As disconcerting as it was to share a mind with a being as dark as Allon, Marek had learned much in recent days. The daemon had shared insights about various Abilities and confirmed one of Marek's suspicions regarding his Attribute Points. Intellect, for as useful it was for a common mage, did nothing for his own powers. And of the other Attributes, he and the daemon agreed on which would serve Marek the best.

  Since leaving Middlebrook, he'd gained four levels in Sigilist and one in Soul Knight. Of the six available AP, four were invested in Willpower while the other two he placed in Dexterity. Marek's skill in combat, above all else, was lacking. Dexterity helped bridge the gap more than Strength or Constitution ever could, at least for his chosen Subclass. Were he strictly a Death Knight, things would be different. Marek didn’t intend to become a brawler, however. He was a summoner and a spellsword combined.

  Marek was proud of the path he was forging. In fact, he’d been itching to steal away for a while. How else was he to gain levels?

  He left the camp and the awkward stares of his companions behind, grateful to have the confrontation over with. Marek wasn't dim-witted enough to think the others hadn't noticed him changing. Mags most of all had taken note, and any time she looked at him, her eyes held the same loving concern her mother’s did when Mags came home after a fight.

  She means well, he thought as he activated Empath's Gaze. She loves me. That much hasn't changed and I hope it never will. And who knows, maybe she'll get used to the new me or else I won't be so... removed when I bind the staff.

  Mussst you? Allon asked. Seems you do just fine. Wait, Kaiteras. Wait till we find the twisted ones. You'll see! Effective we are when we hunts together. Why hinder progress with dumb staff?

  Marek ignored the daemon. Arguing would do nothing. Instead, he treated the creature as he might a toddler, directing its attention to a more productive topic. I'll follow the tracks. Those are easy enough to follow. I need you to focus on our surroundings. There’s more than Graysouls in this forest. The last thing I need is to be ambushed by an unforeseen threat.

  He summoned his familiar. Then, eyes downcast, he jogged through the dark, his enhanced vision making the task easy. Several Graysouls had come this way. Residual ether stained the game trail that wove through the trees. Two had cloven hooves, the prints small and deep. Boars, he guessed. Another was quite clearly that of a bear. At least two more he suspected to be Haikini, though it was hard to tell for certain. Until recently, he hadn't found the need to study the beast kin's footprints.

  Soon, he and Allon were climbing the side of a small hill. The moon above illuminated much, and when he reached the hilltop, Marek spied a dark opening. A cave, he thought. I wonder what they're doing inside. Why take cover at all? What need does a possessed body have for shelter?

  Allon didn't answer any of his questions, so Marek assumed the daemon didn't know. After agreeing to work with the creature, the rebellious beast within had been cooperative. Marek was grateful. Nothing would get him killed quicker than the distraction of having to grapple internally while he fought with sword or Spell.

  The mouth of the cave was small, its ceiling just barely high enough to accommodate him without crouching. He removed Leyan’s spear from his back in order to enter. More tracks converged at the entrance. Marek calculated that at least a dozen of the Graysouls were hidden inside. Less if some came and went more than once. Or perhaps more. I don't know if any came here without a body to find whatever creatures might have inhabited the cave previously.

  Marek clutched his stolen spear and crept deeper. Winding along a narrow tunnel, he soon came to a wider chamber. Rock formations dripped like candle wax from the ceiling. He was grateful to find a source of light ahead. It came from a fibrous plant dangling from the walls and rock formations. At least I won’t need a torch, he thought. One part of his mind thought to harvest a sample in case it held medicinal or magical properties, yet the other, frosted over in cold pragmatism and determination, insisted he focus on the hunt alone.

  Marek heeded the latter.

  Little could be heard but for intermittent drips falling from the ceiling. He paused when a far different sound confronted his senses. A throaty rattle reverberated from deeper in the cave. He would soon encounter the enemy. Twenty more paces in, the chamber floor began to slope downwards, and Marek's vision could suddenly penetrate much further. Four bulky shapes huddled together fifty feet away. The rattle came again. It was an odd sound—one he could almost identify.

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  Lungs filled with blood, Allon whispered in his mind. Creatures not dead and not living endure much. The Graysoul must have possessed a wounded beast. Matters little. We need only taste their souls.

  Marek paused and slowed his breathing. His eyes adjusted further when he summoned Spirit Body and invested more ether. As his vision sharpened, he could more easily make out the scene ahead. Three hulking boars stood with snouts nearly pressed together. They gorged on something on the cave floor—something he doubted he'd want to see. One of the boars’ ribs rose and fell chaotically in sync with the rattle he'd heard. Allon had been right.

  A fourth creature lifted its ugly head from between two of its companions. What the hells is that? Marek wondered as he studied its features. It had a large head topped by a crown of thin spikes silhouetted by the glowing plants behind it. Allon, do you know what that is? Blast, if only Empath’s Gaze could read the information from other living creatures!

  Ugly it is, the daemon answered unhelpfully. And… stronger than the others. Maybe it has magic or just fast and strong. Kill this one first.

  There was no point in waiting any longer. He had few Abilities that were effective against the Graysouls. This was a failing he intended to cure as soon as he reached his next threshold. Journeyman was but four levels away. With luck, and enough monsters to kill, Marek might just achieve that goal tonight.

  Moving as quietly as he could, he shifted his footing, then hurled Leyan’s spear at the spiky-headed monster. The monster made its death inevitable when it stood upright at the sound of Marek’s movements. The spear drove through its chest and flung it backward out of sight.

  Only one of the feasting boars seemed to have noticed, so Marek acted quickly.

  Wraith Step, he thought. The dim world of the cave vanished, and when he reappeared, Marek stood three feet from the nearest boar. Fluidly, he thrust the black sword and punctured the side of the boar's skull. Marek pivoted, withdrew the blade, and brought it around in a tight arc. Ashurai had improved his footing, and the attack was smooth and effective. His target screeched a moment before its head fell to the ground.

  The final boar charged. Four hundred pounds, if not more, with foot-long tusks and eyes that glowed like the shadows of the underworld, the monster would have torn him limb from limb—even Spirit Body would fail to prevent that outcome—yet its tusks met empty air when Marek triggered Wraith Step again.

  Allon howled in delight as he pounced on the writhing Graysoul rising from the first beast. Marek appeared beside the third boar half a second later. He swung the sword with all his might, and the razor edge of the Scorch Steel bit deep. The boar's shoulder bone stopped the weapon, which caught Marek off guard. The boar thrashed in protest, flinging its tusked face at Marek’s thigh.

  He backstepped and called upon his soul. A small shield emerged from his knee, taking the impact of the tusks. Marek stumbled but kept his footing. Drawing his shortsword, he drove it into the Graysoul’s chest.

  "Eat," he said to Allon, “and do so quickly. One soul has already fled."

  The daemon groaned in disappointment. His hunger was great, a fact he told Marek about constantly. It took time to devour the souls, though he'd already gotten better at gorging, more efficient. Allon's first victim had taken him nearly a full minute to consume, and in retrospect, Marek suspected the daemon might simply have been relishing his first meal. This time, Allon finished the first dark spirit in fifteen, maybe twenty seconds.

  Another tainted soul zipped away toward the entrance of the cave. The last flew deeper into the cave, but Allon gave chase. Before it had gone twenty feet, he'd crashed into it and wrapped the soul in his black coils. Dragging it to the ground, Allon drank in its ether.

  "Well done," Marek said. "When you finish, we'll see how deep this cave goes.”

  The cavern tapered off into a series of tunnels. Marek didn't have to ask which would lead them to the enemy. A quick glance with Empath's Gaze revealed a messy corridor of glowing prints leading down the leftmost passage. Marek stalked ahead, greatsword in one hand, spear in the other. Both weapons dripped tainted blood.

  As he stalked deeper into the hillside, he wondered what Mirrin would think of him. His actions, the old man would approve of. But what of how I'm performing them? Maybe it's different since I'm not killing men? Once these creatures were alive, though, and yet I feel... so very little. He remembered the first time he’d felt this. When fighting the bandits, his power had wreathed him in icy resolve. Few emotions could reach him once in this state, and ever since bonding with Allon, Marek had felt like this more and more often.

  It is a sign of growth, Kaiteras. Embrace your heritage as I have. Eventually, you won't even think about the mortals you've left behind.

  With an effort, Marek reasserted himself. He was in charge here, even if that control was tenuous. That is exactly what I'm afraid of, Allon. You might not think so, but my humanity is important. If I lose it, we'll be less than these Graysouls. We’ll be a scourge, a horror capable of untold slaughter. That, he told his familiar firmly, is not who we are.

  Interestingly, the daemon paused before responding. Marek felt the creature's thoughts as they shifted. Allon’s hunger was great, but he too, Marek thought, might just be capable of salvation. I do not know humanity. I only know strength, and I know my purpose. I am here to make you stronger and to feed on those we kill.

  Marek came to the end of the tunnel. Squeals, grunts, and growls echoed from a deeper chamber, all concealing another sound he didn't at all care for. Someone was... whimpering, crying out, begging to be spared.

  Our purpose, he reminded them both, is to save those we can. Now quiet! We have killing to do.