Dimitry walked along a path, feet dragging through dirt. All he could think about were those three dead men. He knew that letting them live would have endangered Saphiria and Precious, that self-preservation necessitated the cruelty, but the hollow nagging in his gut said otherwise. He was regressing further into the scum he was in his teenage years.

No.

Who he was now was worse. Although Dimitry used to steal from innocent passersby, he never purposefully harmed anyone. The threat of violence was enough. However, in the past few days, not only did he murder three men who thought they bettered the world by hunting down heretical fugitives, but he also killed a slavery taskmistress and her errand boy. Today’s Dimitry was a homicidal maniac.

And yet, his ruthless spree wasn’t what bothered him most. It was the ease with which Dimitry slid into his new role, the muted remorse for his actions, the justification he felt for defending himself with lethal force, the inability to find a peaceful solution, that elicited self-disdain.

“Why so down, Dumitry?” Precious tugged on his collar. “There are plenty more humans out there. It’s not like you killed them all.”

He strapped the coin pouch to his waist. “I don’t think a faerie would understand.”

“It’s not just faeries. Anyone should be relieved to kill someone trying to murder them.” She climbed into his cloak’s hood and cuddled at the base of his neck. “You’re the only weirdo carrying around guilt for no reason.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Saphiria was pulling Julia’s reins. “My father told me that a warrior bears the weight of everyone they kill in war, but that shouldn’t stop them from defending what’s important.”

Dimitry sighed. He was no warrior, nor did he defend anyone—just a modern man bumbling around trying to survive in a warped caricature of medieval society. To distract himself, he gazed at the endless road ahead. “We’re headed the right way?”

“Yep,” Precious said. “Estoria is only a few days away.”

The longer they traveled, the more likely word of their misdeeds would spread to their destination before they arrived. Walking slowed them down enough. “Think Julia will let us ride her again?”

Saphiria caressed the bridge of the black horse’s nose. “How are you feeling?”

Julia raised her head to utter a sound resembling a gentle chainsaw.

“I think she’s rested enough.”

“Let’s do it then.”

“Wait.” Saphiria glanced at Dimitry, indigo eyes full of concern. “You should sit in front.”

“Why the sudden change?”

“The heavier rider goes in front, or else we might hurt Julia’s back.”

Dimitry had learned a lot about riding horses in the past two days. For example, never to grip Julia with his legs, or else the animal would run full speed, causing him to fly off. In other words, he became good at staying out of Saphiria’s way. Not a suitable skill set for riding in front.

“If that’s the case, you’re going to have to teach me.”

She nodded.

“Just don’t fall off again, Dumitry. You nearly flattened me into a trencher last time.”

“Maybe that would’ve been for the best.” He grabbed a handful of the black horse’s mane, and, using it as leverage, hopped onto a saddleless back.

Saphiria grabbed his shoulder, jumped up, and pulled in close. Her warmth on his back blocked the approaching winter’s chill.

“Not so close, lady!” Precious crawled out from Dimitry’s hood. “You almost squished me!”

Perhaps out of consideration for the faerie, Saphiria leaned away. “Don’t squeeze Julia with your legs. I’ll control the reins until you find your balance.”

Progress was slow. Although Dimitry didn’t fall off—perhaps from latent talent or an aptitude for rapid learning—he made many mistakes. Mixed signals that confused the horse, a slouched posture, pulling on the reins too hard. Over several days, Saphiria hammered each problem as it cropped up, and Julia seemed happier for it.

Traffic along the road to Estoria became frequent. Both Church and Amalthean patrols dashed through, kicking dust into the air. Fortunately, Precious could sense their emotions, giving Dimitry enough time to pull into a dense forest and out of sight. Whether they hunted his group was unclear, but he wasn’t one to take that chance. Based on what the poacher said, someone was searching for them.

Four days after they left Vael, they traveled down the same road.

Pitter-patters came from every direction. Drizzle rustled grass and leaves and fluttered onto dirt, gradually converting it into mud. The humid air carried an earthy scent. Dimitry’s cloak, drenched and cool, clung to his body to contrast the warmth pressed against his back and the speck of heat snuggling against his neck.

Julia’s cantering footsteps plopped into a thin layer of mud, giving rise to a tranquil ambiance. Tranquil, except for the strange sensation in Dimitry’s wrist. The imprint of a blue knight tugged forward as if it to leap out and go somewhere on its own. The man in the operating room told him to follow its guidance, but neglected to mention where it would lead. What awaited Dimitry at the destination?

“Four coming from behind,” Precious said. “They’re around the bend.”

“Patrols?” Saphiria whispered.

“Yep.”

Dimitry leaned forward and pulled Julia’s reins to the left. The horse slowed to a trot before entering the woods—a routine they practiced dozens of times by now, and one they performed more frequently every day.

Prolonged travel left them tired, dirty, and smelly. Dimitry’s ass and legs, sore from consecutive days of horseback riding, ached constantly.

“I miss showers,” he muttered, guiding the horse deeper into a labyrinth of oaks and bushes.

“Rain not good enough for you?”

“I’m not talking about the weather. It’s a thing we did back home.”

“Tell me about it,” Saphiria said.

“You know how the brothel has bathtubs?”

“Yes.”

“We have bathtubs too, but with drains in them. And above your head, there’s a tool that pours hot water for as long as you want it to.”

Saphiria stayed quiet for a moment, the emptiness of her silence filled by trampled greenery. “How many attendants did you have?”

“Attendants?”

“To carry buckets of water and firewood.”

“None. It was all done by machines. The process is hard to explain.”

“We have machines, too.”

“I suppose you do, but ours were fully automated. They did almost everything for you.”

Precious paused. “He’s actually telling the truth…”

“I wish to see it someday,” Saphiria said, longing in her voice. “The fantastical place you come from.”

He smiled. “If only both of you could experience it, too.”

Saphiria rested her head against his back. As if in a daze, she swayed from side to side.

Interrupted sleep and hypervigilance exhausted them all. It was time for a break. He pulled Julia’s reins towards a dense canopy that would serve as a respite from unrelenting rainfall. “Let’s rest. I’m sure Julia’s tired too.”

Dimitry dismounted and stretched his back, which ached from sleeping on uneven ground for many nights. His hands shivered. That and blue nail beds indicated early onset hypothermia. Considering he wore drenched clothes in cold weather, it was a logical conclusion. The most important task was to get a fire going or heat loss would kill them before the Church had a chance.

“I’ll collect wood,” he said.

Eyelids heavy, Saphiria nodded. “I’ll handle the firepit.”

Dimitry lifted a moistened branch, and his brows furrowed. How strange. A drop of vibrant blue liquid burned into the wood, eroding the surrounding bark. “Precious.”

She yawned and tossed under his cloak, her wings tickling his neck. “What is it?”

“Do you know what this is?”

Her head peeked out, golden ponytail dangling over Dimitry’s shoulder. “That’s heathen blood. Makes sense considering we’re getting closer to the coast.”

Blood that corroded wood? Suddenly, collecting firewood didn’t seem important. Another drop of heathen blood wilted nearby grass. And another. The liquid grew in volume until a narrow blue stream flowed past a dying brown shrub.

Dimitry’s fatigue vanished in an instant. A bout of curiosity took its place, energizing him enough to dash along the stream, past a barricade of bushes, and over a fallen log.

His mouth opened and didn’t close for a long time.

An abomination lay on a withered grassy field. Six stone legs—bent at the knee and tips like sharp fence posts—connected to a small spherical central body. Bright blue blood dribbled from a shattered gap and pooled inside the otherwise hollow cavity’s lower hemisphere.

As a whole, the creature looked like a daddy long-legs except made of stone. Varied stone. Limestone legs, basalt legs, and a spherical sandstone core. Each limb as long as an NBA player was tall, they were all carved to perfection—feats impossible in a world without modern machining tools.

Most curious were the blue lines covering its entire body. They diverged, converged, and ran parallel to one another to create an elaborate maze whose purpose escaped Dimitry. “Is it safe to get close?”

“It looks dead…” Precious said, “but you never know with crawling devils.”

Dimitry stroked his chin. “Crawling devils?”

“That’s what the Church calls them, so everyone else does too.”

He wanted to study the ‘corpse’ further, but a sense of foreboding deep within his abdomen warned against it. Instead, Dimitry lobbed a rock, which clanged against the creature’s perfectly shaped leg then fell to the wayside. Could such a thing experience death? It resembled a machination more than a living being.

“Is everything okay?” an exhausted voice uttered from behind.

Dimitry looked back to see Saphiria emerge from a bush, indigo eyes devoid of their characteristic alertness.

“We’re not armed to fight heathens,” she said, “be careful.”

How did people whose cutting-edge weaponry comprised swords and bows wage war against stone beasts? Piercing marble plating would be difficult even with modern technology.

“What would we need to kill one?” he asked.

“The farmers in Malten fought off crawling devils with hammers and crossbows,” Saphiria said. “They used them to burst the blood sack.”

“I’m guessing the round middle is the blood sack?”

“Only on crawling devils.”

“Why, is there more than one type?”

“Yep,” Precious said. “Ever since they showed up about a century ago, new types began appearing. They used to be small with only two feet, but now you can even see gigantic ones in the ocean.”

“Really?” Saphiria watched the faerie with awe and suspicion. “How do you know that?”

“If you live as long as I have, you’ll get to see all kinds of things.”

“And they all come from the ocean?” Dimitry asked.

“Yep.”

Saphiria turned to face him. “How do your people fight them? Or do you have machines that do that for you?”

“Dumitry didn’t even know they existed until a moment ago. Probably spent all his time doing showers.”

“Taking showers,” he corrected.

The drizzle grew in strength. Weighty droplets beat against the heathen’s solid carapace and, like thousands of miniature percussion drums, their immaculate chorus sang to the tune of rustling grass. Full gray clouds hinted the downpour would only worsen. A fire may not be enough.

Saphiria, who struggled to hide her trembling lips, stood beside Dimitry. Her slender figure lacked the proper insulation to survive near-freezing temperatures while wet. Precious was no different. There was no time to spare gawking at a carved rock.

“How long until we reach Estoria?” Dimitry pivoted towards Julia.

“Heathens and strengthened patrols mean we’re close,” Saphiria said. “If we hurry, we’ll make it before midnight.”

Precious buried into Dimitry’s tunic. “S-so coooold.”

The flat bottoms of his boots slipped on wet greenery as he ran. Hopefully, Julia’s horseshoes wouldn’t do the same. The poor thing was exhausted, and normally they would let her rest, but the circumstances demanded immediate action.

“Let’s go, Julia.” Dimitry grabbed onto the beast’s mane, but before he could hop on, the animal shook its head and walked away.

“It’s annoyed,” Precious warned.

“So it seems.”

Saphiria approached the horse from the side, rhythmically stroking her neck. “We need your help. You don’t like it out here in the cold either, do you?”

Julia stopped.

“It’s just a little further.” She scratched the horse’s ears, and Julia’s eyes closed as if in deep relaxation.

“All better?” Dimitry asked.

“I think she’ll let us on now,” Saphiria said, petting the horse. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Julia exhaled a gentle snort.

Bringing Saphiria along was the right choice. If Dimitry and Precious trekked through the wilds alone, their chances of survival would have plummeted.

He mounted Julia and helped Saphiria up. The girl trembled against Dimitry’s back. As long as she continued to shiver, hypothermia wouldn’t be life-threatening. Her prospects were good for now, but if they wasted too much time on the road, the situation would deteriorate. They had to reach Estoria soon.

Dimitry grabbed the reins. “Canter!”