Max lies on the ground, tears still streaming down his face. Pain courses through his chest, not as strongly, and almost a different kind. He tilts his head slightly as the boy lies dead across from him.

  The boy's face is no longer in agony but slack and empty, his lifeless eyes cause Max to avert his gaze while the tomahawk stuck into his chest smolders.

  Max focuses on Connor Healy, who is behind the boy's body, kneeling on the ground with his head back and arms wide open. Small wisps of smoke rise off of him while an unbearable smell fills the air. The pain starts to fade, and Max forces himself to his hands and knees.

  He moves slowly, like each movement is a struggle and takes everything he has. After several deep breaths, he grabs the other tomahawk off the ground and stands. His vision blurs, and he sways lightly.

  Taking slow, staggering steps, Max tries not to fall over. It takes him a while to finally stand before the man. He would believe the man is dead or blind if his head didn’t lower slightly and his eyes, now an almost white indigo color, seem to focus on him.

  “H-how? How c-could you?” A rasp of a voice escapes Connor's mouth as he struggles to speak, let alone move his head, as Max enters his vision.

  Max doesn’t say anything; he just looks at him with anger glinting in his eyes and disgust upon his face. Connor's body almost appears to be cracking with an indigo light slightly shining out from the cracks. He doesn’t appear to be able to move. Both of his arms look completely shattered and burnt. In the middle of his chest, it looks severely cracked and sunken in with a lot of light shining out.

  Max doesn’t even know what happened to Connor's clothing or cloak; from the waist up, he is completely naked. Loosening and tightening his grip on the tomahawk in his right hand several times, Max holds his left hand across his body.

  His leather vest is torn open, and the shirt below has a round hole burned through it, the edges still faintly smoking. Through the hole, Max's bloody and raw chest is visible with a raised Ω symbol branded in the center of it.

  Conner's eyes tremble unsteadily while struggling to keep his focus on Max. Struggling to even take a breath, another rasp escapes his lips, breaking the silence. “Echthrós-”

  Max slams the tomahawk into Connor's skull, killing him. The handle shatters from the impact. Max stumbles and tries to keep his balance. The man's body begins to crumble into light, almost white, indigo dust.

  Sighing, Max lets go of his anger, hatred, and disgust before taking a deep breath. Tilting his head back, Max looks at the morning sky, his body visibly relaxing like a heavy weight has been removed from it.

  He hears movement in the distance heading towards him. Lowering his head, he sways heavily. Turning in the direction of the sound, he sees Elijah with a wound to his chest as well, limping towards him. How did he end up all the way over there? That is Max’s last thought before he falls to the ground unconscious.

  It is dark when he finally wakes up, the room barely illuminated by a single small candle. He is in a strange room that he doesn’t remember. The sounds of rain can be heard in the distance.

  Where am I? Max removes the covers and notices someone has put him in cloth pants; he is wearing nothing else. Getting to his feet, he looks out a small window. Is it night, or is it just a really bad storm? I think it may be night, but I can’t tell.

  He finds his leather pants on the chair in the corner of the room, along with his good vest and his jacket. The jacket, boots, and pants seem to have been cleaned and neatly put away. Someone cleaned them? Must have been Ganis. How long was I out for?

  He pulls on his boots and puts the vest on. Noticing how cold he is, he grabs the jacket, donning it. Pausing, he glances around the room again. My bag and weapons are missing.

  Opening the door, Max can hear voices coming from somewhere. He walks down the hallway, the voices growing less muffled and more clear. Not hearing anyone he recognizes or knowing where he is, Max feels naked and exposed with absolutely no weapons. As he turns the corner, the sight of an unfamiliar inn that doubles as a pub greets him.

  Several men are laughing and drinking at the bar while an older woman is pouring drinks. A younger lady walks between the tables and serves some food to other guests. The smell of roasting meat fills the room, even managing to overpower the pungent scent of alcohol, making his stomach growl.

  He spots Elijah and Ganis sitting in a corner drinking, and he makes his way slowly down and over to them. Glancing up from his drink, Elijah is shocked for a second. “You’re awake?” Ganis stares into his drink and doesn’t look at Max.

  “I had to wake up sometime, didn’t I?” Max rubs the back of his head; he feels weak, so he takes a seat at the table and leans heavily on it. Looking concerned, Elijah hands him his mug. Max shakes his head as he smells the alcohol. “I’ll take some food, if you have it, though.”

  Elijah waves at the barmaid to get her attention, and as she walks over, he looks Max over again. “Still, I expected you to be asleep longer than what? A day and a half?”

  The barmaid reaches the table before asking, “What will ya have?”

  “Whatever meat that is fresh and hot, a lot of it, and a tall glass of milk and honey for the boy.” The barmaid nods and turns to the kitchen, leaving them alone once more.

  “Milk and honey?” Max asks with a disgusted look on his face.

  “It should help you recover,” Elijah shrugs.

  “Now that you are awake, once you are feeling up to it, we can continue towards Ashbury.” Elijah drinks most of the alcohol in his mug and stares at the table.

  “Was any of my gear recovered?” Max cannot help but look depressed as he asks, and he figures he already knows the answer.

  “There… wasn’t much. The heat from that spell set alight whatever you had in your pack. We were able to recover your spear from where we had left it, along with your bow and arrows. The quiver also survived.”

  “After bringing you here, we thought to clean you up a bit, given the state you were in. You still had two knives and a dagger on you, along with a hammer. You carry a lot of weapons.”

  “The knife you wear on the front of your belt was damaged by the blast; the smith said it wasn’t worth trying to repair. When the spell happened, it affected all the bodies; the blades you had left in them seemed to fuse to their bodies."

  "After seeing that woman's fighting style, that was similar to yours, I took her scythes. I figure until you can get some new axes, they will be better than nothing. Ganis took all of the surviving gear to the various people to have them looked after. They should be ready in the morning.” Elijah scratches his chin, recounting the aftermath of the battle.

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  “What of my tomahawks?” Max looks at Elijah and wonders why he doesn’t mention them.

  “Ai, I know you were fond of them. I found one of them inside a boy, a little older than you, I believe he was part of the spell? The handle had burned away, and the blade had fused with his chest. There was weird energy staining the blade, but it didn’t appear to be corruption, though. I have never seen anything like it. We burned it along with the body; best not have some new evil released."

  "The one you used to finish off Connor was heavily damaged. I do not understand how, but it is almost like the half of the blade that had been in him turned to dust along with him. There was corruption on the metal, so it also had to go into the fire. I’m sorry.” He pats Max lightly on the shoulder and perks up as he sees food being brought to the table. “Here’s the grub, eat up and regain your strength.

  Max eats the food that they ordered and even forces himself to choke down the warm honey and milk concoction. They stay up for a while chatting lightly before he goes back up to his room. It doesn't take long for him to fall back asleep, even though he just woke up. Whatever that spell had been, it has left him exhausted.

  Morning comes and leaves; Max doesn't wake until almost noon. He makes another trip down into the pub. It is a stark difference from last night. The many patrons and the smell of roasting meat are gone, and only the lingering smell of alcohol remains.

  Elijah sits at the same table from the previous night while the waitress cleans around him. Approaching him, Max sits down at the table. He doesn't see Ganis about and wonders where he might have gotten off to. "Still here or already back?"

  "Hmm? Oh, Max, how are you?" Elijah looks tired with dark circles under his eyes. It takes a moment for him to focus on Max.

  "Feeling better than last night, are you okay?" He truly does feel better than he did the previous night.

  When Max woke last night, he was extremely tired and felt weak. After eating and returning to bed, he now feels a bit more like his usual self. He still seems to be more tired than he usually would be, and he is still kind of weak.

  "That is good to hear. Me? I am doing well enough." Elijah turns back, looking out the window of the inn, absently sipping his drink.

  "As I recall, you were pretty heavily wounded when I last saw you during that fight." Max presses the issue; he feels that Elijah isn't acting normally.

  "I took a powerful blow from the mage. It nearly killed me. Much like you, I am still recovering." Elijah touches his chest lightly and grimaces from the slight touch.

  Max orders some more food and sits silently at the table with him. When he notices Elijah isn't paying attention, Max brings his hand up and touches his own chest carefully. I remember being struck by the spell and the pain. God, the pain was terrible. It almost seems like a distant memory now, though. He touches his chest less gingerly.

  There doesn't seem to be any pain at all now, unlike Elijah, whose wound lingers. Did it already heal? Hell, did it even wound me, or was it just pain? He finds the raised burn and sucks his breath in. Okay, that hurts.

  What the hell is that? He tries to look down and see, but cannot make it out. About to try and figure it out by touch, he pauses and turns to Elijah. "Umm, the wound on my chest, it seems smaller than what I expected."

  Elijah turns to him and nods. "It was strange, I figured your wound would have been similar to mine, only much worse. The spell the mage had cast only struck me for the briefest of moments while you endured far longer. When we reached you, the wound appeared to already be gone, and there was just a raised symbol burned upon your chest."

  "A symbol? Can you draw it?" Now Max is very curious. Just what had the spell done to him?

  Elijah dips a finger into his drink and uses the liquid to draw the Ω on the tablet. "It doesn't appear to be as complex as the usual mage symbols or sigils. I don't think I have ever seen it before."

  Max opens his mouth and closes it a few times. Isn't that a Greek letter? Why is it a random letter? I remember seeing it in a TV show and some comics, I think. I can't really remember what it means. I can't likely just tell him it is from my world, though, can I? "I think I have seen it before, but I just can't place where."

  "Does it give you issue?" Elijah is curious as to why Max has brought it up.

  "I didn't even really remember the wound until just a moment ago, and was trying to feel and see how bad it was. I just felt the raised line, and it hurt when I touched it. I didn't even really notice it before that." Shaking his head, Max sighs.

  "That is good then, the wound I received seems odd as well. The issue is it feels as though it sapped my strength, and even though the pain has vanished, my strength isn't returning." The dark look on Elijah's face clearly shows his fear.

  Max pats him gently on the shoulder. "As you told me, it has only been a day. Your strength will return in time. Try eating something more than alcohol, and it might return faster."

  They both grin at this comment. When the food Max ordered arrives, Elijah orders some as well. It is a simple but warm and filling meal of porridge, fresh bread, and eggs, unlike the stale or preserved rations Max has become accustomed to when traveling.

  The conversation ends there, and they just silently enjoy their meals. When Max finishes, he stands and pats Elijah on the shoulder again. Elijah nods in return as Max leaves the inn.

  I shouldn't go far. I am still weak. It will do no good to simply lie about, though. Max walks slowly down the street. He is thankful for the warm beaver fur jacket as the turn in the weather seems to have dropped the temperature even lower.

  He hears a familiar sound and turns toward it. Soon, he finds himself in front of a smithy. The days of hammering metal seem so long ago, even though it has been only what? Two, no three weeks since I last worked the forge. Longer still since I did it regularly, like when I arrived at Briargate.

  Seeing the youth just standing there and staring, the smith puts down his hammer and approaches. "Is there something I can help you with?"

  "Sorry, just lost in memory." About to turn and leave, the smith reaches out to him.

  "Wait, I know you! You are the lad who helped us with those goblin monsters, aren't you?" The smith snaps his fingers and points at Max excitedly.

  Max cannot help but smile at the smith's warm and excited attitude, a stark contrast to the smith of Briargate. "Yes, me and my companions helped out. It seems far longer than four days ago. Do you mind if I look around?" He doesn't know why he asks. This isn't the smithy he worked in, but the memories still seem more vivid here.

  "Sure, go right ahead. I don't have many wares about, though most of those have been sent off already." He leads Max over to the smith and is about to show him the couple of half-finished pieces as Max turns and walks toward the forge.

  His fingers trail across the anvil. "Aye, I remember that well. I apprenticed with a smith over in Briargate. Most of our work was for order; we rarely had any just lying about ourselves."

  "You apprenticed as a smith? What brings you to Summit Oak to fight monsters?" The smith seems flabbergasted at the youth's comment.

  "I had been summoned by Baron Braye. The two companions I was traveling with and who helped with the creatures are my escort. We had only planned to stop for the night and perhaps restock on food before continuing on. We will again once we are able to travel." Max moves closer to the forge; the warmth feels good to him. "Once we make it to Ashbury, I feel I will have to find a fine smithy, like this, to spend more long hours in."

  "It is a long journey, but if you left from Briargate, then it is almost half done. I wish you and your companions well. If you hadn't been passing through, who knows what would have befallen us." The smith crosses his arms and rubs his chin, thinking about it.

  "Well, sorry for bothering you. I was just drawn by the sound of your hammering and couldn't help but remember the good times I had. I'll let you get back to work."

  The smith pats Max on the shoulder as he passes. His hand is heavy, but Max manages not to show how off-balance it makes him. "If you or your companions need anything, anything at all, just let me know. You will always enjoy a discount here with me for what yous have done."

  "I will remember and will let my companions know. Thank you, kind sir." Max makes his way back toward the inn.

  I am sure there are several things we all could use, good sir, but at the moment, I don't even know how we are paying for the inn or our food. I will have to get those scythes from Ganis and give them a try. Their owner did fight with a similar style, but I feel like the blade shape limits their use far too much. Not today, I am too weak to try them, perhaps tomorrow.

  Elijah is still sitting at the table right where Max left him, seemingly lost in thought, staring into his mug of ale. The waitress looks at Max as he enters, noticing this, Max slightly shakes his head, and she goes back to whatever it was she was doing. He pauses behind Elijah and looks at the elf's back and slumped shoulders. At a loss for what to say, Max simply turns and heads back up the stairs and down the hallway to his room.