When they had ridden across the drawbridge leading into Ashenstead, Wyatt felt cold. He had just been in the fight of his life and had ridden many miles over the course of a day and night, but it was when he first entered the castle that he tensed. Ashenstead was supposedly long conquered and had been decimated, and yet it stood almost entirely intact.

Ako, Marek, and Anton had been in front of them. When he arrived in the courtyard, they were already untying Marek from Ako’s camel. He had had little time to call on Anton and the other three warriors left to aid him. They had closed the doors shut just in time. Even though he had broken through their lines, he was forced to flee after the combined numbers of Yarran’s forced proved to be too great.

“NO!”

Wyatt’s sword was already out of his sheath as he turned from the closed door that he was guarding. Marek had awoken, sitting up and gulping down deep, heaving breaths.

Thank the gods, Wyatt thought as he sheathed his sword and began to walk over to Marek. The man had used his Dominion Wood and almost his Essence to fight for them, taking on impossible odds to defeat an incredible foe. Wyatt desperately wanted to thank him for his sacrifice, as the wand he had used in their defence was worth more than their lives many times over.

Wyatt stopped when Ako also rose and raised her hand toward him, making him stop. She spoke to Marek softly and calmly, who looked like he was on the edge of tears as Ako began to tell him about a dream.

Wyatt walked over to Anton’s bedroll, where the teen was clearly pretending to sleep. One eye was partially open while his body was unnaturally still.

“If you want to listen, you may as well take on guard duty,” Wyatt said, nudging Anton with his foot. The teen closed his eyes firmly shut and pretended to sleep for a moment, but another nudge from Wyatt made the blonde sit up from his bedroll.

“Fine,” Anton said, giving up the pretense. He jerked a thumb toward Ako and Marek, who were still talking to each other softly at the other end of the room. “Can you let me know what happens?”

“Of course,” Wyatt said. He watched Anton stand—still fully dressed. He attached his sword belt from where it lay next to him and moved toward his position at the closed door leading to the courtyard. It was a solid wood door with a bar on it, so it would take a few hits and give them enough warning to mount some sort of defense.

Wyatt glanced around the room and snorted.

We wouldn’t mount that much of a defense, he thought. There were three fighters left, with two stationed near the rear entrances. Talon had somehow survived and was sitting miserably in a corner of the room with two of his guards. He had reacted violently when Wyatt had suggested using them to help the defense, almost setting his guards on him. He had let it be for now. Tomorrow, he would address it when everyone had a night’s sleep, or enough of it at least.

At this point, there was a lull in the conversation between Marek and Ako, so Wyatt walked over to where the two were sitting near the center of the room. Ako had refused to sleep far from Marek, so the two had had relative privacy, or at least as much they could get in this massive room.

“Marek,” Wyatt said as he sat down near them. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“Wyatt,” Marek replied, smiling wearily. “It’s good to see you too. What happened?”

“Hold on,” Wyatt said. He extended a hand and reached toward Marek’s uninjured shoulder. He grasped it lightly but firmly. “Thank you,” Wyatt said. “Thank you for what you did, Marek. You saved all of our lives.”

Marek bowed his head. “You would’ve done the same,” he said, his voice muffled. “You would have done the same if you could’ve.”

“But I didn’t,” Wyatt insisted. He patted Marek’s shoulder and withdrew his hand. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Your sacrifice, at the cost of your wand of Dominion Wood and potentially your life, was one of the most honorable things I have ever seen. Thank you, Marek.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ako said. She looked abashed. “I cannot believe I haven’t thanked you yet. Thank you for saving us.”

“It is no problem,” Marek said. He lifted his head and stared at Wyatt. Wyatt felt himself straighten at Marek’s assessing look. “What happened?” Marek asked again, clearly wanting to move on.

Wyatt let him, turning to look at Ako. “What’d you tell him?” he asked. “Enough happened that I want to tell only the pertinent details.”

“I told him that we picked him up and brought him here,” Ako said, shrugging. “I didn’t tell him what happened afterwards.”

“Well,” Wyatt said. He paused, rolling his shoulders until they cracked. He sighed in relief. “Perks of getting old,” he said at their mutual looks of disgust. “My body is more broken down.”

“Anyways,” Wyatt said, continuing. “We arrived here an hour ago. We managed to shut the door in Yarran’s face and then raced up to the ramparts.”

“And did what?” Marek asked. His eyes turned calculating as he looked around the room. “We have less than ten people here. What did you do against Yarran’s force?”

“We fought,” Wyatt said simply. “We had enough arrows and bows to rain down upon them. It took a while, but eventually Yarran came riding up the drawbridge with a white flag. He said that if we gave you up they would let us leave in peace and ‘let the Ekke Kyakú consume us.’”

“Consume?” Marek repeated, looking disturbed. A trembling hand went to his chest, where some strange medallion hung from around his neck. Wyatt had seen it before but had never really noted it before now. He would have to ask him about it later. “What did he mean?”

“There is a legend,” Ako said, speaking up for the first time. “About a fortress that is between worlds. We call it the Ash Castle in our tongue. Whoever enters it, none return. We sent our own Zak into it, and the Castle grew more powerful. It was once, as you said, a decaying ruin. Now, it is as if it had never been attacked or destroyed. It is evil, and we should never have come here.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Wyatt growled. He turned to Marek. “Marek, what do you feel about this place?”

“It’s wrong,” Marek said. He was looking at Wyatt, but his voice was thousand miles away. “There’s something wrong about Ashenstead. We need to leave as soon as we can.”

Wyatt shook his head. “They’ll kill us if we try to escape. We either have to give you up or try to survive in here for as long as we can.”

“What are our resources?”

“Enough to survive for a week or two,” Wyatt replied. He nodded his head toward the dais to his side. “Our supplies are there, in the darkness. Our mounts wouldn’t fit through the doors leading into here, so we left them in the stables.”

“Is it secure?”

“Not at all,” Wyatt said, chuckling darkly at Marek’s question. “It isn’t secure in the slightest. They could climb over the wall at any moment, although they did say that they wouldn’t due to their fear of this place. I wouldn’t put it past them to be bluffing, so anything that isn’t immediately secured—” Wyatt gestured to the Main Hall— “then it isn’t. Even this hall isn’t ‘secure.’ We need options, Marek. We need to find out what this place has and use whatever it must get out of here.

Marek paled. “There… may be such a thing,” Marek said tentatively. “I had a dream, Wyatt. Ako did too. I saw something that we could maybe use, but Ako’s dream warned us against using it. I don’t know what to do.”

Wyatt blinked. “You both had prophetic dreams?” he asked, saying his words slowly and clearly. “I have never heard of such a thing. Explain them to me.”

“What are you three plotting?” Talon’s voice called from the other side of the room. Wyatt’s hand went to his sword, and it remained there as Talon stood up from his bedroll. He had changed his bloodied and ripped clothes to robes like the ones he had worn in Javen. They were green and trimmed with gold and were also spectacularly ill-suited for the place he was in. “What are you all whispering about?”

“About what to do tomorrow,” Wyatt said smoothly. “Marek just awoke, so we’re discussing plans.”

Talon said nothing, walking over to them and sitting down near Ako with a huff. His guards walked with him, standing directly behind him as he sat. “So,” he said. He gestured to all of them like a king on his throne. “What do you plan to do?”

“We need to scout this place,” Marek said, nodding to him genially as if he hadn’t just insinuated that they were all plotting against him. “From what I’ve been told, Yarran wants us all dead, so—”

“Not us,” Talon interrupted. He pointed a gnarled finger at Marek. “Just you.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll let us leave after we killed dozens of their men,” Wyatt said. He smirked at the merchant as his face reddened. Time to poke the open wound. “You helped, Talon. You’re either with us or against us.”

“It’s not like I have a choice!” Talon blurted, throwing up his hands. “You and your lord were supposed to save me from Yarran and his thugs.”

“Marek is not my lord,” Wyatt snarled. He stood, drawing his sword partially from its sheathe. Talon’s guards moved forward slowly, looking supremely reluctant as their hands went to their weapons. They stopped when Wyatt glared at them. “Don’t,” Wyatt said tersely.

He looked down to glare at Talon. The man put on a brave face, but he could see the man shaking. “You owe your life to Marek,” Wyatt spat. “You owe your life to me and those who fought and died for you. You and your precious goods were attacked by a force that was three times our number. What would you have us do? Die? If you’re so eager for death, Talon, you need only say the word. I would Challenge you right here and now, but you have nothing worth taking.”

Talon reared back as if he had been slapped. His hand flew to his sword, but at another look from Wyatt, he let go of his weapon as if it had burned him.

“Fine,” Talon hissed. He leapt to his feet. “Let me know when you’re done discussing my fate.”

Talon went back to his corner and flopped down in his bedroll. He didn’t sleep, he just glared at them.

“We’ll explore the castle tomorrow,” Wyatt said, turning his back to Talon. “If Talon causes problems, I’ll deal with him. For tonight, we’ll go in shifts. Marek, you’re exempt due to your injuries. Ako, are you OK to slot in?”

“Yes,” Ako said. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you saying that I’m not capable?”

“No,” Wyatt said, holding up his hands in a pleading gesture. He already regretted his words. She’s stubborn like Bella was. The thought of his daughter made him want to cry and smile at the same time. “No, but you received a wound on your leg. So, if you didn’t want to—”

“I will help,” Ako said. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I will help, Wyatt. Everyone has wounds of some sort.”

“Good,” Wyatt said, not sure what else to say to her. He stood and nodded to them both. Ako was glaring at him, and Marek looked like he was desperately trying not to laugh. Traitor. “I will wake you when it’s time.”

Marek grinned at him and lay back down, falling asleep almost instantly. Wyatt nodded to Ako and left, going back to his own bedroll near the front doors leading into the Meeting Hall. Lying down, he stared at the stone ceiling until he finally fell asleep.