That night, a Fallen Angelica tried his best to fall into his usual dreamless sleep, surrounded by the clangs and stamping feet of the inn’s common room.

  That night, a cart-driver rested his head against a pillow of goose feathers, laying his walking stick beside him, all the while his thoughts rested equally on the present, future, and past.

  That night, a Demon didn’t sleep, not just yet, and ran across all of Fordain, meeting with barkeeps and beseeching innkeepers for rooms. She did not go unnoticed.

  So when the dawn rose on Chalday, the fifth and final day of the week, it was not the Fallen Angelica, forcing himself awake on time, nor the cart-driver getting rustled awake by a barely coherent Demon, who were running about.

  It was the Talradians.

  Those young enough to have active involvement were already stretched thin as it was, either searching for the Demon or being put on protection duty. They needed to ensure safety for their older kinsmen or those who held positions of renown or power. They had been sloppy, and it had led to the deaths of Ser Kildanus and Ser Barken. They would not let it happen again.

  So when they received the reports of a woman matching the exact description of the Demon renting out rooms in taverns and inns across town, they knew they were being set up. Less skilled operatives or hired Carathiliarian hands were sent around, but at the behest of one of their older kinsmen, many of them flooded towards the area of town due west of the Great Southern Road, where no reports of it had been made. If it wanted to divert their attention, then they naturally went to the area she had avoided.

  Quite a few remained, at the insistence of Keleiva, by her side without objection. She was too important to be put in harm’s way again should the Demon attempt to assassinate her. It might not have been successful the first time, but all it took was one wrong misstep when dancing with monsters themselves, and it would all be for nought.

  Keleiva, for her part, decided to sit back for another hour or two, indulging in a plentiful breakfast and watching the activity in the backwater town of Fordain reach a fever pitch.

  At the Company of Gethanhol building, it was much the same as any other day. Though there were still quite a few groups or independent employees discussing the ludicrous sum offered to them for killing one Demon. Quite a few had gone and tried to find it, but to no avail. The job listing was right when it said the great difficulty came, not in fighting it, but finding it.

  Apparently, someone had tried to sell off false information to the Talradians, and they’d almost killed him for it. Someone laughed, though it was a nervous one. Everyone with a brain between their ears knew it would be stupid to mess around with a Talradian, even if they were old and greying, and even worse was to try and trick them with false information.

  Were they stupid? If you tossed a stone into a crowd of Talradians, chances were more likely it landed on someone trained in information gathering and spy craft than not.

  When Danadrian ran through the door, the interested parties noticed him. Ah, of course, he was the one who’d been jumped by the Demon just yesterday. Some wondered if he’d sold the information he gave the Guard to the Talradians as well. If he were smart, he would have. And anyway, how did it get the jump on him? Surely someone with a sword like that, however busted up it may be, had some passing skill with the blade.

  “Demon.” He said, eyes glancing around desperately, “Just saw her- in the south side of town. Wounded, she was wounded. I tried to follow her, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

  A receptionist stared at him with wide eyes. All those who heard went still, their comments going quiet, at least outwardly. Internally, their minds were already racing at the prospect brought before them.

  Hold on now, this seemed like a good opportunity. One Demon alone wasn’t a threat anyway, just hard to find, and if this one was wounded, well, that was one hundred gold in the bag without having to break so much as a sweat.

  And look at him, he looks so terrified. Granted, he can’t be blamed, almost got gutted himself, but he definitely wouldn’t mistake the Demon for someone else. You never forgot the face of someone who wronged you; that was as much a promise as anything.

  The first person to leave was a single figure, already standing near the door. Without so much as a second look, he was out of there, running south down the main road.

  Then another group stood up, made a quick show of grabbing their equipment and weapons, and also walked out the door.

  After that, all it took was one look at the bedraggled and sweating foreigner, then the contract still stuck to the job board, before more and more men and women began to sit up, pay their tab, and leave the hall in a hurry. The smartest group of them approached the sweating foreigner and offered him a split of the cut if he would show them exactly where he had seen it. They were immediately intercepted by two more groups hoping to ask him the same thing, and he eventually acquiesced and agreed to guide all the groups still lingering around.

  Danadrian just wished he didn’t feel so guilty about it all. At the very least, he hoped that nobody came to blows over this. If everything went to plan, nobody would spill blood today, let alone lose their lives.

  It didn’t make his guilt go away, so it seemed he would have to live with it.

  All this occurred in the early hours of the morning, while the Sun was still rising, and the twin moons were still visible on the western horizon. And in the Eastside District, overrun with the impoverished and rife with dirt and unrestricted mess, the patrols continued to sweep through the area.

  After many days, certain gang spots or illegal gathering locations were beginning to get rather peeved with the whole situation. The beggars and pickpockets likewise were seeing what little livelihood they were able to scrounge up being curtailed by this near-constant armed presence. Their opposition wasn’t in the best of moods either. They had started off equally fearful and vengeful, ready to execute the Demon that had treaded into their town and spilt their citizens' blood.

  Now they were just tired and irritated, with more than a few muttering curses at the Tiana, who was absolutely certain the Demon would be found and removed within the week. They were completely unaware of what was occurring in the rest of town, and even if they did, there was a chance they’d lost the will to do anything about it at all.

  .   .   .

  Danadrian was starting to realise that he desperately needed to get his legs in shape. Since flying was a natural state for Angelica, it stood to reason that running was not something they often engaged in. It was concerning to him that it only took a few minutes of running before he looked reasonably sweaty and exhausted. Now, even jogging beside about two dozen members of the Company, he could feel himself lagging behind.

  It seemed that his status as a ‘lightskinned foreigner,’ at least to the Carathiliar, had been put to the wayside for the moment. He wasn’t looked at with distaste or suspicion and had yet to be insulted to his face. In the end, they were all in this to make a living, and in their eyes, he was a source of an amazing payout.

  He was leading them through back alleys, across streets, drawing quite a bit of attention from random bystanders. They asked him for more details, what ‘the Demon’ looked like, if she was armed and if so, with what. Essentially, what they should be preparing themselves for, though a few of them were more confident in their abilities than others.

  He gave them the best answers he could think of, hoping they at least sounded realistic. In reality, he was just looking for the opportunity to slip away and start running north. He wasn’t sure how much more time Alleria needed, but he thought that the moment he vanished, it would not take long for the legitimacy of his statements to be called into question.

  He looked up at the sky, and through the parting in the clouds, saw the Sun had continued its ascent. The morning was starting to drag on.

  How much longer does she need?

  He broke into a sprint to keep up.

  .   .   .

  Talradians. Unbeknownst to some, and definitely noticed by others, they were combing over the western side of town. Elsewhere, their agents were investigating taverns and inns, much to the confusion of the owners, who found themselves questioned for their involvement in a conspiracy. They didn’t expect to, and in every case didn’t, find anything there, but the chance of a double fake-out was one they weren’t willing to bet on.

  Meanwhile, their quarry was staring at her depleted coin pouch, which was now showing more silver than gold. She sighed and tried not to think about how much she had spent. Certainly, the most she’d ever used in one night.

  “I suppose I could always steal from someone. Maybe just a little bit.”

  That got her a hard tap on the head. She twisted around and saw Velandus’ walking stick retreat back behind the tarp.

  “I was just considering my options.”

  “Consider them quietly, there are a lot of people out here. And please don’t automatically default to crime.”

  “I feel the need to remind you that everything I do is, by Carathiliarian definition, a crime.” She grumbled, “I’ll just be living to their image.”

  They were making their way north up the main road. Velandus was taking them at a slow pace, which let them blend in with the other carts and travellers heading that way. Move too fast and they would be noticed. Heading north was always busier than coming in from the south, with Tandrias City remaining a bigger and better prospect for many.

  “The plan should be in full swing.” She muttered, loud enough that only he could hear, “Now we just wait and hope that it keeps working long enough.”

  “And that Danadrian can make it to us in time.”

  “Right. Do you think he’ll manage?”

  “I have faith.”

  The rattling of the carts and the chatter of passing pedestrians was all she heard for a while, sitting in silence beside the stored crates. She thought they were mostly empty, and really just for show if anyone came looking.

  Could we hide in them? If we really had to?

  “Do you ever wonder why they never came after you? The Talradians, that is?” She finally asked.

  After a brief pause, he replied, “If they ever saw me, they probably would just write me off. I’m not the Demon they're hunting, nor the foreigner who stood up for her. I’m just the driver.” He leaned back to stick his head in, “And the driver is telling you that if you are considering your options, you best consider all of them.”

  She followed his gaze, which landed on the curved sword, sheathed and hidden in the corner of the cart. Just looking at it made her breath catch in her throat.

  “No.”

  “If this goes south-”

  “No.” She had to restrain herself from shouting, “I will not do it.”

  The look he gave her was equal parts firm and regretful, “You cannot run from it forever, Alleria.”

  “But I can for just one more day.” She whispered. “I will not draw it.”

  “Sometimes that isn’t our choice to make.” He looked away, closing the tarp, and Alleria watched and wished that part of her, tiny as it was, was not tempted.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  If all goes well, we won’t need it.

  She hoped that was true.

  Another hour passed, and they were reaching the edge of town. She didn’t need Velandus to tell her that now she needed to be completely silent. The cart began to roll down the massive hill that Fordain was set upon. Then she heard a voice call out, and Velandus brought them to a stop. She sat dead still and listened.

  “We need to do a full search, by order of Tiana Muthlab.”

  “My fine gentlemen, I have nothing to hide. Searching me would simply waste both our time.”

  “Be that as it may, we have our orders.”

  “Has the esteemed Tiana come upon some misfortune recently?”

  “A Demon, sir. We cannot let it break loose into the rest of the Domain.”

  He chuckled, “I can offer you some… compensation, if that would suffice. To put your worries to rest.”

  “I’m… not sure that would be appropriate, sir. With a Demon running amok, we can’t be making exceptions or allowing for a gap in our search. They pose a threat to all of us.”

  She froze, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. If they forced the issue, things would go straight to Galumtir fast. Would she kill them or make a run for it immediately? Velandus might be able to claim he was unaware of her presence, but he would be held and questioned.

  “Please, now, reconsider. Why would I be hiding a Demon? I know full well what they’re capable of. And anyway, surely there are other places you could move your search to that may provide more of a benefit to us all?”

  There was silence.

  “I- I think… yes, it does make sense. You may go on your way, sir. Have a lovely day.”

  She heard the sound of coins being exchanged, and then the cart was moving again, rattling down the road. Only after five more minutes did she remember to breathe properly.

  “That was close.” She whispered. “How did you do that?”

  “Trick of the trade. We should be out of their range soon.” Velandus muttered, “Congratulations, your plan worked.”

  Miraculously, it seemed it had. And she wasn’t sure if that worried her more or less.

  .   .   .

  Danadrian wasn’t a master of stealth or disappearing into crowds like Alleria, so it took him a lot longer than he had hoped or anticipated to get away from the groups following him.

  Following was a bit of a misnomer. They went in the directions he gave them, occasionally pestering him for more information or advice, but eventually most began to realise he had little to give.

  He really had no idea where they were going; the streets and gaps between houses all looked the same to him, and this part of town was one he had rarely ventured through. His focus was more on the times they encountered crowds of people, going about their morning routines, or darker alleys between buildings, where he might be able to slip into. The only benefit he had was that he was constantly trailing at the back, unable to keep up with their pace.

  Eventually, as they ran around a corner, he saw his chance. They kept moving at a breakneck pace, despite how far they’d already come, and not one of them noticed as he kept running, but forward down a different street.

  He slowed to a jog, cut through a gap between the buildings, and onto another street. Once he had gained enough distance between himself and them, he slowed back to a quick walk. One glance at the Sun, its light dimly visible behind the cloud bank, and he was able to reorient himself and begin heading north.

  He wasn’t going to use the main road, so he aimed for one of the side paths that slipped out of town and into the forest. There was a lot riding on the internal navigation and map of the town’s surrounding area he’d gained over the last week.

  He turned a corner and practically ran into a waiting figure.

  He stumbled back and felt another presence appear behind him. The street he was on was almost entirely empty of civilians.

  The figure looked up at him, and he met their glass eyes.

  He drew his sword and held it aloft to maintain a gap between them as he backed away. More faces appeared, revealing themselves from shadowy cracks and open doors.

  Half a dozen. Talradians. Armed with crossbows and swords, mostly short. Unknown how skilled they individually are with either, highly dangerous in a group.

  A woman behind them walked forward, a smoking pipe still resting in her mouth. She was clapping.

  “Good morning, Danadrian. A fine day for some Chaos, isn’t it?”

  The smile on his face was probably closer to a grimace. “Theologically, I must disagree, miss… I never did get your name.”

  “Keleiva. And you might as well say it with some respect.” She blew out a ring of smoke, “You know, you could do with learning a thing or two from your accomplice. You were very easy to find.”

  “If you are placing me against Alleria, I must admit I don’t think it’s that fair of a comparison.”

  “Perhaps not, but at least the Demon had her wits. You, on the other hand, wander into an arena drenched in blood without so much as a clue of what is at stake.”

  He kept his sword raised in front of him, eyes not resting for a second on her. The Talradians were older, none quite wrinkled and grey, but he estimated not one was younger than forty.

  Older means weaker bodies, but it also means more experience. And for a race like this…

  He might just be in trouble.

  “Why don’t we talk about this like the civilised people we are?”

  She laughed, “This is civilised. Uncivilised, would have been cutting you up from behind and leaving you dead before you even knew what was happening.”

  “I am guessing I have been found out, then.”

  Her smile grew wider as she took the pipe out her mouth, “You were never hidden to begin with.”

  He narrowed his eyes and was considering a retort when a third, familiar voice joined the fray.

  “Please, Keleiva, toying with him is unnecessary. And ego does not befit your station.”

  An old Talradian man stumbled out of one of the buildings, leaning against a walking stick for support. If Danadrian’s heart wasn’t racing before, it was now.

  “Lord Eledakus, I hardly think-”

  “Please, child.” He cut her off with a wave of the hand, which was impressive to say the least.

  Their eyes met. “Good morning, sir.”

  “You are definitely not a Northern Florainian, then. They have more sense in their left boots than you.”

  He grimaced, “Am I going to be killed, or is she going to continue monologuing at me?”

  “You would do to afford her a bit more respect. She’s the niece of Lord Brakenus, and the one who has your life in her hands.”

  “Perhaps I would, but I don’t like being threatened. But it does seem I should offer the Talradians of Fordain my respect, for the expertise, if nothing else. If you will indulge me, sir, when was I found out?”

  His glass eyes, if they could, gleamed a little brighter.

  “It is as she said. You were never hidden to begin with.”

  .   .   .

  Alleria felt uneasy. That was the only way to describe it.

  She’d moved onto the front of the cart, sitting beside Velandus, watching the cobbled and stone road grow progressively less maintained as the cart rolled through the forest. They were just one of the carts to leave that day, but most moved faster than they, and so they had long ago been outpaced. He was slowly slowing down the horse so that, eventually, they would come to a stop and wait for Danadrian.

  As the distance between them and Fordain grew, and the only sound she could hear was the birds, the trees, and their own breaths, she lamented that it had all gone perfectly.

  And that was what made her feel uneasy.

  “This’s going… too well.” She muttered.

  Velandus’ head snapped to hers, “If I hear anything of that sort coming out of your mouth again, Alleria, I swear to the Creation herself I will gag you.”

  It wasn’t often he swore anything in her name.

  “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

  “There is a difference between thinking it and voicing it to the world. You are inviting trouble.”

  They continued in silence for a few more minutes before he spoke again.

  “How long did you say we would wait for him?”

  “He told me that if the sun passed through all but a quarter of the sky, and he was not here, then we should leave without him.”

  “An odd phrasing.”

  “I told him that, but he acted like it was normal.” He scrunched her face up, “Why does he interest you that much? By the end of it, he’s just a Lightbringer who favours Demons for whatever reason.”

  He shook his finger, “In and of itself, that is a rarity and worth the interest.”

  “I can’t be that hard to find.”

  “Are you not interested too?”

  She paused. There was something… off about him, something she couldn’t quite get. The way he spoke, some of his mannerisms. She had met worshippers of Mayare before, though she had never had the displeasure of engaging with the Church, but he didn’t strike her as similar to them at all.

  And then there was when she’d tried to use her sorcery on him. She could still remember the pain that had coursed through her horns. What was that, anyway? Nobody had ever done that before, and she’d never recalled any records of their powers failing them.

  Stories said that Demon Lord Elevar had even mimicked the goddess Steraf, albeit briefly.

  She heard him sigh, “Well, I for one will pray for his safety.”

  “He’s going to be getting some more first-hand experience of what it means to ally with Demons,” she snorted. “As only fools willingly do.”

  “I thank you kindly for that assessment.”

  She patted him on the back, “You’re welcome, old man. One of these days, I’ll repay you for all the trouble. How does three bars of gold sound?”

  “BAH!” He laughed, “Why on Andwelm would I need three bars of gold? No, a plot of nice farmland would be better, if you’re offering.”

  “Sounds like a nice place to retire. You could buy the farm with the gold.”

  “It’s too many steps. I would rather skip the-”

  He pulled back the reins with a jerk. The horse neighed and kicked its legs. Alleria almost toppled forward off the cart before he caught her with his free hand.

  “What are you doing?” She snapped, looking at him, “What did you see, a stag or-”

  He cursed under his breath. Actually cursed, which he almost never did.

  “I swear to Creation above, I will have you gagged for weeks after this, Alleria.”

  She followed his gaze, and a tundra froze her heart over.

  Several meters away, a lone figure stood in the centre of the road. A man, but he might as well be the suit of armour he wore. It was plates layered on plates, grey and black, lined with blue. On his head was a curving helmet, closing off all but gaps for his eyes and mouth, around which his features were obscured by cloth and shadow.

  There was a clinking noise as he stepped forward. Around his arms hung chains, wrapped like gloves, and at each side were sheathed identical blades.

  “Take the sword.”

  “No.”

  She shook herself free of the shock. Of course, he was here.

  It was all going too well anyway.

  “Is he alone?”

  “As far as I can see. This isn’t possible they said he wasn’t going to be here yet.”

  She shook her head, “We should never have underestimated him, even by a little.”

  His eyes were glued onto him as his face began to pale. The armoured man took another step forward.

  “What’s the plan, then?”

  “I distract him while you run before catching up later?”

  “That is an awful plan, he will kill you.”

  She shrugged and tried to find the nonchalant attitude she always held so close. It wasn’t there.

  “He will kill us both if we just stand here gawking.”

  She swung herself off the cart and landed on the road below. Her sword was level in front of her as she cracked her neck and stepped in front, in line with the figure. Then, as her eyes tracked his every movement, she Blinked.

  And she was Brakenus, the Demon Hunter General, leader of the Degormanus Company. A warrior of note, a Talradian of renown, and the fear of every Demon who dared to set foot here. Her heart was steel, and her strength was that of a dying race.

  “Brakenus, a pleasure as always.”

  The fog began to settle in around them.

  .   .   .

  “I knew you the moment I opened my door, you know. Are disguises not a concept where you come from?”

  Danadrian chose to ignore that last part, “Why let me go freely then?”

  Eledakus squinted, “Southern Florainian? Or perhaps an Althadorian living in Southern Floraine? I let you go freely because, as the old Western saying goes, ‘Never interrupt your enemy while he’s mucking everything up.’ And you certainly were.”

  He was doing a double shift, trying to figure out what they were saying whilst keeping his attention fixed on the real threats hovering around him. His sword had not lowered once.

  “Brakenus was on his way here with haste. How was Alleria finding that out anything but a benefit, unless…” The pieces were beginning to click together.

  “Unless that was the falsehood he perpetrated.” Keleiva finished, looking irritated that she’d been pushed out of the conversation, “I suspect that he is almost here now already, and your precious Demon will be nothing more than a head on a spike.”

  Alleria.

  Their eyes locked together as a smug look spread across her face. The old man just clicked his tongue.

  “Have I taught you nothing, child. There is a method you go about these sorts of things, and you just tossed all of them to the wayside.”

  Her head snapped to him, pale cheeks going red, “If I were informed of this…” She hissed at him before looking back at Danadrian. “Why do we still have him here, anyway? He had no use to begin with, just another loose end to be cleaned up.”

  She waved her hand, and the surrounding Talradians stepped forward. Their weapons were raised. He steeled himself, sword raised. When she turned away, he shouted.

  “Why did they do it?”

  Eledakus frowned at him, and the warriors paused. Keleiva slowly turned back, her eyes flashing dangerously.

  “What did you say?”

  “Why did they destroy Talradius. Why does their rage against you equal your very own? What makes this a feud, and not a one-sided vendetta?”

  “Feud is perhaps an incorrect term.” Eledakus said, “It would be better to call it war.”

  “That doesn’t answer it. There is a root cause to everything in this world, and I would know this one. What did you do?” he pointed at them, “to justify the slaughter that followed.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Anger, a flurry of rage, sadness, perhaps regret? Like the blood that pumped through his veins, ready for the fight to come, his curiosity burned. He wanted to know, he had to know. It was an answer he needed, come what may.

  But what he did not expect was a thin smile to creep across her face, that dead face, that face now filled with pride.

  “We gave, to all Humans, a gift not measurable in gold or silver. And for it we are condemned to die.”

  She stepped closer, shortening the gap between them as her eyes looked right into his Soul.

  “What greater price was there? Other than the blood of that which they held dearest.”

  He couldn’t blink, nor look away from her eyes.

  “We killed their God.”

  He went as still as the stone around him. Not a breath or a beat left his body.

  “You… lie. That isn’t possible.” His voice was a whisper.

  “But what greater price was there really, than the Soul of their God himself?”

  “A God… cannot die.”

  Her smile was thin, “I’m half a mind to let you live. Ask those of us who were old enough to remember that day, and you will know there is only truth there.” She leaned back and snorted, “Ignorance seems to be the telltale sign of a worshipper of the Light. Someone should tell the Carathiliar that.”

  Snickers and chuckles arose from the Talradians present.

  One, an armoured man standing to the side with his sword only half raised, snorted, “Would that his Goddess was more than a blinded wench herself. That’s what they are in the end, blinded by their own damn-”

  He snapped.

  The remark was cut off as the blunt of his blade crushed his windpipe. He flew back, rolling on the ground, before lying in a crumpled heap.

  He went entirely still.

  For a second, no one did anything at all. And Danadrian wished he could relish the shocked expressions on their faces, however brief they were.

  But he could barely see anything at all.

  For the first time within living memory, he felt a pure emotion rushing through his bones, like fire and ice, cold and ever-burning.

  Rage.

  Such things were impossible.