Torrance had fought many foes in his life; he thought he had seen it all. He battled smugglers along the eastern coast by Hook’s Edge. Roving mercenaries competing for the same job that he and the Waywards wanted for a ferry gig on Black Pit Lake. He had even fought off a wild Sarku from killing a farmer’s livestock down in the Southern Plains.

  But nothing like this. Nothing this fast.

  Torrance could barely react in time when Alaintiqam surged into the formed-up group consisting of himself, Reeva, Tilda, and Boras. They had rushed up to form a protective barrier for the still-recovering Arcos. But with a slash, a punch, and a kick that could race lightning, Torrance felt an icy gash in his chest, Reeva’s head nearly snapped back against the fist that collided with her jaw, and Boras vomited from the kick that struck his solar plexus.

  Alaintiqam lurched out, his hand grabbed Torrance by the neck. Torrance could feel his throat seize up against the cold within the seconds this initial fight took. He then felt shock as he was easily lifted from his feet and was swung into Tilda, who dashed up to skewer Alaintiqam in the back. Both he and Tilda smashed into each other and then were smashed equally into the ground.

  Torrance, dazed and confused, could only fight to keep his mind from fading into oblivion.

  Tilda was equally concussed but struggled to lurch to her feet.

  Alaintiqam was not holding back anymore.

  Seeing this fight already lost, Arcos grabbed Nerisity and shoved her away. “RUN! They’re going to kill you!” He yelled.

  Nerisity stared at the scenario. She shook her head. “No! I’m not leaving you!”

  “For gods’ sake, Nerisity! Run! Get the boy and Darius and get out!”

  ‘No one is leaving here…’ came Alaintiqam’s words across the wind, ‘I gave you all a chance to leave… But you chose this… You chose my silver steel…’

  Alaintiqam dashed forward, leaping over Tilda’s inane swing of her sword, to go for Nerisity.

  With a roar, Arcos staggered to his feet to face the attack. He pulled out a swallowblade and posed a defensive stance. Missing a hand and bloodied from the numerous fights this night had to offer, Arcos looked more dead than alive… But he was still standing. With a war cry, he charged.

  “Arcos! No!” Nerisity howled.

  Arcos didn’t listen. He had no choice. This… monster… he brought it into the world with his foolishness and ignorance. It was his fight to win, his hairshirt to wear.

  Alaintiqam grinned and diverted their assault towards Arcos.

  ‘Oh… My wielder… You had great potential… Such a disappointment… Allow me to put you out of your misery…’

  Alaintiqam jumped forward into a running leap to bring their sword point-down at Arcos. Arcos, though, dove to the side as the Aged One slammed their sword into the ground. Arcos stabbed forward, catching the edge of Alaintiqam’s shoulder. A spout of silver blood and moonlight spurted from the cut that resealed itself in the following moment.

  Arcos did not have time to react as Alaintiqam swung out the back of their fist, connecting it against Arcos's head. Arcos saw stars as he was flipped over and down on his back.

  Alaintiqam tore their sword from the ground, showering Arcos with mud and grass sharpened by the ice. They swung their sword in a pirouetting spin before slamming it down towards Arcos. Arcos blocked the blade against his dagger. There was an almighty clang of steel as he did so and the reverberations of the blow shook his arm till it-

  The dagger snapped. And the sword came down, with full strength.

  Arcos screamed as the edge of the silver sword sunk into his chest, stopping against his ribcage but barely. Alaintiqam drew away the blade, streaking hot red blood across Arcos's face.

  Nerisity wailed in horrified despair.

  “Arcos!” Tilda shouted. She was on her feet and already halfway towards them.

  Alaintiqam noted her approach. They grinned as their eyes began to flare a bright light from their pupils. They reached out to grab Arcos.

  Just as Tilda drew back Scar-Sire, snarled and made a running leap at Alaintiqam, howling a blood-curdling death-cry.

  Alaintiqam flared their eyes and a brilliantly bright light exploded from their face, sending the blinding light across the expanse.

  Unprepared, Tilda was temporarily blinded by the light as she fell at Alaintiqam. But she was certain where the monster stood. She prayed to the Black for guidance before thrusting her sword out and striking true.

  “NO!!” Came Nerisity’s voice. A shrill scream.

  Tilda blinked away the blindness and vision soon returned to her senses. She was standing, foot forward in a lunging posture with her sabre out.

  But her sabre had not impaled Alaintiqam. It had impaled Arcos instead.

  Tilda stared in horror. Scar-Sire was struck through the boy’s chest, perfectly between the ribs and into his lung and out of his back.

  Alaintiqam was behind him, holding Arcos by his neck and using him as a human shield.

  Arcos stared dumbly at the sword in his chest. He saw his blood spilling out from the wound. He coughed, spluttering more blood from his lips. He felt so cold. His neck was ice.

  He looked up at Tilda, her face a picture of shock, confusion, and pain. He had never seen her look so pained, so distraught.

  Tilda released the blade from her hands and staggered back, uncertain for the first time in her life.

  Alaintiqam reacted quickly. Still holding Arcos, he spun a kick into Tilda’s chest and sent her flying into the ground.

  Seeing this sight, Nerisity dropped to her knees and screamed into the grass.

  Reeva pulled Boras to his feet and Torrance behind them. They said nothing and did nothing. What else could they do?

  Alaintiqam turned Arcos like he was merely a puppy picked up by the scruff.

  Arcos could not speak. He was too busy coughing the blood from his swelling lung that was collapsing on itself and around Scar-Sire that remained in his chest.

  ‘Alas, my wielder… if only you were stronger… faster… better… this dance would have been a memorable one…’

  Arcos glared at Alaintiqam, as his own face stared back at him. He spat his blood into Alaintiqam’s face and lashed out with the broken dagger still in his hand.

  Alaintiqam hissed as the dagger sliced into their face and into one of their eyes, drawing more silver blood and light. He dropped the impaled Arcos, growled, and then launched an inhuman kick towards Arcos.

  The boot smashed into Arcos's stomach. Arcos felt his muscles snap and his guts twist till they actually burst with extreme pain as the force of the kick sent him into the air and sailing, body and sword combined.

  “ARCOS!” Nerisity screamed again.

  Reeva, Boras, and Torrance reacted instantly. They rushed as one to try and see where Arcos would land, to try and catch him as he landed. But they soon saw, with greatest horror, that Arcos was sent higher and further than they thought. He was going towards the Slave Pit.

  He was going too fast. He was too high.

  And they were too late.

  With a guttural cry of anguish from Boras, a howl of despair from Reeva, and a scream of agony from Torrance, they watched their dying friend sail down into the abyss of the derelict Slave Pit.

  ???

  Arcos felt his consciousness fade back and forth after being kicked into the air. The pain in his chest where Tilda’s sword had skewered him was matched by the pain in his abdomen where Alaintiqam’s boot had ruptured his stomach and some of his intestines.

  It wouldn’t be long till he died.

  He watched with fear dulled by pain as his friends chased across the field to try and catch him, only for them to scream and shout as he descended down into the Slave Pit.

  Arcos had enough time to chuckle at the terrible irony that he would die in this place before his body slammed with a bloody crunch into the stone floor at the bottom.

  His death was instant.

  ???

  Blackness took over instantly. There was nothing. No light. No memories. No floating sword platforms nor ethereal spirits. It was nothingness. It was death.

  It was a familiar place. Arcos remembered it from the last time when he was dead. But he knew he wouldn’t be coming back this time.

  So. This is it. After everything I’ve done, all the people I’ve fought and survived… all the friends I’ve betrayed… this is to be my end. A corpse in a giant gravesite.

  Arcos felt a smile on his face. But it was resigned and sad.

  Maybe it’s better this way… At least this way, I can’t hurt my friends anymore…

  His smile cracked into a sob.

  I wish I could go back… I wish I could change everything… I wish I could… I wish… I wish… I-

  Arcos gasped painfully, gulping cold air into his still-functioning lungs. Every part of his body hurt and stung and ached as he clung to life. He was on his back, on the dusty, cold stone floor of the Salt Pit. Burnt scaffolding of the mine still remained, a fossil from a different time. The wood looked blackened and broken. Like much of the rest of the mine.

  The revolt certainly did a number on it.

  Arcos turned his head, feeling the blood underneath and sticking to his hair in coagulated clumps. He saw his arms still attached to his body. That was a good sign. And so were his legs. Even better.

  But that was odd. Surely, he would have been smashed apart from the fall.

  He turned his head slowly against the pain racketing his spine to look up at the great circle of night-sky with the stars and the moon shining down. It was a deep fall, which would kill anyone and anything. And somehow, he wasn’t dead. Why? Why wasn’t he dead?

  And that was when his eyes noticed the black tendrils.

  The tendrils, with smoky mist drifting off them, uncoiled like awakening eels from the black blade Scar-Sire that was still embedded in his chest. The tendrils slithered around his chest and under his body. They were nestling, pushing and digging into the cuts and wounds around his body. Three tendrils were hard at work around his right wrist, furiously quivering around the cut to halt the blood loss. And that was what they were doing. They were holding back the blood and slowly closing up the wounds…

  Arcos felt his chest fill with liquid. He coughed out heavily. He spat out phlegm, spit and plenty of blood. “What the hells…?” He uttered at the strange sight before falling unconscious again.

  He opened his eyes and found himself once more in the void of his soul.

  But what was once cold and grim, was now strangely warm and comforting. As if someone had lit a fire within the void. He was also not falling down, he was already standing. He wanted to see what he was standing upon and just like that, a flaming torch appeared in his right hand—wait. His right hand?

  He took a moment to calm himself… This was in his mind, it would make sense that his mind would keep his right hand.

  And the torch too? Just appearing like that made some sense in this place. When he would wake again, both his hand and the torch would be gone.

  He lifted the torch up and found that the platform that he stood on was no longer the silver sword Alaintiqam, but the black blade Scar-Sire. The blade curved slightly, like its real-life counterpart. And just like when Alaintiqam awaited Arcos to speak with him, there was another figure standing on the metal and silently waiting.

  Arcos approached the figure. But he did so carefully, knowing now the danger of meddling with forces beyond his understanding.

  “Who are you?” He asked. “You’re not just a black blade called Scar-Sire, are you?”

  The figure, who wore a large black shawl that hooded their head and covered their entire being in darkness, nodded.

  That was the name given to me by my first wielder… My true name is Eadala.

  The voice that the spirit spoke with was as soft as sand.

  Arcos nodded. “Alright… Eadala… Are you an Aged One?”

  I am not. I am of the Black’s offspring… I am known as a Denigration…

  Arcos gulped, his mind reeling from the tirade of revelations hitting him. “Right. Okay… How did you get here? How did Tilda-?”

  Eadala shifted into the darkness and was suddenly in front of Arcos within a draw of his breath. Now that they were standing so close to Arcos, Eadala towered over the boy by at least three feet. They were even taller than that of Alaintiqam.

  Arcos jumped back in surprise, nearly dropping the torch.

  A hand of black light lifted from the folds of the shawl. Arcos swore he could see twinkles of starlight shine on their black skin.

  Do not fear me, child of the Black… You are my kin… You are of the Black’s family… Take my hand… And learn my story…

  Arcos looked at the hand. He looked at the face hidden in darkness. And he sighed heavily. What else did he have to lose? He reached out with his left hand and took a grip of Eadala’s bony, yet warm fingers. And his mind exploded with injected memory.

  Arcos saw the moon which Eadala and Alaintiqam struck into. Felt the fear by both entities as they hurtled through the stars towards Essena. The panic in Alaintiqam’s body as the very presence of Eadala, who in turn was scared and confused of being born originally as a part of the Aged One.

  I was hurtled through the stars. Through the expanse of reality. Worlds passed us like droplets of rain. I witnessed the births and deaths of suns as we travelled, screaming through the great field of our progenitors’ creation.

  That is until we came to your home.

  Arcos saw them slam into Dargania, cracking the ground into what formed a river.

  He witnessed the Fey being, a blacksmith by trade much like himself before his life was turned upside down. The Fey took the materials found in the meteor and hammered the swords into being, naturally giving sentience to the weapons (without realising that there were souls inside to begin with).

  The Fey was a good soul. A creative soul that wished to impart their talent to those who had nothing to defend themselves with. A truly remarkable being. It is a shame that I cannot remember their name. It was so long ago.

  The War of the Moral Fracture began. And a human, imbued with the Mark, took up the blades and the name that would solidify him in history forever; the Swordsman.

  Arcos saw this man as plainly as day. The man stood tall, taller than Arcos by a head and shoulders, with a sure look in his eyes and zero doubt in his heart. He wore thin planted armour, displaying the man’s desire for speed rather than durability.

  Arcos felt something stir as he looked up at this man. A feeling of pride…

  A powerful human. A decent human. Upstanding, forthright and strong. He believed that his kind and that of all mortals in Essena were entitled to live their lives however they wished, without the control nor demand of my parents. You humans… You were and still are a rebellious race.

  The War was brutal and epic and awe-inspiring. Armies of humans and Fey clashed with the forces of the Denigrations and the Aged Ones. Fields of grass were watered red, black and silver with the blood of the fallen.

  Eadala was weaker than that of their sibling. They were the small voice within the head of the Swordsman, tempering justice to the fighter whenever they could. But Alaintiqam’s voice and hunger for vengeance was too loud and too strong.

  Alaintiqam was consumed by the power they had. They wanted to impress their creator so much, so quickly. They truly believed that their vengeful ways would do away with all evil… but their vengeance was an evil that they simply refused to acknowledge. It broke my heart to see them so twisted by their own nature. And it twisted the soul of the Swordsman even more so.

  Arcos witnessed the massacres led by the Swordsman during the final days of the War. Arcos witnessed the slaughter of Denigrations and Aged Ones, at the cost of hundreds of young men and women who willingly followed the Swordsman into battle after battle. Not out of loyalty nor love, but fear.

  When he grew so powerful, no one could challenge him. No one dared to. And because of that, no one refused his demands. Until it was too late.

  Arcos witnessed the Fire Queen, another legend from history who wielded fire like it was a part of herself, confronting and accusing the Swordsman. He somehow knew that they were in love. It was information which Eadala imparted to him.

  Arcos watched in horror as the Swordsman attempted to slay his lover, as Alaintiqam goaded him to do so. This struck Arcos with an all-too-familiar sight.

  Didn’t he raise the same blade at Nerisity? Didn’t he use this power for his own selfish, misguided ways? Arcos felt nothing but disgust with himself.

  I had to act. I had to stop him. And so, I did the only thing I could.

  Arcos saw the Swordsman sever his right hand off, dropping Alaintiqam.

  But I did not predict that my wielder would do this.

  Arcos watched the Swordsman take his own life, falling onto Eadala with one sure strike to his chest. Arcos felt a twinge of pain in his own chest. Eadala impaled the Swordsman in exactly the same place as Arcos's chest…

  History repeats itself once more… Many years later… Hundreds of years… I was taken from the battlefield of that day. I was traded with and used by the hands of worthy fighters. Fighters who adhered to the laws of goodness and justice. And was also used by those who followed their own code of justice. But I was able to influence them, at some point or another. I never thought I would find a worthy possessor again… That is until I was found by a woman, a woman of ashen hair and grim determination.

  Arcos now stood upon the shore of a river in a small forest glade. Knelt by the river and washing Eadala was a mature woman with ashen-grey hair that was fruitful and thick, but tied in a braid. She wore a black dress that covered a thin plate of blackened armour. She looked more like a warrior princess. But her face was stony and lacking in love.

  Her name is Ashgoth Wolfsbane. The founder of your Guild.

  Arcos stared in awe. This was Ashgoth Wolfsbane. THE Ashgoth Wolfsbane. It was surreal to see a person whom he had read about. All of the texts that Archibald had shown him, all of the stories he had listened to from Tilda or one of the Elders. The very Guild itself.

  All of it came from her…

  He approached her slowly. But she did not react nor turn to look. This was, after all, one of Eadala’s multitude of memories; he was invisible to these spirits of the past.

  A figure burst out from the water, wielding Eadala and attempting to decapitate Ashgoth with a strike. Arcos jumped back, started while Ashgoth deftly dodged the attack, rolled, and drew out her own sword, a rusted longsword that had seen too much use.

  Dressed in clothes made from grass, moss, and reeds, the attacker had long ears, wide almond eyes, and grass-green and mud-brown skin. They were effeminate in nature and face but beheld a masculine body. A Fey.

  The Fey drew up Eadala in an unusual stance and hissed. Arcos was unfamiliar with that style. Ashgoth, showing little fear in the face of a frightening foe, drew up her weapon in a guard pose that Arcos quickly recognised as Tilda’s default stance.

  The pair of fighters remained there for a moment.

  A moment that was quickly interrupted by the appearance of a third being.

  A small pair of dark wings fluttered out from the tall grass and landed deftly on the tip of the Fey’s sword.

  The Fey froze and stared with extreme reverence at the insect that landed on Eadala’s point. Arcos approached the insect and inspected it curiously. It was a black and yellow moth, with a golden marking on its back that looked uncannily like a skull.

  A death’s-head moth. A symbol of mortality and transformation for the Fey. A great omen.

  The moth then fluttered away from Eadala and landed on Ashgoth’s head. Ashgoth stared at the insect curiously before taking the moth gently in her hand and allowing it to rest upon the bark of a willow tree that was behind her.

  When Ashgoth turned, as did Arcos, they both found that the Fey fighter had vanished. But they had left behind Eadala upon the grass, now sheathed in the blackened scabbard that Tilda carried. Ashgoth took up the sheathed blade, looked it over with a focused eye, nodded satisfactorily, and walked away with both swords in hand.

  Arcos turned to follow her but was instead met by Eadala’s shadowy form by the river.

  “So Ashgoth had you all her life! You were the Black Blade I read about in all those stories!” He exclaimed.

  Eadala inclined their hooded head with a nod.

  Yes. She beheld me in all her endeavours, those that you knew of. She used me for justice. For righting wrongs without the indulgence of vengeance.

  And when her time came, she bequeathed me to those of her people. The Children which she gathered within her Guild, as part of the Black’s wishes to her.

  From skilled fighter to skilled fighter, the sword was given to those who could best wield me. Over two centuries, I watched my wielders live, love, and then die; by blood, pestilence, or the decay of Time. I was morose. I feared that I would never again find one worthy like Ashgoth Wolfsbane to fully exploit my power. Then I met Tilda.

  Arcos watched the world become engrossed in darkness until it was reborn into a mountainside where a young Tilda, not much older than himself, stood and looked over the expanse of the fields surrounding the Guild and its growing settlement. She was smiling. A look Arcos had rarely seen of her ice-cold countenance.

  She had strength and will, unmatched by all. She struck me as the one that could bring the world my power to help. She fully believed and still does in the balance of the world, which has been badly influenced by those in power. And I wished to help. So, I did what I could. I whispered thoughts into her mind, questions that she believed she had come up with. With my words, I willed her to act. And she did, and made me certain I had chosen correctly. That is, of course, until I found you and Alaintiqam.

  Arcos now watched as the image changed again. To that of himself, standing in the field before the Salt Pit, blood flecked upon his face and holding young Thaddeus hostage. Arcos stared at the manic look in his eyes. The crazed bloodlust in his face. The desire for revenge that burned clearer than fires and moonlight. Arcos felt a shiver run up his spine at this sight. He was not just disgusted by this, he was disturbed.

  Horrifying, weren’t you?

  Arcos looked to see the Denigration standing beside him and also surveying the recent memory. Arcos looked back at the deranged madman that he could scarcely believe was him.

  “I-…I-…” Arcos tried to say something. But he could not. There was nothing justifiable in anything he had done. “I’m a wretch. A failure. I threw away everything I cared about and for what? Just some stupid sense of justice, some idiotic crusade-”

  Eadala held up a hand to silence Arcos in his rant.

  No. We will not waste time upon the mistakes you made. You made them in the deepest part of you that believes in the good of the world. You felt wronged and that is true. You were. But Alaintiqam, my dearest deluded twin, saw this and preyed upon this. They used your anger to fulfil their needs, by building their desires upon the bedrock of your beliefs. Just as they had done to the Swordsman. And it was then, when we clashed steel, it was then that I found my wielder. You.

  Eadala turned to Arcos and looked down upon him. Arcos turned and looked up at the spirit.

  “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anyone. I- I tried to do the right thing. I tried to save everyone. It wasn’t enough and now everyone’s…”

  Arcos suddenly coughed and spat out blood. He began to convulse in extreme pain and he dropped to the ground, coughing and crying out in agony. He was feeling all the injuries he had sustained in his night of madness and death and fire. All the wounds he took in his fight against Marcus and the Bodyhunters. He grabbed at his stomach, feeling the torn organs that Alaintiqam had ruptured. The slices in his chest and shoulders where Alaintiqam had struck him. And finally the hole in his chest that seeped fresh blood here. Eadala, in the real world, was still embedded.

  Eadala did not react to this. They stood still, watching Arcos in his agony.

  And what is it that makes you believe that you do not deserve me?

  Arcos could barely get his words out through his pain and blood.

  “I’m broken!” He finally screamed. “I’m broken and bleeding and dying! I’m worthless!” Tears began to well up in his eyes as the truth rushed out. “I’m a murderer. Everything— Everything that’s happened is all my fault! All of it! Silverstreak, Nerisity, the slaves, Thaddeus, all of it!….

  I don’t deserve to live…”

  The world was wiped from sight with the darkness, leaving only the two of them in the void. And back to standing upon Eadala’s sword form and alone where they had started.

  Eadala said nothing for a moment. They contemplated Arcos's words and after a moment’s decision, they knelt down to Arcos, reached out a hand and raised Arcos's head to meet their gaze.

  Everyone else is to blame as well.

  “What?” He stared at Eadala.

  You heard me. If Reeva had not done what she did, then the rebellion of Silverstreak would not have happened.

  If Boras had not risked his life to rescue you and Reeva, by bringing the Sarku Courageous, from Malachi, then you would not have found my twin in the armoury.

  If Torrance had not started the riot in the Salt Pit, you and he would not have escaped.

  If Tilda had not saved you from the thugs that night in the city and begun the scandal, you would have found it to be far more difficult to gather support for the raid upon the fortress.

  And if Nerisity, dearest and most beautiful of all, had not opened her heart to yours and shown you true love, you would not have found a reason to keep living and to fight onwards in all that love entailed. Is this not so?

  Arcos shrugged a little. With all he was going through, that was the most he could do. “I guess…”

  So, in that sense, everyone has a shared blame in this story, including you. Which also means that none of them share that blame, especially you. Did any of them intend for this to happen? Did you? Of course not.

  So what are you going to do now? What are you going to do to fix what you think you destroyed?

  “I don’t know…”

  Allow me to tell you what is going to happen if you do not do something. It is very simple. Alaintiqam will kill your friends. Reeva, Boras, Tilda and Torrance. Then Courageous. Thaddeus. Darius, his wife Sandra and everyone else who gets in their way.

  They will murder the world.

  Because they can only see the evil of the world. The injustice. The negative. They see the world as you and others who are broken see it. As black and white and nothing in between.

  You are not black and white. You are a mix of grey, like every single human upon this world. Which is why you must be the one to end this cycle of revenge. You have that strength to rectify the mistakes you made and protect the ones you care for. Remember your promises to the Guild.

  And if none of what I have told you makes a difference, maybe this will: Alaintiqam will kill Nerisity first. She has a power within her that threatens Alaintiqam. The power of love. And that is a magic not even I can match.

  So, the very last time, Arcos Blade of the Black Guild. Get up. And fight.

  Arcos gasped, awakened from the stupor his mind put him under, and with a reflex that he couldn’t explain, his left hand grabbed the hilt of Eadala that was stuck in his chest. He shot upright, trailing blood in his body that was held together by willpower and Eadala’s essence. The pain rocketed through his body. He felt his bones ache and strain against Eadala’s tendrils that held Arcos's body together like stitches. Arcos pulled his feet back and placed them on the ground. And he rose, slowly and groggily, to his feet. Hand still on the hilt, Arcos looked up at the hole in the pit.

  He growled, gritted his teeth, and pulled hard.

  The blade slowly slid out of him. Pain lanced his mind.

  Blood spurted, and black tendrils convulsed madly to staunch the bleeding.

  Arcos grunted and groaned. And then he cried out an emotion-laden scream of agony as he finally yanked Eadala from his chest.

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  He panted and coughed and nearly fell backwards as he felt his pierced lung fight against the blood pushing at his wound. But Eadala’s power stopped it. He felt the healing magic sealing the wound shut. The pain, whilst still there, felt dulled.

  You do not have time. I can give you all my power, but your body will give out before long. Once that is the case, I shall do all I can to keep you alive. But you must be fast. You must defeat Alaintiqam before they kill you. Good luck.

  Eadala’s words rung in his ears like a warm breeze. And with that warmth came a strength. Arcos felt his muscles tensing and growing with each passing breath. A familiar feeling that Alaintiqam had given him. His hand gripped Eadala’s hilt. It felt comfortable in his hand. It felt like it was always supposed to be there.

  “Consider it done.” He said with a smile brimming with newfound confidence.

  He looked up, crouched down, and then leapt up into the air with the explosive force of a lightning bolt, leaving a cracked ground behind.

  ???

  “No!” Reeva screamed as she watched Arcos fall into the pit. She felt her knees lose all their strength. She dropped to the ground, feeling a wave of powerlessness overwhelm her. She looked at Boras and Torrance, who could not take their eyes off the place where they also last saw their friend. Their friend who was dead. Dead. Arcos was dead.

  The back of her neck itched. The anger at the very thought of Arcos gone forever. It burned Reeva from within. An ice-cold burn, that stung harder than Alaintiqam’s sword slashes. Alaintiqam.

  “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.” Reeva hissed. She gathered up Bone-Breaker, leapt to her feet, and dashed backwards towards the silvery light that grew in intensity by the second. Boras and Torrance, having snapped out of their grief, instantly turned and rushed after her.

  Reeva roared with a rage that was fuelled by weeks of fear, tension, and pain.

  Nerisity remained standing there, with Darius and Thaddeus. She could not accept what she had just witnessed. Arcos, sent flying into the oblivion. She felt a pit of emptiness. She wasn’t even sure if she was feeling at all.

  She saw Tilda running from Alaintiqam towards her, calling out her name. Though she did not hear her voice.

  Tilda skidded to her side, grabbed her shoulders, and shouted at her. She shook Nerisity, yelling loudly at her. Nerisity felt deaf. She did not understand the yelling, but she could feel tears starting up in her eyes.

  Tilda yelled once more. Then she looked to her right, towards a glowing light that was coming at them. She released Nerisity, pulled out a pair of long knives, and charged for the light.

  Nerisity did not have enough time to turn her head to follow Tilda before the woman was sent flying back through the air. Tilda crashed into the grass and rolled in the dirt before stopping in a crumpled, groaning heap.

  Nerisity turned her head to face Alaintiqam. They approached her slowly, with sure steps that spoke volumes of their confidence.

  They stopped a few steps from Nerisity, sword in hand. The silver light frosted the grass under their feet. The air from Nerisity’s breath grew misty in their presence. Nerisity felt despair grip her heart. The warmth in her soul, in her ruby that powered her rescue of Arcos… it faded in this monster’s face. The fire died in her. She sobbed as she fell down and tried to scrabble away from them.

  Alaintiqam made no effort to pursue her. They instead smirked.

  The face they used, Arcos's face, twisted with cruelty and malice… it was a sadistic pain that she could not bear. She cried. Tears flowed down like rivulets and froze on her cheeks.

  ‘Oh please… No tears…’

  Alaintiqam whispered, using Arcos's voice.

  ‘They will have no place in my new world. You will find no reason to cry ever again…’

  “You killed him.” Nerisity sobbed. “You killed him.”

  ‘He died because he did not have the will to accept my power. He died because you gave him the weakness that I wished to purge. You dared to break my hold on him. His death, that is on you. And you must die for it. You have a power in you. Something deathly familiar, that threatens me. I cannot allow you to thwart what I have been working towards.’

  Alaintiqam raised their sword to cut her down.

  ‘May your blood water the seeds of my future…’

  Nerisity closed her eyes.

  Tilda clawed herself to her feet.

  Reeva screamed out Nerisity’s name.

  Boras staggered over a rabbit hole on his run for her.

  Torrance outpaced the others and was only a few metres away.

  Courageous stirred. Darius embraced his son.

  Alaintiqam swung down.

  And a flash of dark movement, black leathers with an obsidian blade slammed into the ground between Aged One and human, blocking Alaintiqam’s attack with a clang that could shatter stone.

  Dust swirled from the interloper’s impact. Only Alaintiqam’s moonlight pushed through the sand and dry dirt. Everyone; human, spirit and Sarku, froze in their movements. No one moved until the dust cloud settled.

  Nerisity had to close her eyes from the dust and was blinded by the dust as a result. Blinking away the dust through the fresh tears born of irritation, Nerisity was able to see first what had just saved her.

  Standing between her and Alaintiqam was a dark figure, leather cloak and travelling clothes and boots. But she clearly saw the blonde hair and the right wrist missing a hand.

  Nerisity felt her throat choke up. “A-Arcos?” Relief, worry, joy, fear, concern and fatigue all rolled into one word.

  Arcos remained standing, head up and straight, and staring down Alaintiqam. Nerisity noted in that brief second of seeing him that Arcos had changed. His body was not weak. Not on the verge of collapse. He stood with strength in his back. And his wounds…

  Alaintiqam’s light gave Nerisity enough to see that his wounds were open but not bleeding. Especially his stump; it gave no blood.

  Before she could discern anything else, Alaintiqam was the next to speak.

  ‘What? What? What?!’

  Their eyes latched onto the sword Arcos held. And their eyes widened with shocked recognition and indignant rage.

  ‘You? YOU! After all this time! It was you all along!’

  “Get. Away. From. My. Girl.” Arcos growled and with a great sweep, pushed Alaintiqam back with a screech of blades.

  Alaintiqam stumbled back, shock overtaking their posture before Arcos swung his sword again. The blow smashed into the hastily assembled guard that Alaintiqam had half a second to prepare. The blow sent the Aged One skidding away along the field and into the night. They would continued into the sea but they only stopped halfway when they dragged their sword into the ground like an anchor.

  Nerisity gaped. Like all the others.

  The speed and strength that Arcos had just displayed was equal to Alaintiqam’s. What the hells had happened? Arcos turned around and looked at Nerisity.

  She put her hand over her mouth to hold in a shout of shock.

  Arcos's face was a patchwork of wounds. His skin was split across his mouth, chin, cheeks, and forehead. The impact of his fall was the probable cause.

  The wounds on his face, like his body’s, also did not bleed. His hair was a strange fluctuating shade of moonlight, black and blonde.

  The sword in his left hand seeped black tendrils that coiled over his arm and body like belts holding together a straitjacket for an invalid. Or, in this case, holding his broken body together.

  And his eyes… his eyes… They were black, black as the night sky. And in the place of each pupil, Nerisity could see a sparkling, shining star.

  “Are you okay?” Arcos asked her, face brimming with concern. He stabbed the black sword into the ground and offered her his left hand.

  Nerisity looked at the hand. Then back to Arcos's face. Then the hand. Then Arcos.

  “I-I-I-…” She could only say. But she reached out all the same and felt further surprise at the ease Arcos was able to hoist her to her feet. He had a lot of strength.

  She stood by him closely and looked at him. “How?” She asked. “How? How??”

  Arcos smiled as he took up the black sword from the ground with the ease of plucking a daisy.

  “Long story.” He replied with another grin.

  Nerisity could not help but smile in return. She could see it now. In his face. His eyes. His stance. He was back. He was back.

  She burst into yet another set of tears— a wonder she was able to considering the excess of pain she had been enduring this whole day and night— as she threw her arms around his neck to kiss him.

  And in that kiss, she did not feel the icy chill to his skin, but a cooling calm like the night. He was different, yes, his fear and insecurity were gone, but he was also the same confident boy she fell for.

  Arcos used his right arm to hold her close, relishing her touch and her warmth against his chest.

  “I thought you died!” She wept into his neck. “I saw you fall and I thought you died!”

  “I did.” Arcos replied grimly. “For a bit, I think.”

  Nerisity pulled away from him, looking utterly confused.

  But Arcos shook his head. “Again. Long story. We haven’t time to talk about that now. Get the others together and run. I’ll hold that bastard here.”

  “What?! Arcos, you barely survived! You can’t take that thing alone! Come with us!”

  “I’m sorry… But I can’t. I’m tired of running away from this… I have to stop them. And I won’t be dying here. Trust me.”

  Arcos smiled at her, kissed her one more time, and turned around to face the brimming light that crackled the air with a visual rage. He set off with a marching walk in the direction of the light.

  Reeva, Boras, and Torrance reached Nerisity as Arcos walked past them.

  “Kid?” Torrance asked.

  Arcos then gave them all a look of appreciation and a nod. “I’m back.” He grinned as he broke into a run.

  They stood there, watching their friend running with Scar-Sire towards the moonlight.

  “Uhhhh…” Boras said. “What the actual fuck is going on?”

  “Who cares? Come on!” Reeva spun on her heels and rushed after Arcos. Tilda flashed by with her knives, hot on Reeva’s tail.

  Torrance followed the women without question, and Boras groaned as he brought up the rear.

  “This is far too much running for one damned day.”

  Alaintiqam swept away the dust from their garments and centred themselves. Their mind reeled from the blow that was struck upon them and the realisation of the sword that had been hiding in plain sight for over a year. They snarled into the air.

  ‘Of course. Of course it was Eadala! That damned blade. What other black blade is there in the world??’

  They looked up, feeling the presence of the Denigration in their heart.

  Arcos Blade appeared from the dark and slowed his run, stopping ten or so metres from Alaintiqam. Alaintiqam analysed Blade’s body closely, searching for any wounds. But there were none to be found. They were not of a fatal nature. Eadala’s abominable magic had halted it.

  Blade spun Eadala with expert ease in his left hand, showing no discomfort in losing his dominant hand. Again, another of Eadala’s little tricks.

  Blade’s little compatriots were on his rear, a ways from him. They also stopped and drew themselves together in a guard, wary of anything to occur.

  Alaintiqam wrenched their sword from the ground and paced along the ground, leaving a trail of ice in their wake. But their eyes were fixed on the sword, Eadala. No longer on Arcos himself.

  ‘So. Eadala… You were here all along. I did not see you because you hid your Essence from all eyes, even mine. Very cunning, twin. How like a Denigration to use such guile…

  Biding your time, were you?’

  Arcos spoke, but his voice was breathy and smooth. A far cry from the rougher tone he had. It was Eadala speaking through him. But Arcos was present for this, no longer pushed to the darkness.

  “I was waiting for a worthy successor to Ashgoth’s will. The boy has shown me that. So I hide no longer.”

  ‘Ah. Yes. Ashgoth… Your precious icon to the Desecrator that infected the world with your kin. And now, here we stand, once again upon the eve of my triumph and once again you halt my progress. Why? Why must you vex me and mine?’

  “You must cease your venture, sibling. This bloody reign of revenge against those with no ties to us serves no one. Can you not see that your actions only exacerbate the evil that you seek to quell?”

  ‘Lies! Lies! My actions shall silence the wicked and terrify the cruel. My actions will inspire the weak to take up arms against the monsters that hunt them! Even now, the people rise up against their oppressors! You can feel it in the sky, the earth, the water! The weak cry out for one strong enough to bear their feebleness!’

  “And when you have achieved this perfect world you seek for your Progenitor… what evil will be left to quell? What happens to you?”

  Alaintiqam did not say anything for a moment. But only for a moment.

  ‘There will be more evil. The weak are weak, not just in strength but in soul. I shall keep them in line so that the world shall no longer be infected by new sins.’

  “And so the cycle begins anew. Can you not see the futility of that, sibling?! You cannot rid evil from the world not so much as you rid the good! It is what makes them human! Do not waste your power pursuing a sightless goal of blood and pain guised as self-loving justice! The Balance cannot be disrupted! It is what caused the rift between our family in the first place! Continue on this course and you will drown this world in blood.

  Please, lower the sword and work with me. Work with me to stem the pain afflicting this world now. Do what is right, not what is good.”

  Alaintiqam regarded Eadala for another moment. A moment that lengthened to a second. A second that stretched to ten. The ten seconds that became a minute. And when that minute was done, the Aged One sighed slowly and growled.

  ‘There is something that I wished I had said to you, Eadala. Now I can: Once I cared for you in some small way, like one would tolerate a pet… Now, I loathe and despise everything you and your spawn represent. Let us finish this. Once and for all.’

  Alaintiqam drew up their blade and advanced.

  Bonded as such to the sword, Arcos felt Eadala’s pain through his own. The heartbreak fractured his. Arcos sighed sadly. “You tried. I’m sorry.”

  Eadala responded grimly. “Just make it quick.”

  Arcos readied Eadala and darted forward.

  Alaintiqam noted Arcos's movement and matched his speed, breaking into a run.

  Both fighters switched into a sprint, roared in unison, and swung their blades into contact upon their collision.

  ???

  The air shattered as the blades clashed, sending streaking of light and darkness across the ground. The ground itself, frozen by the coldness of Alaintiqam and weakened by Eadala’s power, cracked into a crevice that widened with each strike.

  Tilda stared in wonder as Arcos met the attacks made by Alaintiqam, blow by blow. Alaintiqam leapt over Arcos and swung downwards, using a downward strike impossible for a human to commit, but easy for one like them.

  But Arcos spun on his heels, raised his sword and swung back hard. The blow cracked the night. The reverberation from the contact shook the grass free from ice. Tilda felt the blow in her own arms. That would have broken her arms without question. And yet, Arcos… he had done it.

  “Look at him,” she spoke barely above a whisper. “he’s mastered his Weapon’s Path.”

  The others, Reeva, Boras, Torrance and Nerisity said nothing as they too stood spellbound by the display.

  Alaintiqam slammed back onto the ground, spun and roared. They swung and slashed out a stream of moonlight which scoured the ground with a lashing divot in its wake. Arcos brought up Eadala and a spurt of dark energy - that sparkled with the stars of the night - slammed into the moonlight. The energies were sent upwards and with one driving blow, split the clouds in two with the crack of thunder.

  The moon’s light broke through, annihilating the darkness of the fields and the Salt Pit. All was revealed in ethereal light.

  Alaintiqam howled as they stood in the bare light. They put their arms out and seemingly began to absorb the light.

  Arcos charged for them, each step crack the ground with extreme force and strength.

  Arcos reached Alaintiqam, swinging Eadala upwards to try and slice into their armpit.

  But Alaintiqam opened their eyes and exploded with another burst of ice-burning light. Arcos felt his entire freeze, crack and them re-heal from Eadala’s power as he was sent flying backwards from the shockwave.

  The others were also blasted off their feet from the blast.

  Arcos rolled to his feet and had to instantly dodge as a shining object flew right for him, slamming into the ground where his prone chest would have been. Looking back at the object, he was stunned to see it be a glowing sword, not dissimilar to Alaintiqam’s own blade. The glowing blade faded from existence, leaving a puncture in the ground.

  Arcos whipped his head back towards his adversary.

  Alaintiqam was rising into the air, arms out and expelling further light that singed the air around them. Arcos watched as the whispers and tendrils of light suddenly thickened and hardened into solid pieces of unearthly metal and with each completed piece, they latched themselves onto Alaintiqam’s body, forming a suit of moonlight armour. A headpiece, a helmet of ancient power, slid onto their head, heaving a slit open for the eyes to see.

  Alaintiqam dropped from the sky and slammed into the ground with a earthshaking crash. Slowly, they stood up to their fullest height and nonchalantly swung their sword in an underarm sweep. The sweep sent a ear-splitting screech as the air was ripped by the swing and the light that now came from the sword extended the length of the blade itself.

  The light carved into the ground, making another deep gash that tore through the mud, silt, clay, stone and grass like a feather pillow. The length of the swing was so great, that Arcos had to bring up his guard to just survive the sudden reach of the attack. He was not ready for the sudden increase of strength and as such was sent up high into the air.

  Wind rushing past his back and his neck and head, his arms screamed in pain against the vibration of the blow and he feared for just a moment that Eadala would break in two. They did not, but Arcos could hear their scream of pain as much he felt his own.

  Using his pain to focus his mind, Arcos twisted his body in the air and using Eadala’s own strength, he swung out his sword to expel another blast of darkness that propelled him downwards. He screamed a war cry as he swung three more times to gain speed and momentum until he was descending down towards Alaintiqam like a ballista.

  Alaintiqam readied themselves and prepared a guard.

  Arcos raised his blade and brought it down.

  They collided and the earth broke.

  The crevice they had been forming from their fight finally gave way and the crevice now became a ravine. The earth groaned as it was torn asunder from the explosive clash of the two fighters. And they remained as such, Arcos pushing down whilst Alaintiqam pushed back. Both roaring wildly as the light and the dark seemed to hold against one another in a stalemate.

  Struggling to stand against the force of these powers, Nerisity watched as the fight reached this zenith. She looked to the others with her.

  “What are you doing??” She insisted. “Help him!”

  “We can’t!” Torrance growled. “We can’t even get near that fight, they’re pushing us back!”

  Nerisity now saw that Torrance was using his claws as anchors in the grass just to hold himself in place. Tilda, Reeva and Boras were also doing the same with their weapons, sweat beads on foreheads and teeth gritted. She did not look back to Darius and Thaddeus, but she could assume that they were as helpless as she and the others were.

  The ravine spilt the ground towards them and they were forced to stagger back from the edge for fear of falling in.

  Arcos twisted his body and landed a vicious kick on the side of Alaintiqam’s head before pushing away from the Aged One, who did not pursue him. Arcos jumped back a few more steps but kept his guard up, knowing now that distance was no longer a safety to use.

  He made one final jump over the ravine that created a border between himself and Alaintiqam. Arcos's back was to the Salt Pit and he looked to his friends who were still a good distance from Alaintiqam’ reach.

  Alaintiqam started to pace along their side of the ravine. Then they hissed at the air and then slammed their sword into the ground with frustration.

  Enough games, Denigration! They howled. Show me your truest form! I will not defeat you in this weakened state! I will kill you at your strongest! Damn your modesty and REVEAL YOUR POWER!

  Arcos stood there, watching Alaintiqam’s every move, expecting anything to happen.

  “What do I do?” He asked Eadala. “They’re tough, I’m open to suggestions.”

  We must give Alaintiqam what they asked for. I had not wished to expend all my power so soon. But the longer this fight continues, the more powerful they will get. Even then, I fear it may not be enough.

  “Then let’s go all out.”

  So be it. Relax your mind and allow me to flow. Prepare yourself. You might faint.

  Arcos felt Eadala shake in his hand. The obsidian blade quivered and the tendrils, once in their dozens, now exploded from the hilt and blade in their hundreds.

  The tendrils hardened into leather and cloth as they whipped and lashed around him, forming a set of clothes.

  And as the darkness blinded his eyes, the energy from such an explosion of feeling caused Arcos to roar like an enraged Sarku. Holy hells…

  He thought his body was going to explode. The air and ground and world shook as one.

  The others stared in awe as Arcos was completely enveloped in the dark tendrils. Nerisity called out to Arcos, but the roaring wind, the cracking of lightning-less thunder and the sheer power of the ethereal entities battling against each other drowned out her voice.

  The darkness quickly subsided. Suddenly, a black figure exploded from the roiling ball of tendrils, leaping over the ravine and smashing a darkness-wreathed fist into an unprepared Alaintiqam’s face.

  Alaintiqam, stunned by this power and speed, was sent careening backwards before stopping mid-air with their power and landing default on the ground.

  But a stream of silver blood dribbled from their broken nose and cut lip. They touched the blood and stared at it in shock before whipping their pearl-shaded eyes at the dark fighter.

  Arcos stood tall, to his fullest height. His tattered, ripped clothes were covered by a layer of jet-black silk and cloth that wrapped around his body tightly.

  Secured to his body by a layer of black leather that strapped across his stomach with shining stars for buttons. His left hand was gloved in a leather glove with the same stars embedded along the knuckles.

  A hood of night was raised over his head, utterly shadowing his face, only allowing a pair of shining eyes that burned like stars to sing out from the black cavern. A cape hung from his neck and back, flowing in the wind with the gentleness of cobwebs. Wisps of midnight black hair escaped from the hem of the hood.

  His boots, tied tightly to his shins, seeped dark tendrils and finally, his right wrist had a hand.

  A hand that was the colour of the night sky with stars prickled around his skin. The hand was not human in shape, for it looked more like it belonged to that of a beast. Long dark claws protruded from his five digits as his new hand glowed with iridescent stars that shimmered on the surface.

  Arcos looked like a demonic assassin, dreamt up in the nightmares of guards everywhere.

  Arcos felt stronger now. So utterly strong.

  A different kind of strength from Alaintiqam. Whilst wielding Alaintiqam, Arcos felt that his angered strength swelled madly like an angered tidal wave seeking to knock over boulders without direction nor control.

  This feeling now, wielding Eadala… it was like water against a dam. Building pressure higher and higher until a single hole was formed, allowing a stream of water to pour at such speed and precision, it could cut through boulders.

  And that stream of power was what propelled his body forward as his boots smashed through the ground and towards Alaintiqam. Alaintiqam leapt forward, bringing their sword down.

  Arcos dug his foot in and darted to the right, narrowly avoiding the blow, skirted to Alaintiqam’s flank, whilst lashing out his own strike towards them.

  The blow struck their back and with his new strength, sent the Aged One flying and smashing into and through the ground.

  So much so that Alaintiqam cracked through the ravine and into the Salt Pit itself.

  Arcos pursued them, jumping and leaping down.

  He reached out his new hand and clutched the edge of the pit. In the darkness, he could see Alaintiqam’s light piercing through.

  A roar came as Alaintiqam charged up from the bottom, literally running around the wall of the pit in circuits of increasing speed, gaining higher levels the faster they ran.

  Arcos braced himself as Alaintiqam made a final lap into his level.

  Alaintiqam raised their sword and slammed into Arcos, driving the two of them into the stone wall and through it. The momentum of Alaintiqam’s charge was so great that the stone fell away around them like loose gravel.

  Arcing upwards, Alaintiqam drove the two of them up and out. They launched a series of attacks as they travelled up into the air, which Arcos defended with frightening speed and precision.

  Arcos deftly deflected another spinning swipe from Alaintiqam, but the Aged one lashed out with their gauntleted hand, grabbing Arcos by the neck and sending the boy into a spinning toss right back into the ground, choke-slamming Arcos in the dirt.

  Arcos gagged, feeling blood in his throat, but not related as Eadala struggled to hold back the injury the best they could.

  Alaintiqam cackled mirthlessly and with a flexing of their back, a pair of moonlight wings exploded from their shoulder blades. They stretched a twelve-foot span tip to tip and with that, Alaintiqam bolted back up into the air.

  Arcos reacted with a single jump, exploding from the ground like a frog and leaving a small crater behind.

  Seeing their pursuer, Alaintiqam swung their blade and left in its wake another shimmering copy of the sword. More and more copies of the sword left a shining trail that shivered and then followed Alaintiqam as they sailed up into the air. Stopping at the highest zenith, practically reaching the lower level of clouds, Alaintiqam gave a final swing and roared.

  All the sword copies stopped their pursuit of their originator, turned to point at Arcos - who in turn could not stop his ascent - and the swords showered down at him.

  Arcos swung up his blade, forming a thick band of darkness that acted as a shield before the moonlight swords smashed against his makeshift defence. The pressure of the force was too great and Arcos was pushed back down towards the ground, before slamming into the dirt and gravel.

  Alaintiqam, seeking their chance, dove down like a hawk amongst their swords’ rain to land a blow against the dark shield.

  Arcos felt the collision of Alaintiqam’s sword striking point-down at the wall, and saw a crack forming where the structure was growing weakest.

  “Oh shit-” he uttered as the sword punctured through the dark wall and clashed against the flat of Eadala. The point of the blade slipped under Eadala’s edge and drove itself into Arcos's conjured hand, eliciting a cry of pain from him.

  Alaintiqam howled with laughter as they drove their sword towards their opponent, puncturing through the black hand.

  At long last. It was going to be over.

  Finally, the best fighter would win. The best fighter would—

  Padding of heavy footfalls grew with worrying speed and volume behind Alaintiqam. But before they could turn to face the newest attack, a black-furred, burned, and understandably enraged Sarku leapt upon Alaintiqam’s back and bit down hard with his teeth onto one of the moonlight wings.

  Courageous, who had been out of action for just enough for his body to begin his healing process, was more than eager to kill the thing that attacked him.

  Alaintiqam screeched angrily as Courageous ripped into the feathered limb, tearing into flesh, feather, blood, and bone with his claws and jaws.

  Distracted, Alaintiqam whipped his body around, drawing their blade out from Arcos, to try and stab the damned beast. But Courageous was clever and had positioned himself far enough around that Alaintiqam could get an angle on him.

  The conjured blades disappeared in the haze of sparkling lights, and Arcos breathed a sigh of relief from the release of pressure. Acting instantly on the chance Courageous had bought him, Arcos scrabbled up on his feet and leapt at Alaintiqam with a swing of his sword.

  He found his mark.

  One severed wing flew into the air, silver blood trailing the air, before exploding into a flash of light.

  Alaintiqam let out yet another screech of pain as Courageous used his own unfurling wings to twist in the air to death-roll the other wing right out from its socket. A tearing pop followed, and the second wing was rended from Alaintiqam’s back.

  The Aged One latched out a hand and grabbed Courageous by the leg before slamming the Sarku into the ground with one swing before swinging the stunned creature into Arcos with yet another sickening crunch.

  Both Arcos and Courageous smashed down to the ground as Alaintiqam staggered backwards, gasping in pain. Silver blood pumped from their back in spouts before fading away into mist as it left their body.

  Arcos crawled out from under the comatose Sarku and cried out as he put pressure on his new hand. There was black blood seeping from the fresh cut and unlike the wound she had already, this one was not healing.

  Then he felt pain spread from his hand towards the rest of his body. He groaned and then he screamed.

  “What’s happening to me??” He groaned, convulsing on the ground.

  Eadala’s voice came through Arcos's mouth. It was hoarse, tired and halting.

  “We’re running out of time. Alaintiqam struck me. I have been using all my power to hold your body together, healing it as I go, stopping the pain from crippling you… but that strike… it is the antithesis of my existence. It has pushed me beyond my limits… I cannot hold this form for long… You must stop him…

  The pain faded instantly and Arcos was able to struggle to his feet. But he was shaking. His bones and wounds, barely healed, threatened to break and bleed once again.

  Using Courageous’ large form, Arcos kept his balance. But he could not and he dropped to his knees.

  ‘NO MORE! I will not allow this to be the end of my reign, when it has barely begun! I will end you! I have had enough of you!’

  Alaintiqam screamed and charged for Arcos once more, sword upheld. Arcos sighed bitterly and raised Eadala in defence, but he could not.

  Alaintiqam, so focused on ending their hated rival, did not see Bonebreaker’s flail coming.

  The flail smashed into their helmet, sending the Aged One flipping over and onto their back.

  “Then fight me, you bastard!” Reeva’s voice screeched.

  “Hey, mate.”

  Arcos looked up and saw Boras, bleeding and broken but still standing over him with a grin and his hand out. “Need some help?”

  Arcos could scarcely speak as he saw Tilda and Torrance sprinting towards Alaintiqam, who was engaged in a frantic fight against a berserker Reeva.

  “Come on,” Boras grabbed Arcos by the hand. “We’ve got a fight to finish.”

  Arcos grinned and pulled himself to his feet. “I’m good, go help them!”

  “Alrighty. Don’t wait too long!” Boras nodded, swung his axes in his hands, and ran on.

  Arcos felt a nudge behind and, against all the odds, saw Courageous also rise to his feet.

  The Sarku growled low at him and growled louder at the fight breaking out ahead.

  “Nothing really can kill you, huh?” Arcos said. To which Courageous snapped his jaws and darted ahead to the fight.

  “Arcos!” Arcos looked and saw Nerisity arrive by his side. She threw herself under his shoulder to hold him steady. Arcos studied her. She was a mess. Hair in strands, covered in dried blood, soot, bruises, and cuts, and mud, just as damaged as he and all the others. And yet, like his friends, she refused to fall. They all refused to do so.

  “Why are you still here??” He asked her with stupefied horror.

  She looked at him like he had grown a third eye. “Are you mad? Of course, we’re here. Why else wouldn’t we be?”

  Arcos felt a glow of pride, care, and love swell in his heart, mind, and throat. He looked at her and then towards his friends, risking their lives against a foe beyond their skill…

  “No.” He snarled. “I will not let any of you pay for my mistakes. No one else dies here, in the godforsaken place. No one else ever AGAIN!”

  Arcos pushed Nerisity back and roared for the second and possibly last time as a swell of dark energy spurted from his wounds. The energy leapt into the air and shot directly for the fight.

  Alaintiqam swung their blade and clashed their sword against Torrance who barely time to block the blow that should have bisected him. And it would have, if not for the similar energy that struck Torrance’s claws and surrounded them with black energy.

  Torrance felt a sudden strength well up in his arms. He laughed and pushed back at the strength.

  Alaintiqam jumped back, seemingly stunned by this, before looking around and seeing with increasing anger, as the four other foes had also received this power.

  Tilda stared at her long knives, now lengthened to a pair of black rapier blades.

  Boras's axes had longer dark handles and the axes were double-bladed.

  Torrance’s no longer had four claws on his wrist, but ten new ones on his fingers.

  Reeva’s Bonebreaker now exuded a black flame from the hollowed out flail.

  And Courageous’ armour was spiked and covered in black, with gauntlets on his paws.

  Alaintiqam locked their eyes on Arcos.

  ‘YOU DID THIS?’

  Arcos felt Eadala speak his words. “They are my kin, sibling! Children of my Maker, they too deserve this right. They stand against you. I stand with them.”

  ‘So be it! You all deserve death! Death and desolation!’

  Alaintiqam ripped open their back and two new wings spread out from within.

  “Gods, how many wings does this fucker have??” Boras groaned.

  “All the better to rip them off!” Reeva snarled before launching the attack, followed by the others.

  Alaintiqam spun his sword, slashing Tilda and Torrance’s coordinated strike, before summoning a dozen moonlight swords to distract Boras and Courageous.

  They took flight, but Reeva was faster. With a lashing whip, she hooked Bonebreaker’s flail around Alaintiqam’s ankle and yanked him back down with a earth-shuddering slam.

  Alaintiqam roared, grabbed the chain and yanked Reeva off her feet. Reeva did not fall, but instead used the momentum to push her into a sprint. She dropped her whip’s handle and brought out one of Ashmak’s silver-knuckles on her hand and within the distance of their swing, she ducked and drove her fist into their stomach.

  Alaintiqam coughed against the blow.

  Reeva roared. “You really thought you could fuck with our friend like that??” She twisted her fist and sent a vicious uppercut into their chin that sent them up high, knocking the helmet clean off from their head. The discarded armour burst into silver light.

  Alaintiqam reacted instantly with a nasty boot that caught Reeva in the chest. She was sent flying back. The Aged One made to fly away. But—

  “Oh no, you don’t!” Torrance snarled. He reached up and skewered Alaintiqam by the ankles and yanked him back down.

  The claws punctured through the boots and armour and nailed Alaintiqam to the ground. Alaintiqam screeched. They swung a fist at Torrance. It connected, striking into his cheek. Torrance grunted with pain but grinned back at Alaintiqam with a savage flash of bloodied teeth.

  ‘RELEASE ME, YOU VERMIN!’

  They drew up their sword to stab Torrance in the back, but a pair of black rapiers pierced them through their own back instead.

  “This is it for you.” Tilda hissed from behind. “Have some honour in your end.”

  Spitting blood, Alaintiqam turned their free hand to grab at Tilda’s neck, but Boras appeared from the side and, using his axes, was able to lock Alaintiqam’s free hand between the blades.

  “Nope.” Boras snapped.

  Alaintiqam turned around, their sword to strike at Boras, but the weapon was locked with flail and chain by Bonebreaker. Which was grabbed and held in place by both Reeva and Courageous. They pulled the sword-hand away from their friends, holding the sword at arm’s length.

  Arcos saw it. The chance.

  And so did Nerisity. She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him. “GO!” She shouted.

  Yelling his voice hoarse, Arcos sprinted over the broken ground, the frozen grass, the tattered remains of the world, the blood of black and silver mist. He sprinted away from the Salt Pit and towards his friends.

  Alaintiqam saw him coming. And for the first time, the Aged One felt a coldness grip their heart. Their very being. Fear. It was fear. Fear of dying. Fear of losing. A mortal fear.

  Alaintiqam panicked.

  They opened their mouth and a shining light grew in their mouth.

  The others, too busy holding the entity in place, could only watch as a silver beam of extreme light, colder than a glacier and older than the oceans of the deepest depths of the world, exploded from Alaintiqam’s mouth.

  Arcos ran on as he saw the searing beam of moonlight rushing right for him. He saw the grass in its path be decimated, the topsoil carved in twain by the power of this desperate attack.

  Arcos gritted his teeth, pulled back his own black hand and threw a running punch at the light.

  The black fist struck the moonlight and the two forces clashed with a grey cataclysmic eruption that tore the land around Arcos in two.

  Streaks of moonlight and blackness tore away in chunks, lancing away pieces of the earth. But the moonlight did not push onwards anymore.

  Arcos did not fall back either, instead he stepped onwards, one step at a time. With each step, he became faster and faster and faster. The moon beam fractured, splintering shards of light that stabbed the grass around him.

  Until he started to run, black hand outstretched. With a final thrust, he slapped the light upwards to the sky and his black hand was torn from its stump, leaving only trails of darkness and starlight.

  Arcos ducked under the residual light and put the last of Eadala’s ebbing power into his feet, causing him to shoot towards Alaintiqam with lightning speed.

  “ARCOS!” Boras and Reeva yelled.

  “KID!” Torrance called out.

  “BLADE!” Tilda howled. “KILL IT!”

  Arcos screamed wordlessly as he closed the gap in half a second.

  Within Alaintiqam’s reach, Arcos swung low and cut upwards, cutting the edge of Eadala’s blade into the gap between the armour plates of Alaintiqam’s wrist and sword-hand.

  And with a jerk, the black blade sliced through the flesh, blood, and bone of the Aged One’s wrist. The sword sailed away, spinning through the air, causing Reeva and Courageous to fall backwards from the immediate slack.

  Pulling back his sword, Arcos sent one final thrust up and through Alaintiqam’s throat.

  No one moved. The wind died instantly. Arcos remained there, poise set. The others remained where they stood.

  And Alaintiqam, black blade in their throat, could only look down at Arcos who stared back at them. The same face staring at each other.

  Alaintiqam opened their mouth to try and say something.

  But Arcos yanked the sword out from their neck and with a final swipe, Alaintiqam’s head came toppling off.

  The head drifted down to the ground, but faded into mist before reaching the grass.

  The headless body began to shake violently as silver blood poured like a fountain from the neck, which evaporated as it spurted out from the neck.

  Tilda, Torrance, Boras and Arcos all pulled away from the body just as it rose into the air and finally exploded into misty silver light, leading to a shockwave that knocked everyone flat to the ground. The shockwave ripped through the ravine formed during the fight, which tore its way towards the Salt Pit. Once it reached the Pit, the wall of the well cracked and the debris began to fill in the Pit, destroying it utterly.

  The light of the explosion faded to small stars that fell down onto the grass, freezing the tips and nothing more.

  Alaintiqam was gone.

  ???

  Everyone lay there for a moment, silent and taking in what they had just witnessed and survived. Tilda stood up first, battered and shaken, but resolute in her eyes. She unhooked her cloak from her shoulders, walked over to the silver sword and Arcos's hand that was still attached to it and threw the cloak over both quickly.

  Even with the blackened leather, she was still able to see the eerie glow seeping through.

  She rubbed her face, leaving equal streaks of her blood and mud along her cheeks. She sighed shakily, finally allowing the adrenaline to subside and replacing it with the sheer exhaustion she had been putting off.

  She looked down at her black rapiers, but they were no longer those. The dark energy pulled away from the long knives and gently dissipated into the air. And with that energy leaving, the strength she had been granted by Arcos's black blade also left her. She felt her knees nearly give way, but she remained strong and standing. She could allow herself to fall. Not being so far from the safety of home.

  Tilda turned and examined the others around her. Each of them also experienced the same. Their weapons returned to their original state, and each of them found it hard to even stand. The Sarku Courageous was already licking his wounds whilst hissing at the cloaked weapon on the ground.

  Tilda finally turned to Arcos, who was kneeling on the ground and groaning in quiet pain. Nerisity was already running towards him.

  She dropped to her knees and grabbed his face to look at her.

  Tilda also approached and knelt down in front of him.

  “Blade?” She asked carefully.

  Arcos breathed out slowly. And with each breath, the blackened form he had taken on slithered off from his body. Each part of his uniform broke away into the form of a tendril and slid towards and into the hilt or blade of Scar-Sire— no, it was called Eadala. Eadala took in the darkness, storing them all into its obsidian surface. The hood that hid Arcos's face was the last to leave. And with a final breath, that too fell off, revealing his face.

  Both Tilda and Nerisity took a gasp in surprise.

  Arcos's hair was no longer its blonde hue. It was now a deep shade of grey with small flecks of white and larger patches of black. Like the fur of a snow leopard.

  His face, recently healed from Eadala’s magic, now beheld a spiderweb sequence of scars that spread across his visage. They were not face-altering, but they were visible. Like the cracks of a repaired pot.

  And his irises, once the shade of clear blue skies… now the right side was a moon-pearl colour and the left was jet coal black.

  He looked at their faces, staring at his. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He asked wearily.

  “It’s… manageable.” Tilda answered carefully. “Can you stand?”

  “I can try…” Arcos attempted to stand. But he fell onto his arse. “Shit… Eadala’s gone back into the sword… I don’t have any strength left…”

  “Let me help you.” Nerisity offered. “Here.” She pushed herself under Arcos's arm.

  He paused. “No, you’re too tired.”

  Nerisity locked him with a look that brooked no discussion. “Stop that. Let me do this.”

  “Okay… Thank you.”

  With her help, Arcos gently stood up, allowing himself to find his feet.

  A growl from behind Tilda was followed by Courageous lumbering towards them. The beast looked at Arcos with an unreadable expression. He shook his haunches as he turned and lowered his wings to show his back.

  Understanding his body language, Arcos stepped away from Nerisity and approached Courageous. He gently leant on him with a hand on the animal’s broad head.

  “Thank you.” Arcos whispered, to which the Sarku chuffed in reply. With Tilda and Nerisity, Arcos began to slowly walk towards the other three who had finally got to their feet. Reeva was rewinding her whip, whilst Torrance had taken off his gauntlets and stretched his fingers. Boras was off to the side, wrapping up the silver sword and hand in Tilda’s cloak while being exceptionally careful not to touch it.

  Reeva and Boras noted Arcos coming towards him and both smiled with tired relief.

  Torrance beamed at both Tilda and Arcos with a toothy grin.

  “Certainly not the reunion I was imagining with you, Tilda.” He said. “But it will make for an exciting tale.”

  Tilda shook her head to hide the small smile on her lips. “Enough, Torrance. We must leave. I can only imagine how many people in Fennaposia or the port towns would have witnessed this cataclysm from their homes. Search parties will be coming…”

  “Agreed.” Torrance nodded. Then he looked beyond her and his face became pensive. “Ah.” He pointed and the others saw Darius coming to them.

  Darius limped towards them, helped as much as he was able to by his son Thaddeus. Darius was silent and downcast as he stopped a few metres from the group. There he waited, with his boy.

  Arcos looked at the others. “Let me.” Arcos hobbled towards Darius, with Nerisity and Courageous by his side.

  Arcos stopped in front of Darius.

  “So…” Arcos began. “What do you want?” Arcos had a strange well of feeling standing before Darius. The anger was subdued, but still there. But an indifference to the Bodyhunter was all he could feel now.

  Darius rubbed his hands, struggling to make eye contact with Arcos. But after looking at his son staring back at him, Darius sucked in a breath and spoke weakly. “Thank you, all of you… Thank you for saving my boy…”

  He looked up first at Nerisity. “Forgive me…”

  She nodded. That was enough.

  Then Darius looked at Arcos. “I am so sorry…”

  Arcos felt a lump in his throat as all the indifference he felt was dashed away to be replaced with pity and shame and a throbbing pain in his right wrist. “I am sorry too… Go, live in peace…”

  Darius nodded, took his son’s hand and turned away. Thaddeus gave a quick look back towards Nerisity and waved at her. Smiling weakly, Nerisity waved back.

  Arcos, Nerisity, Courageous and the others watched the Bodyhunter leave with his son, walking hand in hand into the weakening darkness as the smallest glimmer of a sunrise began to peek in, signally a brand new day for them all.