“Yo, Vukosava, what are you doing?” John is looking over to Vukosava with a lot of concern.

  She’s getting closer and closer to the portal. “I need to verify something. This could possibly be a secondary illusion by the Red Queen to throw us off. The fae can py a lot of tricks on people - and what you perceive as the truth could just be another lie.”

  “How are you going to verify this?” Harley and Nathen ask in unison. “Can you see it?”

  “Yeah.” Vukosava didn’t have a better response than that. “I can.”

  Harley shakes her head furiously. “Wait, what? You’ve never been able to do this before.”

  Nathen looks over to Harley. “She’s not shown previous signs?”

  “None. I’m the one that has the ability to sense this shit.”

  “Okay - we’ll figure that out ter.” John mutters sarcastically. “Now that we’ve figured out it’s here, what do we do? Tell Carlos that his interrogation didn’t do shit.”

  James is watching Vukosava, tugging on her shirt, but she’s completely lost to them. “Hey, Vics, earth to Vics.”

  She ignores these words, stretching out her hand, she can feel something on the other side, a breeze rushing over her fingers. An alluring smell, fragrant and inviting. Why doesn’t she go in? That question runs through her mind, why not go? Her logical side cannot fight the feelings that are running through her.

  Vukosava steps towards the portal and she falls through it, her head spinning a million miles an hour in all directions, her senses being set on fire all at once. The rush of adrenaline is shaking her whole body, her heart is beating at a sickening speed, she forces her eyes open to see a vortex, with night and day, fighting against each other. In an instant, she stops spinning and the whipsh forces her to take a knee, tucking her head against her own chest.

  Spots dance in front of her eyes, fshing neon as she straightens - there’s no graffiti or rubbish in sight, this is completely different from the castle she once stood in. This isn’t right, according to her extensive research in the subject of portals and other forms of travel, a human shouldn’t be able to enter a realm separate from their own.

  She looks around in a hurry, snapping her head left and right - having her brain bounce around like a basketball. Vukosava steals a gnce around the room, there’s no John, no Amber, no Harley, no Nathen or James. She pinches herself hard on the arm, the pain passes and the world remains the same.

  The historians could not replicate the castle better than this. It’s perfect down to every detail. Vukosava turns around slowly, the broken seal is gone and in its pce is the blood painting. The one that honors Catherine Mallory. There’s so many shades of the color red - suggesting that the process to create deviations indicates ageing the different samples. She stops her mind forcibly. The painting is beautiful and horrific - a stunning piece that causes bile to build in her throat. Vukosava wants to tear it down, but the chains that loom around it convince her otherwise. She can feel anger welling deep inside her chest, her friends were strung up in a different way - just like the victims that were taken by the Prince and his dogmen. They will never be the same after all that - those people are not coming back. Why? Why out of everyone did it have to be them - why not her? It’s her fault, her fall to take and she couldn’t take it.

  She’s got no clue where she is - the portal sent her here to this weird pce. She can feel a tightness in her chest, a cool sweat is running down her back and her hands feel cmmy. Vukosava is hyperventiting and she’s trying with every fiber of her being to pull herself away from the edge. It’s a losing battle - she’s got no answer to her burning questions. Her logic and information-gathering nature is useless here, there’s nothing she can do to control the situation.

  Vukosava takes a deep breath to steady herself, she buries her emotions deeply, compartmentalising them into a box which she can look at ter: she needs to approach this problem logically. If there is a way in, there’s also a way out. She departs from the painting, taking in the rest of the scenery. There are other works that adorn the space - there are sketches and paintings, scripts and stagecraft, it’s all here, the tireless hours spent perfecting the craft of a heartless man. Her eyes drift higher, taking in the dazzling windows and flowing buttresses that rise into a vaulted ceiling. A masterpiece of masonry and master builders.

  She’s still feeling cmmy and top heavy, her head is like a heavy weight.

  “One step at a time, Vics, one step at a time,” she mutters to herself, pcing her hand against the wall. It’s solid, there’s no give. Another indication that everything here is very real. “Just think and rex. Or maybe rex first and think ter.”

  A rush of wind rustles the tapestries, the paintings, and she finds herself looking outwards from the balcony, upon a world of fire and ice - of dawn and dusk. It captures the impossible beauty of when the day begins and ends. It’s a startling sight that captures the two extremes and holds them in combative harmony, the sun and moon remain fixed in the sky. A stunning summer to her right, a foreboding winter to her left. There are creatures all around - soaring through the air.

  A sweet childlike voice reaches her. “Welcome!”

  Vukosava turns around to see the owner of the voice, the leader of a small group, its eyes glowing in the ethereal light. It’s an elflike spirit, with elegant features, pointy ears, and thin wings. Its friends wear garments woven from leaves and shrubbery - gleaming amber. Pixies. Shit. They’re one of the most common to inhabit the realm.

  “Hello.” Vukosava replies courteously - messing with the fae is never a good idea, and being polite costs her nothing.

  “Hello.” The pixie says back. It’s polite, for now.

  “I’m not looking for any favors, sir.” Vukosava says evenly, with a healthy dose of hesitation. “I’m just-.”

  “Not looking for favors, miss? That’s a shame.” He replies in a voice that doesn’t sound far away from hers. “We like receiving visitors.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Vukosava answers neutrally.

  “You’re nervous. Why is that?”

  “I’m unfamiliar with a pce like this.”

  “You like feeling secure, is that right?” The leader flies up to be eye level with her. “We can help you with that, your dyship.”

  “That sounds nice.” She gives another neutral answer.

  “You see us as pixies, don’t you, your dyship?”

  “That’s what my studies have concluded.”

  “A single word cannot describe us - there is more to us than that. We can share it with you.”

  Vukosava nods - there is it, the offer, the temptation. The branch holding a delicious apple. She knows better, yet there’s a yearning within her. A hunger that she cannot deny.

  “There’s more for you to know. This pce will satisfy your curiosity. Your mind will be freed.”

  What if she could stay here - with all this knowledge right at her fingertips, not bearing the weight of guilt or grief at the heartbreaking losses - of Marcus and the others that fell victim to the dogmen, no judgement for being the goth, the failure that couldn’t make her passion pay the bills. Vukosava could have peace - freedom from all the turmoil of her life up to this point.

  But could she really accept that? To leave everyone else behind.

  “Oh, there’s no need to feel sad.” She can feel little fingers on her face, pulling gently at her hair. “You don’t need to bear it any longer - you can let it go and be with us. Once again.”

  Vukosava wipes her face, a few tears - nothing she can’t handle. Her voice rattles, but she remains on task. “I’m sorry?”

  “You were here - years ago. We remember when you were a tiny, little thing.”

  At these words, two pixies fly up with a pink hairbrush with little cartoon cats on it. Her memory is vague, but she can tell it's hers. There’s no way it could be here - how is that possible?”

  “I decided to keep it - and everyone agreed. A memento of the past - a token that you would return again one day.”

  During her youth, she’s always been a problem child - hungry to explore the unknown, to delve into pces where others wouldn’t. Forests, rundown houses, graveyards - she couldn’t stop. At some point, she went missing, that must be it. She went off - her family were panicking and ripping out their hair, wondering where their mad, little girl ran off to. Is that a real memory? The fae can manipute the memories of those that enter their realms - taking and repcing key moments with something else entirely. Or nothing else.

  “We appreciated this gift - and your promise.”

  She’ll need to deal with this bombshell ter. “I have a question for you, good sir, could you please answer?”

  The leader squints at her, weighing her up. “If the request is reasonable.”

  “Oh, it is.” Vukosava steals a gnce at the sky. This is a sure fire way to get the truth. “Is it light outside?”

  A moment passes as those glowing eyes access her. It can lie, and if it can do that easily - there could be no way out. That thought causes perspiration to go spilling down her brow. Vukosava waits patiently for an answer.

  “No, my dear, it is dark at the moment. Quite dark.”

  It’s deciding that lying is its course of action. It’s a game and it’s a game she’s lost before. Vukosava can feel control slipping from her grasp once more - but she cannot give in. There’s got to a way to get around the leaders’ lies.

  “Is this the Unseelie Court?” Vukosava asks, a bit of a bull-headed challenge to the leader.

  “No. It is not, your dyship.”

  It’ll be the same thing for the Seelie Court as well. It doesn’t narrow it down by much, but at least she knows that direct questions can get direct answers.

  “Do you wish to stay, your dyship?”

  “I can’t stay. I need to go home.”

  The leader looks at her with a small smile. “Home? This is home.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t my home.” Vukosava replies.

  “Don’t you wish to learn more, your dyship? To escape your pain?”

  “I can’t stay in some paradise whilst my friends get hurt. I can’t do that to them or myself.”

  It’s a battle of checkers and chess, and so far she’s struggling to compete. This next decision is a horrible one - to make a deal with the fae. Do not give a true name, do not eat anything on hand or within reach, remain polite and courteous. Trading is a cornerstone in a pce like this - these little creatures get joy out of it.

  “I want to make a deal with you, I can offer the same terms I did so long ago.”

  The leaders’ ears perk up. “Your dyship, we would appreciate such a gesture.”

  I’m sure you would - Vukosava mutters internally, safely within her conscience.

  “I don’t have a hairbrush to offer you, but I do have these.” Vukosava looks down at her hands. “To be another memento, which would you like?”

  With very gentle hands, he retrieves the one from her index finger - from her right hand.

  “The deal has been struck, your dyship, what do you wish to hear?”

  “I kindly ask for your full honesty, sir, I wish to leave this court in peace and return home.”

  “If that is your wish, then we shall do our best to grant it. Are you certain?”

  “I am certain.” Vukosava replies simply.

  “Very well, ask your questions.”

  “What court do I reside in now?” Vukosava is mentally running down her list of questions.

  “You’re in the Twilight Court.”

  There’s every chance he’s lying despite his promise, but she presses on. Vukosava knows the tricks that these little creatures can py, leading travelers astray and frightening young maidens. They’re doing both right now. “Right, is there a way that I can leave this court?”

  “Of course. I shall warn you that to escape can be costly. Our cousins seek power, your dyship, the door remains open.”

  Of course, the damn portal. These cousins must be something bad. The next string of questions that springs to her mind is a deadly combo - is there a way to close the portal? To reestablish the seal? That is something that will test the limits of her knowledge, and even if she could find the answers here - that would mean leaving her friends behind. She must go. The leader of the pixies tilts his head, as if sensing her inner turmoil, her inner thoughts.

  “Do you have good intentions, your dyship?”

  “I do.” Vukosava answers truthfully.

  The pixie nods slowly. “You have grown well since we st saw you.”

  A loud scream rockets through her body, the wailing of the dead - their horrific ends burning into the linings of her eardrums, the chains hanging from the walls are starting to twitch. She can see the silhouettes of people hanging with their guts cut open, their spectral forms turning red, they’re screamers and howlers. Souls stuck in eternal anguish.

  “There will come a time when your personal ambitions cannot be denied, your dyship, our cousins are hungry. Like you.”

  “Could you guide me out of this pce, sir?”

  “I, Thistle of the Prairie Leaf County shall heed your request.” The leader ughs prettily. “Follow me.”

  “If-.” Vukosava stops herself. “When I come back, that’s the name I call?”

  “Yes, indeed, your dyship.” Thistle bows gracefully in the air.

  There’s always a catch with the fae, this court is full of counties belonging to the pixies. This Thistle belongs to Prairie Leaf County. There are many others she doesn’t know of.

  “I will hold your favor dearly, your dyship.”

  Of course he will. Great - owing a favor to a fae, if there’s a rulebook for bad decisions, Vukosava is following every step to the letter. She doesn’t have much of a choice. She could find another way out - but this idea is cut off as soon as it appears in her mind. It’s not just the lost souls that are causing a racket - there’s howling, barking, roaring from the desert of ice and snow. From the dark side of the Twilight Court.

  “Very well. I will uphold this favor at a future point, can we go now?” Vukosava grits her teeth.

  “Pleasure doing business with your esteemed self - follow us. Out of the tower.” Thistle pulls at her shirt gently.

  With little choice, she follows in the wake of the pixies. The ancient city of Duskenveil is alive and well, full of entities and spirits that float and walk down its many streets. She cannot take in any of it - her hair is standing on end. The most vicious creatures that live here in this court will make mince meat out of her. This ndscape might be beautiful and grand in appearance - but it conceals a dangerous mix of good and evil. In equal measure - alignments are hard to follow in here.

  “Do you have a name I can call upon when I seek to complete this favor?” Vukosava asks.

  “Don’t worry. I will call upon you. You’re one special girl.”

  As they pass out of the main gate, she can see a great river that flows between the two extremes. There’s an opening in the middle of a great bridge - that reaches out into open air. She stops, taking in a deep breath.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Vukosava asks.

  “Your body is the bridge to your reality.” Thistle says - like it’s a comprehensible thing.

  Vukosava shakes her head vigorously. “What?”

  “You are still young, aren’t you?”

  “Yes I am.”

  The desert of the winter is starting to chill her to the bone. The trees and vegetation that makes up this nd on both sides is too bright and too colourful for her eyes, so fragrant, so powerful in how it overwhelms all her senses. But she can’t lose focus now - otherwise she’ll be stuck here, having to face the horrors of this court alone. The moon and sun shine directly across from each other, waves of colour ripple across the sky in hues of green, pink, red, and violet.

  She can hear them closing in. She looks over her shoulder to see a scarlet tower that dwarfs everything in this court. It belongs to the Red Queen - that’s another problem all on its own.

  There’s no way she can do this on her own - she grips the railing. She can feel a tingling sensation along her arm, as if pickles are going along it. Her left foot is hovering in the open air - she can put pressure on it. She can feel blood pounding in her ears. It’s turning into an earthquake that matches her adrenaline. Vukosava is trying to steady herself.

  “It’s a good thing you’re one of us.” Thistle stops her. “There is one st thing before you go, my dyship, we must part properly.”

  He presses his head against her forehead, muttering incantations and words, suddenly everything is gone. A stranger is in front of her - and Vukosava doesn’t remember his name.

  Vukosava snaps awake from his spell, she ignores the pixie, she’s getting out of here - she takes off at full speed, the tingling sensation running down her right arm. Her body belongs to the material pne. The natural world - that’s part of the reason that she can return home. But there’s something more to it - for a soul to run back and even enter the world to begin with, there’s a part of her that isn’t human. That thought rocks her for a moment, and she can feel a burning pain just past her elbow as she starts to sink into invisible quicksand. A cry escapes from her lips.

  She cws and scratches to get free, pulling herself out. Her arm is bleeding but she ignores it - she cannot stop. There can be no doubt in one’s actions in a court like this - it can lead to disaster. Vukosava looks down to see the bridge, her own arm suffering cuts. She needs to clear her mind of emotions - negative emotions punish, positive emotions reward. It could render her down to the bone and she’ll fall into hell.

  “Vukosava!” She can still hear them calling out her name, trying to drag her back into the real world. “Hey!”

  She’s getting closer to freedom. All at once, the pleasantness of both sides fade away. This court is terrifying beneath the surface it presents - it’s a pce where power and ambition kills the world. In every man and woman - there’s a hunger to advance, to go forwards. Humanity is a cure and a curse - it can help and hinder the world and this court reflects both. One can use it to further their own ambitions and one can use it to help others. The court finds life through the actions of the living and the dead.

  She can hear the grunts and growls of savage beasts, and she cries out in pain as they rip down her arm. The bastards are using her arm as their bridge as well. Shit. If she gets back, she can cut them off.

  “Vukosava.” Their words are fading, and her vision is clouding over. “Vukosava!”

  No. She will never give up - with a scream she reaches the end of her middle finger. She spirals violently back into the world. Vukosava opens her eyes - she’s really back.

  “Vics!” Amber cries with relief. “You’re back! Thank goodness.”

  There’s no time for happy reunions. “They’re coming. Monsters.”

  “Shit.” John says though not harshly. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Vukosava struggles to her feet. “I don’t know what’s coming-.”

  A loud roar rips through the seal on the wall, John readies his silver-mail bat. The first creature pops out, salivating at the mouth with hideous rotten teeth and greasy fur - it’s a werewolf. It’s mind is completely lost to savagery - it’s only ambition is to feed. It lunges forwards only to be met with the silver bat.

  It yelps in pain - jumping back, it swipes at John who ducks and swings again.

  It’s a stalemate but it won’t st long. John is the only one attacking at the moment, he looks over his shoulder crying out. “Back me up, shitheads!”

  The others rush forwards with their weapons - thought considering the state of her arm she wouldn’t be in good shape to swing it. Except there is no pain, she looks down - what the fuck? It’s gone. The marks. As John and the others continue to hold out their silver firebrands - the monsters start getting smarter. They start shing out, provoking them to swing and break formation, so they can counter attack and retreat without issue.

  John is leading their efforts, swinging his bat around like a madman. The wolves are leaving him for st. Damn it! Harley cries out, skidding across the floor painfully, her left sleeve left in tatters with a bloody trail. Vukosava picks up the bat, trying to swing it, but the silver is burning her. Harley’s isn’t a blockhead like John who pces the silver on one end of the thing, she’s spread it all over hers. As the werewolves prepare to devour them, a loud cng of metal echoes through the room. For the first time, she can see real fear in the bestial eyes of thier adversaries.

  Vukosava blinks for half a second, and the wolves are gone. Just like that.

  John is doing a double-take. “Where in the fuck? What in the fuck?”

  “I think we got some help.” Harley groans loudly, she’s holding onto her left arm. Her hand comes away with blood.

  Amber kneels down next to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it - I’ve gotten hit with worse.” Harley is hissing in pain. “It hurts like a bitch though.”

  “Do you have a medicine kit in your car, John?”

  “Yeah.” John nods. “Does anyone want to expin what that all was?”

  “I can guess. We’re not the only ones trying to deal with the broken seal.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Nathen ponders.

  “I don’t know - it could be something that serves the Red Queen.” Vukosava replies.

  “I’d bet the house on it.” James mutters.

  Regardless of the rights and wrongs, they have other problems to focus on. Even if these wolves have been dealt with, the seal didn’t have to be open long for a whole avanche of monsters and entities to go pouring out. There’s nothing that can be done about that - with a tight nod to John they make their way down to his car. He retrieves his medicine kit and Amber gets to work fixing up Harley’s shoulder.

  “I guess it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Harley winces as pressure is put on her arm. “All these disappearances - it’s linked to these fucking monsters. How many disappearances are we up to now?”

  “It’s currently at thirty.” James crosses his arms. “That we know of.”

  “There’s going to be a lot more of them if we don’t stop this.” Vukosava looks closely at the others. “I’ll have to focus all my efforts on closing the seal.”

  “I don’t think we’ll have a chance to, at least not now.” James is scrolling through his phone. “We got to stop those things. The silver was actually hurting them.”

  “J-man’s got a point.” Harley grumbles, rotating her mummified arm in irritation. “We can’t exactly leave this to double toil and trouble. Richard and Theodora – they’re not prepared for this kind of case.”

  “Just our luck too.” John shakes a little from the cold. “So, do we split up to cover ground? Team A stays here to deal with closing this thing, and Team B goes to stop more disappearances?”

  Amber doesn’t wait for him to finish. “We can’t condemn people to death. We could try and stop more from going through, but what about the ones that are already out there?”

  “I agree. We can’t just stay here.” Vukosava is stuck between two paths, trying to reestablish the seal or chase after the entities screaming through. Either way, they’re screwed. Is there a right answer – probably not. “Let’s keep a camera posted here as long as we can. It’ll let us know if anything is going on.”

  Amber shrugs. “We don’t have any other choice.”

  “Yeah, I suppose we don’t. Man, this is ass.” John is walking away to retrieve his gear.

  “You’re using yours?” Harley raises an eyebrow. “Very generous of you.”

  “I got to make up for it somehow.” John pces down his equipment, it’s the highest quality that a paranormal investigator could get. “With these batteries on deck, it should st for a good while, even if those fuckers are taking power from it.”

  They run down to John’s car throwing open the doors. Harley and Nathen are both staring out the windows, with their notebooks open, scribbling away as John screeches around the corner.

  “It’d help if we knew what we were chasing.” James elbows Nathen. “Keep us in the loop, man.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually see these things? Not all of them want to be seen.” Nathen snaps back irritably.

  Harley is in agreement. “On top of that - there’s the weather that we don’t want. Rain and fog.”

  John is turning the corner. “So, we got the natural world working against us as well? Freaking great.”

  The creatures of the other realm are streaming in all directions. They glide effortlessly through the walls of the businesses and enterprises that go on to the city, the advertisements are starting to flicker and splutter as the entities absorb energy. Rain and hail is falling with such velocity that Vukosava can barely see the road ahead of her.

  John is leaning over the wheel. “Shit. Why does it have to be now?”

  “Slow down, John, there’s no point getting into a car accident.”

  “If we lose sight of them – then we’re in the shit.”

  “We’ll be fertilizer if we crash.” Harley grumbles, her right hand going crazy over her sketchbook.

  “You feel it too?” Nathen whispers.

  “Yeah, this isn’t just a case of shocking weather, there’s something else causing it.” Harley looks down at her book for a moment - scribbling away in a frenzy with her right hand. “Well, shit, I have something, a silhouette with a hat, cloak and heels.”

  Nathen’s book is full of words - that stand for sounds. He could hear rain. Mist.

  “Wait.” Nathen takes Harley’s book and pces them against each other. “A dy that stands in the mist and rain. It’d be so easy to become lost.”

  Harley pales slightly. “I hate this.”

  “Because he’s right?” Amber asks.

  “Yep. This isn’t some dy walking around with an umbrel. Singing in the rain.” Harley gres pointedly at Vukosava. “It ends the unworthy. It pulls them into nothingness. You know what this bitch is?”

  “Yeah, the dy of mist is here, and she’s collecting.” Vukosava is ready to go over her story, before a loud explosion interrupts her. John sms on the breaks, stopping just short of an apartment unit. It’s completely torn asunder, and the edges of the bricks and frames were smouldering, turning to ash in the air. A corrosive agent – that’s not anything she’d know.

  A line of destruction runs down as far as the eye can see, the outline of a silhouette ramming its way through wall after wall. House after house to chase down other monsters that ran through the seal - it’s hunting them down, wherever they can be found.

  “Is there a chance we could get those people back?” Amber is seething.

  The path is clearer here. “I think we’ll have more luck following this trail than the others.”

  “That’s your big pn?” James asks. “It’s not like we’ve got a better one.”

  As they step outside, they can hear the screams and cries of the locals. “That’s a case of shit hitting the fan fast, there’s going to be a big mess.”

  They start to follow the destruction left behind and can hear the cnk of metal armour off in the distance. With more explosions to go with it.

  “Well, this is going to be a long day at the office for Carlos.” John is already at full sprint.

  “Are we seriously just chasing this possible monstrosity down?” Nathen stutters.

  “Live a little.” Harley waves him off, using her good arm.

  A distant howl rips through the night. The csh of cws against steel. The dogmen are back, and there are bodies strewn everywhere with blood filling the gutters, their fronts awash with gore and sinew. Amber is shaking with rage at the sight, and Vukosava takes her hand firmly. In the middle of the pack, beneath the flickering lights that adorn the street and apartment complexes, is a gleaming suit of dark steel armour. Its figure gleaming like a sliver of midnight.

  Captain Rath, the dark, heartless dog is back. The damn bastard must have slipped through before they got to the seal. “She has sent you to stop our hunt.”

  An echo emerges from the armour, as if a man were shouting through a cave. “You fuckers are going to die, one by one.”

  “A sve to royal blood.”

  “What about your precious prince? Where is he?”

  “He remains in her care.”

  “Who set you free, dog?”

  “No one.”

  The armour charges forwards, swinging its bde down with terrific force. The beast steps to one side, dodging the downward strike just barely. It retaliates instantly, racking its cws against the steel. It rasps like nails on a chalkboard that causes Vukosava and the others to wince from the sound. There’s nothing to cut or wound.

  Captain Rath growls angrily. “I will continue and find satisfaction. To satisfy my hunger.”

  “I’ll rip out your stomach and feed it to you, Rath.”

  “We shall see.”

  Harley isn’t backing down. “We know what hurts these bitches.”

  “Why don’t we leave the suit of armour to deal with these things on its own?” Nathen snaps back at her. “We’d just be getting in the way.”

  “Running in there is suicide.” Vukosava looks at the chewed up remains of the people.

  “Besides if that’s who I think it is, then we can leave it to him.”

  “So, does the walking suit of armour actually have a name? Of course it does.” John sighs heavily. “What a surprise.”

  “That dark armour, that rusted bde.” Amber enquires. “What does it mean, Vukosava?”

  “It’s Sir Victor Alberius, the betrayer of kings, the corrupted knight whose valor is always broken.” If there’s any chance of saving the people who’ve been caught up in this, it’s now. That if there’s any survivors. “He’s one of the suspected killers that started painting walls in the ancient city.”

  “So, a killer’s been sent to stop another killer?” John is low to the ground. “This whole thing is a giant mess.”

  The knight is very efficient at what he does. A few dogs can’t do much – except slow him down.