Kami, a Port City in the Kozagan Desert. Summer of the Red Moon, Beetle Flower Tavern.

“What are we doing in this dump Tristan?” the Purple Witch asked. She was wearing a gray traveller’s cloak and brown leather trousers. She sat cross legged at a table on the farthest corner from the Photon Monitor. Her black leather boots shone as sunlight reflected on them. “Ever since we left Yanoku, all we’ve been doing is change from one uncomfortable, mosquito infested inn, to another.”

“Forgive me my lady,” the man named Tristan answered. His exposed head revealed a face of noble features. His chiseled jaw was hidden beneath a five o’clock beard. His golden hair fell over his shoulders. “We have to remain hidden from prying eyes.”

“And you’re doing a fine job exposing your face like that,” the witch retorted.

“I have one of those faces that don’t require hiding,” Tristan answered with a smile.

“What do you mean?” Fiona frowned.

“Your idea of being a spy stems from earnestly following stories in books that are sold for profit,” the blond handsome man said.

“Then how would you describe the perfect spy for me?”

“We hide in plain sight. We’re coach drivers, fishermen, bartenders. We’re the ones who watch your every move when you think you’re safe.” Tristan turned his eyes away from the corner of the inn and looked at the witch.

“You see the woman with the loose clothes over there?”

“The whore who’s been on every man’s lap, including yours?” the witch asked.

“She’s an assassin. Don’t worry she’s not here for you.” Tristan had to calm the witch’s nerves. “I know what I’m doing my lady. Master doesn’t appoint me to missions I can’t accomplish.”

“And what’s your mission?” Fiona asked. She was holding a glass of some strong spirit. Tristan told her it was made from fermented dried figs. She took a sip then shuddered. “I don’t like this shitty place,” she complained. “And I don’t like this shitty drink!”

“Perhaps what you’ll see soon will take your mind off of things,” Tristan said. “Today’s the first day of the Contest. Don’t you think the Inn’s more crowded than usual?”

“It completely skipped my mind. Here I was, wondering why you’ve dragged me away from my solitude and studies.”

Tristan smiled, revealing perfectly aligned white teeth. He leaned towards the witch then whispered. “Today might mark the day we run from Kozag.”

“Finally!” Fiona replied. “What might push us away from this godforsaken fairy land?”

A buzzing sound brought all the laughter and loud discussions in the tavern to stop. Fiona raised her head towards the bar’s counter. Multicolored lights started flickering on top of the arranged bottles and kegs. Then an image of a tiled courtyard appeared for all to see.

“The Photons that people get from Ulmir’s domain are simply fascinating creatures,” Tristan said.

“Oh please, they’re just Familiars created by one of Ulmir’s pets,” Fiona retorted.

“Could you create something like it?” Tristan asked, defiantly.

The witch bit her lower lip then cursed under her breath. “No, only Archmages can do that. Where’s your master?”

“Smooth,” Tristan commented. “I hope he gets to fight first. He told me he’d make sure of it.”

“And how would he do that?” the witch asked. She decided to follow Zedd because he intrigued her. After he left for the Hunt, she took her time considering her options. She didn’t fear the man with black eyes anymore. But she feared the empire. If Zedd could show her they have a chance at fighting back, she assumed she would follow him.

“He’d be the last to make the offering,” Tristan answered. “The champions are coming out.”

People started talking to each other. They were concerned by the number of champions that made it to the Contest. Everyone knew casualties were bound to occur, but nobody expected them to exceed two hundred. After the devoted fanatics finished their counting, they’d announced to a baffled audience that only sixty four champions stood in the Courtyard.

“This promises to be a short Contest,” Tristan told the witch.

“This never happened.” Fiona was as surprised as the rest of the people in the Beetle’s Flower. “It’s too much for a coincidence. Do you think he’s behind this?”

“He may have thinned the herd a little. But I suspect Ulmir’s monsters helped too.”

“What do you think will happen?”

Fiona looked anxious. When Tristan turned to look at her, she was biting her fingernails.

“He promised something spectacular. I don’t know what he’s got in mind. But I know I’m to take you to safety if I get the signal,” Tristan told the witch, perhaps to calm her nerves. Few contestants making it to the second phase was a bad sign. To the people of Kozag, it meant Ulmir’s anger. To Fiona, it meant a celestial calamity.

“What’s the signal?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll see soon enough.” Tristan smiled then turned to look at the Monitor, full of multicolored shining bugs. Putting them together, and providing the right lighting and color, would constitute an image. They were much like pixels to a picture.

All sixty four champions who’d made it to the Second Phase were brought out to the Courtyard. Fiona could see the High Priest, dressed in white, standing atop a wooden platform. He stood several feet higher than the champions.

Photons transmitted live images from inside Ulmir’s Castle. The Alfa Photon resided in the Castle and fed on its abundant Essence. Priests harvested its children then sent them with champions to the lands of Kozag after the end of the Second Phase. Thanks to them, the people of Kozag could see through the eyes of the Alfa.

The giant insect was looking at High Priest Utar at that moment. People in Kozag and others in a faraway country were watching the beginning of the Contest. High Priest Utar spoke and everybody in the two realms listened.

“In the name of our Lord and Savior, I welcome you all to Ulmir’s Castle.” Utar had a pale face with sharp cheekbones and narrow eyes. His scruffy white hair had been pomaded. It glistened against the sunlight.

“This year, sixty four Champions made it to the Castle. It is an unprecedented number, but I assure you, our Lord is not angry with us. Special Circumstances have weaved a chain of event that led all of you here.” The High Priest got closer to the edge of the platform, then jumped down among the contestants.

“Our Lord has instructed us to make this year’s Hunt harder, for he had a vision, a prophecy!”

The people in the tavern and all around Kozag listened intently. Fiona’s hear beat faster. She suspected something to have changed in the air since last spring. Since then, she couldn’t seem to get rid of this bad feeling that always haunted her. After the High Priest’s declaration, her heart skipped a beat.

“We will need to reduce your numbers further for the final test. The winner will gain not only fame and gold, but a gift from the Hunter God himself!”

Cheers filled the tavern. The Alfa Photon’s prying eyes seemed to travel from face to face, showing every champion’s reaction to the news. Fiona saw her traveling companion frown then curse, quite vehemently.

“In order to reduce your numbers for the final stage,” the High Priest went on, “there will be preliminaries. You will fight to the death on a one on one fight. May the best prevail, and may Ulmir guide your steady hand.”

Utar raised his hands and all champions left the tiled square with the exception of two fighters. One of them had dark blond hair and blue eyes. He was holding a long sword and wore a green tunic with dark green trousers. A white cloth belt was strapped around his waist.

The other was a head taller than the blond fighter. He wore a red tunic strapped to red trousers with a white cloth belt. He held a spear in one hand and a wooden shield on the other.

“First Fight, Stalwart against Gervaise,” Utar’s voice rung through the Courtyard.

At those words, the tiled square disappeared. It was replaced by a forest with dense trees. The two fighters stood in a clearing in the middle of the woods. It was nighttime and the full moon illuminated the Champions’ new arena.

“Fight!” The High Priest’s voice reverberated throughout the forest.

“That’s master,” Tristan pointed at the swordsman.

“Doesn’t your master have unusual eyes?” the witch asked.

“He’s a man of many secrets. I’m afraid this signals our departure from these sandy lands you hate so much.”

“That’s why you wore that horrible face! What a relief!” the witch let out a sigh of liberation. “When do we leave?”

“Right now,” the spy answered. “Or would you like to watch the fight first?” Tristan asked, his eyes fixated on the Photon Monitor.

“I think it would look rather peculiar that we leave at the beginning of the fight,” she said, as if talking to herself.

Cheers filled the inn and Fiona looked up at the screen. Gervaise was on the ground, his weapon a few paces away from him. His hand was profusely bleeding as Myles stood above him. A bright red light shone above the forest. It was Utar’s execution signal. Stalwart thrust his sword down Gervaise’s gullet.

“I guess it’s decided for us then.” Tristan stood, threw a couple of Copper Krowns on the table then left the inn with Fiona on his trail.

“Where are we heading?” she asked after they left the clamor behind.

“I’ll tell you once we’ve arranged our departure.” Tristan led the witch through the city’s cobbled streets, towards the port.

“Why can’t you tell me now?” She held the man by the shoulder.

Tristan stopped then looked around him anxiously. “There are eyes and ears all over the city my lady. It’d be best if we quickened our pace.”

“You don’t seem thrilled about your master’s appearance,” she said after letting go of him.

“I’m not fond of the one he chose to appear in,” Tristan said.

“What do you mean? I’ve never seen that face before in my life.”

“You haven’t, but someone more powerful than you and me has. And I bet his rage knows no limits at this moment.” Tristan led the witch through more narrow streets. After a while, the man with golden hair stopped, looked around then addressed Fiona.

“Have you seen any imperial in the Courtyard?”

“I haven’t really taken the time to inspect every face there was, especially with the color coded uniforms they wore. Why do you ask?”

“The emperor and his men took the time, and they haven’t found their men. The first fight proved that something went horribly wrong for the emperor’s men. This means we’ve got to disappear immediately.”

“What does this have to do with us? Nobody knows who you’re working with anyway.” The witch started feeling anxiety creeping up on her.

“I’ll explain everything on the boat,” Tristan said then started walking again.

“The boat?” she asked. “We’re sailing again?”

The last time, they took a ship from Yanoku. The witch didn’t enjoy the trip. She dreaded the upcoming one.

***

The Citadel, Summer of the Red Moon. Inside the Emperor’s castle.

When he first heard the name Stalwart, Emperor Avourel only glanced at the screen in front of him. He was busy arguing with the General of the Army. They were sitting in a spacious room with a long table that could accommodate a thousand guests. On his right sat a woman wearing a tight purple dress. Her large hazel eyes were fixated on the screen, on the boy with dark blond hair.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” the woman said. “Is that really him?”

Avourel took another glance at the screen then his pupils grew larger. “That’s inconceivable!” he exclaimed.

The room fell silent. Everybody present was looking at the emperor. They’d never seen him make that baffled face.

“Your grace,” a man wearing a dark green suit ornamented with many medals said. “Who might that be?”

“Myles Stalwart,” Emperor Avourel, the first of his name, answered. “He’s a man I killed more than seven decades ago.”

“He surely kept his youth,” the woman who first spoke commented.

“Spare me your sarcasm dear aunt. I’m in no mood for jests.”

“Apologies, your grace,” the woman said. “He looks like the man you killed. It must surely be a coincidence.”

“He is the spitting image of Stalwart,” the Emperor rose from his seat, infuriated. “First we hear of the destruction of the Faery Plains. Then our soldiers, that Rimbaldi equipped for war mind you, did not make it to the Contest. Then this? I don’t believe in coincidences. General,” Avourel called the man in green. “Call Flavius, have him return to the Citadel immediately.”

“Shouldn’t we investigate what happened to our soldiers?” the General of the Army asked.

“Utar will conduct his own investigation in the realm. We shan’t let those pagans know what we’re plotting.”

“What do we do with Stalwart?” Avourel’s aunt asked.

“Contact Utar, have him interrogate him. Use whatever means necessary to get what we need from him.”

“Your wish is my command,” the woman rose, curtsied then left the room.

***

Ulmir’s Castle, First day of the Contest. Inside the Champions’ Training Arena.

Cane had just come back from his first fight. Myles was sitting on a wooden bench, sharpening the long steel sword he used. The big bear wore a gray tunic and gray trousers. The winners of the first round were to wait in the training arena for all the preliminary fights to end.

“Looks like you had it easy for the first fight too,” Myles said as soon as the big bear sat near him.

“I’m calling her Rage,” Cane said, brandishing his Lucerne in the air.

“It’s a she now.” Myles crossed his arms then smiled.

“I like ‘em hotheaded, aggressive. This one’s no different.” The big bear was still observing the weapon. “It’s light too, but cuts deep.” He turned then looked at his friend. Myles could read gratitude on his friend’s face.

“Not sure you’re still talking about weapons there,” Myles sheathed his long sword then got up. “We shouldn’t be seen together. I’ll reach you after the Hunt has ended.” The young man with dark blond hair left the bench towards the armory.

Cane sat on the bench, still enamored with his new weapon. During his last fight, his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking of Myles’ skills. He’d seen him fight first. His moves were graceful, his execution flawless.

‘Even without magic and he’s leagues above me,’ he thought as he observed his mysterious friend disappear within the crowd.

He made a wrong move during the fight and almost paid dearly for it. But he instinctively moved the weapon to parry the attack, almost as if it were an extension of his arms. The ease with which he manipulated the weapon astounded him. The rage with which he attacked and defeated his enemy surprised him even more. ‘When I’m carrying this, it feels like all my rage comes out in the arena. I'm a different person with this piece of transformed bone.’

A loud commotion made him look away from the Lucerne. Armored guards stormed the training arena then left the place with Stalwart. ‘The fuck’s he planning this time?’ Cane thought as he observed his friend being taken away. ‘Don’t talk to me or come near me during the Contest,’ Zedd’s words resonated in his mind. He’d told him about this in Yanoku. Black Eyes had even anticipated his arrest.

***

Minutes later, Myles was led into a dark room in the dungeons beneath the castle. He was seated on a metallic chair. His hands and legs were tied up. His head remained free. When he looked up, Stalwart noticed that the ceiling above him shone a bright light. There was no trace of brick or mortar up there. ‘An Aether Root,’ he thought as Utar sat opposite him.

“Myles Stalwart,” the Hight Priest addressed him. “Your appearance has made some people pretty anxious.”

“My master never thought I should take part in the Hunt. I’m not sure why this would get me arrested?”

“You’re lucky I don’t have much time to waste on you.” The High Priest extended his hand forward and placed it on Myles’ head. “With this spell, I’ll only need to ask the questions.”

Myles was breathing heavily, his heart beat faster than ever before. “Don’t fight it,” the High Priest said. “It will sting a little.” Utar recited a spell in the ancestral language while Myles was writhing in place. His binds pinned him, made him unable to resist.

“Do you know a man called Avourel?” Utar asked as Myles started screaming.

“You hate him, I can see it.” With the spell, Utar could read through Myles’ mind. He only needed a stimulant to find a path towards his memories.

“How did you reach the castle?” Myles was screaming, resisting the electric current that surged through his brain.

“You tricky little shit!” Utar shouted. “Your silver tongue let you get in with the winning team, and you didn’t even need to fight!”

Myles felt the High Priest dig deep into his memories. He tried to resist but couldn’t. His Essence wasn’t as strong and ample as Utar’s. He couldn’t use any protection spells or redirect his mind into false thoughts. The truth would be revealed to the High Priest, he knew it as he writhed in pain in that metallic chair.

The spell wriggled inside Myles’ soul like worms travelling through self-made tunnels beneath the ground. The doors behind which he kept his most cherished and traumatizing memories were kicked open. He had become an open book for the High Priest to read through. Minutes later, Utar released his spell.

“Release him,” he said. “Take him back to the vat. I apologize for this harsh treatment. You shall be well compensated for this inconvenience.”

When Myles was captured, guards disposed of his avatar. He was then moved from his container to the interrogation chamber.

“I’m free to go?” Stalwart was shaking. Sweat covered his entire body. His mind was in shambles.

“You sound surprised,” Utar said.

“Ulmir’s word is final. I didn’t think He’d let me go,” Myles said while the guards were cutting him loose. “I didn’t think I’d make it out of here alive.”

Utar waved his hand at the guards, stopping them from releasing Stalwart. “You have something to feel guilty about?”

“I’m not the purest of men. I’m cunning, nosy to a fault. I like drinking and indulge in debauchery. I’m ashamed even to speak of it. The only way for me to earn redemption was by winning the Contest. I thought Ulmir had finally sentenced me.”

“We mistook you for an imposter,” Utar smiled. “Perhaps you deserve a second chance.”