed by all the teeth in his mouth. The skin of his arms had turned black below the elbow and he clenched his fists at his sides as his wings stretched. “Maybe I am a monster. The term is relative, you know.”
They stared at each other. Nathan’s eyes were dark pools that failed to reflect the light. They said nothing for almost a minute and the tension between them built.
“Will you show mercy?” Nathan asked.
“No,” she replied. “I will grant you none.”
“That’s my girl.” He laughed, staring up into the sky. Opening his arms wide, he summoned black flames from the ground.
She was already moving, Willow held high before her. The first wave of magic broke on Willow’s edge and shattered outward like broken glass. The second wave made Kimberly stumble. The third began to overwhelm her. Kimberly clenched her teeth, making Willow’s flames grow brighter. She let out a yell and ripped Willow up, through the oppressive magic, slicing through its hold on her.
He appeared before her and drove his fist across her jaw, knocking her down on her back. Standing up, her knees shaking, she opened her mouth and spit out one of her teeth.
“I hate you,” she mumbled through bloody lips. 
He laughed, driving her rage over the edge, and she charged. She connected briefly with his leg but was knocked back again by another blow to the face.
“Have you learned anything?” He took a step forward and smoke began to fill the air, curling at her feet. When he got close, she drove Willow hard into the ground, blade first. A vine whipped out and pulled Nathan off his feet. He hit the ground with a thud. Several more vines followed, sprouting from the earth to hold him in place. 
He cried out and began ripping his way free. Kimberly pulled Willow from the ground and lunged forward, aiming for his heart. She almost made it, Willow’s blade glowed hot, but Nathan wrapped his long fingers around it. An eerie cry issued from his mouth as she tried to push Willow through his fingers, the magic burning him.
Opening his mouth, he belched darkness in her face, stinging her skin and her eyes. She swung Willow around frantically, her eyes filled with shadows.
Rubbing the darkness from her eyes, she heard the sound of ripping flesh. Nathan tore a giant hole in his own shoulder, digging in with his fingers. Kimberly retched a little at the sight; it was disgusting.
From the self-inflicted wound, Nathan withdrew a weapon made of bone. Turning it over, she could see it was a sword. The blade was blacker than midnight. He waved it menacingly at her. Steam still rose from the healing burns on his hands.
“Do you know how you cure a disease, Kimberly?” He ran his fingers along his sword. Dark flames soon engulfed it, reaching out at her hungrily.
“Yeah, I do.” Willow’s blue fire hummed in response. Kimberly watched as her father circled her. 
“So you do listen.” He rushed her and their blades clashed. The blue and black flames struggled to consume each other. Nathan ducked out of view. Stepping to the side, he tried to outflank her, only to meet with a bundle of tendrils that had been hiding beneath her hair, tendrils that threatened to stab and tear him apart.
“Clever.” He spread his wings and jumped into the sky. He started to fly away and Kimberly dropped her guard, screaming at him in response.
It was a ruse. As she followed his flight, he flew into the path of the setting sun and turned around, sending the dark fire at her. Blinded by the sun, it caught her off guard and she fell back, her body going numb.
Inside, she could feel the changes begin. The dark fire was awakening something primal, something deep inside. Something akin to insanity began clawing around in her mind. She pushed it away.
He swooped down and blasted her with more fire. Kimberly deflected it with Willow, barely able to hold up her arm. Laughing, he tried to circle behind her and did it again. The fire washed over her like water, consuming the light. The flames were ice-cold; when they parted, the ground was covered in frost.
Willow pulsed in her hand and Kimberly loosened her grip on the blade. Vines wrapped around her wrist and forearm and she tensed her legs.
Nathan, giggling with glee, swooped overhead and tried once more to bury her in magic. Kimberly leapt to the side, a leap that carried her almost twenty feet. Standing, she threw Willow as hard as she could.
Nathan was stunned as Willow sank deep into his stomach. He started to jerk away, but wooden tendrils had wrapped around his body, pinning the blade in place. Frustrated, he grabbed onto the hilt and yanked as the blue fire burned him from within.
“Bitch!” Unable to free himself, he started to fly away. Kimberly’s feet began to drag across the ground as he gained in speed. Her feet caught on a few stray rocks as the ground began to gradually drop away. Her vision soon filled with the Wizard’s Forest, a very long distance beneath her. Her eyes widened as the edge of the mountain approached. Thoughts of Trey ran through her mind and her resolve hardened. The tendrils on her arm clasped her tightly as Nathan pulled her into the open sky. Swinging down, she hollered and reached deep inside for the magic, causing blue fire to race up the vines and burn her father again.
Twisting around, Kimberly saw that Nathan intended to drag her through the Wizard’s Forest. Clenching her arm muscles, she swung hard into a copse of trees, the branches tearing at her flesh. Nathan cried at her in rage and began to ascend. He dropped suddenly. She let out a breath as her body hit the ground, dragging along at a fast pace. Dirt went up her nose and dead branches were catching in her hair. Nathan began another ascent.
The trees themselves began to grab at her. She was a trespasser in the Wizard’s Forest; her life was now considered forfeit. Seeing a particularly big tree looming ahead, she kicked her legs back and forth. When she got close to the tree, she leaned all the way back, causing her to swing dramatically to one side. Her momentum, coupled with her sudden direction change, caused her to swing high up into the air, high enough that she could see the panic on Nathan’s face as he was pulled hard from the sky.
Howling in triumph, she felt gravity take hold of her body as she fell back to the ground, her limbs pinwheeling in circles.
Giant wooden fingers caught her and began to squeeze.
*   *   *
Nathan fought his way free of the local flora, then clutched the burning blade in his gut and pulled. He swung several times at the iron-like tendrils with his own sword, frustrated when they wouldn’t give. Blue fire raced down the vines before reaching the sword’s edge and burning him.
The bitch had stabbed him. His hands shook as he grabbed onto the hilt and yanked. Chunks of his body pulled free as the tendrils fought for purchase. 
His daughter had stabbed him. Him!
With a howl of triumph, he ripped part of his sternum away, freeing himself. He bled only a little, even though a couple of pounds of flesh were on the ground. The fiery blade hit the ground and raced away from him, toward the source of his animosity, the girl.
He stomped forward, his wings crippled in the fall. It would take some time to heal, he realized, as he stared at the giant, crusty wound in his stomach. The blue fire had hurt him severely.
A tree reached for him. He was surprised, but a single swing of his blade set the tree ablaze in darkness. It stumbled away before falling to the ground, drained of its life essence. Strange things raced out of the woods around him, reaching for him with gnarled hands, fangs, and fire. He fought them all, knocking them away with little effort. He was focused now, one goal on his mind.
The girl. It was all about the girl.
His daughter.
He needed to kill his daughter.
His face grew into a devil’s grin, the flesh pulled tight as the bones beneath it shifted. Something the size of a gorilla barreled toward him from the forest, something that he knocked away with one outstretched hand. On the ground, Kimberly’s sword had left a perfectly good scorch mark to follow. In the distance, he could hear her hollers as the forest tried to consume her, as well.
As he got closer, he broke into a run, yelling in delight.
*   *   *
Struggling to pull free of the giant tree’s clenched hand, she had been grateful to feel the familiar heft of Willow return to her fist. She stabbed the tree. It dropped her.
All around her, the forest erupted in unfamiliar sounds. All at once, the creatures of the forest attacked.
Kimberly fought hard, swinging Willow around her in giant circles. The Wizard’s Forest was mentioned several times in a few of her grandfather’s stories. It was a testing ground for a mage aspiring to the rank of Master. A place where wizards put their greatest successes and failures, a place where the forest breathed with a life of its own. Kimberly decided that the place sounded cooler in the books as she cut down a two-headed bird that leaped at her from the bushes. Jumping to the side, she was just missed by something that resembled a cross between a troll and a grizzly bear.
She heard the trees part behind her. Turning, she saw Nathan step through the forest, his body covered in dark flames.
“Kimberly!” he screamed. She barely crossed her blade with his. He drove her back, hard, for several feet. Up close, she could see motes of darkness circling the hilt of his sword.
Kimberly shoved with all her strength, breaking free. She moved to slice open his chest, but he stepped back, leaving a trail of shadows behind him. The shadows moved to smother her and she whirled Willow around in a circle to ward them away, flinging blue fire out.
“Time to die, Kimberly.” He stepped forward from the darkness and tried to stab her through the side. She ducked away, feeling the muscles in her legs cramp. He vanished again, leaving more smoke and shadows behind.
His laughter was all around her now.
Kimberly. Willow pulsed powerfully in her hand. The blue fire on the blade’s edge vanished as Kimberly held the blade up, ready to defend.
Her father appeared again, hurling toward her. His movements slowed to a crawl and he stopped in midair, no longer moving. His face was frozen in glee, all his teeth showing.
You cannot win without me.
“I know that! What do you think I’m doing?”
You must see.
Willow pulsed again and Nathan resumed his attack. She fell back, just narrowly avoiding his swing. Cursing, he swung again. This time when she dodged he grabbed her with his free hand and spun her around by her neck.
Laughing, he knocked away her feeble attempt at an attack with Willow. She kicked out and he held her away from his body with one powerful arm.
“You can’t win, Kimberly.” He shook her a few times, making her neck hurt. She gasped for air, clawing at his hand. Willow began pulsing harder and harder beneath her palm.
You must see!
“What are you talking about?” Whatever Willow was trying to say, Kimberly hoped she’d say it soon.
The pulsing came faster now, like a heartbeat. She tried to swing, but the blue flames wouldn’t come and the blade bounced harmlessly off of Nathan’s body.
Frustrated, she dropped Willow and fought with all her strength. Laughing, Nathan opened his mouth wide and leaned in close, as if to take a bite.
“I brought you into this world,” he whispered in her ear. 
Kimberly narrowed her eyes and screamed. Raising her fist over her head, she hammered down onto his face. He flinched and she drove her hand forward, her fingers stretched out like claws.
Purple flames burst forth from her skin and burned away one of Nathan’s eyes as she sank it into his socket. He dropped her and stepped back, slashing his blade wildly. Kimberly was stunned. She held her hand out, her fingers ablaze in purple fire.
Now you see. That is your magic. It has always been your magic. Vines burst forth from Willow and grabbed hold of Kimberly, pulling the blade back into her hands.
This is my magic. The blade was consumed in a white maelstrom of energy, burning the darkness away. Kimberly squinted against the light, understanding coming to her.
The magic she had been wielding the whole time she was in Auviarra had been her own. The blue fire had been a warping of her magic as she had forced it onto Willow. It all came to her then. In the book, Elurra’s blade had burned white, like a star. 
Had Trey known?
The time for reflection was past. Nathan was coming at her now, swinging his skeletal blade like a scythe. She brought Willow up, fighting the urge to bring back the blue flames. She caught the sword and drove it sideways and down into the earth. Willow’s tendrils wrapped around Nathan’s blade, unbidden by Kimberly, and held it in place as the white fire consumed it. The dark fire was quickly suppressed and both swords began to vibrate violently.
“You cannot win,” Nathan cried. He grunted, his damaged wings fluttering as he tried to free his sword.
“Father,” Kimberly said, narrowing her eyes. “Nobody cares what you think.”
She twisted Willow, hard. Nathan’s sword exploded, sending bony shards everywhere. They clung to Kimberly’s flesh like slugs and wiggled around on her skin. Melting away under Willow’s light, they pooled into dark smoke before drifting away. 
Nathan glared at his daughter with his one remaining eye. He surrounded his claws in dark fire and screamed as he rushed forward.
Kimberly didn’t move. She raised Willow up and let Nathan do all the work. He sank onto her blade, his face contorting in pain as he fought to get closer. Willow’s tendrils blew outward, holding his fists at bay. He sneered and spat in her face, struggling to get closer and bite her with razor-sharp teeth.
It ends.
Kimberly felt Willow’s magic well up from deep in the hilt as the sword vibrated wildly. The white hot flames crackled as they began to consume Nathan Stone, pulling his flesh away in dark bits.
“No!” Nathan screamed in denial as he fought to break free. Willow held him tightly in place gradually pulling him into the fire and using his darkness as fuel. The magic fire burned higher, the heat intense enough that Nathan’s flesh bubbled and burst into pockets of fire.
“Yes!” Hate, rage, and anger consumed her now. Her fire joined with Willow’s, purple flames spiraling in circles around the white. Beneath her own skin, she felt something shift as she began to change.
Nathan Stone, Kimberly’s father, was gone. The flames had cauterized his existence, leaving behind nothing more than ash and smoke that reeked of decay. Kimberly was alone in the clearing, the quiet darkness of the forest sinking in around her like a heavy fog.
She sheathed Willow, the vines from her blade wrapping around her waist as the sheath grew from several wooden tendrils that spiraled down the edge. She took a deep breath as she stared at the dark stain on the forest floor.
It was over. He would never hurt her or anyone else ever again.
In the silence, she saw something white and shiny sticking out of the back of her hands. Lifting her arms in horror, she realized the bones of her hands had sprouted free of her flesh, forming macabre gauntlets. 
She would have screamed, but the dark residents in the forest rushed at her, happy to devour the survivor. With a grim look, Kimberly drew Willow free and let the rage of her magic consume her.
Her mind struggled to grasp the things she saw. Some had teeth where others had beaks. Scaled, feathered, and sometimes skinless, the creatures assaulted her from every direction. Knocking a giant dragonfly with the head of an alligator from the sky, she was caught off guard when a giant centipede made of stone burrowed up from the ground beneath her, biting at her legs.
Fiery explosions rocked the forest as Kimberly sank further away from sanity, her father’s legacy taking hold. Where Willow’s fire missed, Kimberly’s fire didn’t. The purple flames burned hot, sending creatures away in a panic. Kimberly chased down her attackers and struck them dead without pity.
Hours passed. Kimberly felt exhaustion take hold as she ran through the Wizard’s Forest, seeking an exit. Her body had changed drastically now, changes her mind couldn’t fathom. She fell backward into a clearing, a large lump in her back causing her to roll wildly. The dark things that still hunted her lunged forward out of the woods. It was night now, not that it mattered. Kimberly’s vision was now crystal clear in the darkness.
Monsters advanced toward her and she crouched, waiting.
“Come on! Fight me!” It was hard to speak with so many teeth in her mouth.
Light glowed around her. The dark things stepped back. She turned, raising Willow in both hands. Standing in the center of the light was Elurra.
Kimberly ran at her, sword held high. Swinging down, she was surprised when soft, graceful hands caught Willow’s hilt.
“My granddaughter.” Elurra stood in front of a simple stone monument, her skin glowing like moonlight. “You poor thing.”
Stunned, Kimberly let go of Willow. Elurra took it from her and the sword’s tendrils clung to Elurra like an old friend.
“I’m sorry, child. Sorry for everything.” Elurra stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kimberly.
The darkness inside shrank away in horror under those glowing limbs. Kimberly felt tears in her eyes and sorrow welled up in her chest. She cried like a little girl, her mind fractured.
“Your grandfather has told me so much about you. We are both so proud.”
Light flooded the clearing, driving the beasts further away. When the light faded, Kimberly realized she was somewhere else.

Willow’s Glade

Kimberly slumped to her knees, her muscles screaming in agony. She looked up to see Elurra smiling down at her.
“It’s going to be okay.” Elurra’s voice was soft and reassuring.
Leaves shifted. Kimberly turned and saw Willow standing beneath her giant tree. She smiled at Kimberly, her eyes shining with light. Multicolored fireflies glowed in the glade. The air smelled like flowers, freshly cut grass and rain.
“Finally, you are here.” Willow’s voice was little more than the wind rustling through the grass. Kimberly tried to stand, but fell to the ground. Her body twisted and bent in places it didn’t use to; her thinking mind could no longer control it. The macabre gauntlets of her hands extended all the way to her chest. Thorns adorned her neck and shoulders now, and her pants were all torn up from within. Her feet had burst free from her boots, revealing a pair of talons.
“I’m a monster.” Kimberly shifted her weight, pushing herself up. Her heart was starting to pound frantically, panic building in her chest.
“No, you are still Kimberly,” Elurra said.
“Look at me!” Kimberly held her hands up for Elurra. “I’ve changed!”
“Not on the inside,” Elurra countered. “The magic that took my son, it struggles to define who you are. It did so with Nathias, and it did so with your brothers. It granted them the power to achieve their dark desires. Kimberly, you don’t have those same desires. It feeds off of what little it can and tries to adapt.”
“What does this body get me, then?”
“Instead of desiring control, you wished for acceptance. You dreamt of love and happiness. Those were things the darkness could not understand.”
“It’s too late.” Kimberly put her hands in her lap. “I can’t make it go back.”
“I can,” Willow said. “There is a way to drive the darkness away forever.”
“It’s true,” Elurra added.
“The darkness, the curse that is in my blood… what is it?”
“It is a tiny piece of Chaos,” Willow said. “It survived the Great Creation of Auviarra, decaying away as millennia passed. Over the generations, it attempted to possess many, latching on to the magic in their bodies. It deliberately empowered them, seeking more powerful magic to subsist upon. The Black Knight defeated a swamp witch with that tiny morsel.” Willow shook her head. “It lived in the sword he carried, waiting for him to summon its power. It trapped him, preventing him from dismissing his Eternal Armor. For many years, he was a slave. When Elurra defeated him, it lived on in me.” Willow turned her face away. “I was too powerful to be controlled; it hid from me and waited for the birth of the child Nathias, a child born from magic. Even before he was born, the Chaos guided him, wanting him to become powerful.”
Elurra spoke. “After I died, Halston took Nathias to Earth. The Chaos struggled to survive in a world without magic.” Elurra sat on a stone. “What he didn’t know is that the darkness found a way to thrive. When Halston found out, he performed the ceremony on Nathias, which split him away from the Chaos.”
“Which is how the homunculus was created,” Kimberly said.
“Yes,” Elurra answered. “It feared Halston, knowing that he would sooner kill his own son than let it return. During the separation, the Chaos could not reproduce correctly. It was incredibly strong in your brothers. In you, it was next to nothing.” Elurra sighed. “Nathias could not be saved once he awakened. Your brothers couldn’t be saved either. You have just started to awaken, but the Chaos is weak. You are all that is left of it.”
“Please, I’ll do anything,” Kimberly begged.
“You must rid yourself of magic, Kimberly.” Elurra slid off the rock and held out her hand. “It cannot live without the magic.”
“It will have to live inside of me.” Willow held out her hand to Kimberly. “It is the only way to break the cycle.”
“I’ll do it.” Kimberly accepted Willow’s hand. Kimberly glanced at both women, noticing the lines of sadness on Elurra’s face.
“Hold out your hand,” Willow said. Kimberly obeyed, grimacing at the sight of her near-skeletal fingers unfolding. “This is the seed of a Blood Lotus. It is from a forgotten place, beyond Auviarra. The seed needs blood, magic, and moonlight to blossom.” The wind rustled the leaves and the sun faded from overhead, revealing a full moon. “I can provide the moonlight. You must provide the others.”
Kimberly nodded. Elurra held Willow’s blade out. Kimberly grabbed the tip with her free hand and pulled, feeling her palm open.
“Quickly, before it heals.” Willow said.
Kimberly put her hands together, sealing the seed within. She looked at the two spirits beside her and waited.
The burning started almost immediately. Kimberly sank to her knees and let out a gasp. It felt like she was holding fire.
An intense blast of heat forced her hands apart, releasing purple flames all along her arms. As the magic blew outward, it was suddenly pulled back in toward the flower. The roots had sunk deep into Kimberly’s flesh; the fire sank into her skin like water into soil.
She felt something deep inside begin to shift. Weariness began to sink in as her bones clicked and shifted back into place. Freshly healed wounds reopened as the magic bled dry from her.
“It has a choice now. Me or the flower,” Willow said, the light in her eyes blazing.
Kimberly gasped, feeling a sudden shift in power. It pulled free as the plant blossomed. The petals, of a rich crimson hue, pointed at the edges. As large as an apple, the flower smelled faintly of grapefruit.
The choice became clear. A dark cloud began to form at the base of Willow’s tree. It remained formless, but angry red eyes peered at them from within.
“It is trapped.” Willow looked at Elurra. Elurra nodded and held Willow out to Kimberly.
“Summon the white light. I am long dead, so cannot,” Elurra explained.
Kimberly stood up, the lotus in one hand and Willow in the other. She realized she was human again, as before her disastrous transformation. She raised Willow high in the air and felt no resistance in summoning the sword’s magic.
White light engulfed Willow’s blade. The dark thing let out a growl and began to expand. Willow stepped between Kimberly and the Chaos.
“You will not elude me. Not this time.” Willow stretched her hands out wide. Roots from the ground billowed upward, showering everyone in dirt. They wrapped around the darkness, compacting it into a ball. The roots expanded and broke apart, leaving a ten-foot sphere in the clearing.
The sword shook violently in Kimberly’s hand. She almost dropped it, but the tendrils snaked all along her wrist, locking the sword in place. The light burned even brighter and thunder filled Kimberly’s ears.
It’s better this way.
The dark thing roared and Willow blew apart, sending a powerful beam of light into the sky. The glade vanished. Kimberly and Elurra were back in the forest, Elurra’s tomb reflecting the moonlight.
Stunned, Kimberly looked at her outstretched hand. Willow was gone.

Blood Lotus

Dazed, Kimberly looked to her grandmother for guidance.
“It was a trap,” Elurra said. “Willow was as much a living creature as you or I. When I died, Willow was heartbroken. Determined not to see history repeat itself, she chose to save you by destroying herself.”
Kimberly looked at Elurra. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Your magic isn’t gone. It has simply drained into the lotus. Detach it and you will gain your magic back.” Elurra smirked. “If Chaos had known, it would have just stayed put.”
“You tricked it out of me?” Kimberly frowned. “Willow is gone forever?”
“She is.” Elurra walked over to her tomb. “And now, so am I. With the darkness gone, my spirit will rest with my dear Halston. Farewell.” Elurra faded away.
Kimberly sat alone in the clearing with only her thoughts for companions. Her clothes were torn, leaving her skin exposed to the frigid night air. In the distance, she heard the Wizard’s Forest shift, waiting for her return.
She thought back over her whole time in Auviarra. She thought of her friends, and how far they had gotten her. She thought of the white-cloaks, and her father. She had been turned into a monster, was saved by her dead grandmother, and lost her magic sword in the process. And she was stuck in the middle of an enchanted forest that would try to kill her once she left.
“This is bullshit.” What was she supposed to do now?
The lotus glowed in her hand, possessed by an accumulation of Kimberly’s magic. In its light, she saw Willow’s tendrils were still wrapped around her wrist.
A thought dawned on her. It sounded crazy in her head, maybe even a little insane. If it didn’t work, she’d be the only one to know.
The Wizard’s Forest was a testing ground for magic users. It was a place of power, where anything could happen.
She bit a tendril free of her arm, dropping it on the ground. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out what was left of Helena’s brush. The head had been damaged during the fighting, leaving only the handle intact.
“Always carry silver,” she muttered, wrapping the tendril around the brush. Pinching the lotus flower at the base, she carefully pulled it free. The roots ran deep; she could see them dragging from beneath her skin.
Holding the plant up, she smeared her blood all over the tendril and the brush. Seeing her blood everywhere, she became lightheaded. She bit her tongue, trying hard to maintain focus.
“Wood, metal, magic.” She set the lotus down, tucking its roots into the bloodied tendril. Already, in the back of her mind, she could feel the small tickle of her magic returning. She dug deep in her body and generated a tiny purple flicker of fire in her hand. Even though the darkness was gone, it had left its mark. Like she cared.
She picked up the components, letting her magic wash over everything. She closed her eyes, envisioning how Willow acted, how Willow felt in her hands when she swung it, how Willow looked.
Most of all, she focused on how badly she wanted her sword back.
She had read about how botanists could combine plants by splicing them together. In her mind, she pictured the Blood Lotus’s roots seeking the blood on the tendril. The magic from the Blood Lotus going into the root, and the silver acting as a magical catalyst. Willow had been born of wood, metal, and magic; why not again?
Something stirred in her fist. Kimberly opened her eyes. The tendril was pulsing like an artery; each surge causing the lotus to glow even brighter. The tendril shifted and started thickening.
Clenching her teeth, she summoned her magic, focusing it all in her fist. The mass began to expand. The lotus petals solidified and the brush began to melt. Exhausted, Kimberly let go as the process continued on its own.
The blade was silver in color. Instead of a guard, a circle with a blooming lotus flower formed. On the other side, the hilt spiraled like a unicorn’s horn. Purple fire danced all along its length as it heated, then cooled.
Kimberly looked at the sword under the moonlight. She reached out her hand and picked it up.
Vines expanded out from under the lotus circle, spiraling around Kimberly’s arm. They crept all along her body, expanding in places to form pieces of armor. The blade hummed steadily, a gentle sound.
“Willow?”
She felt a mental presence, cautious yet curious. It flitted around in her head, looking for something to grab hold of. A picture of Willow’s tree appeared. Next to the tree was a much smaller tree. Lotus blossoms bloomed in its branches.
“Not Willow. So… Willow’s offspring?”
Pictures of butterflies circling the lotus flowers. Kimberly took that as a yes.
“If you are not Willow, then what should I call you?”
The blossoming lotus filled her mind, the image strong.
“Lotus.” Pictures of butterflies again. “That’s a perfect name.”
Kimberly placed Lotus at her hip, watching the vines wrap it away in a protective sheath. She smiled and curled up in front of Elurra’s tomb, debating her next move.
Her eyes grew heavy as she fell asleep.

Captors

Matlin Delaeus strode confidently toward the gateway to the Wizard’s Forest. He ran a few fingers through his long blond hair and sighed.
Retrieval duty was such a bore.
Yesterday, they had finally recaptured Serra. Jokingly referred to as their “darker sister,” their leader Griklin had made Matlin a deal he couldn’t pass. By capturing her, his position as the Captain of the Holy Raiders was certain. They had covered her in a silver net, trapping her when she had transformed last night. They had debated killing the little fox, but Matlin could tell there was something special about it.
Over the night, however, sentries reported several explosions in the Wizard’s Forest. Matlin recalled the tales of a girl who wielded a magical blade travelling with Serra. Believing it was his duty to investigate, he had Serra and the beast taken to the port. The wizard they had used for gating had been killed in an encounter with the group; it would be awhile before they replaced him. Until then, they were back to traveling by land and boat. What a pain in the saddle.
Matlin waited at the entry of the forest, in hopes his hunch would pay off. He touched the amulet of Zor he wore around his neck, calling on his god for patience. If he could take this dark creature too, his time with the Brotherhood would be far more comfortable.
The sun was directly overhead when he saw a shadowy figure stroll from between the distant trees.
She was comely, like most denizens of evil were. Her clothes were in tatters, likely to entice Matlin. He smiled to himself. He was not easily moved by the flesh.
Her bare feet caught his attention first; how odd. Tangled, waist-length hair billowed out around her head. From beneath those tangles, an intense set of purple eyes appraised him. He had expected black or red. Her arms and legs were well toned and her skin reminded Matlin of moonlight.
She walked just beneath the wooden arch and stopped. Crossing her arms, she frowned at him. He readied his shield and placed one hand on his sword.
“My name is Matlin Delaeus. I have come to bring you to justice before the Brotherhood of Zor. Do you yield?”
She did a strange thing, then. She drew a blade from her waist, the sheath unraveling and vanishing into the hilt. Reaching over her shoulder, she grabbed a handful of hair, pulling it tight. With a single stroke, she cut it free. Letting go, they both watched as the breeze took it.
“You are all by yourself?” she asked.
“As are you. Your friend is on her way by boat to the Temple of Light for judgment.”
“What about the fox?” A dangerous glint crossed her eyes. “Is he alive?”
“For now.” It was a strange question, but it confirmed his suspicions. The fox was more than it appeared.
The girl sighed and rubbed at her neck.
“Look, I’ll level with you. I’m not interested in fighting. Just tell me how to get to the Temple so I can rescue my friend and we’ll call it a day.”
“Ha. Your words shall not dissuade me.” He drew his blade, Lightbringer, and held it before him.
“You know what? You guys suck,” the woman said, holding her sword up. “I’m tired of decisions being made for me. I’m tired of fighting you because of your strange beliefs.”
Matlin spoke the command word, summoning Lightbringer’s magic. They had embedded a giant prayer stone in the guard, capable of knocking all but the most powerful demon to its knees.
The woman was before him, immune to the light. His eyes went wide as she swung once, sundering Lightbringer’s blade. With another hit, she knocked his shield away too.
Matlin turned to run. Something wrapped around his leg and pulled him back. Rolling over, he saw that vines had sprouted from his attacker’s sword. The vines snaked through his armor and clothing, tugging at the material.
The vines splintered outward, leaving him naked.
“Foul creature! The Brotherhood will find you!”
“Blah, blah, blah.” She walked over and picked up his shield. “Hopefully they won’t talk my ear off when they do.” She tossed him his shield. “It’s dangerous out here, you might need this. Oh, and don’t follow me. I’m tired of killing.”
Slack-jawed, he watched the witch leave.
*   *   *
Kimberly stood in the clearing where she had left Serra and Ip. It was clear several men had been through here; there were footprints everywhere.
She walked over to the cliff’s edge and looked at the waves beneath. She willed the Black Knight to reappear, wishing she could see Trey return. She knew it was impossible.
She laughed, feeling a vine tickle at her ear. Touching Lotus’s hilt, she reminded herself that nothing here was impossible. Off in the distance, she could see a small fishing boat.
It was her life now. Every decision she made was her own. She was going after them, going to rescue her family. She looked at the small fishing vessel and wondered how she was going to afford a ticket to wherever it was they took Serra and Ip.
She heard the sound of hooves on rocks. Turning, she was stunned to see her horse, followed by Serra’s and Trey’s.
She thought back to her grandfather’s books and smiled. Getting to the end always left her sad, because it meant the adventure was over. With this kind of luck, her adventure was just beginning.

Epilogue

Lance was standing outside the tall apartment building in the rain, his shoulders hunched as he squinted at the address he had written on a piece of office stationery. Staring up at the old brick building in front of him, he verified the numbers on the front and walked up to the door.
Letting himself in, he nodded to a man stationed behind a desk.  The man was listening to a music player and writing something down, but stopped to give Lance directions when he introduced himself.
The elevator ride up to the apartment was slow and smelled like soggy mothballs. Sighing, he wiped moisture off of the package he carried, a large manila folder. Water had pooled under his feet and when the doors opened, he almost slipped in his own tracks.
Walking down the hallway, he was struck by how quiet it was. The building itself wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and this was further demonstrated by the fact that a series of holes alternated along the walls like somebody had gone mad with a sledgehammer. The devastation terminated at a now-open doorway. Looking in, he saw a dirty living room covered in children’s toys and splinters of wood. He checked the apartment number in his hands and sighed in relief and continued down the hall.
Arriving at the end unit, he could feel a difference in the very atmosphere of the building. This door looked different than the others, and the surrounding walls had been cleaned and repainted. The current owner had likely spent his own cash to replace the cheap, contractor-grade doors with something far sturdier. He noticed the lack of a doorbell and knocked. It was solid wood, perhaps oak, that his knuckles rapped and he winced at the puddle of water he was leaving under his feet.
He saw the light of the room beyond the peephole disappear as its occupant looked through.
“Yes?”
His voice was almost too familiar. Lance felt a shiver go up his spine as he cleared his throat.
“Benjamin Peterson?”
The door opened and a young man in his mid-twenties stood in the doorway. Wearing only a pair of black sweat pants, he was maybe two inches short of six feet tall. Every one of those inches looked like it was composed of liquid steel. Lance’s eyes traveled to the mop of black hair on top of Benjamin’s head, the only part of his physique that wasn’t perfectly in place somehow. Benjamin regarded Lance with the gaze of a predator, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Lance stared into those eyes and muttered a quiet prayer to himself.
There was no longer any doubt in his mind.
“We spoke on the phone? About the legal thing?”
“Please, come in.” Kindness replaced the edge in Benjamin’s eyes and he stood aside. “I thought you might be someone else.”
“Are you expecting company?”
“Not in the formal sense, no.” Benjamin took Lance’s coat and hung it up in a closet that had very little inside. “May I get you something to drink?”
Lance couldn’t help but stare at the young man as he moved across the apartment. It was similar to seeing a ghost in some ways, but he put his own feelings aside.
“No, thank you. I’ve had my fill.” He gestured to the state of his clothes.
“I see.” Benjamin walked over to a switch on the wall and flicked it. The rush of gas and the whooshing noise of ignited flames revealed a fireplace to Lance’s left. “See if that helps. I just got out of the shower, so if you’ll excuse me.” Benjamin stepped around a corner and into the depths of his apartment. 
Lance moved over to the lazy chair by the fire and sat down, taking care not to crush his parcel.
Lance stared around the room in awe. The apartment itself was sparsely furnished; the floors were made of hardwood and the room itself only had a couch and the seat he sat in. Looking around the space, he noticed several wall scrolls written in Asian characters; a few thick steel hooks were screwed into the ceiling. It was obvious that the room was used mainly for training, and from all written accounts, that was no surprise to Lance.
Benjamin reappeared, dressed in jeans and a tight black sweater. He offered Lance a glass of water. Lance found he really was thirsty, and drank half of it down right away.
“Okay, Mr.…”
“Please, it’s just Lance. I prefer it that way.”
Benjamin grinned and sat down across from him. “Okay, Lance, what can I do for you?”
Lance cleared his throat and held the package up for Benjamin to see. “To begin with, before we continue any further, I need you to take and open this package.”
“Is this the legal thing you mentioned on the phone?”
Lance nodded. “It is.”
Benjamin shrugged and opened the parcel, sliding out a long, thin device. He flipped it over and stared at it with curiosity.
“It’s a laptop.” Lance felt stupid saying it.
“Indeed.” Benjamin arched one eyebrow up. “You know, I think I saw a movie that started like this once. Am I going to get sucked into a series of intriguing spy games?”
“No, nothing quite as serious.”
“How boring.” Benjamin flipped it open and hit the power button. It only took seconds to boot up. Staring at the device in his hand, he frowned. “There aren’t any programs on here, just a file.” Benjamin clicked the mouse on the board. “It says ‘To my son.’”
“I don’t understand.” Benjamin looked up at the man sitting before him, a man who regarded him with curiosity in his eyes. “My father died before I was born.”
“No, he didn’t.” Lance stared into Benjamin’s eyes, those same blue eyes he had looked into so many times before in the face of a friend. “He died last month.”
Benjamin stared into Lance’s face as the lawyer stood up and thanked him for the drink. He handed Benjamin a card with a cell phone number on it and retrieved his coat from the closet.
“I am in town for the next week on your father’s wishes. You are instructed to watch that video in its entirety at which time you will be given a choice. You are to inform me of your decision by week’s end, at which time…” Lance spread his arms out in a shrug. “Let’s just say we’ll both find out.”
Benjamin sat there and stared at the thing in his hands and at the man in his living room. “Am I allowed to ask questions?”
“Depends on the question. I’m bound by a contract.”
“Who is my father?”
Lance’s voice caught in his throat for just a second. He would know soon enough, anyway.
“Your father was a great man by the name of Hal Stone. I am sure you have heard his name?” 
Benjamin laughed. “Who hasn’t? Is this a joke?”
Lance said nothing and let himself out. 
*   *   *
Benjamin stared at the device in his hands in wonder, overwhelmed by so many questions all at once.
His father had died in a car accident right before he was born. At least that was what his mother had told him.
He thought briefly about his mother. He was long overdue for a visit; it had been two months now. Maybe it made him a bad son, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been busy. They had been close before her death three years ago. Visiting her grave always helped ground him.
He looked up at the scroll over his fireplace. It was written in Chinese, the old flowing kanji from before the Great Quake of 2040. Roughly translated, it said ‘No Unnecessary Motion,’ words that Benjamin tried to live by every moment of his life.
Sitting around with questions violated that credo.
His hands shook. He clicked on the file. The screen went black, only to be replaced by a video clip of an older man with sparkling blue eyes. He was sitting on a chair, holding a tiny little fox on his lap.
“Hello Benjamin. I was hoping to someday meet you in person and tell you everything you need to know. Suffice to say, it was not meant to be.
“My name is Hal Stone. I am your father.”

END


Acknowledgements

First, I would like to acknowledge you, the reader. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to keep doing this. Thank you.

I wouldn’t be here without the help of a few people. I spent a lot of time making sure you hold a quality product in your hand, because you deserve the best. There were plenty of good people who helped at www.critiquecircle.com, but specifically I wish to thank Mysti, Tindal, and Kirstenb. They didn’t hesitate to tell me when I was wrong. I also have to thank Anne Victory at www.victoryediting.com. She found all the errors I thought weren’t there at all (I was a little embarrassed).

About the Story

This book started out as a short story I wrote back in the summer of 2000, right after I lost my grandfather to cancer. The story was rejected by Realms of Fantasy, at which time I stuck it in a folder where it sat for almost ten years. Though the story may be different than the book in your hand, at heart it is still a tale about the loss of a loved one.

About the Author

I live in Colorado with a beautiful wife and lots of pets. I currently go to school for physics, but writing is my number one passion.
Growing up, I used to think of books as windows that allowed me to peek into other worlds. In kindergarten, I cut my teeth on the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Terry Brooks was waiting for me in 4th grade, and I have traveled many other places since. I hope you’ve enjoyed your trip to the worlds of my creation and would love to hear about your journey.

www.jrleckman.com