Salvation was gone.

Leylin clawed at his face and tore the hair from his head. Blood poured from his mouth and painted his vision red. He couldn't honour the promise. Souls cackled madly in his head. "Whispers splinter the mind, but the soul is ready for the eternal furnace.” The dead rejoiced, and their dark fingers stole pieces of warmth and life from his body. “You’ll join us soon, Leylin. All you’ve done will fade into obscurity and death!"

Rane fled. Rane died. Rane vanished. It was the aspect's fault. The aspect took his salvation away.

"You betrayed us!" The souls moved his darkened lips. "Killed us for nothing!"

Leylin tore at his flesh and mended the muscles back together. His fingers gouged one eye and he looked down. The eye of his Oath, drenched in dark crimson. His teeth cracked under the strain of his pain. It was the aspect's fault. It protected the boy. It saved the boy.

"Rane!" He screamed back at the souls and his whole body writhed and bulged unnaturally. "Where is my salvation?"

His jaw broke open and darkness burst out in overlapping voices. "Safe! Capital! Silyra! Dead!"

The pain running through him slowly led him to sanity. The capital. It made sense, was the only place beyond his grasp. He looked down at his bloody hands and healed his wounds. The souls screamed in his mind, but he shut them out. Where was he? There was snow, stained by his blood. His hand trembled as he reached into his cloak for his book, fumbling through the pages before tearing one out.

“I should leave you to languish you bastards! All gone mad!” Cackles pushed out of his chest. It was more than he’d laughed in centuries. “But that would be easy. That would be too light a punishment!” He channelled his magic inside the torn page and the glyph on it lit up with a man’s figure.

“I dreaded this day." The figure stared at Leylin, shaking.

“Drayton!” Leylin screamed at the page. “I invoke our Oath. Repay your life debt to me!"

Drayton's figure writhed and dark veins painted on his forehead. "What do you want?"

"A shortcut," Leylin said. "Take me to Silyra."

"No… No!" Drayton screamed even as his body moved. Purple mist formed a maelstrom next to Leylin as the elder’s body flickered into existence. "I hope you die, you bastard!” His voice sounded more menacing up close. “May all of Silyra hear your screams as you beg for mercy!"

Leylin tilted his head to the side unnaturally, giving in to the convulsion of his muscles. “Begin!” he screamed, “and maybe you’ll hear theirs!”

Drayton’s entire body moved. His hands drew patterns in the air with smoke as his foot drew a circle in the snow. He hissed out a spray of blood from his mouth in defiance as his magic activated, bringing forth the purple mist once more. Leylin grabbed onto his arm and clenched hard. Countless souls inside him screamed for carnage. For purpose. The mist swallowed him and the capital appeared in his sights moments later. Far beneath him. He turned to face Drayton as he fell, but the man was already gone. The souls laughed at him as the city’s barrier came rushing up from below. Fool. Careless. Tricked.

“Wait for me, Rane!” Leylin’s darkness formed into a spear of writhing parts. “I’ll bring you back where you belong.” He pointed it downwards and used his weight to slam against the light surrounding the city.

The city’s barrier cracked open and the sky turned red from spell-light. So much for sneaking inside unnoticed. Leylin pressed on the air below him and landed on the roof of a tall building. The city stretched endlessly in every direction. He breathed in the chilly, humid air and felt its cold against the dead burning in his soul. “Bring him to me!” His voice drowned out the alarms going off. “And I will save you!” Darkness lashed from his body and parts of the building crumbled.

Magic lingered in the air, but none of it was Rane’s. Mages were coming to kill him. Why did they have to stand in his way? Why could nobody understand? The souls surged again, preying on his worry and weakness. Darkness formed a shield around his body as the first Silyrans reached him. “I know he was sent here!” Leylin bellowed at them. “Give me the boy and I’ll give you life!” He held out his hand and his nora invaded the mages before they could cast. Their souls were so tiny and weak. Unworthy. He clenched his hand and crushed them, nora burning through their skin. Bodies fell over, smoking and still.

More mages descended around him, donning the blue and white Silyran robes. A flurry of spells crushed against his shield. The earth cracked open and swallowed him. A golden ladybug filled his mind with noise as one of his hands withered and dried. Spears and swords came raining down through the gaps of his shield before he could repair them, tearing holes through his body. Leylin sank to his knees and let the magic ruin him. Just a few more sacrifices… A few more lives that had to be taken for the world’s salvation.

"Why do you want to die?" Leylin wept. “Please… give me the boy. Where is my Rane?”

The mages distanced themselves. Had they understood? Every hair on Leylin’s body stood on end. He opened his eyes and let his head hang back. A man hovered over his head, enveloped in a radiance that rivalled the sun.

“The first archmage.” A smile crossed Leylin’s face. “The king of fools.”

“You know who I am.” Veradin spoke, and his voice was thunder. “Yet you dare invade my city and slaughter my people. And you call me a fool.”

Static rang in Leylin’s ears. He raised his hands to ready a barrier, but the bolt of white hot lightning cleaved it in two. The pain reached him before the light could. Fire swelled in his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He coughed out smoke and ash. There was a pause, then Veradin’s footsteps reached him through the ringing. “You’re resilient to survive that.”

Leylin reformed his eyes and gazed up at the mage standing over him. Pure white eyes and hair. A body radiating power. “Fragile.” Leylin circled his magic around his body, restoring life to muscles, nerves and bone. “Weak.” He put more weight on his foot and lifted his body off the ground. “Pathe–”

Fire forced him back down in a stream of scorching heat. Leylin focused on fixing what the white flames ruined. On keeping himself alive. He felt for Veradin’s soul and lunged, emerging through the flames to grab the man’s head. All magic faded. The mages gasped.

“Don’t interrupt.” Leylin fought to stop his fingers from closing. From crushing the man’s skull right where he stood. Veradin wore an expression of pure shock in his eyes. He was a fool, but he was also an important tool against Andre’s forces, a way to balance the scales of war. He couldn’t die yet.

Leylin healed from the burns and the gaping wounds, flesh forming and merging together. “I know who you are, yes. The latest in a long line of arrogant cretins that are content with power but too afraid to see beyond it. So let me teach you a lesson.” Leylin’s fingers bulged with darkness, pressing down. Verading screamed. “Talent isn’t enough to face the primordial forces that truly rule this damned, forsaken world. You need more.” Blood dripped from Veradin’s nose and Leylin’s palm trembled. The souls filled him with vengeance, but he had a goal far above them all. “I have seen entire civilizations rise and crumble. I have lived for thousands of years and seen through a thousand eyes. I have experienced everything. That is what you need. What you all need.”

“Experience– This,” Veradin hissed through clenched teeth.

Leylin tilted his head. Frost encased his palm and whiteness spread up his arm. He could feel Veradin’s soul overflowing inside him, like a glass sphere filled to the brim with mist. Droplets of white clung to the edges and dripped down to an ever growing pool of liquid. Pure energy formed luminescent cracks on his skin, broke him apart from the inside. Frost gathered on his lips and spread around his feet. All of Leylin’s instincts, honed impossibly throughout the ages, told him to flee. The souls whispered in his mind, divided. They offered an ultimatum. Either kill him quickly, or run. Veradin’s hand, now entirely radiant, made for his neck.

Leylin felt a shiver. He let go and vaulted back, fighting to calm his thumping heart. What was he fighting? Lightning crackled again, fueled by magic that almost rivalled his own. Leylin knew what to expect this time. He distanced himself, grabbing a piece of silvery metal that had broken off a building. Moments before Veradin launched a spell, he threw it. The lightning found it instead of him. Leylin rushed to close the distance, but the air itself repelled him. He had always hated the elementalists. He willed his darkness to lift a fallen sword, tip pointing to Veradin’s back, before trying to close the distance again.

“Mad man,” Veradin’s voice reached through the crackle of static, another bolt already brewing inside him. “Surrender now, and you can keep your life.”

Leylin grinned. That was exactly the problem. In so many years, he’d never learned retreat. The moment he got close enough, Veradin pulled on the air around them. The spell’s wind brought the sword with it and through the man’s own chest. Veradin coughed out blood and knelt, yet the air didn’t stop repelling Leylin. It crushed against his chest, stopping his advance.

“Damn it.” More Silyrans were closing in, powerful ones. Coupled with the mages already surrounding him and it could be dangerous. He’d lose control. Darkness gathered in his legs, bent and poised to propel him through the crack in the barrier. They’d break in the process, but he could heal them after getting out of the city.

“You can’t– Leave.” Veradin grabbed his ankle, despite the sword piercing him. Pure energy spread from his body to Leylin’s, turning flesh to dust wherever it touched.

“I should have killed you, bastard.” Leylin toppled to one knee and scrambled to get away. He poured nora to his wound, trying to restore the severed limb. Darkness formed into tendrils around him, slashing at any of the mages who ventured too close. The shield took care of the rest just enough for him to get back on both feet. He bent down low, gathering force and nora in his legs. The hole in the city’s barrier was already closing quickly. He’d done a lot of damage, but if he didn’t hurry he’d be locked in. After jumping he could use the air to manoeuvre around, and then–

A searing pain cut through his body. A dagger had pierced his chest, thrown through a hole in his shield before it could repair itself. There was something tied to the hilt. A string? He pulled it out and tried to heal himself, to attach his broken ribcage back together. Yet something stopped him. A foreign power had invaded the wound, painting his skin a sickly green. “Blightsteel,” he cursed. “Here?”

“It’s fine, Miria.” Veradin groaned through the pain. “I got him.”

“Get to safety you idiot! I don’t want to be held accountable if you die.” A woman stood next to the kneeling archmage, swinging a dagger around by a thin, silver thread.

Impossible. He hadn’t sensed any mages this close. How had her soul escaped his senses? Even now, it was like it didn’t exist. Leylin looked up at the barrier. His window to escape was growing short. Another dagger pierced his back and was retrieved by the thread before he could react.

“What’s your name, intruder?” Her voice sounded behind him. “We store dead bodies alphabetically.”

Leylin smirked. There was something wrong about her, even he could tell. He focused the darkness on his legs and jumped, pushing against the air to reach the gap in the city’s defences. Miria spun below him, the threads and daggers forming a haze of silver. She lifted both hands and the threads bloomed around her, whizzing through the sky to find Leylin’s back.

Leylin came to an abrupt stop as the threads pulled him down. He tried to burn through them with magic, but it proved useless. The barrier closed over his head, blue haze fitting into interlocking patterns. The daggers cut into his flesh and drew him back to the ground. Back to Silyra.

“So you want to die!” Leylin screamed as he fell. He found the ground in fury, shattering the stone below. Darkness spread around him like a curtain, enveloping the mages inside it. His magic found the apprentices first, those who hadn’t sparked. Those with weak souls. Their eyes smouldered and their bodies fell. Leylin ducked under a dagger and shot back with a bolt of nora, but Miria was already gone.

“Insect,” Leylin mumbled to himself. Blood stained his clothes and his head felt light. He pulled back his nora and his darkness, forming it into a spear. Another dagger flew in his direction, and he let it pierce his chest. He pulled on the thread, but Miria had already let go. Leylin tore the dagger from his chest with a grunt and it clanked against the ground. How had she known? No, it didn’t matter.

Leylin swept the weapon and bodies were cut in half. The plan was simple. Kill the weak ones first. He spun between two mages as their eyes burned out. They slumped quietly to the ground, skin cracking with light. Spells tore his shield open and more daggers found his flesh. Yet he didn’t relent. He didn’t allow himself the pain. Eyes smouldered and bodies collapsed.

“Stop!” Veradin called forth frost around Leylin’s legs. Another bolt of white formed in his hands.

Leylin slashed at the ground before the spell could reach him. The roof finally gave, plunging the battle to the floor below. Three mages died from a swing of his spear as they fell, and two more were crushed under the rubble. Leylin turned the weapon upright and it pierced through the head of a woman as she fell. He struck another from behind as she stood, ramming the spear through her back and out her chest, shattering the stone beneath her.

The dust settled and he found himself facing a giant of a man, clad in lustrous armour. They exchanged glances and the man rushed over, bringing with him rage and a polearm in full swing. The edge of the metal screeched as it crushed down on Leylin’s barrier, spraying bits of molten gold and slamming him into the ground. He tried to stand, but each strike harboured the next and pushed him deeper under the rubble. He raised both hands and darkness pooled to the front of his shield to meet the onslaught of gold. The tension grew in his head. Each breath strained under that pressure. A mage came at him from the side, spells finding the gap in his barrier and setting his clothes alight.

Nobody understood. He was alone in a world full of cowards. A world full of dead men. Leylin screamed as he burned. He dropped the barrier, and the polearm severed his arm. His spear ascended, finding a gap in the golden plate. Leylin twisted. The man died. A tendril of darkness coiled around the other mage’s neck and snapped it in half with a crack.

So many deaths, for foolishness and stubborn men. All for the will of the king. Leylin panted as he stood, blood gushing from his shoulder. Bodies lay twisted amid the rubble, skin cracked from their own nora being freed. He panted and pressed a hand on his wound. Slowly, he limped to the other side of the building and gazed at the city streets below, at the people rushing about like ants.

“You should have listened.” Leylin turned to Veradin with tears in his eyes and darkness leaking from his lips. “Then I wouldn’t be a murderer.”

“I think I remember you,” Veradin said, sliding between the broken stone and metal while palming his wound. “All those years ago… You’re the lunatic who wanted to tinker with my soul.”

“And you denied me!” Leylin cried out in pain. His legs trembled and his knees met the ground. The shield of nora around him vanished. “I just need Rane now. Where is my Rane?”

“I don’t care who or what you seek.” Veradin’s lightning enveloped him and the world was swallowed in white. “In my city, you will find only death.”