Souls! Strange and wrong and strong! Twisted souls, they come! Allon raged. The daemon was in a fit, crashing against the confines of Marek's mind like a caged beast. Release me, Kaiterasss! Relinquish control and let me drink from them!

  Marek struggled to maintain control. His vision swam with ethereal shadows. His skin prickled and a cold sweat broke out. The horror on the outside matched the chaos within, and he grit his teeth, unable to move despite the danger. All he could do was watch the scene unfold.

  The bear lunged at Ashurai, who stood nearest to the cluster of trees it had emerged from. Gorb moved faster than imaginable. With an open hand, the golemite swept the bear aside, shifting its trajectory and sending it tumbling down the slope.

  Ashurai drew a small vial from his belt and uncapped it. Then he snorted its contents and growled as crimson mana suffused his entire body. The warrior's growl turned into a scream. In a flash, he drew two blades at once, and even as the bear staggered to its feet, Ashurai was upon it. Leaping skyward, he spun at an angle and brought both swords down, one impacting after the other. The bear's head was cleaved in two. Gray ichor splattered in all directions, and a terrible screech filled the air.

  Something like a spirit emerged from the fallen beast. When Mags gasped and Niamh flitted up to perch atop Gorb's head, Marek thought they too might have seen the soul with naked eyes.

  All the while, Allon howled in the background. Twisted! Bound to the beyond! A wrong thing, a tasty thing! Let me have it!

  Movement from two sides warned Marek the attack was not yet finished. Three Druskin warriors and a pair of Haikini charged the group from both sides of the road. These too were haggard and tainted like the bear. One of the Druskin newcomers was outright missing an arm, though it held an axe in the other as it charged blindly at Gorb.

  The clash of steel reverberated from the hillside. Ashurai raged among the enemy. His presence was quickly overwhelmed, however, and Marek became desperate. He focused on the dull shadow of a soul freshly risen from the bear's carcass and triggered Command Spirit. The entity did not respond. His error incensed the daemon bound to him. I says to Kaiteras, twisted and wrong, broken souls! He cannot control them! Only I can devour them or watch them flee to find another!

  Gorb swatted away more of the attackers as they appeared from the tree line. Not once did it make a fist, though it’d summoned its mana as it had with the Druskin war chief. Its slaps dazed but never destroyed.

  Nearby, Mags shouted something Marek he couldn’t understand before unsheathing her shortsword and slashing at a Haikini spearman. The beast kin would have run Marek through had she not intervened. Mags snatched her bow from Cinnabar's saddle and ran toward the carriage. Soon, she stood atop the driver's seat, taking aim with the enchanted arrows Marek had crafted for her. An enraged Rushi clambered up after her. The panganid’s fur lifted like the hackles on a dog as she growled at anything that came near.

  Enough! Marek shouted internally. Let me fight, and maybe I will let you free! Allon ceased thrashing, and Marek drew a sharp breath of air. His dark sword was in his hands a moment later. He lunged at a Graysoul that snapped its jaws at Cinnabar. His blade swept in a clean arc that sliced the badger in two.

  More of the enemy came, and it was clear the battle would only grow more intense. Marek threw caution to the wind and summoned Spirit Body. He poured ether into the armor and urged his body to move. He only knew the basics of swordplay, but those he could effectively employ. With enhanced speed and strength, and the accumulation of overlapping enchantments, he was no longer the frail Sigilist from Misthearth. Marek had become deadly.

  He cut through the swath of enemies, ignoring their burning gray eyes and disfigured bodies. He slashed and thrust and hacked the monsters apart. Soon he found himself side by side with Ashurai, defending one flank of the caravan while Gorb stood opposite. The Basari spared but an instant to glare at Marek. His eyes told much. He sees my power, and he knows I'm more than I've said. No Sigilist could fight like this.

  Marek pushed the distraction away. It would only cost him. Already over a dozen of the tainted creatures lay dead, and yet their numbers never seemed to wane. The dark spirits that rose from the dead wailed at the sky before flittering across the ground and disappearing in the woods. Where they were going, Marek couldn't say. He only hoped the souls were gone for now.

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  A cry of pain from behind drew Marek's attention. Mags was in trouble. He dodged a Druskin's axe, then distorted his soul, forming a small buckler on the back of his hand. The next attack he blocked, which allowed him to stab the creature in the chest with his opposite hand. With a kick, he threw the monster off and turned to check on Mags.

  The woman bled from one leg, though she stood in spite of the injury. Her bow twanged and another arrow collided with a Haikini’s neck. It must have been an Arrow of Rending, for the creature's head tumbled backward off the carriage. An enormous badger scrambled up the carriage and lunged at Mags, but Rushi tackled it. The pair of snarling beasts hit the ground with a thump and tore at one another.

  That was when Marek’s eye found the form of the old wanderer sitting placidly in the back of the wagon. Four Druskin converged on the carriage at the same time. One flew at the blind fool. Marek wanted to scream at the bastard for distracting Mags, because of course she intervened. She dropped her bow and jumped at the beast kin. A moment before it reached the old man, her shortsword sank into the Druskin's skull. The strike killed it instantly, but the blade remained wedged firmly in the bone. As it toppled sideways, the beast kin's weight ripped the shortsword from Mags' hands.

  Three more creatures climbed up the sides of the carriage. Mags was left vulnerable, eyes widening as she realized her predicament.

  Niamh's voice boomed across the battlefield. "Ashurai! The girl is in danger!"

  The warrior evaded a Haikini, kicked the creature away, and spun. In one fluid motion, he drew two throwing knives from behind his back and flung them. Each connected with Druskin. One felled its target while the other managed to slow the beast down. Mags staggered back and reached for her bow, only to trip and stare up in horror at the final wolf-headed warrior.

  She'll die if I don’t reveal myself. I have no choice.

  Marek hadn't been able to practice Wraith Step even once since he'd unlocked it. His connection to the movement Skill told him it wouldn't require endless hours of practice to activate, yet he couldn't help but worry that something might go awry if he was wrong. Ether surged though his arms and legs, and then the world vanished. Marek reappeared six feet from the Druskin. He slashed with Leyan's sword.

  And missed.

  In the sluggish flow of time, Marek knew what was wrong. Even though he could use Wraith Step, that didn't mean he could do so effectively. He'd traveled through the air and gone wide of his target. Not a shred of his being welcomed what came next, though there were no other options.

  Feast, Allon! he willed the daemon. Kill it now!

  The Druskin closed in on Mags, one arm drawn back to deliver a killing blow. Mags lifted her bow but wouldn't have time to even put an arrow to its string. Marek's chest burned, and a darkness erupted from his sternum. Allon closed the distance in half a second and crashed into the Druskin. The daemon latched on with its fangs and coiled its lithe body around the beast. The two flew over the opposite side of the carriage and hit the ground.

  Mags stared in horror at Marek but didn't hesitate to stand and draw an arrow. She released two arrows at the fourth Druskin that had recovered from Ashurai’s attack. The wolflike creature howled when the first arrow sank into its chest, a few inches from Ashurai’s dagger. A gout of blood poured from the wound, giving away which of the enchanted arrows she’d used. The second took the Druskin in the neck, ending the monster’s life.

  "Marek," Mags said through clenched jaws, "I can't… I..." His friend fell to a knee, gritting her teeth as she clutched her wounded leg.

  With a surge of ether that nearly depleted his Spirit Core, Marek jumped atop the carriage and stood guard over Mags. He hacked off the arms of a Druskin that was grasping at Mags. Then all was still. A half-dozen tainted souls writhed free of their borrowed corpses. Wailing at the uncaring sky, they fled into the woods as the others had.

  Niamh frantically circled above Gorb's head. The golemite's massive body heaved, and its hands were covered in blood and gray slime. Ashurai limped across the road and passed the front of the carriage. Marek followed the warrior with his eyes. Then he too was staring at the being he'd summoned. Allon drank in the Druskin's soul. A deep thrumming emanated from the daemon, a sound too similar to a cat’s purr. When the tainted soul was fully devoured, Allon uncoiled its victim and rose. Body long like a snake's but indistinct and smoky, its purple eyes found Marek's. The daemon smiled and exposed row upon row of onyx teeth. "More," it rasped, rising in the air to search the battlefield.

  No, I think you've had enough, Marek thought. Besides, I think everyone’s seen enough for now. He tugged on the link that connected him to the daemon. For a moment, Allon resisted, but Marek was too strong. In a swirl of black smoke, Allon returned to him. Icy power sank into Marek’s sternum, and the daemon was gone.

  He breathed deeply and clenched his jaw. The battle was over. The monsters that had attacked them were dead; the shining gray souls had fled into the depths of the Shirgrim Forest. Ashurai and Mags were injured but none had fallen. Despite all of this, Marek couldn't help but feel he'd lost everything.

  I suppose this is when they drive us out, he thought bitterly. Or else I'll have to fight Ashurai if they choose to attack.

  Gorb shattered the tense silence with a great, "Hummmm! At last my eyes can see all of you. A Sigilist you may be, but each of us knew there was more beneath the surface.”

  The old man cackled, still sitting peacefully in the carriage, face spattered with gore. "Many, many years it's been! A pleasure to travel, a gift to greet and know. Look, everyone, and cast your eyes upon the latest incarnation of the Remnant Mage!"