7.

  Faelwen

  Two days ago, I entered this city for the first time, and now, finally, I was on my way to see the elves again.

  “We made a little detour, buddy,” I murmured to Artemis, clutching my mother’s music box to my chest.

  “But we’ll make it.”

  Artemis grunted softly in response. We had left Armenelos behind hours ago, and the tunnel stretched quiet and steady before us.

  Wen, Artemis asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. If you understand Elvish, why can’t you make out the inscription on that box?

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to.”

  He snorted, unimpressed.

  I bet you’ve never really tried. Try now.

  “I always tried!” I hissed back. Ahead, Spook turned his head sideways, brow furrowing.

  “Did you say something?” he asked.

  “No, nothing,” I replied, feeling my irritation fade into focus as I fished out the key to the music box. I opened it, and the soft notes filled the air around us. Spook stopped in his tracks, head tilted, looking confused.

  “Why…” he began, but I put a finger to my lips to quiet him.

  The inscription around the sun called on me again. Leaning against the wall, the music box in one hand, I whispered the Elvish words, “ír nidh-tana-dhir í f? ón í medui calad uin í aur.”

  My ancestors’ voices echoed the words in my mind, this time with perfect pronunciation. I closed the music box and looked up. Suddenly I understood.

  I understood the meaning of the words: “I will show you the path at the last light of day.”

  Artemis’s voice sounded in my mind. Seems like this box can lead you somewhere at sunset, he observed.

  I nodded, still turning the words over, wondering where it could lead us. We travelled in silence for a while. And stopped occasionally to eat and drink.

  Finally after hours, Spook settled down, making a small fire to heat up a stew of dried meat and carrots. Its aroma, though bland, was filling enough, and I took out my notebook to jot down the events of the past few months.

  So much had happened, it was hard to make sense of it all: the Hunters attacking our home, the demonic pentagram and the drawing of that monster, my mother’s music box and her secrets – why had she left her people? And the high king Talron – what drove him to decide that all magical creatures should be destroyed?

  My pen scratched against the page as I wrote, the weight of the mystery heavy on my mind.

  3E 939 11th of the nine moon,

  The darkness doesn’t seem so dark anymore. I have made friends. Piece by piece, I learn more about my caretaker as well. His hidden past scattered across this world. “I will show you the path at the last light of day,” my mother’s music box whispers. And remember, I will. Still, the demon’s riddle remains: “this shrine is only the beginning. I will spread his word and hope others pledge to his magic and power.” Who is “he”?

  “Did you hear that?” Spook’s whisper snapped me back to the present. I stilled, listening. Nothing.

  “Are you hearing ghosts, Spook?” I laughed, but his expression silenced me.

  “Listen,” he whispered sharply. Tuning in through Artemis’s senses, I picked up a low hum from deeper in the tunnel, a scent both familiar and foul, human, yet monstrous. My heart sank as I went back into my own body.

  “It’s a demon,” I breathed to Spook. Artemis growled low.

  “We can’t fight it; we’ll have to sneak past.”

  Spook froze, mouthing the word in horror. The hum grew louder and a shiver went down my spine. The creature was walking towards us. My eyes turned towards the fire

  Put it out! Put it out! I heard Artemis yell in my head. I threw some water over the fire and we were plunged into darkness. Artemis hid behind me, trembling.

  The smell became stronger, I couldn’t breathe. We more felt, than saw, the creature pass by, nearly brushing us. Its gnarled, cloaked form paused near our extinguished fire, sniffing.

  I held my breath. Would it know? Then it let out a blood-curdling scream that pierced my ears, and I felt blood trickling down.

  Around me, Spook was clutching his head, screaming in agony. I collapsed and a silver mist wrapped around us as if my ancestors themselves had come to shield us.

  The pain subsided and I was able to look up. The demon wasn’t like the monk creature I encountered before. No it was a twisted old woman, eyeless sockets gaping, rags hanging from her skeletal frame. Her mouth gaped, revealing rows of sharp, inhuman teeth.

  I lurched to my feet, gripped Spook by his arm and Artemis followed.

  We ran.

  “Which way?” I shouted, and Spook gestured frantically as we sprinted through the narrow tunnels. I glanced back, regretting it instantly. She was close, moving faster than she should have been able, her hair flowing in inky tendrils behind her, reaching for us with her crooked taloned hands.

  My eyes widened in fear and I turned away. We took a turn and were running uphill. I felt my muscles ache. The old lady didn’t seem to have a problem running uphill. She climbed fast, nearly reaching us. There was a door at the end of the tunnel. Spook braced himself, took a sprint and slammed against it. The door flew open and we stumbled into a cellar.

  The woman was too close, and we ran on. I saw Artemis scratch at the door on the other end of the cellar. Someone muttering something about rats, opened the door. We burst passed the startled man with a cooking knife who gaped at the demon as we sprinted through.

  Behind us, the demon overtook him, and his scream was cut short as she tore into him. I could see the last light of the day ahead, and we spilled out onto the street, only to find ourselves surrounded by guards.

  Before they could recognize or even seize me, the demon emerged, snarling, her black eyes glinting in the sun. And she unleashed another scream. Blood streamed from the guards’ noses, ears, and eyes, their veins blackened as they dropped to the ground, lifeless.

  I pushed my hands against my ears so hard that it felt as if I was trying to break my own skull. The pain was immense. I fell to my knees and saw Artemis and Spook next to me. Panic broke out in the street and I could see a few Silver Soldiers running towards us.

  I had to do something. Summoning every last ounce of strength, I raised my hands and envisioned a protective barrier.

  Please, please, I pleaded in my head. Just like the last time, I felt a strange energy engulf my body. A faint blue light sprang from my palms, muffling the scream of the demon. Soldiers first looked at me in surprise before they took the chance to regroup, and Spook nodded to me, pulling his daggers out as we moved to surround the demon.

  The Silver Soldiers arrived and with raised weapons they called out to the demon.

  “Surrender in the name of the high king Edmund or face the consequences!”

  She looked with dead eyes to the Silver Soldiers, holding her head a little sideways, blood dripping from her mouth. She snarled and muttered a strange incantation, and her form began to warp.

  A nightmarish transformation. This, I knew, would hunt me for months in my dreams. I saw men around me gawk in terror. Some staggered backwards.

  “Hold position!” I heard their commander yell.

  The old lady started to fall apart. Her skin crumbled to dust. Her limbs lengthened, fingers turned into black talons with long nails. Her skin turned into what looked like a black, thick mist. Her legs crumbled away and she hovered above the ground. Her hair started to grow and turned into a thick, black substance as well, covering her body as a cloak. She looked up at us, two yellow eyes in the blackness.

  Fear struck me like ice cold water. Artemis cowered behind me. Spook’s eyes were wide open, the dagger in his hand trembling slightly. Soldiers gasped and some even dropped their weapons. Glued to the ground, they couldn’t move. She flew towards us.

  Don’t let fear take us, fight! Artemis’s voice echoed through my mind. Somehow the terrifying feeling left all of us. I had no time to contemplate this as the soldiers attacked. Their blades slipped through her incorporeal form like a knife through butter.

  A fleeting moment of panic gripped me, before I took my bow and shot an arrow at her. But it was pointless. The arrow flew right through her without leaving so much as a scratch. Nothing seemed to hit her. I breathed in, steadying my nerves. She advanced, swatting the soldiers away like flies.

  Her gaze turned to me. Two yellow eyes burned with anger. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, this time spewing a noxious black substance that seared the ground.

  I jumped aside just in time and quickly shot an arrow directly at her head. For the first time, she screamed in pain, black blood dripping from her wound. Encouraged, the soldiers attacked, but her powers only seemed to grow, and with each slash of her talons, more men fell. Screaming on the ground, trying to hold their body together.

  She took another breath and released another scream that busted my eardrums. I felt blood dribbling out of my ears and pushed my hands against them. Dropping my bow. A silent scream left my lips. Men around me screamed in terror and pain.

  My eyes found Spook whose mouth opened and closed. Words leaving his mouth that I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears. Spook waved desperately at the creature's head. A weak spot perhaps? With grim determination, I grabbed my bow again and took aim, my fingers steady despite the chaos around me.

  The arrow flew straight through the air, piercing her skull. A guttural wail echoed through the street, and the soldiers surged, each strike growing bolder.

  The Silver Soldiers saw my arrow struck and some of them retreated to take aim with their bows. The others held her at bay with their weapons. Black substance flew again from her mouth on the front row of soldiers.

  Their yells turned into gurgled noise as their skin melted from their bones. The scent of burned hair and skin reached me. I gagged as a wave of nauseousness crashed over me, their screams and melting flesh burned into my mind. I’d never seen this before. What this monster could do. Such a terrible way to die.

  But I couldn’t linger in my thoughts. Arrow after arrow left my quiver. Some hitting their mark, others flew passed her or we swatted out of the air.

  Spook ran forward with his daggers at the ready. As swift as a fox, he jumped, made two quick blows on her head and rolled onto his feet on the other side to disappear in the shadows again.

  My hand reached for my quiver again. Empty. Heart racing, I grabbed my sword.

  Breathe. I’ve got you, Wen. Artemis’s calming voice steadied me. He was on my heels as we charged forward. She whipped towards us with a roar and slashed at me with one of her talons. I heaved my sword and slashed them away. The tops of her talons fell to the ground. Dark blood covered my face.

  The remaining Silver Soldiers saw my hit and roared in excitement. Their quivers empty as well. They ran towards the demon and started slashing at her talons. I retreated to the back and picked up some of the fallen arrows.

  Turning back towards her, I took aim and shot three more arrows towards her head. One hit. She screamed, her mouth so far open you could see the four rows of pointy teeth. Just then, one of the Silver Soldiers launched his sword with all his strength into her open mouth.

  Her scream choked off as she dissolved into a thick, oily black mist that seeped into the ground. Around me, soldiers staggered, some gravely injured, others lying still. Spook appeared beside me, blood streaking his face, his eyes shadowed. But overall he seemed to be okay.

  “You alright?” I asked, exhausted. He grinned.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “Better than you, probably.”

  I looked down at my battered body, and smiled inwardly. I indeed looked worse than him. When I looked back up, Spook’s face paled. I followed his gaze and drew in a sharp breath. Silence stretched between us as our eyes scanned the remnants of the battle. Few soldiers had survived. Too few.

  “We have to leave,” Spook murmured, and I nodded. My legs felt weak, drained by the magic I’d drawn from my own body. A cold dread clung to me and I couldn’t shake the images of the soldiers dying to the black ooze coming from her mouth. Shaking my head to rid myself of the images, I followed Spook.

  We slipped into the alleys, the pale moonlight filtering through clouds overhead. My heart still hammered from the demon’s scream, and my legs felt like lead, but I had to keep moving. My mind focused only on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Where are we going?” I panted as I struggled to keep up. He abruptly stopped at the end of an alley and I bumped against him. He shoved me aside and held on to my arms.

  “Tonight I’m going to bring you to a place where you can sleep. Tomorrow I’ll show you the way out.”

  I nodded and took hold of his arms as well. We stood like this for a few seconds in silence, both breathing heavily from the earlier fight and looking at each other as if to make sure the other was alright. A spark of camaraderie formed itself between us, before Spook let go and moved on. I followed.

  He led me through a maze of darkened streets. The cold stone walls scraped against my fingertips as we darted through the narrow alleys. The quiet hum of people readying themselves for the coming night hung in the air. It wasn’t long before we reached a quiet corner of the city, far from prying eyes. Here, he paused by a door, knocking thrice. It creaked open just a crack, and a voice inside asked, “How may I help you?”

  “We seek shelter from the storm,” Spook answered.

  “Is that you Spook?”

  “Yes.”

  The door opened, revealing a hallway that led to a well-lit room with red walls and a cozy hearth. The man inside, middle-aged with warm eyes, gestured us in. There were four comfortable arm chairs, with soft, thick pillows, around the fireplace. On the table in the middle stood a fancy tea set and a plate with sweets. The place was decorated with beautiful art works and extraordinary weapons hanging on the wall.

  “Make yourselves at home,” the man said while he poured some tea for us. I relaxed into an armchair, the warmth of the fire lulling me into drowsiness.

  “Here is your tea, lad.” He gave one of the fancy cups to Spook and turned to me. “And who did you bring with you this time, lad?”

  With this light I had a good view of his posture and face. He was a broad shouldered man with a kind face. His light brown hair was short and neatly combed to one side. He wore a simple garment decorated with silver buttons on red silk. I noticed he was barefoot.

  When I looked back at his face, he lifted one eyebrow at me. I could see his nose had been broken several times and a small scar showed on his right cheek. He had dark blue, watery eyes. Before Spook could say anything, I already answered.

  “My name is Faelwen and this is my friend Artemis,” pointing at my wolf who was already fast asleep by the fireplace. The man smiled at my wolf.

  “I’m going to help her get out of the city,” Spook explained. “Tonight we rest,” he whispered to me. I smiled at him and leaned back into the chair glancing around the room and at our host. The man’s face held the beginnings of a smile, one that promised safety, if only for one night.

  “She is being hunted by the Silver Soldiers. I have to escort her out of the city,” Spook explained. The man’s gaze settled on me. He tilted his head as if appraising something foreign yet familiar.

  “Welcome, young lady. I’m Jesper Fiddle, and this,” he spread his arms, a hint of pride in his posture, “is my lair.”

  I nodded politely, meeting his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Jesper inclined his head in acknowledgement, gesturing toward a steaming cup near me.

  “Drink up, Faelwen. Dinner won’t be long now.” He turned back to Spook, a curious glint in his eye. “So, tell me lad, what’s your plan for getting her out of this cursed city?”

  Spook leaned forward, his voice low. “Through the underground tunnels. We’ll exit near the temple.”

  Jesper’s eyes narrowed as he took in the words. “And you’ll need entry in the tunnels from here, I assume?”

  A brief pause lingered before Spook answered. “I think you know the answer, old friend.”

  Jesper nodded, the glimmer of a half-smile hinting at an understanding.

  “Very well. I’ll send word to the Basilisk you’ve been here.”

  The door creaked open, and a young girl entered in silence, dressed in a simple servant’s gown. She gave Jesper a quick nod before slipping into the shadows.

  “Dinner is served,” Jesper murmured, nodding toward the vanished girl. He rose to lead the way, noticing my curious glance.

  “Poor thing. Lost her tongue for refusing to speak against someone she loved. The ‘great and noble king’ ordered her silenced, then tossed her out on the streets to be devoured by crows. I found her before it came to that.”

  The edge in his voice cut through the air, the contempt clear in the way he spat the words “great” and “noble”. The thought of her punishment left a bitter taste, and I shook my head in disbelief as we entered the dining room.

  I knew of the king’s cruelty toward magic users, but to learn he treated his own people, non-magical humans, with such savagery was more chilling than I’d imagined.

  A low whine drew my attention. Artemis padded over, drawn by the scents wafting from the table, his eyes bright and alert. In his haste, he nearly toppled Jesper, who chuckled, steadying himself.

  “Apologies, Jesper,” I said, though I couldn’t help smiling. “He’s clearly starving.”

  Jesper chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I like having a house wolf nearby. I have one myself, though not quite as impressive as yours.” He gestured toward the corner, where his own dog, a heavy-jowled creature, snored soundly in a bed by the hearth.

  “So… er.. what does Artemis eat?” he asked carefully. I shrugged, a small smile escaping.

  “Whatever we’re having, he’ll gladly take.”

  Laughing, Jesper grabbed a chunk of meat and a thick slice of buttered bread, adding a bowl of rich soup to the plate.

  “There you go, my friend,” he whispered, placing it before Artemis, who let out a contented grunt and dove in.

  Spook and I settled at the table and eagerly filled our plates, exhaustion and hunger overwhelming any inclination toward conversation. Our previous encounter with the demon had left us starved and weary, and we ate in silence until, curious, I looked up at Jesper.

  “So Jesper, what do you do for the Guild, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Jesper took a sip of his wine, dabbing his mouth with a napkin before he replied. “I’m the Caretaker. I keep an eye on Guild members, see to their wounds, and tend to anyone needing a safe place to lie low. I also scout for new recruits and…” he gestured to his dog, “with my loyal friend here, try to care for everyone as best I can.”

  “Sounds like an interesting job you have. You and Spook also seem to know each other well,” I remarked glancing between them. Jesper chuckled, but Spook only continued eating, his gaze firmly on his plate.

  “Found him when he was just a lad,” Jesper said. “I saw potential so I took him in. Made sure he got the right training from a few Guild members. You wanna know what he was like as a young boy?”

  Spook stiffened but didn’t look up. “We don’t need to know each other’s past,” he muttered, his voice tight. Jesper glanced at him, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he turned back to me.

  “Anyway, I for one, am curious about you and your pointy ears. A small girl like you, being hunted by Silver Soldiers and Hunters? Surely there’s a story there.”

  “How do you…” I began, but Jesper cut me off with a slight smile.

  “I have my ways,” he said. Spook shifted in his seat, finally lifting his gaze to me. His hood was pulled low, but I could see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Jesper crossed his arms, studying me with a slight frown, waiting. My pulse quickened. What could I safely tell them?

  Artemis, I called silently in my mind, feeling his presence settle beside me. His thoughts whispered to mine, they’ll know if you lie, but you don’t have to tell them everything. Just enough to keep yourself safe.

  I took a deep breath, glancing down. “I haven’t seen home in four months. I lived near Townhaven, a quiet fishing town.” I paused, searching for the right words. “The Hunters came out of nowhere, chasing me down. They think I might have… abilities.”

  “Do you?” Jesper’s eyes narrowed. I opened my mouth, then closed it, caught off guard, my fingers tightening around the cup.

  “Excuse me?” I stammered, taking a sip from my drink.

  “Magical abilities. Do you have them?” Jesper’s voice was calm, but insistent. I glanced at Spook, who wore an insufferable knowing grin.

  “I… suppose I have a minor talent,” I said carefully. Spook’s grin widened, and he leaned back, looking smug.

  “She’s downplaying it,” he said, turning to Jesper who reached forward to grab another piece of bread. “This girl stopped the shrieking of a demon and saved lives.”

  Jesper hummed surprised, his mouth full of bread as his gaze fell over me. I swallowed hard when Spook continued.

  “Not only that, she has a way with a bow I’ve never seen. The best archer in the Guild couldn’t match her skills. And I’m sure there is a lot more she’s not telling us.”

  I shot him a warning look, but he only smirked, ignoring it. Jesper’s expression turned speculative, his gaze lingering on me.

  “A myth in the making,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, with a slight bow to Spook, “My apologies for ever doubting your stories, my friend.”

  A tense silence fell over the table, both men’s gazes bearing down on me. Artemis growled softly, his hackles raised. The air thickened, the weight of their attention pressing heavily on me. I looked at them suspiciously. Should I run? Spook rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a rare softness in his voice.

  “She carries Barnabas’ notebooks, Jesper. And a friend of Barnabas is a friend of mine.”

  Jesper’s eyes widened slightly. “Barnabas, you say? I haven’t heard his name in years.” He looked at me, something unreadable in his expression. “And where is he now?”

  A pang of sorrow constricted my chest. “He’s gone,” I whispered.

  Jesper lowered his gaze. “A loss for us all.”

  The rest of dinner passed in pensive silence, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Finally, the tongueless girl came to clear the table, and Jesper led us to our rooms. My room was larger than expected, with a welcoming fire in the hearth casting warmth across the beige curtains and the bed’s white linens. A heavy, woollen blanket lay folded at the foot of the bed, and candles burned softly on the tables.

  A big map of the Ancestral Region adorned the wall above the fireplace. In the corner, a door led to a small bath where a steaming tub awaited. Exhausted but grateful, I prepared to wash, noticing that Artemis had positioned himself firmly by the door, his ears perked, keeping watch.

  “Artemis,” I murmured, attempting to coax him over. “It’s safe. You need not worry and you need a bath too.” With a disgruntled huff, he gave himself a few cursory licks.

  There, I’m clean, he seemed to insist, but I only shook my head, drawing a sponge and warm water over his reluctant form. As I washed away the day's grime, my thoughts wandered. After finishing cleaning myself and Artemis I put on a night dress and sat on the bed.

  I picked up one of Barnabas’ journals and skimmed it, hoping for some insight on the dark creature we’d encountered. Eventually, I found a passage that had some interesting information.

  3E 917- the 16th of the third moon.

  Villages are being raided by Orion. Innocent people are suffering. But I can’t find this Returner. I went to Blackthorn, a small fisher’s town near the city ruins. Everybody knew the ruins of this city. And that Sir Ludwich Blackthorn, a rich and greedy man, provided the small fisher’s town with gold and mystic objects from the city ruins. But lately rumour has it, Blackthorn Mansion is haunted.

  People say the mansion whispers and groans in the middle of the night. It is always chilly there and candles are being blown out even when there is no wind. A few days ago, his lady-wife committed suicide by jumping of the cliffs. Sir Ludwich and his daughter are grieved beyond words.

  Yesterday his daughter committed suicide. She hanged herself with her own curtains. Awful. Now I arrived in town and talked to this sweet old man who lives with his wife here, Hugh. He told me he thinks it’s the black diamond Sir Ludwich has found. That this diamond is cursed. I think I will investigate this further in the morning.

  I took a deep breath turning the page, engulfed by the story. This almost read like a horrific children’s tale older siblings would tell by the fireplace. I couldn’t believe this was something that actually happened. My eyes scanned the next notes.

  3E 917- the 17th of the third moon.

  Two servant girls slit their throats and the rest of the servants left the house. They're saying a sickness is laying over it. And Sir Ludwich has locked himself in the attic. I found some scrolls in the place Sir Ludwich found this diamond. It was written in the same old language I’d encountered before with the writing to the king. It says that they were able to lock this mind possessing a demonic entity in this diamond.

  Who, “they” are, I have no idea. I only know that Sir Ludwich must be an incredibly strong mage to open this magical sealed case where he found the diamond in. I feel something strange in the air. The deal with the Fiend we created is weakening. I can feel it. This chest, or so it’s written, was banished to the Underworld. Locked with an extremely strong curse. Anyone who dared to open it, would be killed immediately. How did this chest come up here? Someone or something must have brought it here. This information must be brought to the other magi who are not working together with Orion.

  3E 917- the 18th of the third moon.

  Sir Ludwich Blackthorn has passed away. May his soul find rest in the worlds above. I locked the attic again. I will gather some of the magi to put this black diamond, with his demonic entity inside it, back in the chest. And hide it for everyone.

  The words echoed ominously in my mind, the deal with the Fiend we created, is weakening. My pulse quickened and I took a moment to digest this information.

  “Could king Talron have made a pact with him together with Barnabas?” I whispered to Artemis.

  He stirred, sensing my unease. Careful, Wen. Your conclusion runs ahead of the facts. But you’re not far off. Tell me… why does any of this matter now?

  “Because,” I whispered, “If the Fiend’s bound by a mere pact, then he’s not gone. He’s still alive. Waiting.”

  According to my calculations, the Fiend was known as “defeated” in the first year Talron became High king. That was 42 years ago since we now lived in the year 939.

  “I wonder what that pact is. I’m starting to have this strange feeling Barnabas was more important than he let on, buddy.”

  He is, Artemis confirmed, the thought weighted with quiet certainty. I stopped turning the pages and looked stricken at my wolf.

  “Excuse me?”

  He is more important than you thought. Far more than you were ever meant to know, Artemis clarified himself, a shadow of something old passing through his voice.

  “And how is it that you know and I don’t?”

  He told me once, when you were still a child. But that’s a tale for another night. Artemis seemed to sigh and curled himself up in front of the fire place. Leaving me with a thousand questions.

  I continued searching, eagerly turning the pages. I found it in Barnabas’ first journal. The story of the Fiend. It was written in poetry as if to hide the true story behind it.

  2E 897- 28th of the sixth moon

  I write these words to conceal

  The truth that’s hidden in our deal

  Keep the darkness away

  Let us live another day

  This plan we have is not for our self

  Let the war end for demon, men and elf

  With the help of those hidden in forest of green and gold

  Let us be rid of this demon of old

  Unreachable were the terms he wanted

  Yet our leader of worlds stretched out his arm

  The deal is sealed, forever haunted

  I stared up at the sky

  Wishing for the wings

  That could teach me how to fly

  But I’m trapped here

  My feet tied to the ground

  The forces of gravity with the weight of this burden on my shoulders, pushing me down

  “One day each year

  am I allowed to do as I please.”

  haunting the land of living like a disease

  “After my victim is consumed,

  I will turn back to the dark until the next time you’re doomed.”

  There must be a way to make this stop and destroy him once and for all

  I plead for the freedom of this loss

  Here the story ended. I stared into the darkness, Barnabas’ notebook still open on my lap. I stared at it, puzzle pieces completing the riddles in my head. The fiend was still alive. One victim each year. His words resounded in my head.

  Do not linger on fear, my dear Wen. Artemis whispered, his voice calming my upcoming panic. It’s okay to be afraid, but for now we are safe. Like you said.

  “He was there together with Talron and the elves,” I whispered, my heartbeat slowing down after his comforting words.

  Yes, he was, Artemis replied softly.

  “But I thought that only the High king and…” my words fell silent when I understood. My fingers trembled slightly when I closed Barnabas’s notebook. This was the reason he lived secluded. The reason he started his quest to solve this war. He was once an important figure and probably felt responsible.

  Resting with my head on the pillow, I wondered what would happen if anyone else knew. I assumed the Black hawks knew some bits and pieces since they knew Barnabas, for how else could Barnabas have freed Lady Rosemary from her death sentence?

  I wondered if the Hunters knew of it too. And if that was the reason why they were haunting me now, trying to get to Barnabas. My head full of thoughts, darkness swept over me and I slept.

  A restless night full of doubts and fears. The knowledge of Barnabas true power. Barnabas the archmage. Personal advisor of the previous high king before he lost his mind.