The Enemy of the World Chapter 5 A Death, and After

"One death, and then… lost," Ashlen said, his voice heavy with despair. The night was dark and cloudy, obscuring the stars, and they had only a vague idea of where they were headed. They knew it was, more or less, the opposite direction of where they should be going. It might seem foolish, but heading north under such conditions was asking for trouble—they would only end up more confused. In their haste, they had fled south from Horeen and had no desire to return to the city. It was better to stick to familiar territory and, when daylight broke, attempt to find the right path again.

"Let's follow that river," Andilla suggested. "Given its size, it must cross Coraan at some point. Then we'll be on familiar ground again." As always, the group agreed to abide by her decision.

Andilla Irontooth had an uncanny ability to navigate even the most unfamiliar regions, relying on her keen understanding of geography, plants, and animals. She hailed from the frigid Howling Mountains, far removed from the balmy Isle of Collen, yet the landscape spoke to her, and she translated its language like directions on a map. Ellisa Thorn possessed similar skills; she was adept at tracking prey, foraging for food in the wilderness, and surviving away from civilization. However, while Ellisa's talents were honed through training, Andilla's were a natural gift.

Masato Kodai expressed his displeasure with every step they took south—or in a direction he hoped was south. Each step felt like a step further away from the port city of Kriegerr, where they believed the fugitive was hiding. The man they were pursuing was a monster, one who had killed a family in Petrynia and devoured a daimyo in Tamu-ra. He was slippery, and the samurai hated to give him even a minute's advantage. But Kodai was just one voice in a group mostly unfamiliar to him; he was more exotic with his yellowish skin, razor-sharp eyes, and stoic demeanor than the minotaur or the half-elf. The group had listened to Andilla and followed Vallen Allond without question, and their decision was final.

The landscape they traversed was typical of much of Reinado, the most civilized and well-known region of Arton. It brought few surprises. Any adventurers as experienced as they were had crossed countless regions like this: a plain, a forest, a river. The plain, carpeted with soft grass, was dotted with low bushes and patches of woodland. Ahead lay a thick forest that would be very dark, especially on a moonless night. The river they followed was not the largest, but it was enough to be marked on a map, slanting across the plain until it vanished into the trees.

"It's strange that this river isn't on the map we had," Andilla remarked.

"That map wasn't very reliable," Ashlen replied.

"Which was no reason for you to leave it in the tavern," Artorius, the minotaur, interjected, his voice booming like a forge hammer.

The group tried not to blame each other, avoiding small rivalries or mistrust. As Vallen Allond often said, "Enter the battle with bad blood, and soon it will be spilled." But in that moment, everyone was tired and still tense from the incident in Horeen, making it difficult not to seek a scapegoat. They jumped at every shadow that moved, their natural reaction being to lash out at the nearest target, which, of course, was a companion.

Ashlen flinched, feeling a mix of embarrassment and fear. He knew Artorius would never harm him, but the minotaur's muscles and horns were intimidating when he scolded him. Ashlen was also worried that he had led them into a worse predicament than they had anticipated.

"Enough," said Ellisa Thorn, stepping in. Being closest to Vallen, she took the lead, sensing that her beloved already had enough on his plate. "We'll follow that river, whatever it is, and we'll start heading toward Coraan when they intersect. Then we'll go to Kriegerr, hunt our target, and return to Petrynia. We'll pay some bard to tell our stories."

"Preferably very exaggerated," Gregor Vahn added, a hint of laughter in his voice. The only one who didn't laugh, or even try, was Rufus. The wizard felt the absence of a good night's rest more than anyone, yearning for a few hours of relaxation to study. Wynna, the Goddess of Magic, was generous and creative, bestowing many gifts, but she also demanded tribute. A wizard's life was one of endless study, memorizing spells anew each night or morning, only for them to vanish from memory once cast. It was frightening to think: mere moments ago, a spell had been as clear and instinctive as any movement of the body, and now it was strange, alien, and forgotten.

Rufus Domat didn't know how other wizards coped with this, but for him, it was always unsettling. Magic was ecstasy—it gave life meaning—but the moment after casting, when he realized a piece of his mind was gone, was terrible. Secretly, Rufus studied extra hard, trying to retain each spell in memory, resisting the erasure that came with casting. Some wizards, particularly young students at the Arcane Academy, referred to this as "memorizing twice," despite how odd the term sounded. The impression was that the spell was doubled or tripled in memory, as Wynna's tribute could only erase one of those memories. Rufus aimed to keep a memory of the spells he used, which severely limited his magical repertoire. Of the total his mind could support, half was filled with extra study, leaving little room for new spells. His mind felt like an old fabric, creaking with expansion, threatening to tear.

Rufus didn't enjoy thinking about his former colleagues at the Arcane Academy. The destinies of old wizards typically fell into three categories: power, easy money, or death in adventures or experiments. He had achieved none of the three but kept telling himself that as soon as he gained fame—unfortunately under Vallen Allond's tutelage—he would reunite with his old friends to share their stories.

He forced himself to swallow bitterness as he followed the others, each step weighing heavily on his aching legs. They soon stood before the forest, with several hours still before dawn. The trees loomed dark with green crowns that blended into the night sky, their trunks dark brown against the backdrop. The forest appeared dense, a wall of living wood, opening its mouth to swallow the river. The canopies mingled, and tendrils, vines, and parasites formed a web connecting one tree to another, as intricate as a spider's web.

The group paused at the forest's entrance, deliberating their next move. Rufus bent over, hands resting on his knees, feeling his heart race. "Camp here or move on?" he asked.

It might have been wiser to camp there, to wait for daylight. But on the other hand, any moment of rest meant their prey would be gaining distance.

"Let's continue. We've already wasted enough time," Masato said.

"This forest won't be much better during the day than it is at night," Andilla argued.

"No rest," Artorius asserted.

"To hell with it, let's keep going," Ashlen added, still feeling guilty.

They took a moment to breathe, drink a sip of water, and eat a bit of food while standing. After checking their weapons, they prepared to move forward.

"How are you, little sister?" Artorius asked Nichaela, bending low to her. "Can you continue? Are you well? Do you need to rest?"

Nichaela smiled at the cascade of questions. It was curious to see the fierce creature showing such gentleness. No one knew the sweetness in a minotaur's eyes until they saw one speaking to someone they genuinely loved.

"Of everything Lena blessed me with today, I still have most of it. I'm strong, and Lena gives me more strength. Let's continue." Nichaela was not weak, though she appeared fragile. Clerics like her and Artorius received daily blessings from their gods, using them as small miracles, or "clerical magic." The more virtuous, experienced, and faithful the cleric, the more their God blessed them. The most powerful could even resurrect the dead and summon storms of lightning and swarms of insects. But in Arton, powerful clerics were rare; their might stemmed from the capricious nature of the gods.

Everyone felt a renewed spirit (except perhaps Rufus). Nichaela's fervent words were soft and low, yet they resonated with more strength than the bravado of the warriors in the group.

"Ellisa!" Vallen called, checking on the last members.

"I am fine," she replied.

"But—"

"We have a duty. Let's go."

"Rufus!"

"I'm fine," the wizard panted. Always last, he thought.

Finally, Rufus Domat entered the forest, whose name no one knew, following the also-unknown river.

Carrying a torch meant sacrificing one hand for combat. Everyone knew that a warrior couldn't afford to lose an extra weapon or shield, let alone a grip on a two-handed weapon just to light the way. That's why Vallen exclaimed, "Light!"

With a quick gesture, Rufus caused one of Ashlen's daggers to glow like a lamp. The clean white light was far more reassuring than the flickering of a flame. The dagger cast a patch of daylight, the only illumination in the dark forest.

The group moved together, forming a compact formation. The forest was pitch black around them, but the calm, steady roar of the river guided their steps. They couldn't stay too close to the shoreline; in the darkness, the soft, wet ground was treacherous, and it would be easy to lose a body in the fast-moving, black waters. The ground groaned beneath their feet, a perpetual carpet of rotting leaves, and there was no grass in sight. This dark land rarely saw the sun, so thick was the canopy overhead. Many mushrooms thrived at the base of the trees, a tribute to the damp decay, and the scant vegetation that existed appeared unhealthy.

"There are no evil plants," Andilla reassured herself. "It's just the dark of night playing tricks on us."

They walked together until it became impossible to do so. The forest thickened, the trees seeming to huddle together, retreating from something unseen. Ellisa paused to analyze the tangled roots, noting how they intertwined beneath the ground. They fell into a line, the forest offering only narrow corridors through which to pass. Fallen trunks littered the path, forcing the group to navigate around or over them, and their feet were often deceived by the hidden dangers beneath. Deep puddles of water and mud lurked in several places, and sinking boots had to be wrested free to avoid any biting creatures.

Progress was slow, even slower than they anticipated. Ashlen, reluctantly, moved ahead with Andilla. This wasn't a place he liked to be, but with the dagger lit, he felt a sense of responsibility for the expedition into the dismal woods. Rufus also tried to stay close to the front, as his aging eyes needed the light. Nichaela followed closely behind Artorius, who placed her in the middle of the group for protection. Then came Ellisa, her arrows ready to reach enemies on either side, followed by Kodai, in plain sight, and finally Vallen and Gregor, who watched the rear.

The group had considered shedding their cumbersome armor for speed, but after some time under the forest's green gloom, they opted to keep their metal plates for reassurance. Gregor donned heavy battle armor that slowed him down, while Vallen and Artorius were burdened by chainmail and splint armor, respectively. The weight of their armor forced them to hunch and made their legs feel heavy. Even experienced warriors felt the discomfort of metal against their skin, chafing at joints and causing an itch in hard-to-reach places. Gregor, with his vast shield, was particularly clumsy; his protections were designed for combat, not travel.

The sounds of night creatures were a sign that everything was, apparently, normal. Andilla and Ellisa recognized the hoots of owls and the rustling of predators in the foliage. They walked for just over three hours when Andilla suddenly halted.

"Are you listening, Ellisa?" she called.

Ellisa nodded slowly.

"Listening to what?" Gregor asked, confusion marking his features.

The two trackers exchanged glances, then looked back at Gregor.

"Nothing," Andilla finally said.

And that was the problem. There was nothing to be heard. The owls had fallen silent, and only the wind rustled through the trees. There were no howls, no hisses, no chirps. "This is never good," Ellisa murmured.

The path remained clear; the roar of the river still guided them, albeit from a distance. As they often did in situations like this, the group refrained from deliberating; they simply awaited Vallen's decision.

"Let's go back," he said finally.

Vallen Allond rested one hand on the hilt of Inferno, his longsword. He gestured for Ashlen and Andilla to follow him and resumed marching, this time in the opposite direction. They would return to a familiar point, one they had already passed, where the animals wouldn't avoid them, and then they would rest. At dawn, they would find another route. Kodai opened his mouth to protest the delay but was silenced by Ellisa, who felt it was better not to speak.

For another two hours, they walked, guided by the light of the dagger, but the sounds of animals remained absent. The roar of the river grew more distant. Andilla, without halting her stride, called out to Vallen.

"Do you understand?" she asked.

"That we are getting further from the river, yes," Vallen replied. "And I haven't heard any animals either, at least not since we turned back. Are we lost again?"

"No," Andilla said, shaking her head. "Or maybe we are," she added quietly. "But the point is that it should have been dawn by now, Vallen."

This wasn't something most people cared about, which was perhaps why the rest of the group hadn't noticed. Time could drag on in a slow march through an unfamiliar place. The sun typically marked time, and it was uncommon to question its passage. But now that Vallen thought about it, his body told him morning ought to have arrived. "At least an hour ago," Andilla confirmed.

So they were under the influence of some magic. They had fought magic before; while it was powerful and many feared it, it was not invincible. In fact, Vallen had never met a wizard who could withstand two feet of steel in the stomach. It was unnerving, but once one understood that in Valkaria, magic was taught like letters to a child or a style to a swordsman, it lost much of its fearsome reputation.

Once again, Vallen halted the group. He explained what he suspected was happening and asked Rufus for his insight.

"Generating darkness is not complicated," the wizard explained. "Any amateur can do it. But some creatures possess this ability, and they are not wizards. Those can be dangerous."

"Any mage using such tricks can't be that powerful," Gregor Vahn added, tightening the straps on his shield. "The flames of the phoenix of Thyatis will burn a coward who hides behind party tricks." Gregor's easy-going spirit sometimes made others forget how devoted he was to his god. As a paladin, he feared no one as long as he felt the presence of divinity. No one else spoke, allowing the journey to continue under Gregor Vahn's confident words.

Andilla was even more alert than before, resembling a cat with pricked ears and wide eyes, nostrils flaring. Because of her heightened awareness, their pace slowed. The sound of the river continued to recede.

"I'm trying to get us to shore," Andilla told Vallen. "I've tried two opposite directions, and each time we drift further apart."

The burning in their stomachs indicated it must be mid-morning, and they stopped to eat. Some, like Artorius, Ellisa, and Gregor, managed to maintain their appetite in such a situation. Others, like Ashlen and Rufus, felt their nerves turning their insides, making any food unappetizing. Vallen Allond felt no fear for himself—only the instinctive fear that kept any warrior alive—but he worried for the group and rejected the rations being shared. His eyes darted from the path to the invisible sky, to the pitch-black forest, and then back to Ellisa, Nichaela, and the newly arrived Kodai.

Andilla had made marks along the way to ensure they weren't going in circles. But they never saw those marks again; it felt as if they were walking in a direction not yet cataloged by maps. Finally, they lost all sound of the river. When they paused again, there was only the wind. Until it, too, ceased, leaving behind silence and the sound of their breathing.

"Maybe it's better to rest," Vallen suggested. "Whatever is hunting us, it's better to face it than to remain like this. With some rest, Rufus can study a few spells to get us out of this."

No one else had noticed, but Ellisa Thorn worried for her beloved Vallen. "Maybe it's better to rest." Perhaps: this was a word Vallen Allond rarely used, except when he had no idea what to do. He also noted that Rufus Domat was the first alternative mentioned by their leader. As natives of the kingdom of Portsmouth, Vallen and Ellisa shared a typical distrust of wizards and magic. Although they had learned to respect magic users, they would hardly choose them first to resolve any issue. Things were serious.

"I can try climbing a tree," Ashlen suggested, attempting to sound optimistic. "Maybe I can see further."

Why didn't I think of that? Vallen mentally chastised himself. "Do it," he commanded.

Ashlen, shedding her leather cape, climbed the trunk swiftly, zigzagging like a spider.

The climb was treacherous. The first branches started high, and the trunk was slick—some places oozed sap. The tree slipped beneath her feet, scraped her hands, and bit her fingers with sharp bark that nestled under her nails. But Ashlen was eager to contribute until she screamed, followed by two loud thuds.

Two objects fell heavily. The first sank into the soft earth and shattered; the second was Ashlen herself. She shivered, even in the forest's heat, gripped by fear. Covered in mud, she stumbled to her feet and pointed at the broken object on the ground.

It was a statue—a man covering his face with his hands, crouched in terror. An adventurer, if clothing, weapons, and scars were any indication. Perhaps a less experienced group would have wondered, "Who would place a statue here?" but they had roamed Arton long enough to know better.

"Petrification," Ellisa said, voicing the unspoken thought.

Gregor explained to Kodai, the only one who didn't seem to grasp the situation, that there were magics capable of turning men to stone—a horrid fate. Nichaela murmured a quick prayer.

Suddenly, a noise caught their attention. Weapons flew into hands as everyone scanned the area. It was Kodai who first noticed they were near a large clearing. There was no way they could have missed it before—a vast space devoid of trees, where grass grew abundantly. Yet, none remembered seeing the trees parting to reveal such a space.

They paused in the clearing, searching for the source of the noise when three trees crashed down behind them, and a gaping maw opened, heralding the arrival of death suspended in the air.

Three arrows flew in quick succession from Ellisa's bow as the others retreated toward the clearing. Artorius and Gregor chanted prayers that intertwined in a devout cacophony, charging at the creature. Its mouth was filled with teeth like large, sharp stakes, moving swiftly as the creature's massive form shifted to evade Gregor Vahn's sword. At the same time, Artorius's axe struck its thick hide, but there was no blood—his weapon met the creature as if it were striking stone.

Some shouted in defiance, but a hint of dread colored their battle cries. As Vallen, Gregor, Artorius, Andilla, and Kodai roared in unison, the enemy remained silent, merely observing.

The creature was bizarre—a gigantic globe of flesh floating at head height, with a single immense eye at its center and a mouth filled with unnaturally sharp teeth. Countless tendrils extended from the globe, each ending in an eye that gazed in every direction, giving the impression of many monsters despite being a single entity. One of those tendrils locked onto Artorius. The minotaur staggered back as if struck, drooling red foam before collapsing backward.

Vallen drew his swords, Winter and Inferno, and exchanged glances with Kodai as they advanced cautiously toward the creature. Battle-hardened warriors, they fought as if they had been comrades for years. As they flanked the being, it surged toward Ellisa. Floating faster than a man could run, its mouth gaped wide, displaying its jagged teeth.

Ellisa fired two arrows and fled from the monster's advance, while Andilla took her place, attacking. The woman's axe struck the creature's exposed gums, yet it slid off without penetrating. Instead of blood, mucus dripped from the wound.

The monster passed directly by Vallen and Kodai, who quickly retaliated. For the first time, the creature's blood—a blackish green unlike any animal's—spilled forth as Winter and Inferno plunged deep into its leathery hide, while Masato Kodai's curved blade made a shallow but wide gash. The creature did not howl or moan; it simply turned and bit down on Kodai's shoulder, causing him to drop his sword into the damp earth as he fell to his knees, clutching his wound.

Ashlen, Rufus, and Nichaela managed to retreat to the clearing where Ashlen had previously fallen. The illuminated dagger, their only source of light, was left on the ground to serve as a beacon. Ellisa ran awkwardly toward the wizard and the half-elf cleric. Rufus stuttered a few words, casting a spell that unleashed a bolt of blue-white lightning toward the monster's spherical body.

The creature turned to Rufus, who shivered in his boots. Though the lightning left a charred mark on its surface, it ricocheted off the creature's carapace, swinging toward the clearing. Rufus dove one way while Nichaela leaped in another direction, the lightning shooting past them and igniting nearby trees.

From a high branch, a crossbow bolt flew. It was Ashlen, attempting to use the element of surprise while hiding, but her bolt struck the gigantic globe of flesh and fell harmlessly to the ground.

The large central eye focused on Rufus as he spoke more words in the arcane tongue, but nothing happened. His spell had failed, fading from memory and leaving a hole of doubt. He hadn't felt the magical energy flowing.

"An Observer!" he shouted, finally recalling the monster. Panic had made him forget such a singular creature—an Observer, a dangerous and intelligent monster, and worst of all, malignant. It wasn't just a predator; it was terrifyingly cunning, and each of its many eyes possessed a different power.

For a moment, Rufus Domat reasoned about the enemy, then felt his body stiffen. One of the rods looked at him, and suddenly it hurt to breathe; his arms didn't respond, and his vision blurred.

"Power, money, or death," Rufus thought as his body began to turn to stone. Somehow, he found the strength not to die there. Instead, he fell heavily onto his knees, feeling like half a stone. He banged his teeth together, one broke, and he spat out two small pieces of rock.

The creature was studded with Ellisa's arrows, but it seemed to pay her no attention. Gregor Vahn, shouting for Thyatis, charged into the clearing with his sword raised. With a small leap, he brought it down hard on one of the monster's shafts. The end of the protrusion fell cleanly, and sickening blood sprayed away. Still, the Watcher did not scream. The maw lunged toward Gregor but met his metal shield, which crushed under the sharp teeth yet held firm. From the other side, Andilla's axe struck again, and this time the heavy blade penetrated the beast's flesh. The Watcher was surrounded, but it was clear that the group was still at a disadvantage.

Vallen lunged once more, managing a superficial cut with Winter, but the fiery blade glanced harmlessly off. Kodai, bleeding profusely from his chewed shoulder, attacked again, but the monster swiftly evaded him.

Nichaela crawled toward Artorius's body as the others fought. She saw the minotaur and the foam of blood that oozed from his mouth, knowing she could cure him. She remembered a similar miracle that some priests of battle gods used; it was enough to bring a person back from the brink of death without actually killing them.

"Lena, please restore my warrior friend to health," she pleaded, placing her hands on the minotaur's vast chest. The goddess obliged, as Nichaela's hands shone with pure, refreshing light. Artorius sprang to life, violence burning in his eyes.

"Tauron, give me the strength to slaughter my enemies!" Artorius's plea sounded more like a demand. He closed his eyes, his entire body pulsing and glowing red, suddenly appearing even larger. Screaming, the minotaur swung his axe at the creature.

The Watcher had time to turn, receiving Artorius's blade between its jaws. The axe penetrated through the teeth, splitting the gum and causing one of its pointed fangs to come loose. Green blood flowed abundantly.

Instead of attacking the minotaur, the creature looked past him, out of the clearing, and saw Nichaela. It charged toward the half-elf, trampling anyone in its path.

Nichaela tried to run, but the roots and branches became treacherous, and the dim light felt distant. She stumbled. The Watcher opened its deadly, bloody mouth toward her, and she flinched just as an axe shot through the air, burying itself up to the hilt in the top of the monstrous globe.

Andilla had thrown the weapon and was now running, screaming like a wild animal, clutching only a hunting knife. Someone shouted "No!" but the woman charged with bared teeth, and the Observer recognized her as its biggest threat at that moment. Andilla's knife embedded itself in the creature's hide; the blade broke. The Watcher quickly turned and bit down on the arm that still held the useless shaft. Andilla Irontooth managed to pull out the injured limb, but it was a bloody mess. Strips of flesh hung from her wrist, exposing the white of her bone. She howled in agony. The others in the clearing rushed to her aid.

A small cloud of sparks appeared in front of the monster, and then lightning struck a tree, knocking Vallen to the ground and blocking the path.

The monster focused back on Andilla. Behind her, Nichaela stared in horror. A strange calm washed over the others, mixed with resignation, and Masato Kodai noticed this and didn't understand.

"Nichaela!" shouted the samurai in his thick accent. He hurled his strange sword toward the cleric, and the blade sank into the ground in front of her, poised and ready.

"Use the sword!" Kodai shouted again. But Nichaela just stared at the weapon, then glanced at him, then at the monster, and finally back at Andilla.

The Watcher twisted its stalks, one bending toward Andilla, who still clutched her injured arm. A glint appeared in the eye that was looking at her, and then she began to scream. It stopped suddenly because she was gone, leaving only fine dust that wouldn't even fill a thimble.

Artorius had already managed to lift the trunk, and the others were passing by. Ellisa, teeth bared and tears streaming down her face, rained arrows upon the creature. Masato still didn't understand.

The Watcher was distracted from its attempt to kill Nichaela and turned back to the group. This was its mistake, as four arrows, one after the other, struck its large central eye, bursting it like a bubble filled with yellowish mucus. Rufus discovered that he could cast magic again, and several projectiles of green energy punished the monster, snaking and twisting as if alive to reach their target.

The blades punished the creature, Vallen, Gregor, and Artorius carving a mosaic of cuts upon its carapace. The Observer realized it would not triumph and began to retreat, snapping threateningly from side to side. Suddenly, it felt a thump and a weight atop its spherical body. It was Ashlen, who had jumped from a tree onto the creature, dagger in hand.

In an acrobatic movement, Ashlen wrapped her legs around one of the rods from which the many eyes sprouted. She let her body fall forward, and the dagger plunged deep into the already pierced central eye until it hit a fibrous resistance that the tip broke against.

The monster opened its mouth, still soundless, and its stalks went limp. It floated there, mouth hanging uselessly—the Watcher was dead. They were hurt and frightened, and Andilla Irontooth was no more. She had not been transported elsewhere. She could not be cured. There wasn't even a body left—only the pathetic dust that had been carried away by the wind, mingling with the black earth full of rotten leaves.

Kodai struggled to ask a question, but no one listened. They prayed that no other monsters like it would appear, for they needed to grieve. Silence enveloped them until Ashlen finally broke it.

"Now there are only eight of us."

"Murderer!" Masato Kodai spat bitterly at Nichaela. Artorius, the minotaur, loomed behind the samurai, his massive hand resting on Kodai's uninjured shoulder, conveying without words what he felt.

They sat on the damp earth, still shrouded in darkness, having moved a little away from the floating body of the beast, which was attracting a small swarm of hungry flies. Vallen and Ellisa embraced, both keeping one arm free for a weapon. Ashlen sobbed quietly, clutching her brown hair tightly. It was death.

"And that's not so bad," Gregor said. "Andilla is with the gods."

"She could have saved her!" Kodai roared, still unable to comprehend. Since the final moments of the fight, he had lost all understanding of the situation. A good blade could have been the bridge that led Andilla Ironfang back to life, yet Nichaela had ignored it.

Words were difficult to find. No one was willing to give explanations. Even Artorius abandoned his stance upon noticing the despair in the samurai's eyes. To Artorius, Nichaela was his little sister, but Andilla had been the one most similar to him—perhaps the human with whom...

"Traitor!" Kodai shouted again.

Nichaela knelt in prayer, crying softly. Death, for a daughter of Lena, was anathema—everything she believed in contradicted it. This was the greatest suffering of the Clerics of Life: having as their enemy the inexorable fact of existence. It was the only time Nichaela questioned the gods. Why must there be an end?

Rufus struggled to get his head in order, selfishly checking the spells still lodged in his memory. He knew he was a monster because part of him congratulated himself for surviving a battle in which one of the warriors had died. On the other hand, he knew he still had to wait. The day would come, one way or another.

Ashlen was lost in her thoughts, and Masato violently grabbed Nichaela by both arms, forcing her to her feet. She continued to look down and away from the yellow face, allowing her tears to flow freely. The samurai took her face in one hand, pressing her cheeks against his teeth, making her look at him.

"Why?" he demanded, his words tearing from his throat. "Why didn't you save her?"

"That's enough," Vallen said, lifting his head from his beloved's shoulder. There was a royal quality in his voice. Masato released Nichaela, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

"She doesn't owe you explanations."

"I must," Nichaela replied. "He was unaware of my obligations when he joined us."

Masato fell silent, continuing to stare at her intently, his eyes probing for answers.

"Lena's clerics cannot fight," she said calmly. "Never."

"But that's why she died!"

"Never."

The cleric spoke with such simplicity, such naturalness, that her words sank heavily into Kodai's stomach. Don't fight—not even to save a life?

"Of course not," Nichaela replied. "Much less my own."

Never be responsible for a death. Kodai pondered this and found it a distant paradise. Not even his own death, nor that of enemies, nor that of friends—everything left in the hands of the gods. What happiness that would be.

Artorius noticed that the shouts of accusation had ceased. Relief washed over him, for if this continued, he would need to protect the half-elf, a task for which he lacked strength. "Tauron, don't let me weaken now," he murmured.

Among the minotaurs, there were no women. The people of Artorius had children with humans or half-elves. The boys born were minotaurs, while the girls were of the mother's race. In that moment, Artorius understood he would never have children—not even with slaves. But a slave could never bear him a strong son like the one he desired.

"But she died," Kodai insisted.

"And she is with the gods," Nichaela said. "As Gregor said."

A restlessness filled the air, feet kicked dirt, hands clenched into fists or gripped weapons tightly.

"But you follow Life! How can a death follow the precepts of its goddess?" This was something Nichaela had often heard. It was one of the most common arguments against Lena, and all her clerics knew the answer by heart.

One death—just one death—was a misfortune. The use of violence by a cleric of Life was a victory for the Gods of War and Death. The greater the trials the clerics faced, the greater Lena's victories. A death caused pain, longing, and regret, but violating that dogma had far greater, cosmic consequences among the gods. It was a constant temptation for someone taught to love to take up arms in defense of those they cherished. However, Nichaela understood that by doing so, she would ultimately contribute to their own misery.

"Just one act of violence," Kodai argued. "You would not condemn your goddess."

"This is another common mistake, Masato Kodai. If we don't take responsibility—" Nichaela wiped her face with the back of her hand. She no longer cried.

Who will take it? Kodai envisioned a life without death. He felt calm enough to surrender. Slowly, light began to filter through the leaves above, and in the clearing near the hideous carcass, the sun broke through. Azgher, the Sun God, revealed his round eye, and they knew that morning was ripening, yielding to the hot afternoon.

"I don't understand," said Vallen Allond. "But the light is returning, and that's great. Let's get out of here."

They moved slowly, following one another in sluggish defeat. Vallen and Ellisa spared their companions the morbid details. With Andilla dead, someone had to take the lead, and that someone was Ellisa.

Kodai lagged behind, watching Nichaela, still fascinated. She would never kill. She was short, with a white beauty that threatened to shatter at any moment. Her straight, gray hair flowed smoothly just past her shoulders, ending neatly, with straight bangs nearly hiding her eyebrows. Her pointed ears peeked out from beneath her fine hair. She wore green and white robes, and it was difficult to discern whether she was a girl or a woman. She would never kill. Kodai gazed on, realizing that she was, with Lin-Wu as his witness, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.