The Gaverian Jay was stuck to a tree on the edge of Blackwood Forest. He had been there for quite some time without rescue. He preferred the circumstances as they were — if someone saw him in this state, the depth of his embarrassment would only deepen.

  He had leapt from the firefly, shooting straight into the village of Blackwood. A half-naked girl had caught him by the throat and slammed him against a tree. Before he could think, she snatched his giant blade and rammed it clean through his guts, through his spine, and into the trunk he now leaned against. Worse was the mockery that followed: when the half-naked girl tapped his cheeks and poked his nose, she called him “pretty” and said he wasn’t cut out for “this kind of life.”

  The naked bitch had gotten lucky. That’s all he would say about it. Nine times out of ten she would not have bested him. It took her once to bleed him out, though.

  Jay should not have listened to that earthen when he agreed to help. Schemel avoided Blackwood not because she was scared but because she was smart. How late the fool learns.

  Still, he would not cry out for help. It would be better to die like this than to beg. The worst thing would be for some earthen villager to find and pity him. To hasten the end, he closed his eyes and bit his tongue.

  “Wake up.” Death was calling. He lifted his heavy head and tried to focus on the blurry figure before him. It took some time to make out the person: a woman in a worn black gown with a veil over her face. Her hair was dry and broken, as if she had never had a proper wash.

  For a while the Ring in the village had hummed along with the distant night creatures. That was no longer the case — the forest was dead quiet, giving Jay and the woman a strange, private hush.

  “Has my time come?” he slurred.

  “Disappointing, isn’t it?” she answered.

  “You can’t begin to understand. Just when I decided to turn my life around — no more parties, women, astaphite. I’d have quit social media.”

  “What is that?” she asked. “Social media?”

  “It’s this place where we…” He trailed off and decided to show her. He reached for his phone. “Check my side pocket. You’ll find it there.”

  “A phone in your pocket,” said the woman. She sounded surprised. “Did the earthen invent it? They never stop, do they?”

  Jay stopped trying to force his eyes; he scrutinized the woman instead. “You’re not Death.”

  “I never said I was,” she replied, showing her teeth. “But I am here to save you from it.”

  She placed her gloved hand on the breadth of the blade, ran her fingers along the edge until she pressed into the blood-stained uniform and into the wound. “It would be a waste to die like this,” she said. “You deserve a second chance—to prove how much better you’ve become without women and parties. And social media. I will restore you to life, and all you have to do is one small favour.”

  She took a step back and pinched her thumb and index finger together so he could see how tiny the favour would be. “A life for a life, ascender. Kill someone for me and live; refuse, and die. Simple as that.”

  “I refuse.”

  “What?”

  “Who the hell do you think I am? Some thug? I’m not killing anyone.”

  “This is no job for some thug.” She gestured at him. “It’s a job for an ascender, and I would imagine you’d have great interest, seeing as this person is responsible for your death.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “At least learn a bit more about them.” She nearly lost it then, rubbing her brow and muttering to herself. “The person I want you to kill is a faerie who goes by Ezra. She is far more powerful than any ordinary ascender—a threat to our country.”

  “Oh my God, I don’t care. If you want someone dead, kill them yourself.”

  “If I could, why would I bother asking you to do the job?”

  “Well, I’m not interested!” he shouted. “I don’t take orders from anyone except my High Commander. You don’t get to show up and make demands of me. I don’t know you, and I don’t care about your problems.”

  “Does the name Fren Rheina mean anything to you?” The horrors of the night awakened. Thorned vines sprouted from the earth, oozing purple liquid. They crawled across the ground and began to climb Jay. They wrapped around his limbs, tightening at his throat. “Fear the one who destroys both body and soul, arrogant, impudent child. If this is the state of ascenders today, the world is lost.

  “Listen to me carefully, for I shall not say it again. Powers are rising in the Living World that want to usurp my father. Perform your duty—not as a Gaverian, but as an ascender—and kill Ezrael Vanchelis.”

  She calmed; the vines loosened. He gasped, coughing and wheezing. Jay’s nails scraped the trunk. Pain flared in his belly. His skull throbbed. He fought the urge to scream.

  “What do you say?” Frennie asked, softer this time. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Piss off.”

  Jay died. For good.

  “Is he breathing?”

  “I think so.”

  “Be careful. Walk slowly.”

  “I’m trying. How loud is too loud?”

  “Quiet.”

  “What if he wakes up and kills us both on sight?”

  “He’s in no position to do that.”

  Two earthens stood over Jay. He knew they were earthens not only from their rough looks but from the dirty, worn clothing they wore. They appeared female, or at least that was how their clothing read; he couldn’t tell for sure. They spoke in English, discussing how to pull the blade from his gut.

  They stood at opposite ends of the hilt and counted to three. Despite their combined effort, the great sword didn’t budge. They changed tactics, planting a foot against the trunk and trying again, grunting as they pulled. Wave after wave of fresh pain shot through his torso as the metal shifted inside him, scraping bone fragments and ripping at vessels.

  Jay’s eyes shot wide. He bared his teeth, fighting the urge to grab them both and smash their heads together. They jumped back as if they could read his mind. When they realized he was still helpless, they inched closer again.

  The older one tried a smile. “We’re just trying to help you,” she said, holding her hands up. He had no strength to refuse. Once again, they braced their feet against the trunk and pulled with all their might, groaning. His blood squelched as the sword slipped free. With a final tug, it came loose from the trunk, and the women stumbled back. The older one caught him before he could slump, while the other flung the blade aside, letting it clatter onto the forest floor.

  He felt heavy, slow—a burden. How low could he fall? An earthen of all things was his support. Two earthens, straining to hold him upright as they dragged him out of the forest. More English-speaking voices echoed from the village, and he thought the worst was over.

  Faces flashed by. The world spun. The sky was dark—of that he was certain. He wanted to sleep, to rest and recover. But the earthens wouldn’t stop talking. The women who had brought him argued with a deeper male voice. From what little he could gather, they wanted to save him, while the man demanded they leave him to die. The argument wandered into words he didn’t understand, though “Bannermen” came up again and again.

  They laid him on the bare ground and moved quickly around him. The older woman returned with a bundle of rags, unbuttoning his uniform in haste. He wanted to fight her off—he would’ve bitten her if he could. She stripped, cleaned, and dressed him in filthy earthen clothing. The other removed his boots, tied the laces together, and hurled them into the woods. He would’ve shattered every mirror in existence just to avoid seeing himself.

  Out of sheer embarrassment, he willed himself to sleep. He imagined waking in his own bed, wrapped in warmth, far from this madness.

  “Don’t sleep.” A hand tapped his cheek. It was the older woman. “I’m sorry, but please don’t close your eyes.”

  He didn’t know when they had dragged him to the middle of the village, but that was where the earthens had gathered. They sat beside glowing firefly husks, clustered around the dim warmth of a single lantern. The Ring faced them, all its ripper hexes active. Good. When the scheduled time arrived—perhaps eight in the morning—the Ring would open a portal to the Farms. That must have been why these people were here. Survivors of Blackwood.

  His mind began to piece things together again. Had Jenne defeated the monster? And where was he, truly? For the first time since arriving, Jay studied the earthens’ faces. A girl with a baby sat nearest the lantern—how they’d both survived this long was a miracle in itself. The woman and girl supporting him sat close by, keeping him upright. Then there were the two boys, both seated in the sand with knees raised. The older one wore a permanent frown that deepened when his gaze met Jay’s. He must have been the one arguing earlier with the women.

  The other boy was obviously Jenne. He held a blade in one hand, head bowed in a half-sleep. The brand on his neck glowed amber, burning deeper into his skin with every second spent away from the Sorels.

  To keep him awake, the older woman kept talking—not knowing it was her voice that lulled him toward sleep. It was hard to explain, but her tone was soft. He hated it. “I wish we were in a place to offer better hospitality,” she said. “My name is Mari.” Old, sagging hag. “And my daughter beside you is Anna-Lisa.” Scrawny, sickly, malnourished. “The girl by the lantern is my other daughter, Zerah. That’s her son, Will.” Whore and bastard. “Those two are my sons—Maselli, and you already know my youngest, Jeromy.” Idiots.

  There was no way the health administrator for Blackwood would permit an earthen to have this many children. And they all looked far too close in age for that to be physically possible anyway. She probably didn’t mean “children” in the literal sense. If he had to guess, Jenne and the other boy were her actual offspring.

  “We can’t thank you enough for coming here to save us,” Mari said. “It’s a debt we can’t ever repay.” The boy sitting beside Jenne lifted his head as if Mari had offended him with her words. He said nothing, however.

  After a long night of Mari’s droning, they all drifted to sleep. Knowing he had slept on bare ground, wedged between these people, made his wounded stomach twist. He could’ve faced the cold alone.

  At last, the hour came when sunlight broke through the dawn sky. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but the warmth was welcome. Even better—the wound in his belly was closing. His power was returning. Soon, the portal would open, and he would go home.

  “Play dead,” a voice hissed in his ear. He recognized it—it belonged to the earthen woman called Mari.

  A lot of shuffling was happening around him. It was unlike Jay to pick up on new details so late, but there were far more people in Blackwood now than there had been the night before. He opened his eyes and counted boots and vehicle tires in front of him.

  The Bannermen, for sure. Pressed to the ground, he could barely make out their formation, but they appeared to have surrounded the villagers. Taking a closer look, Jay made out the weapons they carried: many V1s — a type of plasma gun — and others wielding an assault rifle model he didn’t recognize.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “We’re giving you a choice, really,” one of the Bannermen had been saying for a while. “When that portal opens, you can run back into the arms of the Henrikian government, or you can come with us to Soden. We won’t force you into any decision.”

  Easy. None of Henrikia’s earthens abandoned their loyalty to the government for Soden unless coerced. If the Bannermen were honest about their offer, they would not have shown up with a small army.

  “Before you make your decision, though, remember it was us who tried to save you from the demon multiple times. What did your government do? Even now, when you’re free, they sent no one to check on you. I am here. The Banner is here to help you. Please, come with us.”

  A sudden rise of heat pushed Jay to the verge of sitting up. The portal was already opening. He had thought the sun had only just risen — but this heat was different.

  The thugs lifted their guns and barked orders at the villagers. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Leave him,” their leader ordered. “Don’t you know who that is, fools? Do you want to die?” So Jenne was leaving through the portal. “Since the rest of you are still here, I believe you’ve made the choice to come with us to Soden.”

  Jay punched the ground and pushed himself upright. He stood to the mild horror on Mari’s face. The Bannermen turned their attention to him, mildly curious at his sudden resurrection.

  The portal was still open. All the villagers stood shoulder to shoulder, and as he’d suspected, the Bannermen had surrounded them. Their leader was a short, moustached man, clutching a V1 at his hip. He stood before a fleet of pickup vans and armoured vehicles, each with at least one armed man beside it.

  “You’re not taking these people anywhere,” Jay said. “They are the property of the Henrikian government, and I will return them to the rightful authorities.”

  A snort turned quickly into laughter. Some of the Bannermen hadn’t heard him and asked their friends to repeat the joke. Jay rolled his tongue in his mouth, stretching his fingers and testing the spark of magic at their tips. “Lay down your weapons, get on the ground, and I might spare the lot of you.”

  That prompted an even bigger reaction. The whole group bellowed. Their leader dabbed a tear from his eye and cleared his throat. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Jay,” Jay answered. “Jay Jan Arson, High Gaverian.”

  “Then I must be your father, Jacqolin.”

  “Do not mock me.”

  “Woman, is this your son?” the leader asked Mari.

  “He is not well, Sir,” Mari said. “This is how he’s been since our home was destroyed.” She reached for Jay’s hand, which he snatched back.

  Jay advanced, opening his hand to craft.

  Nothing.

  No sword. Fine. He would kill them all with his bare hands. Without a second’s thought, he charged at the leader with tremendous speed. A boot landed in his gut. Jay coughed out air and collapsed to the ground, folding into a ball and groaning as more pain than the previous day shot through him. Pathetic. That had been the weakest kick he’d ever taken — and yet. Why? Why? Why?

  “We have the best mental facilities in Soden. They can help your son deal with trauma. Unless—” The V1 above Jay’s head warmed up. “—you want to put him out of his misery.”

  “No,” Mari said quickly. “Take him with us. Please.”

  The soldiers dumped him into the bucket of their pickup truck along with the rest of the earthens. Engines sparked, and the vehicles drove southbound toward the forest. Jay forced himself upright, watching the portal in Blackwood close.

  “Why can’t they recognize me?” he growled.

  None of the earthens wanted to answer, yet he knew they could tell him what he needed to know. The boy — Jenne’s brother — wore a faint, satisfied smile, somewhat pleased that this was happening to Jay. The girl with the baby avoided his face, as did the skinny one sitting closest to Mari.

  “Why am I still weak?” he asked himself.

  “You’ve not healed properly,” Mari said. Oh, that she knew. Never mind the Gaverian among them — it was the earthen villager who suddenly became an expert in ascender physiology.

  “The Bannermen should’ve recognised me on sight,” Jay said.

  “Your clothing—”

  “Forget about the clothing,” he snapped. “Jenne wasn’t in uniform, but they recognized him anyway. No offense to your son, but he’s not as established as I am. My enemies should spot me a mile away. What have you done to me?”

  “Nothing,” the boy said. “You don’t look like a rhen anymore, that’s all.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jay snarled again.

  The skinny girl gestured at her eyes. “They’re dull now.”

  It made sense. His body had spent too much ascension energy healing the wound. He had run out — his eyes dulled. They were supposed to glow blue, to make him stand out. Being mistaken for an earthen was humiliating.

  The journey through the forest brought back unpleasant memories from the night before. Out of Blackwood, they made their way east toward the coastline. Before long, they approached a village. The earthens recognized it as Maplewood, named for the canopy of branches that shaded the settlement. Jay, however, was more interested in the Ossen Sea below. A vessel floated upon its surface. An old-fashioned ship, with massive grey masts hanging high and hexes etched along its hull.

  Tunnels of dust from multiple directions converged at the coastline village. Fleets upon fleets of vehicles arrived, carrying stolen earthens escorted by Bannermen. Maplewood had become a hive of criminal activity. The Banner would never get an opportunity this good again — not with the Henrikian government in disarray and the army drained of resources.

  Shoulders pressed against shoulders. The unforgiving sun smote the backs of their necks. Assigned Bannermen stood on stacked crates, holding megaphones and barking directions. They gestured toward the tents set up at the far end of the village. Despite his height, Jay could barely keep up with Mari and her family as they moved through the throng.

  Every tent was packed with families just like theirs. No one had room to spare. Mari persisted, negotiating with an elderly man for a corner until they could set up their own shelter. The man resisted, claiming he was saving space for the rest of his family when they arrived. They squeezed in anyway.

  Two children ran past, laughing from behind. One tripped and struck the back of Jay’s head with his knee. Cussing and shouting followed. Soon the Bannermen announced they were serving breakfast, and anyone who wanted food should join the queue.

  Gradually, lines formed everywhere. Mari’s son stood to leave with the others. When Mari urged Jay to get up, he refused.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. He didn’t answer.

  “Leave him,” her son said. “I heard you don’t get served unless you show up. When he’s hungry enough, he’ll come.”

  “There must be arrangements for invalids,” Mari told her son. “Come with me. We’ll ask the soldiers to make an exception for him.”

  Her son shrugged and went ahead, muttering. Jay could hear him—he thought his mother was weak for bending over backwards for someone who didn’t respect them as people. The skinny girl overheard too; she glanced over Jay’s shoulder with a nasty look. “If he’d played dead, he’d have been home free by now,” she sneered.

  The Ring in the village hummed. Good — the portal worked. A platoon lounged in the shadow of one pillar, clustered around their troop leader. It just so happened to be the very man who had kicked Jay through the gut. The Bannerman laughed at his own jokes. He would die. Jay would kill him.

  Mari returned before the others with a bowl of porridge and some bread. She set it on the ground beside Jay, breathing heavily as she sank down. “It’s not easy out there,” she said. “I got this for you.”

  He did not touch the food.

  Her glee melted away. She stared at the meal, trying to understand what was wrong. “You’re starving,” she said softly. “Please, eat—for your own sake.”

  She broke off a piece of bread and offered it. Jay smacked her hand away, then tipped over the bowl for good measure. The porridge splashed; she caught what she could with her hand.

  “Wasting food is a punishable offence.” A rebel stood at the mouth of the tent, giving Mari a stern look. “Was it you who did this?” he asked, jerking his chin at Jay. “Or him?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mari said quickly. “I should have been more careful.”

  “You’ll pay,” the man replied. “Come with me.”

  Mari spent the rest of the day volunteering for the Bannermen. They didn’t have enough workers, and needed excuses to get their migrants labouring. Crooks prowled the camp, accusing people of petty offences to fill the ranks. Volunteers washed bowls, packed boxes, and cleaned pit latrines—working until nightfall, when the moustached man climbed a crate with a megaphone in hand.

  “We have everyone we need gathered here tonight,” he boomed. “This campaign has been one of the most successful for the Banner—if not the most successful. Yeddersfield is free. Forswood is free. And now, Blackwood—yes, we have set Blackwood free.”

  The crowd broke into applause.

  “Tomorrow, we board the Walk O’ Freedom and sail for Soden!”

  To make sure no one went missing, families were told to number themselves, pack up, and stay put until morning. Boarding would begin at sunrise.

  That night, Jay lay on his back, eyes wide open. Hunger gnawed at him, and frowning into the dark didn’t help. When he finally began to drift, a hand shook him awake.

  “I have something for you,” a whisper said.

  He didn’t resist.

  Jay and Mari sat at the edge of the tent, avoiding the moonlight. The village was asleep except for the guards on patrol. She handed him a loaf. Jay took it. Bit. Chewed. Swallowed. He didn’t die.

  A plastic bag rustled in the dark. “Perks of volunteering,” she snorted. “You learn where the leftovers go.”

  They ate and drank in silence.

  “No one is this good without reason,” Jay said finally. “Your son called you pathetic. I think there’s more to you than you’re letting on.”

  This time, she said nothing.

  “You were never planning to go to the Farm,” Jay went on. “Maybe you didn’t plan for all this, but you’re glad I’m here, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” she admitted.

  “What do you want?”

  “The Bannermen asked us to number members of our family before we go to sleep. I’m awake because the number I have gets smaller each time I count. I have lost so many of my loved ones. There is one I want to fight back for.”

  “You’ve got a missing son you want me to find?”

  “Daughter,” she said. “And she’s not missing. I don’t know how to explain, but after you arrived, my son and some foreigners came. They were powerful people such as yourself. They took her away and I could do nothing but stare. I’m ashamed of myself. That’s why I can’t rest until I get her back.”

  “That’s an unusual story.”

  “Yet you believe it.”

  “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  “Ezra,” she said. “Her name is Ezra.”

  His stomach knotted. He sweat, barely breathing. Frennie watched him—standing out in the open with a wicked grin, tapping her wrist. Mari shook him free.

  “No,” he said. “I won’t help you. Don’t think some bread and porridge gives you the right to ask favours.”

  By morning, Jay felt much better. He was lighter, more focused on the plan he had been perfecting all night. As the multitude descended the cliff toward the vessel, he joined the queue as though nothing was wrong. By his estimate, it would be noon before Mari’s family boarded the ship.

  Every fifteen minutes he marked the positions of the nearby Bannermen, assessing their readiness to strike should disaster occur. They were on alert, which was expected, but their flaw was not knowing who their real enemy was.

  “Why don’t the Bannermen destroy the Rings?” he asked Mari.

  She didn’t know, so she urged Maselli, her son, to talk to Jay. He wouldn’t; the skinny girl filled in instead. “Look at those things,” she said, pointing at the pillars that held up the Ring. “You’d need serious explosives to damage them.”

  “The demon that attacked you prevented the Ring from functioning,” Jay said.

  “Well, yes, Franka was all kinds of crazy,” she said. “He must’ve been casting inverted hexes or something.”

  Jay scoffed. “What would you know about inverted hexes?” No village school taught them. Not every teacher at Se Fina knew about it either.

  “Maselli did,” she said. “He knows a lot about magic. And Ezra too, but she’s not here anymore.”

  Jay caught an instant fever. He stopped, causing those behind him to bump into his back. Again—with that name. He had to leave. Mari noticed something was wrong and took his arm, pulling him close.

  “You seemed fine a minute ago,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  No. No. What the hell was this? Who did these people think he was? Why was this filthy earthen mothering him? He had to leave. Enough of the rags and the disgusting food. Enough of everything.

  He shoved her away—hard, into the dirt.

  Her son didn’t like that. He rushed at Jay. Jay stepped aside and smacked him across the neck. The boy gagged and collapsed beside his mother.

  The Bannermen caught on, shouting as two of them broke from the crowd. Jay darted through the opening. One of the rebels spotted the woman and her son in the dirt and glowered. He raised a fist—Jay struck first, driving his arm clean through the man’s gut. The punctured hole steamed around his trembling hand.

  He crafted. A blade as wide as an adult’s arm burst free through the dying man’s back. The other rebel froze, unable to react—not even when Jay swung upward and split him in half.

  Another swing. A head rolled.

  A plasma shot slammed against his blade. It came from the rebel on the crate. The soldier panicked, recalibrating his V1. Jay bolted and slashed. Bolted and slashed. Bolted and slashed.

  Simple. Clean strikes. So easy.

  The moustached commander kicked his heels in the dirt, whimpering as he crawled away.

  “I told you who I was,” Jay said. “You didn’t believe me.”

  “Please, please.” The rebel said nothing else.

  “Get up.” Jay didn’t wait for him to comply. He grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him upright. The two faced each other—one trembling to get back to the ground.

  Jay stepped back, then charged forward, stomping through the man’s chest. The shock shattered bone. Blood shot through the rebel’s nostrils, and he slumped into the dirt, a broken, bloodied mess.

  Disgusting creatures.

  Jay spat. His energy drained as sharply as it had risen. His knees gave in, and using his blade for support, he staggered in silence toward the warming Ring. He didn’t need to turn to feel their eyes on him. If they wanted to flee, that was fine. Let this serve as a demonstration of their enemy’s power.

  A portal to the Third Farm opened. Jay climbed through—alone. He didn’t get far before his blade slipped from his hand and he collapsed.

  From the atmosphere alone, he could tell he was home. The soft bed, the clean air, the distant hum of intellect and order—he had never imagined this much luxury in a hospital.

  The wound in his belly was gone, along with all other weaknesses. Blackwood was a fever dream, nothing more. He would never meet those people again. Their names were already fading from memory.

  He would find the doctor, thank the good men who brought him home. Jay tried to rise—but a tug forced him back down. How could he have missed the cuffs on his wrists? He rattled them to test their strength. Metal clanked against the bed.

  “I see you’re awake,” said the doctor as he entered.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Jay demanded, rattling the cuffs harder.

  “They’re to keep you from escaping,” the doctor replied. “You’re under arrest, Master Arson.”

  “No—that’s not what I meant,” Jay snapped. “Why would you use regular cuffs on an ascender? I can break these with ease. You should’ve used a collar.”

  “If we had, you might not have survived,” the doctor said calmly. “Those cuffs are safer—for a man in your condition.”

  “Condition?”

  “Besides,” the doctor added, “you can’t break out of those. If you could, you already would have.”

  “What. Condition.”

  The doctor came to the desk near the bed and picked up a mirror. “It’s better if you see for yourself.”

  Before Jay looked, he caught sight of Frennie standing beside the doctor. Then he turned to the glass.

  An ugly earthen stared back. His eyes were dull.

  “We found no trace of ascension in your blood,” the doctor said. “What happened to you out there?”