I touched the light. It burned. So I retreated.

  I have never regretted another decision more.

  -Nathazar Vorcix

  Crelang Deonto — he still used that name, even if he did not feel it anymore — gulped down another glass of wine, sighing as he realized the cup was, once again, empty. Was it just him, or had shots gotten smaller over the centuries?

  No matter. He’d just order another. And another. Until, again, the bartender would tell him he couldn’t have any more. Then he’d burn some Purity, push the drunkenness away — most of it, but not all of it — and find a new bar. Just like he did every night. Maybe he’d even burn some Void today. With the icy wind howling outside, it seemed that kind of night.

  A man sat in the back, clean-shaven, in well-pressed black merchant robes. He was staring at Crelang, though he tried to hide it. Not uncommon, it happened when you were covered in flaming red scars. Even less uncommon in a town like this, where he’d stayed a while and gained a reputation. Still, there was something about the way the man looked at him…

  He fingered the Ever Surge waiting in a pouch at his hip. Might be best to keep an eye on that one.

  He pushed his cup across the granite tabletop toward the barmaid. A pretty woman. Not beautiful, but pretty. He hated how he noticed that, when drunk. His heart belonged to someone else. Still, the drink was better than remembering what had happened to that someone else.

  “Refill,” he grunted. “Charge it to the same ID. And give yourself a tip while you’re at it.” His account was protected from large transactions, of course. He was just curious what the woman thought she was worth, and drunk enough to entertain his curiosity.

  The barmaid came back with his drink a moment later. Her face was furrowed in concern, but she said nothing. Good. Crelang didn’t want a lecture tonight. He swallowed the shot in two quick gulps, then handed the cup over.

  “That’s all for tonight.” A lie. He was just headed to another bar. Yet good enough for the barmaid, it seemed, as she took the cup, gave him a curt nod, and wished him a good night. He could feel her eyes on his back, though, as he started out.

  And the other man. He was staring, too. Crelang could feel the Purity Surge in his pocket, pulsing with white power, even though no one could yet see it.

  Crelang turned, meeting the man’s eyes, putting on the darkest scowl he could manage.

  No searing trouble from you, he thought. Or I’ll snap that hairless neck of yours. He hoped his expression communicated his annoyance. He let his gaze linger for a moment. The man didn’t wilt. Snorting, Crelang turned and walked out the door.

  You have it coming, he thought, what comes next.

  He threw open the door to the bar, stepping into the night. The air smelled of smoke and sulfur here; he was on a mining planet. Darian, if he remembered correctly. Or was he in Kiedd? Sear him, he could barely keep track of his own memories anymore. Either way, though, he felt his skin pucker as he made his way through the chill, slightly acidic night air. The streets were near empty, and a white and teal flag hung from an archway above him. So it was a Darian planet, after all.

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  He saw a brief flash of light behind him as the bar door opened. So much for no trouble. Chuckling softly to himself, he slid his left hand into his left pocket. A Purity Surge waited there, and he Reached, pulling in the ethereal energy and using it to shift the alcohol out of his veins. Not all of it, of course. But enough. Muscles alive, mind clear, he released the rest of the Purity, then turned.

  Sure enough, the man in the black robes waited, one hand holding a filter up to his nose. Unnecessary — the miners around here got around just fine without — but those silky, ironed robes told Crelang a great deal about this man’s station.

  “The Silver Dawn isn’t welcome here,” Crelang said. He did not shout, but he kept his voice raised enough that anyone nearby could hear.

  “The Silver Dawn isn’t why I’m here,” the man said. He had begun to glow, just barely, faint enough most men probably couldn’t tell, but Crelang knew the shine of the Powers when he saw it. “Aiedra wishes to speak with you.”

  Crelang smiled. “That’s exactly what a Dawnbringer would say.”

  Forward of him, though, he noted. Probably a Seeker after all. Sear it, I told her to leave me alone.

  “Nevertheless,” the man said. “I am no Dawnbringer. I Seek the one who will bring the Light.”

  Well, easy enough to assume he’s telling the truth, for now. “I have no business with Aiedra. None, at least, that is not already long done.”

  The man slipped his hand into his robes. Touching that Surge, likely. “You misunderstand me. This is not a request. The Last Daughter of Meridian does not take kindly to runaways.”

  “Runaways.” Crelang laughed, long and loud this time. “Is that what she calls me?”

  The man’s face was firm. “That is what you are.”

  Crelang sighed, then closed his eyes. Ever? Yes, Ever would do. He Reached, hard, pulling with particular force on the man’s thoughts. He was, as Crelang had thought, a Seeker, some man from Herreon who had been approached by Aiedra after escaping Confederacy forces attempting to arrest him.

  Like Crelang had once, he believed he was on the right side. That Aiedra was who she said she was. Poor fool.

  Crelang opened his eyes, now ablaze with an azure glow. The man stepped back, eyes widening in panic for just a moment. Only a moment, though; he quickly settled back into stance.

  “Two can play at that game.”

  “Only one leaves,” Crelang noted. “Abandon this. I have no desire to kill you. You don’t even know why Aiedra wants me. We don’t need to fight.”

  The man actually hesitated at that. Then his eyes fixed on Crelang, expression firming. “Not an option.”

  He closed his eyes, Reaching. Crelang, though, didn’t give him the luxury of doing so unabated. He lashed out with Ever, sending a bolt of plasma directly into the man’s chest. He stumbled back, eyes flashing back open, the slight blue glow that had begun surrounding him vanishing. A second bolt of plasma took him in the head. He dropped to the pavement without another sound.

  Crelang stood silent for a moment, mind racing, though the thoughts that flowed through it amounted to nothing much. The Seeker’s body smoldered on the cement.

  Then, sighing, Crelang leapt into the air, burning Ever to shoot high above the little town. They’d see him, and he’d be reported, but he didn’t care; they’d find the body eventually, and that was just as condemning. He had a ship waiting just outside, and he’d be gone long before they could scramble together a party to apprehend him.

  Taking one last wistful look at the bar below — Torment, he wished he’d had the foresight to take some drinks for the road — he shot off toward that hidden ship. Wondering, in the back of his mind, why Aiedra wanted to speak to him so badly.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t caused her enough trouble already.