

THE GOLDEN LANDS

# The Golden Lands, Volume 5: Kiilda

# Published by Dominic Sceski at Smashwords

# Copyright 2016 Dominic Sceski

# Illustrations Copyright 2016 Clare Sceski

# This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Character Profile: FRANCES BEZNAR

Age: 14

Race: Femina

Height: 5'2

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Honey-brown

# It has always existed.

_Stories are no longer necessary. I have seen It with mine own eyes. It is not like a normal creature...in fact, I do not think It to be a creature, and for that reason I believe that this_ thing _is something eternal—uncreated. It does not eat. It does not sleep. It doesn't express emotion. The patterns It exhibits are so bizarre, we don't know if they are patterns at all. And despite how It can be defeated, It always comes back. And It is always different._

Other Survivors have told me of how It performed, and none of their writings completely match what I have discovered thus far. There are similarities, especially regarding the appearance of the demon. But it is impossible to gather any concrete information about the beast. It does not speak. It cannot be questioned. I don't know if It even thinks. Certainly, however, It seems to learn; It seems to know and understand. It has such power, such power I've never seen before. The other Survivors speak of Its power in a likewise manner. There is something supernatural about this beast—thus I call It a "demon". And It possesses a strange power. I don't know if we can ever hope to understand It.

Kiilda...the demon is not human. It lacks both personhood and personality. But, at the same time, the only way I can describe the creature...I struggle even to write this with reason, or proof other than my instincts...

_There is something_ godly _about Kiilda._

Wherever I try to find refuge within the alien world, Kiilda knows whither I rest my head. Each day, no matter what I do, I always wake in a different place. Things are decided for me; while within this world, I am not in control of things I would be while within the Golden Lands. And I can only assume that it is Kiilda that is responsible for the incoherency of the subworld that nearly drives me insane.

And beyond these bizarre abilities of the demon, there is another. Kiilda possesses the ability to make even Its opponents a reflection of him; cold, lifeless, entrapped in stone. And I speak not in metaphors. Be warned, whosoever would endeavor to challenge the demon. Should Its blade cut you, your skin will slowly turn to stone...stone, even as Its skin is stone.

There is only one remedy that I and the other Survivors have found. It is a stream, or a river, filled with life-giving water. It is the only thing that can cleanse one's skin of the stone-infection. Though it is never in the same place, every Survivor has found this stream. It is the only thing that enabled us to survive. It gave us power. It gave us strength. And it granted us aid from "him".

Yes, even as Kiilda controls the subworld, still "he" is present. Find the stream, you who would challenge Kiilda, and be aided by the warrior that wins every battle.

For if you don't, it is a stone casket that awaits you—a stone casket fashioned from your own infected skin.

~Jack Onendson, the Survivor

VOLUME 5: KIILDA

## CHAPTER 41

PROTAGONIST: JOHN HEDEKIRA

The force of Kiilda's first attack makes me stumble backwards, flailing my arms in an attempt to stay on my feet. I right myself just in time to block its second attack. I was expecting Kiilda to be set upon killing me; I figured that that was all It cared about. I showed up here, dangling from a chain in a giant hole in the ground, to fight to the death.

For my sister.

Nevertheless, the proficiency of Kiilda is startling. For being so large, Kiilda moves with agility and speed that even I don't possess. And of course the monster possesses strength; It is made of stone.

But there's more to it than that; there's more to the fear and sense of intimidation that is being driven into my heart. Kiilda shows no expression. Its face never changes. The monster charges after me, Its mouth hanging open, a dull, ghoulish look etched across Its face. The truth is, as I stand my ground, blocking blow after blow, I finally come to understand the inhumanness of Kiilda. The feeling is so real; the recognition cannot hold any falsity. I have experienced this _thing_ for ten seconds...and I can already sense that It isn't even alive. I can sense that It has no soul.

I feel my heart drop to my stomach. Shivering inwardly, I think to myself, _It's like It's...a doll. A body without a soul._

I deflect a slash for my face, ducking underneath my sword, and then I take a chance and stab for Kiilda's stomach. Kiilda was lunging after me, leaving Its body completely exposed. Maybe It thought that I would have been too focused on defending myself to attack. Or maybe it makes no such considerations at all. Either way, I already know my sword will meet its mark.

Kiilda pivots in the air, narrowly evading the tip of my blade. I grunt; Kiilda is right in front of me, past my guard, Its sword held at the ready. The red eyes of the monster bore me; Kiilda's gaze is so intense, I can't look away. As It closes in on me, I feel as if I am locked in place.

And then Gus's words return to me, the man who warned my about the things Kiilda could do. _Don't let him cut you!_ I mentally scream to myself.

I drop to the ground, falling backwards and somersaulting away from Kiilda. Right as I do, Kiilda uppercuts, holding his blade with two hands. The attack could split my head in two. As I descend into my backwards somersault, I watch his black blade flash right past my face. My eyes widen with shock, but at the same time, relief sweeps through me; I almost died. Almost.

As I duck into my somersault, Kiilda leaps over me to avoid tripping. Immediately as I rise, I bolt forward in the opposite direction. Kiilda is at my back, but I want to place distance between us before I turn around to confront It. As I sprint, more of Gus's advice returns to me. _"Kill Kiilda quickly. Don't let Kiilda cut you; Its blade turns flesh into stone."_

The sound of Kiilda's heavy footsteps seem to echo in my ears, and Its coming seems to make the ground tremble. I whirl around dropping to my knee, and I position my sword horizontally above me, holding near the tip of the blade with my left hand for support. Kiilda's over-the-head attack comes crashing down on my blade. I grit my teeth, a tremor shooting through my arms.

Kiilda stares down at me, directly at my eyes. Ever since I arrived, It hasn't looked anywhere else. I fight back against Kiilda's strength, staring back defiantly. I grunt and push, trying to hold the monster's weapon back. But then I can no longer return its stare; and after that, I can no longer hold back Its attack. How can I stare back with sanity into the eyes of a monster that isn't even _alive_? How can I match the strength of a demon made of stone?

This beast lacks a soul. It lacks personality. It shows no emotion; It is not frustrated. It is not tired. It is not even alive.

And yet, as I fight back against the might of this dead warrior, I find myself wondering desperately, _Who am_ I _against this beast?_

I've had success with it before; I let Kiilda come forward, somersaulting backwards. I escape Its blade, and land on my feet. Kiilda has already lunged after me, Its blade arcing for my head. My foot slides in a semi-circle as I sidestep the attack. Right at that moment, Kiilda's arms are extended, directly in front of me. I swing my sword up and around my head, gaining momentum, and with a cry that allows me to pour my fear and bewilderment into this strike, I cut down with all my might.

My sword collides with Kiilda's right wrist...but I penetrate nothing. My sword rebounds off of the stone. I grunt; _Dammit!_ I think, fear shooting through me.

Kiilda leans backwards, and to my surprise, Its foot comes upwards and quickly kicks me away, landing the blow right on my abdomen. I groan, the attack so strong—inhumanly strong—I fly through the air. I hit the ground once, and then roll, and then again. I feel myself losing grip of my sword.

Disconcertedness and terror make time slow. I hover over the enormous hole in the ground from which I entered this world, the deepness and blackness looming beneath me. I feel my sword begin to slip, about to fall into the darkness below, but as I roll in the air, I clasp the end of the hilt with all my might. Time seems to speed up once again, and I cross over remaining distance of the hole, the speed of my body carrying me to safety. I role and bounce myself up to my feet as I land. I inhale and exhale deeply, attempting to get in as many breaths as possible. That was close.

I've never fought a battle like this before. I've been in bad situations; the odds have been against me. I've been the one that was supposedly weaker. But this is a new, strange world, and this is a new, _powerful_ creature.

_No...not a creature,_ my instincts tell me.

Kiilda is the god of this world.

I don't know why, but in response to that thought, the Word comes to mind. And so does "he": a mystical lender of strength...the most powerful warrior that ever lived. I bow my head in determination, glaring, and I clench my blade tighter. "Let's just see about that!" I roar.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

My feet thud gently as I walk down the dark corridor in Castrum Fortress. I'm not trying to be quiet, but the darkness makes me feel as if I shouldn't be loud. Also, I don't want to disturb anyone; this is the infirmary of Castrum Fortress, and I know that there are many warriors here recuperating from the attack on Howaito Maki. Of course, that's part of the reason why I'm here; I came to visit someone. In my hands I carry two small cakes that I baked down in the kitchen. The chefs offered to make them for me, but I didn't think it would mean as much if I hadn't baked them myself.

I come to a halt before the room I'm looking for and, still holding the cakes, I knock on the door as adequately as I can. "Come in," I hear someone say. With only a little difficulty, I manage to grasp the doorknob and let myself in.

I'm glad I have the right room. I smile softly as I enter to a girl sitting upright in her bed, who looks both weary and well-rested. She smiles softly back at me. Her name is Frances Beznar; she's a captain of Castrum Fortress and daughter of Lord Beznar, ruler of the castle. She looks small, nestled beneath her covers in a white robe, her face etched with a steady drag of pain and exhaustion. Nonetheless, I know firsthand that her appearance is deceiving. She is a captain for a reason. I've never seen such a skilled female warrior. And she's even younger than I.

"Hey, Frances," I say, making sure my voice isn't too loud. I approach her bed.

"Hey, Faith," she smiles wearily back at me. She sits up a little straighter as I reach her bed.

"How are you feeling?" I ask. I know it's a silly question; of course she's in pain. But I'm inquiring to be considerate.

She manages to shrug slightly, answering, "It doesn't feel great. I'm lucky that Ashida found me when he did. I don't think I would've made it, had it not been for him."

"You were lucky to have survived at all anyway," I agree. The day of the battle, Frances had fought the Gray Captain, one of the most powerful Evil in Howaito Maki. She won, but nearly died in the process. When Bernard and I found her and Ashida, she was already unconscious. She had been stabbed right through the stomach. It's more than luck that she survived; it's a miracle. "I'm sure you must be tired," I say, "but I just wanted to visit you and give you one of these." I extend one of the cakes to her.

"Oh, thanks!" she says, seeming genuinely grateful, accepting the cake. "Did you make these yourself?"

"Mhm," I say. I've always been good at cooking and baking; I learned when I was little, and it's always been a helpful skill. I used to live on my own too, so I've had plenty of reason to practice it.

"Have you seen Ashida at all?" Frances asks, looking up from the cake.

"No, not yet," I say. "That's who this is for." I gesture, indicating the remaining cake in my left hand.

"All right," Frances smiles again, "thank you again."

I understand the gentle nudge. "Good-bye," I say. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," she says in a small voice.

I turn away from her and exit the room, closing the door behind me gingerly.

Satisfied with my visit, I continue down the hallway until I find Ashida's room. He wasn't injured as badly as Frances; in fact, he was far more stable. But, having battled the Black Captain—another supernaturally powerful monster—he was still in need of medical attention. I rap on his door twice, hoping that he's not asleep. There's a moment of hesitation, but then I hear his voice say, "Come in."

I tentatively push the door open, stepping my way in with as much serenity and placidity as I can muster. In general, it isn't unreasonable for me to visit Ashida. But my relationship with him is very different from my relationship with Frances. The first reason being that he is a man, of course, and a full-grown one. But he is also a high-ranking warrior of Castrum Fortress; a mage, in fact. He is above me, so to speak, and I wonder how much my visit will mean to him. Perhaps, he might even be annoyed. Yet, I've been determined to come to him; he has been profoundly helpful to me and John and Bernard. Without him, we wouldn't have been able to rescue Frater, John's little brother.

Nonetheless, there is another cause that encourages me to feel awkward and shy—even fearful—around him. Ashida had been the one to inspire an attack against Howaito Maki. I only learned recently that his main drive wasn't just to wipe out the Evil remaining in the city; it was also to rescue his wife, one of the many prisoners that the Evil were holding. However, despite much searching, she was nowhere to be found. Ashida, quite understandably, became increasingly frustrated. It is more than just physical wounds that keep him isolated and out of commission.

"Faith," Ashida says, a small smile touching his lips...but the smile doesn't touch his eyes.

"Hello, sir," I say, stepping deeper into the room. "I wanted to stop in and see how you were doing. I also made you something down in the kitchen."

His smile broadens a little. "Did you now? That's very kind of you."

Part of me feels glad for the success of my visit and our little conversation. But another part of me is urging me not to overstay my welcome; to race away, as soon as it seems fitting. I approach his bed, "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," he states. He accepts the cake. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." He raises his chin.

I turn to leave, about to step through the doorway, when I hear him say behind me, "Faith, have you heard any word of John?"

I look back at him, frowning and averting my eyes. I feel a shiver run through my chest, and my heart seems to beat a little harder with anxiety. "No," I say. "Not yet." I meet the scout's eyes.

His eyes are so dull, filled with a grayness and sorrow that makes me grimace inwardly. But there also remains in them a look of sincerity. "You shouldn't worry," he tells me. "John is strong. He'll make it out alive."

I turn back towards the hallway, agreeing solemnly, "Yeah."

I close the door behind me.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

For the first time, Kiilda has to block _my_ attacks. But It's obnoxiously quick. I can't seem to pin It down; not before It performs a move of such dexterity, I never would've expected a being of that size could move so nimbly. I cut back and forth, our swords ringing against each other, and then I slash sideways for Its legs. The demon leaps over my sword, landing with a dull _thud_ , and then It sprints towards me. The black blade of the monster whistles through the air as It swings first for my right shoulder, and then It loops Its sword back around, attacking my left shoulder. I deflect both blows, huffing tiredly. I don't know how long I can keep this up. _"Defeat Kiilda quickly."_ Gus's words...

But how?!

I fear what it will cost me; I know it _has_ to be possible for me to kill Kiilda. There has to be a way. But, as for now, it seems like the only way possible would be for me to put myself in a position dangerously close to the demon. I would have a shot; in spite of how formidable and flawless Kiilda _seems_ , there _are_ openings. I just can't get there fast enough. And maybe I could get there...it just might cost me my arm. But if I lose my arm, I might die...and then all of this would have been in vain. No, I need to find a way to hit Kiilda without becoming dismembered.

My shoulders burn, screaming for rest, my body aching for a pause in the action. I slowly become aware that my exhaustion is affecting my attacks; I don't pull back my sword as quickly as I should be after striking. Rather, I tend to allow my sword to land against Kiilda's, and I let it balance there before eventually deciding to attack again. I know that this weak style of fighting, incarnated by my fatigue, must stop. I blink quickly, my vision blurring as sweat drips into my eyes, and I jerk my head to the side, sending droplets of perspiration away through the air. For a moment, I halt. I stand there, my legs spread in a defensive position, my feet planted solidly in the ground, and I gasp heavily, trying to regain my breath. I allow my sword to sink towards the ground, lowering my arms out of weariness. And, to my surprise, Kiilda waits, even as I do.

_What's It doing?_ I think, squinting at the demon. Of course, I'm glad for the period of respite. But I don't trust the stillness. I don't trust anything in this subworld. Should I wait for it to attack? Should I try to regain as much of my strength as I can? Or will waiting mean something worse?

I find myself shifting my weight forward, as if my body has chosen to attack. Guess I'm not waiting.

Kiilda shoots forward, Its speed greater than I anticipated. At that moment, I understand how slow I really am. Kiilda enables me to cognize my own weakness by revealing Its strength. I regained no strength, no speed during the brief interval Kiilda permitted me to rest. I only fooled myself to think that I was ready to challenge It again.

I mentally shiver; maybe that was what Kiilda _wanted_ me to think. _The god of this world..._

I can't help but give in to what I see is coming. I flinch, momentarily blinking, as if that will somehow help me avoid the lightning-quick uppercut. It doesn't. Kiilda's black blade rips through the top of my left arm.

I bite down hard, pressing my teeth together for a moment, but then I scream, falling backwards. My sword plummets to the grass below, and my right hand goes to the incision made on my arm. I grunt, pain shooting through my arm and shoulder, and I begin to feel nauseous. I spare a look at the wound, even though I'm certain Kiilda is about to strike; I'm certain this will mean my death.

The cut isn't terribly deep; but something about the gash—like all of Kiilda's attacks—exudes a sense of eerie perfection. There's something so precise and even intentional about the wound; Kiilda hit me exactly how It wanted, where It wanted, and Its sword-stroke followed through in total compliance.

I look up, blood beginning to run down my right arm and pool in the grass beneath me. Kiilda is there, Its sword clasped with both hands, and It stares down at me.

But It doesn't attack.

Wind tears across the grass, and the sky begins to twist. I suddenly feel faint, and it's not just from my wound. Kiilda seems to fade away into the spinning and swirling colors, and right before I fall unconscious, I wonder, "Did I just win?"

## CHAPTER 42

My eyes gently open. For a moment, I sigh, feeling peace. The boughs of some kind of trees hang above me, shading me and seeming to seclude me from harm, keeping me safe. The grass beneath me is plush and comfortable, the best natural mattress I have ever had the pleasure of laying on. I don't know where I am. But I feel content to not know; to enjoy this silence, and this peace...

Then pain flares in my arm, and I lurch forward, nausea and panic seeming to fill my stomach simultaneously. "Shoot!" I gasp breathlessly, turning my attention to the wound on my arm. I can only regard it for a moment before raising my head to the sky, desperately searching for something, something to look at, something to hear, something to think of that will distract me from my pain. Why does it hurt so bad? I've suffered worse wounds before, haven't I?

" _Kiilda's blade turns flesh into stone."_

I cast a frightful glance back at the gash. It doesn't seem like it has begun turning to stone; in fact, I can still move it. It hurts more than anything, but my range of motion is actually quite decent.

How did I get here? That seems like an important question, based upon what seemed to happen to Kiilda. Right after cutting me, It seemed to vanish. Is this the Gray Lands? Did I successfully make it through Kiilda?

A feeling in my gut tells me that I shouldn't get too excited. There's no way I somehow beat Kiilda; that would've been too easy. In fact, I did nothing that _would've_ hurt Kiilda. Fear and anxiety cloud my mind as much as my pain does; it's not over.

I feel weak; I feel like I can't take this pain any longer. Why am I here? What am I doing? Why would I even think to challenge Kiilda? For Soror? _Heh,_ I think, _what was I thinking? How in the hell was I supposed to help her?_ I feel sick to my stomach, and without needing any further prompting from my body, I sit up and vomit. I gasp after I finish. "Dammit," I swear under my breath. "How am I going to do this?"

I raise my head to the sky.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

There's not much to do at Castrum Fortress. Well, maybe that isn't true. Castrum Fortress lost nearly all of its warriors in the attack on Howaito Maki. The invasion was successful; it just cost the people so much. The community seems to have become depressed...and understandably so. Families lost fathers or mothers, husbands or wives, brothers or sisters.

At the same time, there is much joy. Much relief. The prisoners of Howaito Maki have been rescued, and many families were happily reunited. It's been beautiful to see lovers meet once again, children run back to their parents, and friends return from their captivity. I'm glad I could help be a part of this movement; the movement that endeavors to make a society whole once again.

I step out of the infirmary, walking through the lower bailey. Maybe there's something I can do; something or someone I can help. Although I'd much rather be helping John, or even traveling with him and Bernard again, I have to admit that my abilities are still of use here.

I should be getting back to Frater too. Ever since John left—and Soror was taken—, Frater has obviously been very uncomfortable. From what I've heard from John, both Frater and Soror were something of introverts. It seems like it's all Bernard and I can do to feed the little boy. He doesn't want to play with any of the other boys; he doesn't want to leave the keep. It's actually sad to see him like that. In all honesty, I really think that the only remedy Frater needs is his family. And neither I nor Bernard can provide that.

This is a broken world...

I'm not sure where that thought comes from; I can't say that I'm usually the type of person to ask "big questions" or make comments concerning the nature of the world. But it's true; the more I think about it, the more I discover how warped and distorted the world is. I don't mean the world as a whole; obviously, the Gray Lands and the Dark Lands have been ravaged by the presence of the Evil, with the human peoples gradually acting in a likewise manner. But these are the Golden Lands. This is supposed to be a place of joy and happiness. Yet I just don't _feel_ that way anymore. It must be the Evil; they are making this world gray.

That's the way the Evil work, I think. Before turning something dark, they always make it gray.

"Hey, Faith," I hear someone say behind me and to my right. I look over my shoulder, and then stop, grunting inwardly. Tarsh Landid approaches me, walking casually with his head bowed and hands in his pockets. He's not even looking at me as he steps; I guess this is his way of being cool.

Okay, it's sort of working; he is cool. But I still feel too awkward around him to feel anything _good_ about him.

"Hey, Tarsh," I reply. I'll talk to him and maybe give him some company out of politeness, but...

"Visiting someone in the infirmary?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer, continuing to walk forward. "Frances Beznar, Lord Beznar's daughter, and Ashida Elrono, a scout who helped us enter Howaito Maki."

"Ah," Tarsh remarks, continuing to pace through the lower bailey with me.

The people of Castrum Fortress were hesitant to accept Tarsh into their castle; Tarsh is, after all, the former Ghost of Hedekira. The Ghost of Hedekira was the name Tarsh had earned for himself during his search for John; it had been his goal to find John and kill him out of vengeance. Before doing that, however, he had set about destroying John's reputation, killing lots of people in the act. It was only because Tarsh saved the army of Castrum Fortress with a surprise attack against the Evil that the citizens decided to let him stay at the castle.

I agree with their decision. I believe that he's changed. I don't know what happened to him, or what caused him to change, but he did. And I'm glad for that.

But there's a rift in our relationship. He killed my brother.

I already forgave him. He had been dying of an arrow wound to the chest, an arrow which had been en route to pierce Frater—John's little brother—in the head. As he sat there dying, he had apologized...and sincerely. In fact, he might have even thought that his apology would've been the last thing he ever said. So, during his last moments, I forgave him.

He didn't die, however. I...healed him, somehow. I haven't been able to repeat it; actually, I still don't even know _how_ I did it. I just grabbed his hand, attempting to give him some comfort before he passed on, and then a blue light began to shine from where our hands were clasped. A few moments later, he was perfectly healed.

I've sensed that this encounter would have to happen. I saved him; in fact, I might be the only person here that's done anything genuinely kind for him. Of course he would seek me out, eventually. And now he's found me.

"How bad were they hurt," Tarsh breaks the silence, "the captain and the scout?"

"Pretty bad," I answer. "Frances had a bunch of cuts, and she had been stabbed through the stomach. Ashida has a few broken bones. Frances is lucky to have survived."

"Did you heal her?"

I stop, grunting. "No, I didn't," I reply. I look sidelong at him, "You're the only person that I've healed."

He looks at me with his bright, icy blue eyes. "I have a hard time believing that."

I feel like he knows that I'm not lying. I was talking about healing people with whatever power I used on him. He ignored that, however. I guess it was a rather thoughtful comment. "Well, actually," I chuckle, "I guess I have healed John several times. The first time was when he—" I pause, suddenly feeling awkward.

"When he got his ass kicked by me," Tarsh says matter-of-factly. There is no arrogance or hostility in his voice.

"Right," I reply, disregarding the vulgarism of his statement for the moment. "Then there was the time when we ran into some Evil in the forest, and I helped him with a shoulder wound. Well, we helped each other. I'd be willing to bet John will need someone to help him with whatever wounds he acquires while fighting Kiilda."

"Yeah," Tarsh agrees. We keep on walking, and then Tarsh says, "I feel like we didn't know each other when I was younger. How old were you when you came to Aran?" He names the town where I had been living before I decided to join John on his quest.

"Fifteen," I answer. "I only lived there a year before I met John."

"I see," he nods. "That makes sense."

We keep on walking. Gradually, the awkwardness builds up again. I feel like I want to say something to him, and he wants to say something to me, but we just don't know how to speak to each other. That, or we just don't know if each other is comfortable with talking, and that's making us both feel uncomfortable. I think the moment is as discombobulating as that notion.

Then Tarsh finally speaks, "Faith, I—"

A horn sounds from the southern-most turret of the castle. For a moment, there is silence. Then we hear the sound of clanking footsteps. Soldiers are beginning to run towards the walls. Or whatever soldiers we have left. Tarsh and I exchange a glance, and then together we hurry to join the soldiers. _What now?_

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

The white clouds above us part, and sunlight breaks free and shines across the field. Wind tears through our ranks, ruffling the grassy plain before the tall dark fortress. From what we can tell, it is the people of the fortress that we are concerned about; the white city opposite the dark castle is seemingly empty.

My spikey, shoulder-length black hair flits into my eyes as another gust of wind surges across the plain. I shift uncomfortably, looking up and to my right to where our leader stands on a rock above everyone else. I frown. Or maybe it's closer to a glare. I don't know how much I trust her.

Cupping the stub of her arm with her free hand, our leader is—

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

Tarsh and I simultaneously grunt. _You..._

Castrum Fortress is completely pinned down. Dotting the field in somewhat orderly ranks are hundreds of brown-clad warriors. And at their helm—standing above the infantry on a boulder—is a figure with long flowing hair, a look of ferocity and wrath, and a headband tied about her head, designating her as the leader. And with her right hand...she clutches the stub of her elbow on her left arm.

My stomach sinks. _The Brown Bandits...._

They were the squadron of bandits my brother, Karr, had been leader of. After Tarsh—as the Ghost of Hedekira—attacked them and killed Karr, John defeated him and the Brown Bandits captured him, in hopes of executing him. And there was no one who desired to kill Tarsh more than my brother's second-in-command, a woman named Sharon.

But then John rescued Tarsh before he could be executed; he thought Tarsh could change. And it seems that John was right. But now the Brown Bandits are here.

And from the looks of it, they aren't planning a raid.

I feel Tarsh shift anxiously beside me. I look over at him, and for a moment our eyes meet. "What do you think they want?" a soldier besides us asks to another guard.

In a voice only I can hear, I hear Tarsh reply, "I know what they want." Then he stands erect and turns to depart the battlements.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

My frown intensifies, truly turning into a suspicious glare. Without removing my gaze from Sharon, I reach behind me and place my hand on the shoulder of my sister. I don't know completely why I do it. Maybe it's to reassure her; maybe it's in preparation to direct her away from here. Maybe it's to calm myself, to remind me of my purpose.

I don't like Sharon. _Why are we_ really _here?_ I think.

I release my rebellious stare from Sharon; it could be dangerous for me even to be seen making such a face at her. I don't want her supporters to find out, whoever and wherever they are. There wasn't much opposition when Sharon declared herself leader of the Brown Bandits. I can't say I would know why. Both my sister and I aren't very highly ranked amongst the rest of the bandits, so none of that knowledge really ever gets passed down to us. Or at least any concrete knowledge. We just get the rumors. And I don't know how safe it would be to snoop around for answers. I can't say I care that much about the politics of the Brown Bandits, or who's in charge...

...unless their about to make us invade a castle full of innocent people for a reason they haven't even told us yet.

I'm just here to provide for my sister. That's the only reason I serve amongst the Brown Bandits.

Serve? I snort to myself. I should feel ashamed to use that term. I should've used "steal".

"Aethyer, what is it?" Adelynn asks, gently touching my forearm, even as I still rest my hand on her shoulder.

Adelynn—I prefer to call her "Addy"—is my twin sister. Technically she's my senior...by a few minutes. We never knew our parents. Rather, we were raised by a sweet old lady in the eastern region of the Golden Lands. Life was great back then. Images flash in mind of our old farm, on the edge of a super diminutive village. Sitting on the russet, wooden fence around our yard. Grass, green and plush. Pleasant, gentle hills. Forests tall but generously wide and clear.

But nothing good will last forever...not in this world, anyway. I'm kind of a pessimist. Thus I earned a rather stern surname... _Grim_.

And why shouldn't I be?

The Evil destroyed everything good that we ever knew. The kind, elderly woman that we loved. Our village. Our peace.

Peace was something we didn't have for a long time in our early childhood. We didn't know why we didn't have parents. We couldn't understand every question about our life, our family, or where we came from. It bothered us, even when we were little.

After the Evil attacked, it was time for action. We joined the Brown Bandits out of desperation. Even though we knew that this band of thieves was up to no good, we needed their resources. And also, I personally needed something else they offered, something of greater value: experience.

That's the only reason why I'm still here. I want to fight the Evil. But I don't want to be like some idiot that goes after his enemies before knowing a thing about battling or combat. I'm using the Brown Bandits to train, and become stronger.

But I've always known that I've been playing their games too long. This all needs to stop. We're hurting other people. We're stealing from them. And now, we're about to do it again. When the time comes, I'll make my choice. I brusquely turn away from Sharon, walking past Adelynn, my cloak flapping loudly in response. "Come on," I answer my sister. Slowly, she turns after me and follows.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

"Tarsh!" I call after the tall, teenaged guy, exiting off the steps that lead to the top of the wall. He stops for a moment, to my pleasure. But he doesn't turn back to me. He waits, staring tersely at the ground. "What are you going to do?" I ask as I reach him.

He breathes; I can tell he is anxious, but grimly determined. "Whatever I have to," he answers.

Boys are such blockheads. As if that explained anything. "What does that mean?" I say. I can tell my questions are starting to annoy him, as if he's intently trying to focus on whatever he's got planned.

"Faith," he replies, looking away from me to his left, "why do you think those bandits are here?"

I think he knows what the answer is...and he is positive I know the answer too.

"They're looking for you," I answer honestly. It makes sense. Karr's second-in-command suffered a serious wound from Tarsh, and she had intended to execute him. Yet, as far as she knew, he escaped. She never seemed like the person that would forgive and forget so easily.

"I'm certain of it," Tarsh agrees. He sighs again.

"Well, what are you thinking?" I ask.

He frowns, looking at the ground again. "Faith...I should've died. After John tried to help me, I ran away, intending to kill myself. I broke my mask, wanting to be free of it during the last moments of my life. But then someone showed up; someone found me in the forest. And I think he had been looking for me. I didn't see who it was; I didn't allow myself to look. I thought it was Fate, coming to kill me. But somehow, he healed me. All he said was 'Peace be upon you'. And after I was healed, he left me and rode away." He turns to look at me, and our eyes meet. "I was given a second chance, Faith. I'm not going to run away, or make anything difficult for Castrum Fortress. I've ruined enough lives."

The words fill my mouth immediately: "That's so brave of you!"

But that's not what I say. I can't let the words out; for some reason, I flush, and look away. I say nothing. Stupid...what am I doing? I should say something in response to that!

Now too much time has passed, I think. It would be weird to reply now. _Why am I thinking this through so much?_ I berate myself.

Tarsh breaks the awkward silence, starting forward again through the lower bailey, "Hopefully, they'll at least state what they want before raiding. There shouldn't have to be any bloodshed."

"Yeah," is all I can muster to say, hurrying to keep pace with him.

"I think we should find Lord Beznar and tell him that they most likely want me," he continues.

I stop. "What?" I say. "Why would you do that?"

"Don't you get it?" he halts and looks over his shoulder at me. "If I hand myself over to them, then they won't have to attack anyone. I'm the one they want, and they can have me." He returns his gaze to straight-ahead. "I probably deserve it, after all."

"No you don't!" I state. "You've changed. You saved all of those soldiers in Howaito Maki and you saved Frater. They have no right to kill you for things you've done in the past."

"Don't they?" he says. I don't think it's a question that he will let me answer.

I don't follow him this time as he sets out again in the direction of the keep. I watch him go, my heart beating quickly with trepidation. _Why is he like that?_ I think, frustrated.

## CHAPTER 43

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

I burst out of our back door, looking for them in the backyard. First I feel hope, right as I exit our home. And then despair. Deep, sinking despair, and confusion. They aren't here, just as they weren't in the house.

Soror and Frater are just waking up. I don't want them to know about this. I don't want them to know about what I fear is happening. I run as fast as I can into the woods behind our home, my gaze whipping back and forth as I try to look for them. Eventually, I can contain myself no longer. "Dad!" I call. "Mom!"

It's so dark for sunrise. Shadows cling to the trees around me. No birds are singing. But it's not completely still. Rather, a cold wind sweeps through the forest, sending a chill through my bones—a chill into my heart.

" _Mom!" I scream. Where are they? Where are they? They would have told us if they were going somewhere, wouldn't they have?_

" _Dad," I say again, my arms hanging limp in hopelessness. I wait for a response, desperately pleading with the world to hear an answer._

Silence.

It's hard to forget those memories. But I have to ignore them. They make me feel too emotional. So I push them down again.

My arm has stopped hurting. I find that odd, but I'm too happy to be free of the pain to care. I didn't bandage the wound, because I still want to keep an eye on it, and besides, it's stopped bleeding. I'm waiting to see if it will happen; I want to know if Kiilda's blade will actually turn my flesh to stone.

Or then again, maybe I _don't_ want to know.

It's no longer the pain that I'm worried about, consequently. Kiilda's blade turns flesh into stone. When will it happen? And how? Dammit! I don't know enough. I don't know enough to be in this fight. Will I just drop dead? Will it happen slowly?

I need to win, and fast. I need to find Kiilda, and I need to kill It.

"... _you must find the 'river of water'."_

I breathe, looking up again at the sky. I've been wandering through this forest, trying to find my way out. It's dark in here; not terribly dark, or so dark that I can't see properly. Just enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Like the darkness is hiding something. The trees are thick, and their branches are low, and yet long. There's a decent amount of spacing in between the trees, which is helpful for me to be able to peer throughout the depths of the woods, watching for Kiilda. But there's still too much gloom...too much shadow.

I've successfully found a way to watch my back, or a way that eliminates the possibility of being flanked. I've found one of the mountains I perceived right upon entering Kiilda, and I intend to remain close to it. The sturdiness of the rock gives me a sense of security, and now I no longer need to be glancing back and forth, expecting Kiilda to appear from any side. Maybe I shouldn't be worrying. Why would Kiilda want to fight me here?

Maybe that's what It wants me to think. Maybe It wants to wait, to allow me to grow lax, and then It will strike. Or perhaps It wants me to turn to stone first. There may not even be a reason for It to strike again; perhaps I'm already on my way to a cold, stiff, stony death.

I push that thought out of my mind. "No," I tell myself, "I'll find Kiilda." I grip my wound, endeavoring to feel strong. "I can do this."

Something moves in the woods.

I flick my head in the direction of the movement, raising my sword, my eyes wide with alert. There's nothing. Not a sound. And utter stillness.

_I know I just saw something,_ I think, my heart beginning to race.

Suddenly, the idea of Kiilda about to attack me doesn't just make me nervous. Kiilda—an image of the demon's expressionless, yet unholy face flashes in my mind. Its red, intently-focused eyes. I swallow, and I suddenly begin to feel hot. "Dammit," I whisper.

I feel my heart drop to my stomach. A startling realization enters my mind. _I don't know if it's true,_ I think in a quivering voice, _but...Kiilda, this world...it's just a hunting ground for the monster. I'm just another of the thousands of prey It consumes every time someone enters. No wonder It knows where to find me. No wonder It seems to control this place. No wonder It's impossible to beat._ I swallow again.

I can't take it. All of a sudden, I don't feel so brave anymore. I don't feel so determined. In fact...I feel like screaming, throwing down my sword, and running away.

But I don't. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I know that if I do, I'll be exposed. Maybe then It will attack.

Or maybe because there's still a part of me that wants to fight.

" _Grasp that thought,"_ the words enter into my mind, _"and don't let it go."_

My teeth grit, so hard I commence shaking. "No," I say under my breath. I clench my sword, so hard my arms quiver. "No," I say again, louder this time. I push the fear out of my mind. I stand erect. "No!" I shout into the forest. "If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get!" I brandish my sword, crying out, "Come and get me, you monster!"

I feel alive. Where is this coming from? A moment ago I was terrified. Then I had a single, empowering thought. And now I feel power rushing through me. I don't know where it's coming from. But I've needed this. And now it's been given to me.

I grin challengingly and breathe, my determination renewed. "This is who I am," I say to myself, aloud. "This is knighthood. I understand that now. And for every Knight..."

—Movement again, flitting through the forest, dashing towards me—

"...there's always a monster!"

Kiilda lunges from amidst the boughs of the trees, soaring towards me. I watch him come, smiling and tightening my grip on my sword. "All right," I say as the beast descends. "Let's go again!"

Kiilda slams Its sword down for me. Normally, I would've raised my blade, positioning it horizontally, intending to intercept my opponent's sword with my own. But I'm smarter than that. This isn't a human. This isn't just an Evil. This is Kiilda.

I swerve, bobbing my head and sidestepping the blow. Kiilda's blade flashes through the space where I just stood. Before It can attack again, I strike, crying out with my first strike, then grunting with the three that follow. I don't force Kiilda back, which frustrates me, but I'm holding my own. Kiilda sees an opening, slashing for my right side, but I dance backwards, aware that the stone mountain is at my back. Kiilda charges me, forcing me backwards, endeavoring to pin me down. Its sword comes singing through the air horizontally, and I'm forced to raise my sword vertically and block the attack. I grunt, a jolt running through my arms.

For a moment, we parry. Then Kiilda surges against me, stepping forward with powerful steps, about to shove me into the rock at my back. "No you don't!" I say through clenched teeth. I allow myself to get shoved backwards, even as I push against Kiilda's sword with my own. Anchored by the pressure Kiilda is exerting on me, and the pressure I'm exerting on It, I run backwards up the rock behind me, only to flip up into the air over Kiilda's head. I aim a strike as I somersault over him, but Its sword flashes towards me, and I'm forced to twist in the air. Its sword misses my right eye by less than in inch.

I land on my feet, tucking into a crouch, and I spin, gaining my momentum, and I sweep my blade into Kiilda's legs.

There's a clarion ring, but my sword rebounds against Its stone legs.

I bite back a curse. "Damn...you!" I say dodging two attacks. I thought I had him! Isn't there anywhere I can hit It that isn't made of stone? _But I think I know something now,_ I think as I dance backwards, into the depths of the forest. _Kiilda doesn't do well with fancy moves!_

I allow my back to be exposed as I run away from Kiilda, deciding on a course of action. I dart towards a tree. This is going to be risky. Everything I'm about to do will be risky. But maybe that's the only way this will work; it's the only way I can win.

I jump and push off of a tree, flying backwards to Kiilda who pursues closely behind. I spin in the air and slash, right for Kiilda's head. I don't know if Kiilda was prepared for the move. But I somehow feel like It hasn't encountered such an attack before, to say the least. Nevertheless, It raises Its sword, deflecting my attack. I land a mere foot away from the demon, dangerously close. I'm about to strike, taking advantage of this opportunity, but Kiilda is too fast. It stabs at my face, and I am forced to lean back, watching the black blade lurch over me. Kiilda retracts Its sword, and I stand upright again, only to have to block a lightning-quick slash for my left hip. I dance away, back into the forest.

A new plan forms in my mind; I have to get rid of Its weapon. If I can do that, at least for a moment, I can aim a shot for the one spot I'm hoping the demon is vulnerable in. In spite of how fear-inducing Kiilda's eyes are, I'm counting on them to be Its one weakness.

I pivot as I hear the beast come close to me, and I successfully turn about just in time to deflect two cuts for my chest. I fight with my back against a tree; I know it's dangerous, but I need to get Kiilda to miss me and accidentally lodge Its sword in one of the woods. I feint, trying to bait the beast. Yet, It doesn't react to my movements. It's like It's focused solely on Its own sequence of attacks, and It doesn't care what I do to interrupt that sequence.

That being said, if Kiilda is genuinely intent on killing me, but at the same time It is also invincible, why does the demon even try to block? I've landed blows on it twice now, and my sword has rebounded off of the beast's stone body. So why even worry about defense?

Kiilda cracks down once, then twice. I nearly drop my sword each time It strikes, but I force myself to maintain grip and stand upright. The monster batters me again, Its expression lifeless and dull, but Its movements powerful and violent.

Then it happens—what I've been waiting for. I back up as I see the demon give up on hacking and draw back Its sword for a stab. My back hits the tree, and Kiilda's black blade shoots right for my eye.

But I flick my head to the side, and the monster's sword impales the tree behind me. There is no look of surprise on the demon. Rather, it clenches the hilt of Its sword with two hands and commences to remove Its weapon from the tree. And that's when I draw my arm back and stab the demon right in the eye.

Nothing happens.

I grunt, shoving with all of my might. There's no blood. There's no exclamation of pain. There's no visible sign of discomfort. I stabbed It in the only part of Its body devoid of stone. And the demon just stares at me.

Kiilda finishes freeing Its sword from the tree with Its left hand. With Its right hand, It grips my sword, and with seemingly no effort at all, breaks the tip of my blade off. My sword seems to cry out, ringing loudly in response. And for a moment, all I can feel is shock.

Then, without a hint of emotion, Kiilda draws back Its sword and stabs me in my right shoulder. I grunt, clenching my teeth and gurgling, my whole body frozen in pain.

I look up at the demon, and our eyes lock. Fear and despair imbue my heart.

I can't do this...

The world begins to grow blurry. Wind tears around us. Everything is twisting together. And just as before, I go unconscious.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER

"Eat it."

"No!"

"Eat it."

"No!"

"Eat it."

"No!"

I sigh, my shoulders drooping and my head bowing. "Frater," I try again, speaking to the little boy gently, "You _have_ to eat. Won't you at least try it?"

Frater looks sidelong at the plate of food I've extended towards him. For a moment, I think he's actually going to eat it. But then he frowns and turns his stubborn, little-boy face away, a pouty grunt escaping his mouth. "Frater," I explain again, more forceful this time, "This is kotta steak with red gravy and baked chestnut-potatoes. I don't think Lord Beznar is eating food this good!"

Frater doesn't respond.

I growl in my thoughts with annoyance, thinking, _No wonder John had such a hard time with his siblings. This kid is a complete brat!_

"I don't want you," the boy suddenly states. "I want Faith."

I pause for a moment, regarding Frater intently, who still won't look at me. Is that what this is about? He won't accept food from me because he prefers to receive it from Faith instead? I can understand his fondness for Faith; after all, it was she that protected him while John was facing Nirak. And of course, Faith has a way with small children, a way that we don't share, apparently. Faith is a big sister, now that I think about it, and in spite of how she left her family about two years ago, the experience has obviously helped her to understand and cope with kids younger than her.

It wouldn't be too much of a problem for me to go and search for Faith. In fact, I'm a little tired of being cooped up in this room with Frater anyway. However, I find that I don't _want_ to leave—not until I've succeeded. Call me obstinate or proud, but for whatever reason, I cannot help but feel that since I came here to look after Frater, I won't be satisfied with myself until I've helped the boy. Until he's accepted my help, and understands that both of us, Faith _and_ myself, are here for him. I'll feel like a failure otherwise, handing Frater over to Faith because I can't get him to like or accept me.

For a moment, I feel surprised with myself. Frater is just a little kid—pigheaded, fussy and ignorant—, so why do I care what he thinks about me? Why do I care about ensuring that we have some sort of a relationship?

I don't know why, at this moment. Maybe it's because I want to know if a child could ever trust me, or look up to me, or just appreciate me. I'm an only child, so I've never had a younger brother or sister. Maybe this is all just because I want to be able to experience that...experience what it's like to have a sibling.

I sigh, about to rise and tell him that I'll go look for Faith, when he suddenly glances at me and then swipes the food from my hand. Without looking back at me, he commences eating. I'm shocked for a moment. Sure, it didn't happen the way I expected. But I smile to myself as I watch Frater eat the food. Good. Satisfaction courses through me.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

Tarsh and I enter into Lord Beznar's throne room. I swallow, my heart beat quickening. I can't believe I'm about to let Tarsh do this. Hand himself over to the Brown Bandits for execution? It sure is courageous, but isn't there another way out of this? The time for talking Tarsh out of this is over. But maybe Lord Beznar will think it's a...dramatic idea, too.

I'm not surprised to find that Lord Beznar is surrounded by a number of scouts that I recognize from the rescue squad I had joined with John and Bernard. However, I _am_ a little surprised to see that Ashida is here too. He looks weak, as if his wounds still haven't completely healed—in fact, I'm confident that they haven't—and he looks unnaturally reserved. Though I haven't actually known him for very long, it always seemed like Ashida had a bold, out-going character. Now he stands with his arms crossed, his head bowed, and he seems to be leaning backwards, as if to blend in and disappear into the rest of the scouts. He's changed...a lot.

Whatever discussion the scouts and Lord Beznar were having abruptly stops as we enter. I feel awkward coming any further—I'd feel awkward leaving too—but Tarsh surges forward without hesitation. "Excuse me," Lord Beznar says, his tone stern, "this is a private meeting. Both of you must leave immediately."

Two scouts move forward to intercept Tarsh. Tarsh is wise enough to halt for them, but he still opens his mouth, saying, "I know who they are and what they want. It's pretty obvious to me."

"Is that so?" one of the scouts scoffs.

"That's right," Tarsh replies. He pauses, and for a moment, I wonder if he's going to tell them the truth. To my partial annoyance, he does. "They're here for me."

A murmur runs through the scouts, and Ashida and Lord Beznar exchange a look.

"Explain what you mean," says Lord Beznar.

Tarsh grimaces, and then stands erect, stating determinedly, "I killed the leader of the Brown Bandits as the Ghost of Hedekira. That's who these people are. In doing so, I also dealt into a serious wound to the woman that now leads them. At the end of the fight, John Hedekira defeated me, and the Brown Bandits captured me. I was going to be executed, but John rescued out of mercy, and helped me to change my ways. I would assume that they've been searching for me ever since. I don't know for sure if they know I'm within Castrum Fortress; they might just be assuming so. But the bombs I used in Howaito Maki probably would've grabbed their attention, if anything, especially if their scouts were watching." Tarsh bows his head, "I'm sorry to have brought this upon you. I will leave, and hand myself over to them if you wish."

I look at Ashida as Tarsh finishes. I want to see his reaction; I want to see the will to save Tarsh in his eyes. Ashida is the only one I feel like I can talk to among the people here, and he would have a significant amount of influence as one of Lord Beznar's chief advisors too.

I only see hardness in Ashida's eyes. I feel my heart drop to my stomach. How much _has_ Ashida changed?

"That is honorable that you would offer to do such a thing," Lord Beznar replies, after a moment of considering Tarsh's words, "but let us not be hasty. We will seek to discover what exactly the Brown Bandits want, and then we shall decide on a course of action." Lord Beznar seems as if he is trying not to sound too grim, but he finishes with the heavy words, "I am glad that you understand that I will not sacrifice the lives of my people for one repented criminal."

Tarsh grunts, nodding in acknowledgement.

"That settles it, then," Ashida says. "Let's send a delegate to the Brown Bandits."

I exhale deeply, glancing over at Tarsh. On the outside, he appears resolute and tough. But I see it in his eyes. He's afraid. And I don't blame him. _I wish John were here,_ I think. He would be able to find an answer to this problem...or at least do the right thing amid this mess. I hope he's all right.

I know it's useless to worry about him. I need to focus on what's going on around me; on what _I_ can control. Tarsh looks over at me and meets my gaze, and certainty seems to fill me.

But then he smiles softly. It's sort of an affectionate smile. But then I realize with a jolt of anxiety...

...that it's really a smile of farewell.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

Two riders trot across the bumpy, uneven fields towards our camp. They emerged straight out of Castrum Fortress, and it's obvious that they're delegates. One rider bears a flag with the emblem of Castrum Fortress—a single golden sword, with a prominent, intricate cross-guard—and the other one just looks like a man of politics and diplomacy.

I'm lucky that I was one of the bandits chosen to watch the edge of our camp. It's technically a low job; most of the thieves would scoff at such a position. However, I enjoy it for a number of reasons. First of all, it gives me some time away from the rest of the bandits; I hate their attitudes of arrogance and selfishness. Second, it gives me time to think on my own. To think about what's going on. And lastly, if anything exciting happens, I'm one of the first to know about it.

I grunt as the realization hits me. If I intercept the ambassadors, perhaps I'll be able to escort them to Sharon and gain some intelligence as to why we're here. I'll be able to know the truth.

I shoot forward in the direction of the delegates, brandishing my short-sword. Some of the other camp guards move to join me, but I'm the fastest, the most intent on being sure that I'm there _first_. The ambassadors rein in their steeds, and I come to a halt before them, eyeing them suspiciously, mainly because it's my job to be defensive. I remain in a crouched fighting position, but I have no intention of harming them. "State your business," I say in a firm voice.

"We are here," answers the more diplomatic one, "to consult with your leader."

The rest of the camp guards arrive with me at the delegates. Before any of them can say anything, I announce, "I'll take you to her."

Without arguing, the other bandits part as I motion the ambassadors forward and lead them towards the camp. In messy ranks, the camp guards follow us.

My jaw sets, and I squint. "It's time I got some answers," I say quietly to myself.

It looks like that will be happening sooner than I planned. Word about the delegates must have spread quickly. Sharon and her advisors have already reached the edge of the camp, and are awaiting our return. At least I'm still the one leading the ambassadors. I'll have to make this look good though.

We arrive at the edge of the camp. Straightening up and abruptly halting, I salute to Sharon and say, "Ambassadors from Castrum Fortress, sir!" And I step to the side, allowing the delegates to come forward.

The politician emissary dismounts his steed. He bows to Sharon, who begins speaking, asking, "You come from Lord Beznar?"

"We do," affirms the delegate.

"Good," nods Sharon, "as fate would have it, we were just about to send a delegate of our own. I apologize for not sending one earlier and making you come to us; I'm afraid I am still new with my position as leader of the Brown Bandits."

"No apology is needed," states the delegate. "No offense was taken by Lord Beznar."

I scowl inwardly. I hate the unnecessary formalities that go along with politics.

"Good," says Sharon. "What news, then, does Lord Beznar bring to my camp?"

"He asks simply for the reason of your presence, whether it be a hostile presence, a friendly one, and if the latter, if there is any way we can be of service."

Sharon seems pleased with the delegate's words. However, a strange smile touches her lips for just a moment, and she states almost challengingly, "There is no reason for Lord Beznar to be concerned with us, insofar as hostility goes, so long as he is willing to help us find what we want." Sharon squints at the ambassador, adding, "However, should Lord Beznar try to restrain us from finding what we want, we will have no choice but to take it from him."

"Pray tell us what it is you seek," says the delegate, seeming to have grown a bit uncomfortable.

This is it. I look straight ahead, into the distance, behaving like the attentive but withdrawn warrior I should be. I want to make it look like I mean nothing to Sharon; I mean nothing to this meeting. I'm just a low-ranked camp-guard.

Sharon glances both ways for a moment, as if assuring herself that there are no other bandits present other than her advisors, myself, and a few other camp guards. And then she answers, saying, "I understand that you have a certain warrior residing within Castrum Fortress. He was once known as the 'Ghost of Hedekira', but his real name is Tarsh Landid. Our scouts tracked him to this location, and so far, we haven't seen him depart from Castrum Fortress. We would like to know if this Tarsh Landid is indeed within your castle, and if not, where he is headed. It is important to us that we find him."

I grunt, thinking, _So, that's what this is about?_ I steal a glance at Sharon. She has involuntarily begun stroking the stub of her arm, which had been blown off by an explosion instigated by the Ghost of Hedekira—by Tarsh Landid.

The ambassador pauses in response, and then replies, "It would please Lord Beznar to know what exactly you would _want_ Tarsh Landid for. For what purpose do you seek him? We are in much debt to him, as he saved numerous lives during our attack against the Evil of Howaito Maki."

I look ahead again, endeavoring to be ignored. I sense the eyes of Sharon flit towards me, but they depart a moment later. She doesn't care that I'm here. Good.

"We want him," answers Sharon, "because he killed our leader, numerous other bandits, and wounded many others too. He deserves to pay for his crimes, and we deserve to exact his punishment, because he transgressed against us as the Ghost of Hedekira. Hand him over, and no harm will come to the people of Castrum Fortress." Scowling, she finishes, "That is why we are here, and we will not leave until we have him." Then she turns away, declaring, "You are no longer welcome here. Leave immediately."

The ambassador pauses, grunting with surprise. For a moment, he makes no move to depart. But then he complies, turning swiftly away from Sharon, mounting his horse, and with a look of contempt, he rides away back towards Castrum Fortress.

I sigh as Sharon and her advisors leave, and I watch the delegates return to their castle. I frown grimly, thinking, _So, we're here on a mission to punish...on a mission for revenge. I knew there was something selfish about this whole endeavor. This is all about Sharon._ I walk away from the camp, back to my post, deep in thought. _If Castrum Fortress gives up Tarsh Landid, then we'll just be executioners. And if not, then we'll be slaughtering more innocent people._ As I reach my post, about two hundred yards away from the edge of the camp, the recognition comes to me. _It's not Sharon that's the problem. It's this organization. We're no better than the Evil that ruined me and Addy's lives_. I turn back, looking sidelong at our camp. _And that means it's time for the Brown Bandits to fall...and everyone faithful to them._

## CHAPTER 44

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

I walk into my room and slam the door, falling into my bed with a huff of anger. I lay there, my eyes narrowed with anger, seething with emotions that I have repressed for such a long time. For fifteen minutes, I remain on my bed.

Then I hear Soror crying. I roll my eyes; what has she done now? I step outside my room, only to find that she has tried to begin skinning one of the rabbits I caught, and she is horribly failing—

Wastefully failing.

I briskly walk towards her. "What are you doing?" I say sternly.

Then I know why she is crying. She has cut her hand with the knife she is using, and she is crying loudly.

Too loudly.

" _Shut up!" I shout at her. "Look what you've done to the meat. Don't you care at all that I worked hard to catch those?"_

I snatch the rabbits from her. She cries more, holding up her hurt hand, blood running off her fingers.

I clench my teeth; even after I've berated her, she can't even mumble an apology? I take the knife too and crouch down in front of her. "Maybe I should give you another cut!" I hiss.

She shrieks, shying away from the knife. I stand and point it at her again. "You are nothing but a worthless, lazy dog! You do nothing but eat our food, the food I get, and you just get in the way! You act like you're not even human; you act like you're dead. And I wish you were dead!"

And with that, I walk into my bedroom and shut the door, locking my siblings out of my life. I'm done with them...forever.

I wake up with a scowl of regret on my face. I feel rotten inside whenever I have that dream...whenever I remember that moment. The moment I chose to lock my siblings out of my life. The moment I started becoming just as bad as the Evil...and inadvertently led them to my home. I will never forget that.

There's no pain this time. I have a stab wound marked upon my shoulder, and an arm wound from before that. But there's no pain, oddly. My body aches, but perhaps that's because I've been lying on a rock ledge. A rock ledge where...?

I groggily twist and push off the stone beneath me, rising into a sitting position. I shake my head, clenching my face with my hands, trying to wake myself up effectively. I don't know why I feel so indifferent all of a sudden. Maybe it's because my dreams have distracted me from the problem at hand. Maybe it's because I genuinely still feel tired. For a moment, I consider that it's perhaps I haven't eaten in...however long I've been in Kiilda. And yet, I realize with surprise that I don't feel hungry at all. I'm thirsty, but not in the way you would think; I desire something to drink, but not because I feel dehydrated, not because my mouth feels dry. I can't accurately describe it.

Before rising to my feet, I glance to my right, where I notice my sword lying on the ground beside me. I frown, regarding the broken tip of my blade. I find myself replaying that whole scene in my mind: me stabbing Kiilda right through the eye, and then the demon responding by breaking the tip of my sword. Running the monster through the eye seemingly had no effect on it at all. I shiver, thinking just as I have many times before, _How am I going to do this?_

Grasping my sword, I stand up, my body groaning in response. That's when I flinch cautiously backwards, alarmed. I've been lying right next to the edge of a deep precipice, atop a mountain. From what I can tell, it's the same mountain that sat within the forest where I fought Kiilda last. I breathe quickly, gradually overcoming the initial pang of shock and fear. Is this where I'm going to have to fight Kiilda next?

Last time, while within the forest, it took Kiilda a long time to appear. I don't know if It always knew where I was, or if it was just waiting to attack. Either way, I use my spare time to think of tactics to use against the beast, and also reasons for why things are happening the way they are. To a certain extent, I'm tempted to believe that there are certain rules that apply while within Kiilda, or just restrictions Kiilda has placed on Itself, for whatever reason.

I've decided that Kiilda is permitted to land a blow on me only once, and then a new fighting terrain is chosen. Maybe that isn't completely correct, but as far as I can ascertain, that's the way things work. I don't know why, of course. All I can do is judge by experience.

I turn about to inspect ledge upon which I stand, glad to look away from the drop of at least two thousand feet. There is nothing intense about the motion; in fact, I pivoted rather slowly and smoothly.

I hear something crack in my arm, emanating from the same area Kiilda cut me. I freeze, and at length, I release a deep sigh of trepidation. Slowly, I lower my gaze to the wound.

The gash has completely turned to stone. I flinch, holding my arm out in front of me. I don't feel any pain; I don't feel that different at all, actually. Perhaps my arm feels slightly heavier. But who cares about how it feels? My arm is turning to stone!

_Only the wound, though,_ I note. The stone hasn't spread beyond the gash. I don't know if it will...I fear that it might. "Damn..." I say under my breath.

Grunting with alarm, I think, _What about my shoulder?_ I peel back the cloth of my shirt, inspecting that wound too. To my relief, the incision looks normal. I find it grimly amusing that I'm satisfied with that knowledge.

_It takes one whole fight after receiving a wound for the skin to turn to stone,_ I think. It makes sense. Yet, once again, I'm only making these assumptions based on experience.

Setting my sword down for the moment, I grasp my shirt at the shoulders, and one by one, tear the sleeves off. I want to be able to keep an eye on both wounds. And after all, it's warm in Kiilda. Once I'm finished removing the sleeves, I kneel down, tightening the straps on my boots.

I don't want to die. I really don't want to. Yet I have this unsettling feeling within me; a suppressed doubt that is slowly rising in my heart. There's no way I'm going to survive this. I can't cut Kiilda. I can't stab him. And, like Gus warned me, my flesh is turning to stone.

In a way, I'm proud of myself for how calm I am. Maybe this is another part of what it means to be a Knight. Peaceful, even in defeat. Accepting Death when it comes. But also not going down without a fight. I have to keep fighting, after all. I have to. That's all I can do in this world.

What am I fighting for, again? My life? Wait...no. For Soror...that's right.

I sigh. Why do I forget?

Finished with tying my boots, I take up my sword once again, crossing the ledge until I reach the main trunk of the mountain, and I seat myself there. And, just as before, I wait.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

"Just let me do it," Tarsh says. "I'm not afraid."

Lord Beznar looks down at him quizzically. And yet, he also regards him with an expression of respect; he is listening to Tarsh's proposal.

"If this is what will help the people of Castrum Fortress, then just let me go!"

The old man hesitates, still frowning in thought. It has been a day since the delegate returned with knowledge of what exactly the Brown Bandits want. And Tarsh was right; they want him. This is a quest for vengeance.

And personally, I can't stand it.

Tarsh sacrificing himself shouldn't even be an option. I don't know why I'm so afraid to speak up though. It's just me, Tarsh, and Lord Beznar. Why don't I say anything?!

"I cannot stop you," Lord Beznar says slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "if you wish to hand yourself over. You are not a citizen of my castle. Thus, you are free to do as you wish."

I open my mouth, but all I can manage to voice is, "But—"

"Let's do it, then," Tarsh cuts me off. He looks over at me, and in his cool, almost snobby way, says, "Thanks for trying to look out for me, but this is really what I think needs to be done."

I start to reply, but then I clamp my mouth shut, looking away sullenly. _Fine._

"Can you arrange for the exchange to happen with Castrum's supervision?" asks Tarsh. "I want to be sure that I'm the only thing they leave with...as opposed to sacking the whole castle."

"A good idea," nods the old man. "It will be done, then."

Tarsh and Lord Beznar hold each other's gaze. Tarsh's firm, Lord Beznar's grim. "You are a brave Knight, Tarsh Landid," declares Lord Beznar.

Tarsh grunts, bowing his head, and I see him clench his teeth. "Yeah," I prod, averting my eyes from Tarsh, "real brave." I feel Tarsh cast an aggravated glance at me, but I don't turn to meet it.

"When do you want the exchange to occur, Son?" Lord Beznar says, his voice suddenly fatherly.

"Tomorrow," Tarsh says immediately.

Lord Beznar grunts, and for a moment, I think he's going to encourage Tarsh to wait longer; to enjoy a few more moments of life. But then the old man concedes, "Very well, then."

And at this point, I can't take it any longer. Tears begin to slip out of my eyes, and I whirl away, darting through the hall out the door.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER

It's been a while since I've been able to roam Castrum Fortress. Thankfully, a kind physician from the infirmary volunteered to look after Frater for me. I decided to seek out Faith, since we haven't been able to spend very much time together, ever since John left. Our friendship means a lot to me...I've sort of missed Faith these past few days.

And so, after inquiring about her whereabouts, I find myself walking through the corridor that leads to Lord Beznar's throne room. From what I've heard, and discovered from Faith herself, she seems to be spending a lot of time with Tarsh. This obviously surprises me; and to be honest, I feel rather jealous. She's been trying to keep him safe; that much I know. I was smart enough to know, even before our ambassadors returned yesterday, that the Brown Bandits were here for Tarsh. I don't know why Faith is so intent on attempting to ensure that Tarsh _isn't_ given up to the Brown Bandits. But, well, that's Faith.

About thirty feet from the throne room, I stop, wondering if I'm allowed to just walk in. There are two guards stationed on either side of the door, and I wonder if I need to be escorted. Maybe it won't matter—

The doors to the throne room burst open, and I'm surprised to see Faith running quickly in my direction. Her head is bowed, and her hair falls about her face. Tears stream from her eyes.

She doesn't see me until she's a few feet away, whereupon she stops. She regards me for a moment, and then hugs me.

I grunt, blushing, gently hugging her back. For a moment, she just cries in my arms, and although I'm still confused as to why she's upset, I also feel somewhat honored...blessed. To be holding her. To be comforting her...as if worthy of her trust.

After a moment, she speaks, "Oh, Bernard...why are things like this in the Golden Lands? Why can't everything be...why can't it just be...happy?"

I cannot honestly say that I know what she's talking about. But I think I have some idea. "I don't know, Faith," I say softly, still embracing her.

"Why is everyone so focused on killing each other?" she continues. "Why is there so much dying? Why does everything have to be so...complicated?"

I grunt again. Images flash through my mind; images of the Evil. Images of Faith bleeding out. Images of me shooting John with a poison-arrow. Images of Karr dying. Images of Soror being captured by Nirak. Images of Frances and Ashida after the battle. And I immediately share in what she feels. We both sound like little children, asking these questions. _But at least we care to ask them,_ I think. "Why?" I whisper, wondering too.

Faith's tears drop onto my shoulder. I clench her a little tighter, resolve and vigor rising within me. "I don't know why there's so much death, Faith," I say. "I don't know why everything has to be so complicated. I don't know the reason. I don't know if there even is a reason. But there has to be a way out of it. There has to be a way to get by, to survive, to make everything right again. Maybe it's not for us to find a way. But...there has to be something, or someone, that will help us through this." I withdraw, looking at her. She sobs, wiping her tears, and I add, "Okay?"

She nods, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry..." she says.

"Don't be," I say. "We'll find a way out of this. I promise."

For a moment, we both stand there in silence. Relief courses through me as I sense Faith beginning to relax. After about a minute, she speaks again, inquiring, "Do you think John is going to come back?"

I pause. "I don't know" is what I want to say...because that's how I feel. But that's not what she needs right now. I smile gently and answer with as much confidence as I can muster, "Of course he will."

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

I sit on the ledge with my back against the mountain, my right leg extended, the other bent, and my left arm is draped across my left knee. I sigh, fighting off the cold. It's noticeably colder up here, atop the mountain. I'm glad that I've grown more muscular; maybe it's just me, but I feel like it helps me to stay warm.

Part of me is wondering if Kiilda is expecting me to find my way off the mountain. I haven't cared to search for a way down; I'm used to Kiilda coming to me. However, perhaps there _is_ no way for Kiilda to reach me, I'll never be able to fight It, which means I won't be able to kill It, and I'll never be able to leave this subworld.

I clasp my sword as I stand, deciding to approach the edge of the ledge and search for a way down. Shrinking at the sight of how high I am, I decide that it would be impossible to get down; this is the only ledge for a couple hundred feet, and in between lies a stretch of smooth, slanted rock. There's no way I'm getting down.

I hear something crack. I grunt, casting a glance to my arm, which has already begun to turn to stone. It's as I feared; the infection is spreading. The stone has begun to spread to my bicep.

I hear another crack.

It didn't come from my arm.

My heart beat quickens, and a shiver runs through me. It's about to begin...again.

Why do I feel weak all of a sudden? Why do I feel hopeless? I clench my sword, whirling about, trying to drown the feelings of doubt with determination. But it's as if my resolve has begun dying. My blood is frozen. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to fight again.

More than my arm is turning to stone.

But I don't know where the sound came from. The ledge is empty. Kiilda didn't just appear behind me, as I somewhat anticipated. Once again, there's silence.

I breathe, surveying the ledge and the mountain scrupulously. The ledge is only about twenty feet wide and forty feet long, not enough room for a fight. But this is the next fighting terrain. Each time, after Kiilda has landed a blow on me, I've been transported to another part of the subworld, and in that section is where the subsequent battle has occurred. So this has to be the place. I breathe deeply, my mind quickly trying to formulate methods for attacking Kiilda and defending myself, should It appear here.

Another crack.

I jump in response, startled. My eyes once again scour the ledge and the mountain for anything indicating Kiilda's presence. After all, do mountains just "crack", in the same way a tree might groan or creak? This is just like last time we fought, in the forest. It's building up the suspense. It's trying to throw me off in whatever way It can. And it's working.

I almost miss it. I squint, peering at the wall of stone in front of me, the mountain which rises above my ledge higher into the sky. There are two holes, deep and hollow. And perfectly shaped.

Within the holes are two glowing beads of red light.

Kiilda emerges from amid the stone with astounding speed.

Astounding speed? I guess it makes sense. The demon _is_ the god of this world after all. What can I do against such a being?

I raise my sword as Kiilda charges me. This ledge is too small, and my back is already to the precipice, which means I'm in grave danger of falling off the edge towards the ground from a height of two-thousand feet. Our blades glance off each other's once, then twice, and I bound to the side, trying gain a better position on the ledge.

Kiilda, same as ever, bears a look of disinterested death on Its face. The glowing red eyes, the long, spikey hair, and the enormous build of the demon is so distracting. I can hardly think or react whenever It charges me. Just defend; that's all I can do. Why can't I think clearly? "Get a hold of yourself!" I scream mentally.

As I parry a strike from the monster, a thought hits me. This fighting terrain might prove extremely dangerous for me, but shouldn't it be the same for Kiilda? I already know that I can't pierce Kiilda with my blade. So what if I somehow throw It from the cliff? What if the impact of landing from a two-thousand foot drop is enough to break and kill the beast?

I have to try. Yet, I reason that unless I somehow earn for myself enough momentum to push Kiilda off the ledge, I'll have to place myself near the ledge and cause Kiilda to throw Itself off. I'm wary to attempt my idea. But I know that I have to try. I have to try.

_Dammit!_ I think, gritting my teeth. _I have to try!_

What am I fighting for?

The name rings in my head, though it is not my own voice. _"Sor...or!"_

I pivot, turning my back once again to the edge of the ledge. Kiilda ceases attacking, turning to face me. It almost seems like It's waiting for something. As if It wants me to attack. "Afraid of heights?" I question, clenching my teeth, my heart racing. I grip my sword harder, thinking, "Come on, just charge!"

The demon answers my plea.

Kiilda rushes towards me. I expect a blow of some sort, but that's not exactly what I receive. Our swords do meet, and as they do, I commence spinning out of the way. This is it; Kiilda's own momentum is about to throw It from the cliff. But then Kiilda's hand latches onto my right arm; Its stone hand grips me tight.

And we both surge into the air, off the ledge. I was wrong. Kiilda isn't afraid of heights.

Wind tears through my hair and clothes, running over my bare arms and biting at my skin. For a moment, I'm almost paralyzed with shock and fear. I'm going to die the moment I hit the ground. Then I come to my senses as I see Kiilda plummeting next to me. The demon whirls in the air, striking with Its sword. I spread my arms out, and I catch the wind, hovering above Its attack. In response, I flip, spinning wildly but under control, slashing for the demon's head. Kiilda turns so that Its back faces the ground, and It blocks, catching the wind also, suddenly flitting up above me.

I begin to turn so that I can see the monster again, but then I notice that I'm about to strike the mountain itself, which slants towards the surface of the subworld at an angle. I endeavor to soar out of the way, now only about two hundred feet from the ground.

Something hard hits the back of my head and my lower back. Something rock-hard.

I hit the mountain. To my fortune, the mountain is slanted, so I don't land as roughly as I anticipated, and my speed continues to carry me down the cliff. But then I realize what hit me in my head and back; Kiilda's feet. And right as I strike the mountain, Kiilda alights on me completely. I scream, the demon riding me down the stone slope. The skin on my forehead rips open and I feel blood surging out of my eyes and mouth. More than just the feeling of skidding over the mountain hurts. My eyes water with rage for the demon.

A moment later I'm falling through the air again. Kiilda, as far as I know, is still above me. Blood gushes off my face, and I can barely see. I struggle to look away from the ground below; that much I _can_ see. And I'm going to hit it. I'm going to get splatted on the surface of the subworld. Franticly, I twist in the air, looking for the demon. I have to kill It! I have to kill It before I hit the ground!

The moment I finish pivoting in the air, I see the outline of the monster above me, and then Kiilda's sword runs me through the stomach.

I freeze in the air, blood filling my mouth. I don't even feel the pain yet. Instead, there's just the knowledge that I lost...again. I'm about to lose everything. I'm about to die. With demons like Kiilda existing, we're all going to die. And a teenaged guy fighting for his little sister isn't going to change that. _Dammit..._ I say mentally, in a whisper.

The world begins to grow blurry, and everything around me starts to swirl. I'm five feet away from the surface of the subworld when I feel myself get whisked away by Kiilda to the next fighting terrain. And everything goes black.

## CHAPTER 45

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

The wind makes me shiver. It's colder here, up in the northern region of the Golden Lands. I'm from the South, so I'm not used to this weather. Tarsh doesn't seem to mind, however, and obviously the group of guards surrounding us, since they're from Castrum Fortress. We stand just inside of Castrum Fortress, the main gate of the castle open before us, so that we are looking out into the fields beyond. Outside the castle, we watch Sharon and an assembly of bandits approach. I shift nervously, my heart pounding hard within me. I can't believe this is happening.

Part of me wonders why I even care so much. I don't know Tarsh that well; we've only been spending time together these past few days. What's more, he _did_ kill my brother—which happened because he was attempting to kill me. There isn't any reason for me to feel sadness at his passing. Perhaps I'm just disturbed because I feel like this is wrong? Perhaps it's because I don't think a human being should be punished with death?

Or maybe I'm just a sucker for guys that have an evil past, but repent in the end.

Bernard stayed with Frater; neither of them really had cause to be present for this. I'm pleased to find that my presence has seemed to comfort Tarsh somewhat. _Kind of just like...the last time he was about to die._

I frown. Actually, I grimace. Something is stirring inside of me. I'm feeling tempted to do something; to make this stop. To make events change. To not sit by and watch. But for whatever reason, I'm afraid to act.

Sharon and her thieves arrive at the gate, standing just beyond the entrance. For a moment, both our parties stare at each other, regarding the other with cold expressions. Then one of the guards beside me announces, "Captain Sharon, here is your prisoner. Lord Beznar has given you full permission to do with him whatever you wish. However, if it is agreeable to you, we will wait for our representative to arrive, so that this exchange might be evaluated for Lord Beznar."

Sharon frowns, "Why should a representative be necessary while all of you are here to witness the exchange? I have no interest in waiting. Give me the prisoner before he tries to pull some sort of trick on us."

The guards look at each other.

"I won't wait forever!" Sharon sneers.

Reluctantly, the two guards bring Tarsh forward, halfway to the bandits, just beneath the gate.

Sharon sighs, seemingly satisfied, and says, "Please inform Lord Beznar that we think highly of him for his compliance, and we are sincerely grateful." Accompanied by two guards, she steps forward and joins Tarsh and Castrum Fortress guards underneath the gate.

A small, sly smile is on Sharon's lips.

I glare. _Dangit!_ I think. "I want to do something!" I have to make this stop. I don't know why. It just...feels wrong. That, or I just don't want it to happen. _Dangit!_ I think again, berating myself. _Do something!_

PROTAGONIST SWITCH:...?

My black boots clomp calmly, rhythmically on the stone of the lower bailey. My pace is calm. Everything about my bearing displays my confidence, my determined state of mind.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

I clench my fist. I was lucky enough to be selected by Sharon to be one of the guards to come with her in procuring Tarsh Landid. I don't approve of this. I'm not sure why; quite frankly, I don't approve of anything Sharon does. I'm tempted to draw my sword right now and run her through the back. I don't think many people would be upset. But I stay my blade. I watch as our two bandits with Sharon clasp Tarsh by the shoulders.

Tarsh looks over his shoulder and addresses a girl standing with the other Castrum Fortress guards. "Faith," says the teenaged-guy. He smiles gently, "Thanks for everything...

PROTAGONIST SWITCH:...?

From where it's slung over my back, my broadsword rustles softly against my buckler, both of them gently rocking back and forth in beat to my walk. My head is bowed, a shadow over my face, and my brown hair falls onto my shoulders. The black leather jacket I wear, cut off at the shoulders, creaks slightly as I reach back behind my back to grasp the hilt of my new sword.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

Tears begin to well in my eyes. Bernard and I agreed that everything would be all right, that we would find a way out of this, that there _was_ a way. But now I watch him turn away from me, his last words to me finished, and the bandits begin to lead him away, a smug look of confidence on Sharon's face.

Then I hear someone's voice behind me. "Now, whose idea was it to begin before I got here?"

I turn.

It's...Frances?!

Frances looks up, raising her head. Her hand is on her sword—a new sword. Sharon and the bandits stop, just outside the gate. The guards of Castrum Fortress part for Frances, who approaches Sharon, her thieves, and Tarsh. "Unless you were misinformed," Frances says, "a representative from Castrum Fortress was supposed to oversee the exchange, and ensure everything was...valid." Frances glares at Sharon.

"This is ridiculous," Sharon states. "The exchange has already been made, with several witnesses from Castrum Fortress." Sharon squints, glowering back at Frances, "And who are _you_? Do you really expect me to believe that Lord Beznar would send a child as his representative?"

Several of the guards gasp. For a moment, Frances doesn't move. Then she says in a low voice, "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Sharon grunts, motioning for her bandits to move Tarsh away. "And just who are you?" the captain of the Brown Bandits asks.

Frances brandishes her sword just an inch, closing her eyes, and she replies, "My name is Frances...Frances Beznar, daughter of Lord Beznar."

Sharon grunts again, seemingly taken aback.

"There's no better representative for my father to send," declares Frances. Then she opens her eyes, staring challengingly at Sharon, "This is _my_ castle..."

I'm astonished; I can't believe this is happening. My eyes widen, and my heart begins racing. I reach back, feeling for the tip of an arrow.

"... _And I don't approve of this exchange."_

Sharon glares fiercely at Frances, and then laughs, "Hah, well it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. Tarsh Landid is ours, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

"Are you sure about that?" Frances questions. I see her hand tighten on the hilt of her sword.

There's a pause. And then Sharon seems to snap. "Tarsh Landid will be dead!" she roars. "For everything he's done to the Brown Bandits, and everything he's done to me!" With her free hand, she draws a knife from her belt, whirling towards Tarsh.

It seems to happen reflexively. My bow is in my hands, the arrow set to the string. I draw back and fire. The entire action takes two seconds.

Sharon cries out, an arrow through her forearm. For the moment, Tarsh is safe.

Frances's blade glints as she whips it from behind her back, and she charges the group of bandits. For a moment, I'm stunned; the last time I saw Frances, she could hardly sit up. How is she doing this?

One of the bandits moves to intercept Frances. With a swipe of her blade, Frances slices the man's arm off, and he stumbles backwards into his comrades. "There will be no execution," Frances declares, "at least while I'm alive." She grabs Tarsh by the arm and spinning violently, she throws him back through the gate. The spin, to my surprise, is graceful, as if Frances were in slow-motion. I can't believe that she has the strength and dexterity to perform such an act, considering her condition. Tarsh lands hard on his shoulder, rolling until he comes to a halt right next to me.

"You fool!" Sharon screams. "You have brought death to your entire people!" Ripping my arrow out of her forearm, the captain jabs downwards for Frances's exposed side.

I open my mouth to shout a warning, but Frances notices the attack at the last moment. The girl pivots, spinning away from the jab, and it blocks it in a roundabout manner by placing her back to the blow. Her back, of course, is covered by her large buckler, and the arrow harmlessly embeds itself in the wood of her shield. Right upon finishing her spin, Frances seems as if she's going to follow through with a massive slash that would cut Sharon right in two.

I've never seen Frances fight so intensely. But then, I haven't ever seen Frances fight in a real battle. Nonetheless, it's obvious that the blood of a warrior courses through her. She's too seasoned, even in her youth, for Sharon. And she's not afraid to kill.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

I intercept the girl's attack just barely, scarcely able to hold back the might of the blow. Nonetheless, I keep my feet and posture, grimacing and grunting as I parry. I'm not going to let this girl overpower me.

It wasn't a sense of duty that urged me to protect my captain. Far from it. I was exceedingly tempted to let the girl kill Sharon. But now isn't the right time. The Brown Bandits, if I'm honest with myself, would riot; they would go crazy. Perhaps not out of loyalty for Sharon, but because of the very aspect of having their leader struck down. And I'm still trying to make it appear as if I'm the "perfect thief" that Sharon and the other leaders would want to have around. "Perfect thief"? It seems impossible for such a thing to exist.

I shove the girl away. To my relief, the rest of our guards gather around us, and while the Castrum girl looks as if she might charge and take all of us on at once—and I think she could—both parties slowly begin to retreat.

"Prepare for battle!" Sharon calls after the girl as she backs away. "You won't last a day against our thieves!"

I frown, still eyeing the girl and her retinue of Castrum Fortress guards. But my mind is already working on a way to make everything right...before it begins.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

I sigh with relief as I watch Sharon go. I can't believe this is happening; Tarsh is safe! Although I'm disappointed with myself for not grasping the gravity of the situation—in that Castrum Fortress is now under siege—, all I can focus on is our victory. My eyes fall onto Tarsh, and then Frances, and the group of guards with us. This victory. This is what matters to me. Even if the Brown Bandits attack and kill us all, so long as we have this victory, that's all I care about.

Those are some pretty extreme thoughts. I'm surprised with myself. Why do I feel this way?

Standing sideways in the gateway, with the retreating group of thieves to her left, and us to her right, Frances watches our enemy go. "Well," she says eventually, standing up straight, her sword still brandished at her side and her hair gently trailing behind her in the evening breeze of the sunset, "I guess we should get started."

I grunt. "I can't believe you just did all of that!" I exclaim. "Have your wounds really healed?

Frances seems to relax. Well actually, she seems to crumple. Leaning on her sword and bowing her head, she begins panting. "No," she says in between breaths, "I wouldn't say that." I didn't notice just how much she was sweating.

"Here," Tarsh says, coming up to her and placing his arm about her. Frances leans on him, and gives her sword to one of the guards.

"Thank you," Tarsh says to Frances as she stabilizes herself against him. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"You're welcome," Frances replies. Then, to my surprise, she smiles, as if she finds something funny. I look at her questioningly, and she replies in accordance with my gaze, stating, "I wonder what my dad is going to think once he hears that the Brown Bandits are going to be attacking us."

I perk up. "What!?" I exclaim. The other guards, along with Tarsh, seem equally astonished. "You mean your dad didn't plan this? You didn't discuss this with him?"

"He probably would've said 'no' if I had asked him," explains Frances. "And besides, I didn't have time to go and ask him if he would approve. I heard that the exchange was going to be happening from one of my physicians, so I threw on some clothes and came to see what I could do."

Tarsh grunts, and then smiles graciously at Frances, "That was...very heroic of you."

Frances shrugs, and then commences walking forward, still using Tarsh for support. "I had been getting bored anyway."

The guards begin to depart, going about their business. I remain and walk along with Tarsh and Frances. After a moment of listening to Frances hobble forward, grunting with discomfort, the girl says, "So...any word from John?"

Tarsh and I grunt, glancing at each other. "No," I say, frowning. My heart falls to my stomach. I've been endeavoring not to think too much about what's happened to John. It's been days since he went into the portal. From what I've heard, hardly anyone survives against Kiilda, the strange monster that must be faced before you can cross over to the Gray Lands. Could John actually still be in combat with that thing? Or maybe he already defeated it, and now he's gotten into some sort of predicament in the Gray Lands?

I don't know. That's what I hate. Hoping for something good, but not knowing if what you hope for will come true. I wish there was some way that we could find out.

"He'll be okay," Tarsh says at length. I seem to relax, calmed by his words. I want to believe him. "If there's anyone that can beat Kiilda, it's John."

I glance over at Tarsh, who stares thoughtfully at the ground as he guides Frances, and I breathe, shivering with trepidation. I hope he's right.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

I sprint back towards our home. I can't believe it. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. They didn't leave us. They wouldn't! They wouldn't! Tears start to fill my eyes. I feel like I'm about to scream. To panic. I'm about to go mad. Should I have expected this? Was there anything that they did or said to give indication that they would be leaving?

Was it something I did that made them leave?

I can't help it. I'm so afraid. I'm all alone. Tears run down my face, and I shiver, once again feeling cold. Bursting through our back door, I look franticly about, hoping that for whatever reason, I missed them; hoping that they're still here. But they aren't...

Sniffles. Sobbing. Not from me.

I look down. Soror and Frater are huddled on the floor, holding onto each other, crying. "Where's mom and daddy?" Frater asks.

They're both so...small. I can see the fear in their eyes. I can hear the weakness in their voices.

And I can't contain myself any longer. I close my eyes and fall to my knees in front of them, convulsing and permitting my tears to run freely. "What...what happened?" I think.

" _John..." I hear Soror beckon, her voice utterly distraught._

I open my eyes, looking up at my two little siblings. At that moment, I've never felt so much love for other people. I force myself to feel brave...but in reality, I still feel weak. And small. And alone.

I clench my fists, and then fall into Soror and Frater, hugging them as tightly as I can. They cry in my arms. We cry in each other's arms. I love them...so much.

" _Don't worry," I tell them, embracing them with all my might._

— _They're so small—_

" _I'll take care of you..."_

"... _I'm still here..."_

...

...

...

"... _I still love you."_

My face is almost completely wet when I wake up. I clench my fists, breathing intensely. I've been crying in my sleep...crying as if that dream were really happening. Crying as if that part of my life had happened again.

As I open my eyes, I'm alarmed to find that they feel so heavy, and I feel specks of dirt drop from my face. That's when I realize it's not dirt: it's dried blood. I reach up to my face, touching lightly the skin on my brow, chin, and eyelids. Almost all of it's gone, replaced with gritty scabs. "I really got beat up bad, didn't I?" I think.

My face isn't the only thing that's been drastically marred and distorted. My arms are so stiff, a result of the two wounds Kiilda gave me. The stone-infection has spread to my joints. I can barely move my arms.

I grunt, remembering what Kiilda did to me right before our battle finished. Lifting up the bottom of my shirt, I look at the place where It impaled me in my stomach. I experience a pang of surprise; it's turned to stone already! I guess, in one sense, I should be glad. The infection stops the bleeding of any incision Kiilda gives me. But, although I don't know how to describe it, I can tell that my body is ceasing to work correctly.

Damn...

Once again, the terrain for my next battle with Kiilda has changed...but not completely. I am back in the field where I first fought It. The thick grass is beneath me, and above me the white sky is heavily suffused with gray, motionless clouds. About a hundred yards ahead of me to my left, I think I can see the gaping whole in the ground with the chain dangling down into it.

I breathe deeply, looking up towards the gray, dull sky. I wish there was more light. I wish this world wasn't so bleak. That it wasn't so gray. That there was an ounce of beauty. That there was something to give me hope.

I breathe deeply, closing my eyes once again. I've been so negligent. I've been such a fool. There's something I should've been doing here all along, at least while I wasn't battling Kiilda. I'm almost reluctant to think about it now, since I know that I've failed. I know that it's probably too late to try. Will I ever learn?

But I have to try...while I still have life in me.

Reaching out with my mind, I call weakly, " _Word_..."

It's impossible for me to truly know if the Word hears my voice—hears my spirit crying out for aid. However, I just _sense_ that I've been heard. There's no response, but that's okay. At least I've been heard. It's subtle, but the notion that I'm not alone, in at least one possible way, gives me a glimmer of confidence.

The words fill my mind, an echo from the past, but resounding through my conscience like a blast of thunder, " _...you must find the 'river of water'."_

My eyes open. _Dangit,_ I think, hating the fact that I've wasted so much time. Hating the fact that I didn't search out the river immediately. _It's time,_ I tell myself, attempting to clench my fists, attempting to feel determined and strong. But it's so hard. I feel like death...is inevitable.

"Soror and Frater. Faith and Bernard. Frances and Ashida. The Word. They're all...expecting me to make it out alive. They're all waiting for me to come back with Soror." My stomach shudders, and at first, it's because of the stone-infection beginning to creep a little deeper. But then, despite myself, I begin to cry once more. _They need you to keep on going,_ I tell myself. _They're probably worried about you._

But what if that's not true? What if they don't really care if I die?

I hate myself for even considering such a self-pitying thought. But the words go through my mind before I can stop myself. _Has anyone ever cared for me?_

To my surprise, the air around me starts to stir, and a breeze ensues. His voice is faint; it is gentle, but not weak. Just...far away. And yet still I hear him. "I gave you life," the Word answers. "I gave you a second-chance.

"Search for me, John. Find the river of water. And then you will never be alone."

I stiffen, perking up. What is he talking about!? "Where?" I say aloud to the sky.

But there's no response. For a moment, I'm begin to grow extremely frustrated. Why did he just leave me? Can't I just get a clear answer as to where the "river of water" is?

And then I think I understand why the Word left. I no longer have time to speak with him.

It's here already.

Kiilda is ready to finish me.

## CHAPTER 46

I force myself to rise, clasping the hilt of my sword as I do. My face flares with pain, and I almost lose my balance and fall over. Once again, my arms seem obnoxiously heavy, and I ascertain that it will take some time for me to adjust to their newfound weight.

Kiilda stands perfectly still, perfectly quiet, twenty feet to my right. I face It, but I don't feel the same kind of determination—or lack thereof—that I usually rouse within myself. This isn't about fighting anymore. At least not for the moment. It's about finding the answer. It's about discovering the truth. It's about the path to the "river of water" and following it no matter what. Find the "river of water", and I'll find the Word. And while the Word may not be "him", the mystical warrior my parents once spoke to me of and I've always dreamed of finding, I have faith that he can help me.

In fact, maybe the two aren't that different.

I can hear my heart beating in my chest. _I have to find a way to avoid It,_ I think. _I can't engage It._ I clench my sword, thinking desperately, trying to discern as to whether I've ever subconsciously noticed a clue that would lead me to the "river of water". Did I see any source of water while upon the mountain? Not that I can remember. In fact, I can't say that I've seen one drop of water the whole time I've been in Kiilda. Gus told me that the location of the river changes for every person that enters Kiilda.

So I guess this is really my endeavor. This is my adventure, and my adventure alone.

My fear of Kiilda is escalating. The demon stands there, unmoving, but the way Its eyes pierce me; it's as if Its gaze is turning me to stone. Kiilda is so large, so bold, so intimidating. The folds of Its black cloak flap behind it like the wings of a dragon beginning to unfurl. Its long, spikey hair looks completely bizarre and alien. The dull, unchanging, open-mouthed frown of the beast is even more unsettling. It has no interest for my life. It has no pity. It has no emotion. It only kills.

But my fear gives me power. I allow it to fill me and drive me. I mold my fear into courage. I accept the challenge that the demon imposes upon me. The challenge to face It. The challenge to _not_ fear it. The challenge to not back down.

I grip my sword, preparing the movements in my mind before making them occur. _This isn't running away,_ I tell myself. _This is setting up my victory._ I pivot away from Kiilda, leaning forward in the direction I want to go, and without false-stepping, I shoot away in the opposite direction of the demon.

I don't need confirmation that Kiilda is following me. If It isn't, then good. That would be incredibly relieving. But I doubt that this is the case. I believe that It is pursuing me. And I believe that It will overtake me. I stagger initially, my arms throwing my stride out of balance, but I right myself, hastening forward. My stomach still feels bizarre, rotten even. Only by trying as hard as I can am I able to ignore the feelings of distortion running through my body.

The enormous hole in the ground is growing closer as I push myself to sprint faster. I can already sense that any moment, I'll have to turn about and exchange blows with the demon pursuing me. Nevertheless, I don't want to do so by the circular abyss—it's far too perilous, foolish even. Thus, I veer to the right, and immediately thereafter whirl in the direction of Kiilda. The monster is much closer than I thought It would be. I intercept the blade of the beast by turning my sword horizontally, and am consequently lifted off my feet, shoved upwards by the demon. It's hard for me to alight gracefully on the ground—or at least as gracefully as I normally would—due to the multiple effects of the stone-infection. Staggering as I land, I swiftly regain my balance and sidestep an attack from Kiilda. Then I bolt away in the direction of the forest, which is about two hundred yards away from the hole in the ground.

I don't know where to find the "river of water". I know that I've been in the forest, technically, before. But it's not like I've searched it thoroughly for the "river of water". What's more, it seems like the only place that could effectively conceal the river. Wouldn't Kiilda, as the god of this world, hide the river from Its opponents?

I'm forced to cease my approach of the forest three times. Each time I pivot around to face Kiilda, I find that I'm just in time to stop the demon from stabbing me in the back. The exchanges are short, and I make them this way purposefully. Careful not to engage Kiilda, I escape each time, gradually arriving at the fringe of the forest. The forest seems like the perfect place to conceal the "river of water"; it is dark and foreboding, the deep shadows daunting and forlorn.

I turn once again to clash with Kiilda as I reach the first line of trees, jerking out of the way of the demon's sword which comes flashing upwards for my face. I grit my teeth, wondering how long I can keep this up. I can feel the stone-infection growing, and sweat begins to drip from my face. The river had better be close. Because if it's not...

"John..." the Word's voice comes to me, faintly.

I incline my attention to him, but only as much as I am able. I parry an attack from Kiilda by turning my blade horizontally and grasping the broken tip. Blood runs from my left hand as I cut myself on the jagged point of my sword.

"John..." the Word says. I don't know why, but the more I hear his voice, I feel as if it's the voice of a young man, someone not much older than me.

What is he trying to tell me? Can't he say more?

Kiilda shoves me further into the forest. _Good,_ I think, using it as an opportunity to escape from It and go deeper into the woods.

"John..." the Word speaks again. It sounds like a...warning.

Why would he...?

I stop, looking about, and then casting my gaze back to Kiilda, who pursues tirelessly. _It's not here..._ I realize. The river must be elsewhere. But where?

I have to get out of the woods. All of a sudden, as the knowledge that the river _isn't_ here hits me, I sense that Kiilda wants me to be here. I skirt past a few trees, placing obstacles in between myself and the monster rushing after me, heading for the field once again. _Dangit!_ I think. Even though, apparently, my logic was wrong and the forest doesn't contain the river, the feeling of having absolutely _no_ direction feels worse than having the wrong one. Where do I go?

What if I've always known the answer? What if it's always been right in front of me? Could that be possible?

I burst out of the woods, lunging into the air. Kiilda flits upwards after me. I spin while still airborne, aware that Kiilda is directly behind me, and our blades collide. I start to backflip away from the beast, not intentionally, but then I follow through with the flip, twirling while I plummet so that I am facing away from the forest once again. Then I take off at top speed away from Kiilda.

I'm satisfied with my speed; I near the giant hole in the ground in about thirty seconds. I have no intention of dueling Kiilda next to the abyss, but perhaps I can use it as an obstacle to keep the monster away so that I might regain my breath. Putting that plan into action, I circumvent the circular chasm. And then I allow myself to come to a halt.

To my dismay, Kiilda wastes no time; It hastens after me, running around the hole to where I stand. I have two options; I can run around in the opposite direction of the hole and play tag with the demon, or I can turn away and run away from the chasm altogether. I choose the latter.

I knew that whichever option I chose, Kiilda was going to catch me. Therefore, I decided to go in the direction that I thought gave me the safest fighting terrain. In other words, I thought it reasonable to choose _not_ to battle the monster by the seemingly endless abyss of darkness. Running about twenty yards away from the hole, I plant my foot and turn for what seems the hundredth time and prepare to exchange blows with the demon.

Only It hasn't followed me.

Kiilda stands tall and voluminous, like a massive storm cloud, at the edge of the hole, clasping Its sword with both hands as It faces me and waits. _But..._ I think, the recognition dawning upon me, _...it's not waitin_ g. The demon isn't pausing without reason. This isn't just happening. During this battle, this is the only time Kiilda has stopped pursuing me.

What's so special about right now? What's so special about this place?

My mouth falls open, and I grunt. Now I understand. _Of_ course _,_ I think wearily, but with newfound resolve. Kiilda really is a simple creature. I grip my sword, relief, determination, and courage rushing through me. _The moment I arrived in Kiilda,_ I realize, _I should've let go of that chain._

I cast my thoughts out to the Word. _Let's do this._

I dash forward, my arms trailing behind my as I run, and I lean forward, mustering every fiber of balance and agility within me. _You just gave it away,_ I say mentally to Kiilda. Kiilda takes up a stance as I charge It. It's ready to defend the abyss. It's ready to defend the _one_ place that will give me the strength and power I need to defeat It.

I'm fifteen yards away from the beast. Now ten. Now five...

Kiilda draws back Its sword.

"Sorry..." I begin, speaking to the demon. I force myself to speed up right as I'm within Kiilda's grasp. The monster aims Its strike and then swings. The attack is massive. I'll be cut in two.

But I lunge into the air, front flipping over the monster's sword. The action is so fast, so perfectly executed, I'm astonished with my own dexterity. And I shout as I somersault in the air, finishing, "...but this time _I_ choose the battlefield!"

And I drop into the darkness of the hole. Air whips my face as I plummet, and for a moment, all I can feel is satisfaction with my success. And peace. And certainty.

Even though I'm completely in the dark, I feel everything begin to twist and turn. It's happening again. I don't know if Kiilda is somehow going to bring me back up to the surface, or if I've successfully done _exactly_ what I said: chosen the next battlefield. I guess there's nothing I can do about it. I slip into the blackness completely, and once again, lose consciousness.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: ADELYNN GRIM

The camp has grown bizarrely quiet. The stillness is beginning to become unnerving. And it's not just the activity level within the camp, but the bandits themselves. To my surprise, this includes Aethyer.

Aethyer sits beside me, squatting down into a crouch. A shadow is over his face, and he stares out towards the front of the camp. "Aeth?" I ask him, using his nickname.

He doesn't look back at me.

I follow his gaze. What's he looking at?

Captain Sharon stands with her advisors on the edge of our camp on a small incline in the ground, which grants one a view of the fields preceding the castle of Castrum. Aethyer breathes deeply, his eyebrows lowered and his face tense. "What is i—?" I begin to ask in a gentle voice. But I think I know what's going through his head.

Without allowing me to continue, he wraps his right arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. _Okay,_ I think, accepting the embrace, the closeness he wants right now. _But what are you planning? What are you going to do?_

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER

Castrum Fortress is in a frenzy. Or, at least as much of a frenzy as it is able to be in. There are a depressingly small amount of warriors to hustle and bustle about. Perhaps we have eighty, if you count the kids that are eleven to twelve years old. For being so young, the kids are actually astounding fighters. But, having seen and experienced the skill of the average Brown Bandit, I know that the adolescents of Castrum Fortress won't really earn us any better odds of winning.

I was told only recently about what happened at Tarsh's exchange. From what else I've heard, Lord Beznar wasn't pleased with Frances' actions. Frances, he declared, doomed Castrum Fortress. We've been evacuating as many citizens as we can while simultaneously preparing for the Brown Bandits to attack.

Lord Beznar offered for me, Faith, and Frater to evacuate also. In Frater's case, there was no option; we told John that we would keep him safe, so he is indefinitely departing the castle. Faith and I decided that someone had to go with him though. And that person, although I don't like it, is I.

If Faith stays, I know that she's going to get hurt...at least. There's no way that Castrum can win this battle. Thus, because Faith is fighting on Castrum's side, she'll at best be captured, and killed at worst. I don't want to leave her; I wish I didn't have to go with Frater. But I understand that someone must. And Faith won't go. She has this idea in her head that she has to stay with Tarsh. I still don't know how a friendship formed between them, but it has. She can be _so_ stubborn sometimes.

And so I leave out of the northern-most gate of Castrum Fortress, away from the site of the battlefield. Walking alongside me are the children and elderly members of Castrum Fortress, along with a group of guards. Frater is at my left, having been given some new clothes and shoes for the journey. It's cold. I don't know exactly where we're going...somewhere into the mountains behind the castle. I hope the Brown Bandits won't come looking for us.

My heart has gradually begun beating quicker as each hour passes. Everything has turned downcast so quickly. John still isn't back. Faith is going to get captured, maybe even die. We hardly even got to say goodbye. And that's not even mentioning Frances, Ashida, and everyone else fighting.

And then there's me. The one walking away from the battle. The one who can't help. I scowl to myself as I walk, trying to remain hopeful, trying to find the bright side. But there isn't any. And now, I'm put out of a position even to change that.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

I heft my bow, doing my best to ignore the slighting cold wind that blows across the battlement. A part of me doesn't even know why I'm here. I'm standing here alongside forty archers, facing an army of over two hundred skilled warriors. We don't even have a plan of attack, as far as I know. We're going to be slaughtered. This part of me feels like crying.

But then there's another part of me, urging me to be strong. In fact, this part of me has left me feeling confident. Confident even in the face of all this adversity. Confident because I believe in myself; I believe in my actions. I don't know, or I don't even trust, that things will turn out okay for me. Insofar as my safety goes, I don't think this was the right choice. But my heart tells me that I should be at peace with my decision. My decision to stay and fight.

My heart thuds a little faster. A thought just entered my mind...and it seems so...grown up.

Is this what dying feels like? Being scared, but feeling confident at the same time?

Am I going to die?

The Brown Bandits begin forming orderly ranks in the fields outside the castle. The wind blows a little harder. I suddenly feel so small. I feel little. I feel like a child. What am I doing here? Why did I stay? I don't need to be a part of this battle!

"Faith?" I hear Tarsh's voice behind me.

I pivot, faster than I think is normal, and I turn to him.

His eyes are wide with surprise.

## FLASHBACK

" _You need to leave, Faith!" Tarsh exclaims, stepping towards me. Even though it's dark in Lord Beznar's throne room at this time of the day, I can tell Tarsh is looking at me intently, and I think Frances is too._

" _You have no obligation to stay, Faith," Lord Beznar says gently. "In fact, I would prefer it if you and Bernard took John's brother and departed from Castrum Fortress."_

I pause, exhaling deeply. I don't want to leave. I don't want to. I knew that this would happen, that we would be given the choice to leave. But I don't want to. I don't want to abandon these people. I don't want to leave before John gets back. And besides, where would we go?

But if we stay, we're bound to get killed, or at least captured, by the Brown Bandits. I know we can't let that happen to Frater; we told John we'd look after him.

"... _O—okay," I say at last. Tarsh seems to relax beside me, and I do also, allowing my shoulders to droop. I exhale deeply again, releasing some of my pent up stress and confusion._

" _Good," Lord Beznar says, "there are no hard feelings. We thank you for your aid to us in the Invasion of Howaito Maki. Tread carefully wherever you go, and may fortune be upon you and your companions. Should John Hedekira return, we will send him after you."_

" _Thanks," I say in a small, defeated voice._

For a moment, all I do is stand there in silence, unable to bring myself to turn away. Then I hear Tarsh's voice, "Faith..."

A shiver runs through me.

I look over at him, my face impassive.

" _Thanks for everything," he says, a gentle, cool smile on his face. "Your company has really meant a lot to me these past few days. You're probably the only true friend I've ever had."_

" _Thanks," I say again, just as dully as before._

" _See ya' later, Faith," Frances says in what I believe to be an overly cheerful voice. "Come back to visit!"_

I grunt. "Uh, yeah, I will!" Lastly, I cast my gaze to Lord Beznar. I don't know if I'm supposed to do this, but I bow, saying, "Thank you, Lord Beznar. We couldn't have rescued Frater without you."

" _You are welcome, Faith," the old man responds, inclining his head and smiling softly._

I still don't want to leave Castrum Fortress. I don't even want to leave the room. Yet I find myself turning away from the throne, away from Tarsh and Frances, and taking step after step away from them. Not another word passes between us. I can feel them watch me go. Opening the door to the throne room, I pause for a moment in the exit, and then step outside into the corridor.

_The door thuds shut behind me._ I don't want to go.

I can't even believe I'm thinking about doing this.

Shaking my head, I lower my head with determination and sprint away down the corridor. I have to find Bernard. I have to make this right. I have to make this work. I can't leave.

I don't know exactly what I want to stay. But I am.

And for whatever reason, as I run down the corridor—the tapestries and paintings on the wall passing by me in a blur—I realize that this is the biggest decision I've ever made on my own. There's never been a moment like this. There's no one telling me what to do. There's nothing that I feel is pressuring me into making this decision. This is just me.

_And for whatever reason, I've never felt more alive. I've never felt more like_ me _; more like the person I've always wanted to be._

## PRESENT

I had hoped he wouldn't find me. I tried to stand at the front of the archers, where he probably wouldn't notice me. Of course, I assumed he'd be on top the wall sooner or later, but I reasoned it was unlikely for him to pick me out amidst the other forty archers. _Dangit!_ I think as I face him.

"Faith!" Tarsh says again. "What are you doing here?" He reaches up as if he intends to grab me, but instead grips the air, seemingly out of frustration.

"I—" I begin, suddenly feeling awkward and foolish, like some child committing some rash, daring action to impress grown-ups. I'm tempted to follow through with the feeling of shame and foolishness imbuing me, but I straighten up, finding my resolve once more. I have to at least try and defend myself. "I'm staying," I say firmly. "I'm going to help fight."

Clutching my arm, Tarsh leads me away from the archers. Once we are out of hearing-range, Tarsh turns back to me and bends down so that he his icy, big blue eyes are looking directly into mine. "Faith," he says. "You don't get it. There is absolutely _no_ point in you staying. We're all going to _die._ "

My stomach starts to churn with anxiety. There is no hope at all in words, his eyes, or his countenance in general. He is confident and strong; he doesn't seem afraid. But he has no hope for survival. "I don't care," I reply, "I—"

"Why would you even want to stay so badly?" Tarsh questions, seeming to be genuinely perturbed.

"I wanted to because—"

"You what? Wanted to be some sort of hero?" Tarsh raises his gaze to the sky, exasperated.

I can't believe he's so frustrated with me. I knew that if he found me, he'd be surprised, and maybe a little mad. But this isn't what I expected. He's more than just frustrated with me; he seems outright disappointed, as if I've failed some sort of expectation he had for me _. I can't believe this,_ I think sadly. _He's seriously about to make me cry._

The next thing I don't believe is that I find myself acting like John. I clench my fists and look up at Tarsh, stating angrily, "I'm staying because I think it's the right thing to do, and there's nothing you can do to change that! So stop talking to me like I'm a little kid, and let me fight with you!" I look away after my outburst, not ashamed. Just unwilling to stare at him any longer. "Let me die with you..."

I hear Tarsh grunt. I am still averting my gaze from him, but then I hear him seem to shiver, and he drops down into a crouch in front of me. That's when I glance at him.

Then I grunt too. There are tears in his eyes. "Faith," he whispers. "Don't do this."

I can't bear the emotional intensity of this moment anymore. I have to turn away and go back to my post before I burst into tears. Thus, I pivot away from him, leaving him alone on the opposite side of the wall.

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: TARSH LANDID

"Don't do this," I say.

Faith hesitates for a moment. For an instant, hope swells within me as I consider that she's going to remain with me here, to at least talk for another few moments. But I know that in another moment, she also might turn away, leaving me to go back to her post. I wish she would just stay with me, for at least another minute or two.

My arm moves only an inch, and by then she's already whirled away from me. But I can't help but carry out the rest of my intended action. My hand brushes the air where she once stood...the air where her hand was. I guess I had...wanted to hold it.

_Stupid,_ I call myself. _That probably would've been a bad idea anyway._

## CHAPTER 47

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

Drip...drip...drip...

I am surrounded by darkness when I wake up. The ground is stiff and rigid beneath me; stone, I ascertain. But it's not cold. It's moist, actually. For a few moments, I really can't perceive where I am. My eyes aren't used to the lack of light yet. But, in spite of the darkness, and the insecurity that comes with being shrouded within it, the sense of peace I feel is overwhelming. Wherever I am, it's rather small. And wherever I am, it just feels...like a haven. A place where I cannot be touched. A place where Kiilda can't get me.

Drip...drip...drip...

I begin to stand up, placing my hands on the stone beneath me and pushing, attempting to get to my feet. That's when I pause, fear shooting through me and rendering me motionless. I'm so...encased in stone. From my stomach down to my groin, my body is completely made of stone. I haven't the slightest idea as to how I'm still alive; it must be some sort of magic. But it's not just my torso; my arms are also almost completely corrupted by the rock-infection. I can barely get myself off the ground. Although I'm loathe to admit it, I'm filled with self-pity and wariness. I can't believe this is happening. The initial feeling of peace I was experiencing commences to vanish.

Yet still I rise from the ground. It's difficult, but I'm able to stand up after a minute or so of struggle. I look about, my eyes having finally adjusted enough to the darkness. After jumping into the hole, I must have landed, or been transported, into some sort of cave. Sure enough, above me is a round, wide opening that ascends so high I can't even see the light above. The cavern leads to a more open area, with a high ceiling held up by naturally-made buttresses. A faint, bluish-white light glows from within the open-area of the cave, just ahead of me.

I start, and then as quickly as I can, I rush forward. "The Word?" I wonder as I scamper in the direction of the light. The light grows brighter and brighter as I approach it, and then I enter into the cavern, immediately turning my gaze in the direction of the light.

It's not him. There's merely a gap in the cavern, and for whatever reason, a little light has leaked through. My arms droop, and my head drops. _Dammit,_ I think, sighing. As I turn away from the light, I'm somewhat surprised with the depression sweeping through me. Why do I feel this way? I need to see the Word because he's certainly someone that can give me aid, maybe even healing against Kiilda. But maybe I also just wanted the company of another person. I was looking forward to seeing him because I was looking for a friend.

Drip...drip...drip...

The cavern is completely empty; I am the only person here. It is also ominously quiet, save for the sound of dripping water echoing off the high-ceilings, and this only adds to the eerie feeling that the cave now has. _Word,_ I speak in my mind, _I'm certain that you wanted me to be here. But why?_ There's nothing here for me. This could even be a trap set up by Kiilda; the only thing left to happen is for the stone-infection to take full effect, and I don't even have a chance to kill Kiilda and end this. _Word..._ I speak again in my thoughts, more earnestly this time. And then I find myself exclaiming out loud, falling onto my knees and closing my eyes, clutching my temples as hard as I can with my hands. "Word!" I scream. "Where are you?"

Drip...drip...drip...

I'm so...heavy. Completely weighed down. So sick. Maybe the stone-infection _is_ affecting me. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Am I dying?

_Not again..._ I think. _Please...not again..._

How strange it is...to think about not dying _again_. How many times will I have to die?

"Word," I say again, my voice now weak and sad, the way I genuinely feel. "I need you..."

Drip...drip...drip...

There's only silence. I get no response. Dammit! Why is it always like this? Why is it that when I need him, he's never there! Why can he never hear me?

Drip...drip...drip...

...

...

Something is different. I don't know exactly when or how I notice it. But something _is_. It takes me a few moments to understand. But then I get it. The dripping water I've been hearing. It's no longer a drip. It's a trickle.

I gasp, my eyes widening and a jolt of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through me. Not fearful anticipation. Wild, excited anticipation. Thus far, I have encountered no place in all of Kiilda with water.

Until now.

I have to lunge upwards in order to raise myself to my feet. I can hear it. I can hear the water. It's near the light. I pivot, moving as speedily as I can towards the light. My legs are so heavy; they're going to collapse beneath me. I'm going to lose balance and topple over. But I keep on stepping—the joy on my face, the freedom calling to me. _Word...!_ I shout in my thoughts.

I dive forward...

... _Thank you!_

And I land in a puddle of cool, pure water. For a minute, I lay there, rolling slowly and uncomfortably in the water. From above, the stream of water flows out of the rocks. I watch it fall, growing bigger and bigger every moment. It's so pure, so clear, reflecting the light, seeming to plummet slowly and perfectly right onto my body. I reach up my hand, as to touch it gently. And it touches me gently in return. The stone falls off of my body as if it were wet sand. And the water mixes with my tears of relief and bottled-up fear, now released in bursting, inundating feelings of joy and peace.

When all of the stone is gone, when I'm perfectly clean and free, I stand up. And I stand tall.

"John," his voice comes to me. He's close.

"Word!" I say, looking about franticly, excitedly. "Where are you?"

"I am here," he says.

I turn back to the light. So...so he was here. He was here all along. He never left me. The light has assumed a more uniform, circular form, just like the last time I saw him. "Word," I say, "I'm free. You saved me...again!"

The light glows and surges, descending towards me. I have to squint in order to stare back at the Word...if he is even looking at me. "John," the Word addresses, "I _did_ free you from Kiilda's stone-infection, but I've also given you something. The water I poured on you was infused with a substance called _zoecharia_. _Zoecharia_ is like a flame that burns within your soul. It's a light that shines within you. And it is a source of life...my life, in fact."

I grunt, "So...what do you mean?"

"John...I have given you the means to defeat Kiilda. My life now dwells within your soul. But be warned; give this _zoecharia_ up for nothing; hold onto it, and never let it go. It alone will enable you to survive the Evil of Terra. _But don't ever let it go._ "

I don't know what to say. My mouth falls open, and I try to speak. But I'm at a loss for words. I can feel it within me: surging, shining, burning. It's as if I've been filled with peace, a sense of surety and security. But I also feel powerful. I don't think it is physical power...but it's something deep and profound. Something which is empowering my person. Maybe it's something I can't understand. But it _is_ power. It _is_ life. And it's inside of me.

I find myself dropping to my right knee before him. "Thank you," I say. And it's all I can say, again and again, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Thoughts are racing through my mind. This person, this _being_ , has saved my life twice now, and even given me his life to thrive within my heart. I find myself speaking the words that come into my mind. "Who are you? And why are you doing this for me?"

The Word pauses.

"I have to know!"

"You will learn," he says at last. I'm disappointed with his answer, so I open my mouth to question him further, but he cuts me off. His voice, I'm surprised, is turning from being more supernatural and powerful to that of a human—a young man, in fact. "I will show you," he tells me. "I will...I promise."

I still want to know more about him right now, but I trust him. There must be a reason for him not telling me. And he just saved my life; who am I to make demands of him?

The sound of someone heavily landing on the floor of the cave sounds behind me. I pivot in the direction of the noise, fear shooting through me. "John," the Word says, his voice now completely human. When I look at him, I think I can see the outline of a human in the light, just like the first time I saw him. "Kiilda is coming. This will be your final fight. I don't want you to fear It—"

A black shape rushes towards me, traveling through the shadows of the cave.

"—I'll be there with you through the whole battle."

The cave begins to tilt, and the light begins to swirl around me. I begin to lose consciousness, just as I have many times before. I'm still afraid. I still don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'm ready. I don't even have my sword.

The last thing I hear is the Word saying to me, "Don't ever let the _zoecharia_ go, John. Don't ever let it go."

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

The army of bandits breaks—meaning that instead of keeping to their orderly ranks, they disregard whatever formation they had been assuming, running through the fields towards Castrum Fortress. Archers around me begin loosing arrows at the bandits once they're in range. But I hesitate. I've never killed another human before. I knew I wasn't prepared for this battle—no one was. But this is something different. Now, since I'm afraid to draw the blood of another human being, all I am is useless.

But is that so wrong? I just can't do it. Isn't it better to be useless than to be a murderer? _But it's not murder,_ I tell myself. _They're attacking you, they're attacking Castrum, and they're attacking Tarsh._ Then I think of all the little kids that Bernard left the castle with. If the thieves aren't stopped, the children could be slaughtered, kidnapped, or at least left parentless.

Endeavoring to ignore the significance of what I'm about to do, trying to push down the anticipation inside me, I reach back into my quiver. The moment my hand grasps one of my feathered arrows, I pause.

I'm sixteen years old; do I really want to do this?

Ladders bang up against the summit of the wall, and grapples anchor themselves against between the embrasures. Starting from over the fields and forests beyond, a strong breeze rushes through the ranks of both armies. And with as much control as I can muster, I breathe in the clear air.

I draw the arrow and fit it to the string. _It's time to grow up._

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

I watch silently, grimly, as our forces start hammering the walls with everything they've got. Screams of pain have begun to emanate from the fortress. I don't believe that this assault is right, so I'm not sure if I would've even participated. But I'm not attacking the castle because Captain Sharon ordered me to act as a part of her personal guard. I guess I've done a good job being in the right place at the right time; she has taken me to be loyal and obedient, the kind of person she wants protecting her.

Boy, is _she_ mistaken.

I'm still not sure what I plan to do to stop the violence. I'm not sure if I _can_ do anything, now that the attack is in motion. I hate myself for not acting sooner. But I'm used to hating myself. And I've grown better at directing my hatred. I narrow my eyes, squinting at her with disgust. She is standing in front of me atop her rock, as she always does, looking out over the battle with a smug expression on her face. _You're despicable,_ I say mentally to her. _You deserve to die..._ my hands clench, and I feel my arm twitch as I subconsciously begin to reach for my sword. But I restrain myself. There will be a time, but just not now—

"Captain!" a voice calls from behind me. I turn, looking sidelong at whoever is approaching.

I grunt, "Addy?"

Addy skirts past me, even as Sharon designates my sister as the speaker. "Is something amiss?" Sharon inquires in a lofty, almost motherly voice.

Her tone makes my blood boil.

We were orphaned as children.

Our kind, gentle caretaker was killed.

Our village was destroyed.

Our peace was eradicated.

My rage was called to life.

My hatred of the world was sparked into existence.

Who is _she_ to pretend to act in such a kind, loving manner? I can hardly contain myself; I grit my teeth and look aware, glaring fiercely at the ground, screaming mentally at the captain, _You're a lie!_

Adelynn answers Sharon, "Yeah, something's wrong! You can't just attack an entire castle of innocent people to capture _one_ person. And everyone here knows that this is just a personal quest for revenge."

I'm stunned at what Addy is saying. Everything that came out of her mouth is true, of course. Yet she's being so bold. She doesn't know what she's doing. She's going to get herself killed.

Sharon hops down from her rock, approaching my sister casually. I turn back to the captain and Addy, surreptitiously placing my hand on my sword. "You know," Sharon says, stopping before Addy. "If you don't like what's going on, you can just leave. Go ahead, I won't stop you. Forget all that the Brown Bandits have done for you, though! Go ahead and forget how we took you in, taught you how to defend yourself, clothed you, fed you, gave you friendship. I am clement enough to let a brat be a brat."

"The Brown Bandits gave me _nothing_ ," Adelynn protests. "You taught me how to hurt others and how to steal. I don't even know why we even joined." And she looks back at me, hurt showing in her eyes. I've known that she's always had these feelings about being a part of the Brown Bandits. But for whatever reason, she never denied me; we stayed because I said we should. And so we did. Guilt fills me, and my inner rage grows even greater.

"You really are a spoiled brat," Sharon says, raising her chin and smiling. "And brats should be punished, or they'll never grow up."

I know what's about to happen, but I'm a coward; I wait to see if Sharon will actually do it. I've always been a pessimist; why can't I act on my instincts? Another reason to hate myself.

With her only existing hand, she smacks Adelynn across the face. Adelynn is caught completely off guard, and falls to her hands and knees. I start, hardly able to control myself. I'm about to burst.

"Or maybe," Sharon continues, brandishing the sword at her side, "the world should just be rid of brats." And she stares down at Addy. Still smiling. Still disgusting.

I'm enraged. _She looks as if she thinks she's righteous, as if she's the mother of a nation...as if she's God._

I hate God.

I move like lightning. The moment she tries to slash at Addy, my sister, I'm already in between them. Sharon screams, sounding like a pathetic, dying animal...a useless, dying animal that no one will miss. Her remaining arm flies off of her body, a spray of blood erupting from where I severed her limb at the shoulder.

_Now,_ I think, _you really are pathetic._

I hate doing this. I hate me. But I love it at the same time. It feels right. She threatened my sister. She's attacking innocent people. She's a monster. And I am determined to do whatever it takes to destroy all monsters.

I draw back my sword, even as the other guards present rush at me. But I know they won't be quick enough. It's too late. The only thing that causes me to falter is the voice of my sister screaming behind me, "Aeth, _no!_ "

My sword flashes through the air. There's an eruption of blood. Sharon's head falls to the ground. _Goodbye._

## CHAPTER 48

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK

I still haven't killed anyone. But neither have I been inactive in this fight. My arrows pierce the arms and legs of the thieves, leaving them wounded and unable to fight. If they do try to fight, they are usually mowed down by the Castrum warriors.

I don't like watching this battle or being a part of it. There's a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. There's something about this battle that feels inherently wrong. I know that it's okay for me to help defend the people of Castrum Fortress; I'm not going to dismiss the truth for a feeling. But seeing humans slaughter each other, hearing their screams of pain, and feeling their blood spurt onto my skin...and for what? What are we even fighting for?

It is questions like these that make me feel like lowering my bow, sheathing my dagger, and fleeing the chaos. One bandit lunges over the battlements and slits the throat of one archer, and then another archer retaliates by shooting an arrow through the bandit's head. Another warrior of Castrum repeatedly hacks at the torso of a thief, and I'm forced to look away—although I'm tempted to tackle the Castrum warrior to the ground in order to restrain him. Most of all, I'm tempted to just drop to my knees and pretend the fighting isn't happening; I'm tempted to just give in to the violence around me and let it take me so that I don't have to be a part of it anymore.

But that won't do. I'm here to protect people. I can't do that by needlessly getting killed, just because of my own weakness. Accepting that it's difficult to attack other humans is the first step I take. The next step I take is to allow my instincts to take hold of me; I block with my dagger, and when I see an opening, I cut at the limbs of whomever I'm fighting.

These two steps have been repeated many times.

The bandits haven't quite taken the walls yet... _yet_. But they're going to. I can already hear the Castrum commanders calling for a retreat. We dealt a harsh blow to the thieves; at least fifty of them are dead or injured. Maybe that will be good enough. Maybe now the bandits will realize the senselessness of all this violence.

I dance away from the bandit I'm fighting; he's tall, taller than even Tarsh, but he's strong. His hair is red, like John's, but darker. He fights with a short sword, I with my dagger. We've been exchanging blows for hardly a minute and I can already tell he's better than me.

But his weakness is in his underestimation of me. I've been told this by John before and I've discovered it for myself; I'm both flexible and fast. The thief seems to think I am neither; he seems to think I'll be an easy kill. He lunges at me, striking downwards once, then twice. I deflect both attacks, and when he raises his arms to batter me again, I dash forward, dipping my body low, and I slash his shoulder at the joint. He screams, a trail of blood following my dagger. I grit my teeth, saying involuntarily, "Sorry!"

In my peripheral vision, I see that there's a thief about to attack me from behind. Grunting with alarm, I pivot to meet his blow, my heart racing and my senses intensifying as I watch him slash for my neck. As I complete my spin, I recognize in an instant that I'm not going to be fast enough; I raise my weapon in reaction to his incoming blade, but I already know it's not going to work.

His sword halts an inch away from my throat, and I grunt again, staggering away from the tip of his sword. For a moment, I watch the bandit, who's brown eyes are fixed on me, but his elderly, grim face remains perfectly still. A moment later, there's a spray of blood from the back of his neck, and he drops to the ground dead.

Tarsh appears in his place. "You don't need to apologize, Faith," he says, coming to stand beside me. "We all know that you wouldn't fight if you didn't have to." He gives me a gentle smile.

It's a somewhat awful thought, but I think, _At least he's able to kill._

I relax for a moment; I feel safer now. There are only ten Castrum warriors remaining, including Tarsh and myself. The bandits have officially taken the walls, outnumbering us three to one. And they group together, charging in unison. Lowering their bodies and running with their arms out behind them, all I can really perceive is the glint of their weapons, the brown of their shirts, and the black of their masks. Then there are their eyes, beady and angry, glowing with the fire of determination. And some of them even possess a smile of confidence.

Tarsh steps in front of me to intercept one thief before he can stab me. The rest of the Castrum Fortress warriors shuffle backwards, almost giving way into a full-fledged retreat. The thieves are about to break through our ranks, rush past us, blades flitting outward and slashing through our bodies, and then they'll continue onwards into the stronghold. I tense, gripping my dagger tightly.

Three orbs of sizzling blue light soar over our heads. They collide with each other directly in front of the bandits, and a small explosion causes the air itself to burst and light up as if it were filled with stars. At least ten thieves fall. I look behind me, searching for the one who fired the orbs of light; I already know who it is.

Calm but earnest, Ashida paces slowly towards the front of our ranks. The members of Castrum Fortress salute him as he walks by, making way for him to approach. Ashida still seems wounded, as he walks with a slight limp. But he's determined. And now that he's here, I can tell he has no plan to go back. Tarsh and I step back, both of us staring at him. "Well, Ghost of Hedekira," Ashida says, looking ahead both at the wounded and approaching thieves, "from what I've heard, the Brown Bandits don't do well with explosions."

Tarsh grunts, and then nods tersely.

Palm facing upwards, Ashida raises his hand to about chest height, and seemingly at mental command, another three orbs of star-like light form in the air above his skin. Then he says in a firm voice: " _Houshutsu!_ "

At the sound of his voice, the globules of his power rush outwards at a startling speed, detonating as they strike the bandits. Screams of pain erupt, even as there's an eruption of smoke and light. As the smoke clears, the eyes of the remaining thieves fall onto Ashida. For a moment, they simply regard the scout. And then they pivot away, dashing for their ladders and grappling hooks.

We cry out, cheering as they flee. Men clap Ashida on the back, and Tarsh and I give each other a high-five. "You did it, Ashida!" I say to the scout.

"Perhaps," Ashida replies, smiling softly, "but our captain is the one that has gone to deal the real blow."

"What do you mean?" I ask, frowning.

"I don't think they were retreating _just_ because of me," the scout explains, turning his gaze towards the camp of the Brown Bandits. "We thought we should try to direct their attention inward, away from the castle, and it seems like we have."

I grunt, turning to look at the thieves' camp too. A lone rider is approaching the site...and whoever it is, they're garbed completely in armor. "Which captain is it?" inquires Tarsh, running with me to the edge of the wall so we can see better.

"The one that always has to be the center of attention," Ashida snorts. "It's Frances."

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM

"The captain is dead!"

The Brown Bandits are in a frenzy. Lots of the remaining bandits just saw what I did. And they're reacting in the way I expected them to; they begin robbing each other.

Of course they would. Their so-called "society" is collapsing. With the death of their captain, and the failed attack against Castrum—indicated by the bright blue explosions that've been appearing on the wall—they begin to do what they do best: steal. They want to grab whatever they can and get out.

There's some sort of commotion at the front of the camp too. But I'm too busy to care. I have to get Adelynn out of here. Part of me hates what I just did: I slaughtered a one-armed woman. But I don't care; she threatened Addy. She was going to kill her. I couldn't allow that. And like I said before, she was a monster. She was evil. And I hate evil.

Addy and I are surrounded by the remaining members of Sharon's guard. Unlike me, these people actually _were_ devoted to protecting Sharon; they believed in her; _worshipped_ her.

With that thought on my mind, I'm prepared to kill all of them too.

Both my sister and I are armed; me with my hand-and-a-half sword, Addy with her short sword. We work as a team, just like we always have. We get rushed from every side—but we're able to cover every side.

Addy is amazing. And I don't say that just because she's my sister. She really is. She might even be more skilled than me. Sometimes it seems like she's so small and frail, like when Sharon knocked her to the ground. She probably could've escaped when Sharon tried to kill her; I'm almost certain of it. But it was easy for me to forget that when all I wanted to do was stab Sharon in her pompous face.

The first bandit to attack me Adelynn kicks to the ground, striking him right in the face. One thief tries to stab her while her back is turned, but I deflect his attack, squatting low for balance as I do, because I know what Addy is about to do. Jumping upwards, she pushes with her feet against the next bandit that engages her, back flipping upwards. She lands squarely on my shoulders. A moment later, I hear her blade swipe through the air several times. Three more of the guards go down.

Then she leaps from my back, her curly, black hair flitting about her face. I engage two more of the guards, kicking outwards and using my knee to block my opponent's blow by striking his elbow. Then I spin away, slicing the second on under the thigh. He's easy work for me then.

The rest of Sharon's guard begin to disperse, fearful of our skill. _Good,_ I think grimly, _that's how it should be._

Then I turn, facing the direction of the castle, and I realize that they weren't running from me.

There's a knight standing in front of us, beside the decapitated body of Sharon. He's not very tall, but, with his feet placed in a firm position, and with his bright armor glinting, he looks formidable and powerful. Brandishing a sword with a cross-guard and a round buckler, he's ready to fight. This is the person that must have been causing so much commotion at the front of camp. Whoever he is, he must have made it past the camp guards quite easily, and effectively: his sword is wet with blood.

Then the knight speaks, and I'm surprised to discover that it's the voice of a girl. "Where is Captain Sharon? I thought it's time we settled this."

I frown dully. "Right next to you."

The knight recoils, seeming to expect an attack, for she bounds away to her left, taking up a defensive stance. When no assault comes, she looks around, saying eventually, "Where?—I can't see anything in this helmet."

"Look down," I say. A large, blinking green arrow appears in the air, pointing at Sharon's head.

The girl locates the head of the captain, and seems to stiffen. "She's dead?" she asks, although it's a dumb question.

"That's right," I confirm grimly.

The knight's shoulders droop. "Oh..." Then she bursts out in a frenzy, " _Then I put all this armor on for nothing!"_

"Sorry about that," I say, feeling slightly amused. Adelynn walks up beside me, staying close. She doesn't seem to trust the knight.

"Who killed her?" the girl asks.

"I did."

The helmeted head of the knight turns to me. "Why?"

"Probably for the same reason you wanted to kill her. To end the violence. To cause the Brown Bandits to collapse on themselves."

After a pause, the knight drops her sword and shield and raises her hands, lifting the helmet off her head. I grunt; it's the same girl I fought before, when I had gone with Sharon to retrieve Tarsh Landid. Captain Frances Beznar, if memory serves. Staring at us with content, but scarred, depressed eyes, she says, "Thank you."

And then she drops down to the ground on her face.

Addy and I panic. "What the hell!?" I say, rushing to the girl.

"Are you okay?" Addy says, joining me.

There's no response for a moment, but then we hear the girl mumble from where her face is plastered to the ground. " _Please_ take this armor off..."

## CHAPTER 49

PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA

A sensation I don't normally feel in Kiilda: wind. Intense, vision-distorting wind. A wild, sporadic breeze whips my face and bare torso, warning me to open my eyes with caution. When I do, I'm surprised with what I see.

I'm still in Kiilda. The terrain for the final fight is the same as the terrain for our first clash. I stand in the plain where the giant hole was, a forest on one side, a mountain in the background...only the hole is gone, and so are many of the trees. There are also two huge boulders, fifty yards away, on either side of me. The entire subworld has been reduced to a dusty, desolate wasteland. Whereas before everything was still, now everything is being tossed about violently; the green grass is being covered in brown flakes of dirt, trees are losing their leaves and branches, and I can't even see the sky because of how intense the breeze is. The subworld of Kiilda is in an uproar in anticipation of the final battle. And here I stand in the center of the subworld, alone and without a weapon, like a sacrifice to the demon.

Literally—there's an initial pang of panic as I realize that I _am_ being proffered like a sacrifice. My arms are chained at the wrists, with the chains attached to the enormous boulders fifty yards away from me on either side. Although it was worthless, I've been stripped of my shirt. My wounds are healed, including my face, but I'm still trapped. It's only a matter of time, I'm sure, before Kiilda shows up. I'm only beginning to register and comprehend the changes around me—

Its here.

At first, all I can see is Its silhouette, freakishly tall and bold. Then I can perceive the red eyes of the demon, piercing even the shield of wind and dust. And then the turmoil of nature seems to ease up about Kiilda, and I'm able to see the rest of the demon clearly.

I grunt. _Word...!_ I think. Clenching my fists, I wrench against the chains, pulling with all my strength in an effort to blame them.

Kiilda abruptly bolts towards me. The demon runs so quickly and, in the tumult of the wind, it almost looks like the monster runs on the air. I tense, crying out and franticly trying to break the chains, but they hold fast. "Word!" I scream. He said he wouldn't leave me! He said this was possible! Now it seems like I'm completely helpless. I'm going to become infected again. I'm going to lose the final fight.

Soror will be lost forever.

But there's that spark—that tiny flame burning within me. I can feel it. I can feel it making a difference. I believe in it. And because of it, I quit fighting the chains and stare Kiilda in the face as the demon is about to come into contact with me.

Kiilda's blade slashes across my chest. For a moment, I don't feel the pain, and then it comes all at once. I cry out; it's as if my skin is on fire. The demon follows up with a slice across my stomach, and then It shoulders me in the chest. I'm tossed about by the strength of Its attacks, but I remain on my feet, pulling on the chains as a means of steadying and anchoring myself. After this initial assault, Kiilda retreats, bounding backwards twice, and It assumes Its usual, eerie stance: standing completely erect and motionless, clasping Its sword with both hands, the tip of the blade facing the sky.

I grunt and whimper, gasping for breath, leaning forward on the chains and allowing them to suspend me. _Dangit,_ I think. I can hardly breathe, and my stomach feels like it's going to fall out; I think I might vomit. But as I survey my body, I'm astonished to find that Kiilda's sword failed to cut me; I've only been bruised. That's weird. That's...incredible.

It must be the _zoecharia_.

Nonetheless, there are large bruises already forming over my bare torso, and I think one or two of my ribs are broken. I've yet to complete gathering my wits before Kiilda charges me again.

I stand up straight, thinking hurriedly for a means of escape. _Dangit!_ I think, _I have no time!_

The tip of Kiilda's blade jabs right into my stomach. I haven't been pierced, but still I lurch forward, coughing up blood simultaneously. Then Kiilda swipes downwards at both of my arms in quick succession. I scream, a jolt of nervy pain lancing through my limbs. Kiilda pivots, as if It intends to gain momentum and then slash for my neck—and It does. But I've anticipated it, so I bend at the knees and squat beneath the attack. Bounding upwards and using the chains to suspend myself, I kick at the demon, landing my feet squarely on Its shoulders, and I push with my legs, endeavoring to shove the monster away.

But Kiilda doesn't budge. Instead, we remain frozen in our positions for a moment; me suspended in the air, pushing off against the demon's broad, stone shoulders; Kiilda crouched low in an offensive position. As I suspend myself against the demon, I shout in my thoughts, _Word, you told me you'd be with me!_

As Kiilda begins to disengage, thus removing the leverage I was using to keep myself aloft, I drive my feet against the monster, backflipping away onto the ground. I land roughly on my butt, and I grunt, clenching my teeth, staring up at the demon. _"Dangit!"_ I think again. _I know I have the_ zoecharia _. But what good is it if I don't know what difference it makes?_

"John," the Word's voice echoes in my mind, once again in a tone that is notably human, "don't let Kiilda just batter away at you. You have the _zoecharia_. If you want to break the chains, then break them! I've given you everything you need to break free and fight Kiilda—"

I rise to my feet slowly, watching Kiilda carefully, but still paying full attention to what the Word is telling me. Kiilda seems to notice my readiness to go again, to clash once more. It falters for just a moment, and then rushes towards me, Its sword held at the ready by Its side.

"—the only thing holding you back," says the Word, "is you."

I perk up, my eyes widening, and I grunt.

Somehow from inside my chest, a bright, but small, bluish light flares into existence. The light is still inside of me, but it shines through my skin. The ground beneath me starts to rumble. Then it seems like the whole subworld is being rocked. The wind tears around me even more intensely. I can hear rocks beginning to crack and shudder.

I spread my feet wide. I crouch down low. And I bow my head. Beginning with my left side, I reach over with my chained-left-hand, wrenching against my bonds with all my might. I growl, and it evolves into a cry. Kiilda suddenly slams into me, knocking me backwards, but I quickly regain focus, pulling away from the chains with my right arm now. Kiilda strikes my arm as I pull, right on the tricep, and while my body jerks in response, I don't stop trying to break free.

But it's not working. _Dangit._ It's not working! Yet then I grit my teeth, tugging even harder, growling, "No."

"No" to what?

"No..."

To the chains.

"No!"

To myself. Don't give in. Don't give up. Don't doubt.

I roar, yanking both arms forward in opposite directions so that they cross...

...and, with the sound of rocks clapping, the sound of thunder booming, the chains explode free from the boulders on either side.

Electrified with so much momentum released upon me as I lose the resistance placed on my arms from the chains, I begin to pivot involuntarily. But then I lunge upwards as I do. The chains are still about my wrists, but I'm no longer bound to the boulders. Surging upwards into the air, I keep on pivoting, using the chains like whips. I cross my arms again, causing the chains to lash outwards towards Kiilda, and, in accordance with my intentions, they wrap themselves around the demon.

Then, as if in slow motion, I violently, _powerfully_ flip sideways in the air, using every muscle in my arms, shoulder, and back, to make the chains—and Kiilda—lurch sideways. The motion is executed perfectly, fluidly; I don't know how I figured out how to perform the action. It feels as if my mind and body are working as one, my imagination now made manifest through my corporality.

And the demon is launched off Its feet, tumbling roughly against the ground, until It slams against the boulder that had been keeping my right arm chained.

I land on the ground, breathing intensely, feeling fully alive. The chains drop from my wrists, blowing away into the dust around me. _This_ is more like it. Surely, Kiilda has finally been injured too.

Emerging from the cloud of dust and rubble caused by the demon striking against boulder, Kiilda surges upwards, cloak and hair fluttering, and It alights on the ground twenty feet in front of me. I grimace; Its body is still perfectly in tact. "Word," I say. "I need my sword. Is it still here?"

There's a pause, during which I listen intently with my mind, and then I hear him reply, "If you want your sword, make it."

I grunt, still squinting through the windy, dusty air at Kiilda. "How?"

"The _gado_ of a Knight is intimately connected with his spirit," the Word tells me. "Your sword is always with you, so long as you possess your _gado_. If you want your sword, then draw it."

Kiilda charges me again—so confidently, so routinely. It hasn't been fazed in the least. But Its wrong. At first, It seemed so cunning, as if It knew everything. As if It were the god of this world.

You know, I'm starting to believe that gods might exist...

...but Kiilda isn't one of them.

I stretch out my right hand.

My sword...

I flex, so hard my fingers quiver.

The weapon of a Knight.

What does it mean to be a Knight?

The zoecharia in me burns a little brighter. Kiilda is ten feet away from me, drawing back Its blade to slash at me, but I close my eyes. I think of Soror.

And then I draw my sword.

There's a flash of golden, white light. As if I were drawing my sword from a metal scabbard, a beautiful, metallic screech sounds from the light. All at once, I feel the warmth of the hilt within my palm, and I see the glint of the blade shining in the golden light. And, joining the blade and the hilt together, my golden _gado_ burns brightly like the _zoecharia_ in my soul.

Just before Kiilda's sword strikes my head, I parry the demon's blow.

A cloud of dust and wind extends outwards in every direction from where we stand, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze around us. Kiilda still appears the same as ever, but if I had to guess, I'd say that It was expressing shock. We both stand there, our blades locked, and we stare into each other's eyes; Its bright red, mine bright green.

Then we start.

Even as we disengage, I can tell that, all of a sudden, with the _zoecharia_ burning inside me, we're evenly matched. I still grip my weapon with two hands, understanding that Kiilda is still stronger than me, but it almost feels like I don't have to. My sword feels so light. I feel so strong, so empowered. _Word..._

We both clash violently, but lithely. Our blades whistle through the air in big but fast motions, nearly imperceptible because we move so quickly. We both cut sideways at the same time, our blades clanging, and then I twirl my sword, sending an over-the-head strike for the demon's crown. It blocks, moving as fluidly as ever, yet to my astonishment, the arms of the demon nearly give way to the strength of my blow.

Is this even possible?

I disengage as Kiilda shoves me away and then lowers Its head, darting after me at a swift run. I leap backwards twice, still feeling light and free, and then I deflect two slashes from Kiilda without losing any ground. Then I spin, gaining momentum, and I cut at Kiilda. It blocks, our blades screeching against each other as mine slides rapidly across Its.

Right after completing my spin, I immediately flow into another, this one more powerful than the last. And then again. And then again. Time after time, my sword slams into Kiilda's, and slowly the demon gives way. At last I pivot again, only this time I uppercut, unlike the previous sideways-slashes, and I catch the demon off guard.

My sword severs through the top of Kiilda's shoulder.

I grunt, astonishment, satisfaction, and hope swelling within me. Kiilda back pedals, Its expression still the same, but It seems...confused.

Yes. That's right. I _can_ cut you. I _can_ wound you. I _can_ defeat you. I _am_ stronger than you.

I rise up against It, raising my sword, and a bright golden light suddenly emits from my _gado_. I plant my foot, and in a sturdy, powerful motion, I stretch outwards, stabbing my sword into the opposite shoulder of the monster. Kiilda freezes, standing erect, and I know that somehow, the monster just experienced some sort of pain.

I permit Kiilda to stumble backwards again, my sword sliding free of Its stone body. Squaring up again, I wait, pausing to see how the demon is going to react. How many times do I need to hit this thing before it dies?

There's a loud crack, and then a sound like leaves rustling, and the incisions I inflicted on the demon seal shut. Without anymore hesitation, Kiilda charges me again.

Gasping with alarm, but still planting my feet firmly on the ground, I think, _It can regenerate?!_

I had set my feet, thinking I would be able to block whatever attacks Kiilda would send; but then I realize that It has too much momentum. I'm already leaning backwards in anticipation to retreat, but Kiilda is too quick. The blade of the demon flashes upwards, and I attempt to bat it aside, but It's too strong: the sword slices the top of my right shoulder. The pain is intense; I grit my teeth, time seeming to freeze as I fall backwards. To my surprise, blood sprays from the wound and commences running down my arm. _Dangit_ , I think as I fall toward the ground. _If I can cut you, you can cut me._

I land on my back, but I throw myself away from the demon as I land, somersaulting backwards up onto my feet. My breath comes out angrily as I huff, endeavoring to ignore the pain. Warm blood runs down into my hand, making my grip on my sword loose, and some of it streams down the side of my chest. Kiilda now seems to wait, regarding me with Its dull, eerie stare. I stare back through the wind tearing across the fields, squinting. _Dangit,_ I think. _This hurts...this hurts a lot. He's still faster. He's still stronger._

Dangit, I have the _zoecharia_! What will it take to kill this thing?

I breathe deeply, staring back at Kiilda.

"Don't let your wounds faze you," the Word tells me. "They will not destroy your Life. I'm still here."

My mouth falls open.

" _I'm still here"_

Wind whips through my hair, striking my face, my eyes. The ground beneath me begins to shake.

I've been alone all my life. I've been abandoned.

" _I'm still here"_

I was the one that had to comfort others. But I was still alone. There was no one there for me. I've always been alone.

" _I'm still here"_

A shiver runs through me. For the first time in my life—the first time in my _life—_ I utter, with complete conviction, that blessed realization: "I'm not alone."

Kiilda stands tall and ominous before me. My surroundings cry out and shake, trembling. The world is falling apart. _But it's okay,_ I think in a soft, child-like voice, _Because I'm...not alone._

Not anymore.

A huge, golden light flares into existence, emanating from my sword. I grunt, raising my blade, not knowing what's happening, not knowing how I'm doing this. But I'm filled with confidence as my blade surges with the bright, sizzling light. I feel the _zoecharia_ in my soul burning brighter. I'm being empowered. Someone is filling my body, my soul, my everything, with power.

I stare at Kiilda through the torrent of dust and wind.

"John," the Word says in my mind, his voice now becoming more familiar, "every person with _zoecharia_ in his soul is able to utilize the power of _charia_ , a form of light and goodness used to counter the Evil. Every time you ask for it sincerely, it will be given to you. And every time I know you need it, I will provide it. Your sword burns with _charia_ even now.

"This is your final chance, John. Kiilda is both the monster that stands before you, and the subworld Itself. This world is falling apart because Kiilda has reached the pinnacle of Its strength, and Its ready to do anything possible to kill you. If you are defeated by Kiilda here, there won't be a second chance."

I grunt, stiffening, my heart commencing to pound.

"Either you defeat Kiilda," the Word says, "or It defeats you."

I breathe deeply, even as the ground is rocked by another tremor. The mountain on my left—upon which I fought Kiilda—shudders and _crack_ s loudly, an avalanche ensuing about midway up the mount. The breeze around me intensifies. Its trying to throw me off. Its trying to distract me. To distract me from this one moment. This one shot. This final attack.

I squeeze the hilt of my sword as hard as I can. The golden _charia_ on my blade shines brighter. The power surging through my weapon casts away the wind around me, forming a swirling, circular ball of air around me. I stand up tall, my eyes reflecting the light of the glowing _charia_ , and my heart shining with the light of the Word's life. Alone, I know I may be nothing before this demon. My torso is bare, the rest of my clothes tattered. My own blood paints the right side of my body. But I feel clothed in the Word's power. I feel alive, though I stand across from the face of Death. And, though I've never felt this way before, I feel like me. I feel like a Knight.

Kiilda crouches, and then pushes against the ground with Its feet, launching Itself toward me. In a single instant, the demon unveils Its power: a strange, supernatural form of darkness begins to radiate from the stone skin of the demon. The monster's hair becomes a black fog, and the cloak of the beast suddenly assumes a liquid-like, mystical appearance, spreading outward like the wings of a dragon, and wrapping around the demon like a shield. The weapon of the demon turns into a snake-like, black chain. And for the first time, the unholy monster cries out, screaming hoarsely and ghoulishly: " _DEATH!_ "

Unable to contain myself, fueled by so much _power_ rushing into and through me, I cry out too, roaring my defiance with all the breath I have left. And I charge headlong at Kiilda, rising into the air to meet It.

It's my power against Kiilda. _Our_ power against Death. I raise my sword above my head, even as Kiilda does too.

Right before we collide, the power already imbuing me intensifies, even as Kiilda's darkness surges even more.

Crying out with all the breath I have left, I close my eyes, let my soul take control, and slash downwards.

## CHAPTER 50

There's a massive explosion. For a moment, I am completely blinded by a mixture of white and golden light. A giant, golden wave of _charia_ extends outwards in every direction. Somehow, I still remain airborne, even after I struck at Kiilda. Finally, the light fades, and as it does, so also does the wind and dust. Everything becomes still.

Still aloft in the air, I look upon Kiilda, which hovers directly in front of me. The demon's whip-blade, motionless in the air an inch away from my face, suddenly droops, jingling as it plummets to the ground, and the arms of the beast go slack. Awe and astonishment suffusing me, I look upon the blow I dealt Kiilda. A smoking, devastatingly wide crack runs up through Kiilda's body, beginning at the groin and continuing all the way up through the demon's face. All at once, the body of the monster begins to crumble.

The world around me begins to swirl, just like it has so many times before, and I feel myself beginning to slip away into unconsciousness. The voice of the Word comes to me, "John! You did it! Don't be afraid: you're just passing into the Gray Lands. You can be at peace now. You're safe."

I find myself listening and giving in to the advice of the Word. Allowing my body to tilt back in the air, I slowly begin to fall towards the ground. But my eyes don't leave Kiilda, who still stares back at me with Its eyes glowing red.

But then something bizarre happens, and it all happens in a few short seconds. I suddenly experience intense heat. The air around me is abruptly filled with flames, and I gasp with alarm. The sky goes dark overhead, and I can't help but look about franticly in response. _What's happening?_

I search for Kiilda, endeavoring to locate the demon, and I do—only it's not Kiilda. In Kiilda's place, there is the form of a strange person: his body is like that of a human, only his skin and hair is red and glowing, like the fire around me. A black mask covers his mouth and nose and deep shadows shroud the rest of his form. In the hand of the person is a dull, gleaming white sword.

I don't know why, but whoever this is, he looks familiar.

The vision passes a moment later, as quick as it came. I'm back in Kiilda, and then I feel myself get whisked away to the Gray Lands. And as I fade into unconsciousness, I wonder, _What was that?_

End of Vol. 5

# COMING UP NEXT

# THE STORY CONTINUES IN VOLUME 6: THE BLUE SHIMAI

## EPILOGUE

PROTAGONIST: KAT MEIROU

A bright flash of light appears to my right. I grunt, a pang of fear running through me. As was my duty, I have been watching the entrance to the Gray Lands for half the entire day. To my relief, no one has come from the Golden Lands—meaning no Evil have arrived thus far today, with or without human sacrifices. I hate the Evil. They scare me.

I was just about to return to camp. So what now?

I'm a skilled warrior, and an even better spy. I know how to remain unseen. Gently peeking out from behind the tree I've been using for cover, I grimace as I prepare myself to look upon the face of a horrifying beast.

But it's not a horrifying beast.

It's a human—and there aren't any Evil with him.

I crouch back behind my tree, my heart still pounding, even though I know that I shouldn't necessarily be afraid. It's just another human...like me.

But no humans ever come alone through the portal. No human ever beats Kiilda. Could he be one of _them,_ the people trying to exterminate me?

...And I'm not referring to the Evil.

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