At noon, two dozen Saridi soldiers rode into Rosewood atop fine horses. Swords swung from their belts, and they wore the colors of the Tyrant—blue and gold. At the back of the group, two white horses pulled a large wagon crafted from splendid redwood. It might have been a grand sight, had they not been the Vanguard’s enemies.

They were as ready as they could be for this moment. Jarrett had gone over plans with Morgane and the Ravens meticulously. It hadn’t been easy to convince everyone that working with the Ravens was their best chance of survival, but he and Morgane eventually convinced the dissenters. It’d been a week since they struck up their partnership, and now it was time to put it to the test.

Jarrett, attempting to be unassuming, shadowed the soldiers as they rode through town. They stopped to ask about the town’s leader. Everyone in the village had been briefed on the plan and told to act normally. Dutifully, the Vanguardians that were approached told the soldiers it was a market day, and that Morgane could likely be found in the town square.

Jarrett followed them down the brick road to the square and strategically chose a market booth to pretend to browse at, keeping an eye on the soldiers all the while. The market quieted as people stopped to observe the newcomers. In the center of the square, a larger-than-life statue of Riordan towered over them. Jarrett hated how the stone statue’s eyes seemed to watch them.

According to the Ravens’ information, if the artifact was here, it was likely hidden in a vault beneath the statue. Ironic, that a weapon to be used against the Tyrant was stored beneath a statue meant to honor him. Neither the Vanguard nor the Ravens had found an entrance to the potential vault, and they couldn’t attempt to brute force their way in yet. If they could maintain secrecy until the soldiers passed, it would serve them well.

The head of the Saridi troops dismounted to greet Morgane, who had approached the soldiers. It was her job to see how much they knew.

Morgane extended a hand to the man. “Lieutenant. Welcome to our humble village. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” Morgane was always unfailingly polite where Jarrett knew that a hint of passive-aggression would leak into his own voice. He was envious of her control.

“You’re in charge of this settlement? Nice to know someone in the smallest of villages still recognizes rank symbology these days.” The lieutenant barely looked at Morgane and ignored her outstretched hand. “I am Lieutenant Jonathan. We’re here on the orders of King Riordan to retrieve an illegal magical artifact, so it can be disposed of.”

Morgane remained cool despite the lieutenant’s rudeness. “A magical artifact? I’m sure we have nothing like that here in Rosewood.”

“You’d be surprised what a group of mages can get up to.”

“There are no mages here, I assure you.”

“Oh, of course not. Our king dealt with the perpetrators already.”

“I see. Do you know where to find this artifact?”

“We’re told it may be underground, beneath the village.” The lieutenant looked up at the statue of Riordan. “Right around here, in fact. We may need to use explosives to break into the cache. You’ll have to clear this market out so we can get to work.”

“Explosives?” Morgane looked concerned. “If you’re going to be blowing up parts of our village I—”

The lieutenant waved a hand dismissively. “We have the situation under control.”

Jarrett wished he could punch the lieutenant, but violence wasn’t his mission today.

The lieutenant ordered Morgane to clear the square, then began organizing his soldiers. They pulled out an assortment of shovels and pickaxes as well as a few barrels—probably the explosives.

After Jarrett had a good overview of the situation, he finished his feigned browsing and headed to the rendezvous point, a nearby inn. A group of Ravens, including Fae, as well as some rebels dressed up as Ravens, surrounded Jarrett as he began his report.

“Twenty-five soldiers. They’re armed, mostly swords, plus other equipment they might use in a pinch. There’s explosives—watch out for the barrels. They might repurpose them to attack us when provoked. If they’re aware of the rebellion, they aren’t letting on. They’re getting right to business so this needs to happen fast. Get to your positions.”

Jarrett held fast as the Ravens and their impersonators rushed by him out of the inn. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to go with them, to take action, but if everything went right, his work was done.

Not everyone could go undercover as a Raven. Since the cult’s numbers were generally small, pumping them up too much could raise suspicions. The plan was to let the Ravens take the blame for attacking the soldiers, since they were already known enemies of the kingdom.

Despite any concerns he and the other Vanguardians had, the Ravens appeared to be making a good faith effort to aid them. They would be bringing down more heat on themselves in order to protect the Vanguard from being revealed and to guard the artifact—if it was even here.

After a minute, Jarrett hurried back toward the square. If things did go wrong today, it was his job to protect his people, to defend noncombatants caught in the crossfire of this battle. Although everyone left in Rosewood was supportive of the cause, not everyone was a fighter. He didn’t know how well the Ravens fought, but with the Vanguard members they disguised as such, they outnumbered the soldiers. Their chances were good, but he wouldn’t say that he was optimistic—not with the nosedive his luck had taken, and not with the lives of his friends on the line.

A throng of people were heading in the opposite direction as him, away from the square. Morgane must be clearing the market out, as ordered. He searched each face as he passed them, looking for his leader. She was probably still at the square, but Jarrett wanted her either out of there or to have eyes on her when the battle began.

The town square was nearly empty when he arrived, save for the soldiers. Jarrett peeked around a corner to watch them. They were rolling the barrels over to the base of the statue. Whatever intel the Ravens had on the artifacts, it seemed Riordan’s soldiers did as well.

As two soldiers rolled a third barrel up to the statue, an arrow struck one of them in the neck. The victim collapsed to the ground, sputtering briefly before death claimed him. Confusion erupted, the soldiers furiously looking around for their attacker, drawing their weapons and a few frantically gathering their shields.

“What the f—” Another arrow pierced through a soldier’s breastplate to strike her shoulder, interrupting her expletive.

The soldiers, while surprised, were also well trained. They fell into formation, creating a wall of shields to shelter them from the oncoming volley of arrows.

“Ravens! On the rooftops!” one of their number yelled. Some soldiers rushed back to their horses to fetch bows in order to return fire.

Meanwhile, more rebels began to close in from all sides, with mages among their numbers. Flashes of light and flames flew by, all aimed at the enemy—the fact that they had magic on their side was a definite advantage. Riordan’s forces may be trained to fight against mages, but it still wasn’t easy to combat them with mundane means. Jarrett learned this the hard way while helping the Vanguard mages train.

A couple of soldiers worked in tandem to light a fuse on one of the barrels, then rolled it toward a group of rebels on the far side of the square. Jarrett bit his tongue, hard. He hated being on the sidelines. Fortunately, a mage thought fast and exploded the barrel from a distance with a bolt of fire. Jarrett sighed in relief. He didn’t want anyone on their side to get hurt, but it was especially important that their small number of mages stayed safe.

Jarrett skirted the edge of the square, but couldn’t spot Morgane in the ensuing chaos. At least the battle was playing out in their favor. Surprise and numbers were on their side. As the rebel forces continued to prevail, Jarrett expected the remaining Saridi soldiers would flee, or possibly surrender.

There was a tap on Jarrett’s shoulder. He swung around and had half-drawn his sword when he realized it was Morgane standing behind him.

“Gods, woman. You scared me half to death,” he said. “Would it kill you to warn me before I accidentally run you through?”

“No time,” Morgane said between panted breaths. “There are more soldiers than we thought. Another group is headed into town right now.”

“What? How many?”

“Didn’t get a count. But… too many. The Ravens were right. This is important. The Tyrant is taking this seriously. What’s the situation like here?”

“It’s going well. There are some explosives—we might be able to use them against the reinforcements.”

Morgane nodded. Her lips were pulled into a thin, determined line. “It’s worth a shot.”

Most of the soldiers at the square had been dismantled. Morgane yelled to the archers on the rooftops to spread the word of more troops incoming. Together, Morgane and Jarrett organized a ground crew with some of the explosive barrels, ready to light and roll them at the new combatants heading their way.

Morgane dragged him into an alleyway. Both of them were breathing heavily by the time they were shrouded in the shadows.

Jarrett clawed at his hair in frustration. “I feel so useless. I should be out there.”

“What’s wrong, Jarrett?”

“What’s wrong? I want to help our people. Our friends could die out there.”

“No, I know that. Trust me. But we’re doing our part. It’s just… look, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but is everything okay, Jarrett?”

“Is this really the time to talk about this?”

“It’s not ideal. But my adrenaline is pumping. So, a good time to ask my prying questions, I guess,” Morgane said. Despite his best efforts to avoid her gaze, he couldn’t help but notice her looking at him very seriously. “You’ve said we can trust the Ravens. But I don’t know what’s going on with you. With them. Is there something else I should know? Because we’re going to keep needing the Ravens to survive this, and whatever else Riordan throws at us after today.”

“We’ll talk after the battle.”

“Our friends’ lives are in the hands of the Ravens. We should have spoken sooner. But we will, now.”

There was vulnerability beneath Morgane’s composure. Jarrett realized she wasn’t asking for information so much as for reassurance.

“Morgane. Whatever issues I have with the Ravens, it’s personal. But as I’ve told you, I trust that they will work with us as long as our goals align. Our missions are one and the same here.”

Morgane nodded, seeming somewhat placated, but Jarrett could see her lingering concern.

He answered the question she was trying not to ask, “Does it really matter what’s going on with me? The past is the past, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t about the past anymore. This is affecting right here and now. You’re miserable, which, knowing you, means your self-control is shot and that puts us at risk. And beyond that, you’re my friend.”

There was silence between the two of them, which was filled by distant sounds of combat echoing down the streets and into their alley hideaway. The reinforcements must be arriving. Yelling and swords clashing, general clamoring and chaos. Jarrett felt a constant, anxious pull toward it, hating that he didn’t know what was happening.

“I can’t remember,” Jarrett said. The words felt tight in his throat. “My memories were tampered with. Sealed with magic. I haven’t figured out why. Big parts of my life are missing, just… torn away from me.”

“Since when?”

“About four years ago.”

“And what do the Ravens have to do with it?”

“Whoever took my memories left a mark. A tattoo of a raven, imbued with magic. I think an emissary did this to me. An emissary of Death.”

“So Death is a god?” Morgane asked. “So, the Ravens may not be as strange as they seem.”

“I’m fairly convinced,” Jarrett said. “But… Leandra told me that I won’t find answers. Or that I shouldn’t find them. But I can’t accept that.”

“I’m so sorry Jarrett. You really have no idea who did this to you, or why?”

Their conversation ended with an abrupt boom in the distance. A series of explosions echoed down the streets.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” Morgane said. “Let’s make sure everything is going alright.”

Adrenaline brought Jarrett back into focus. Together, they took off down the streets, toward the sounds of combat.

If the square had been chaos, Jarrett didn’t even know what to call this. The streets were a gruesome sight—bodies littered the ground, some of them burnt from magic or explosives, Jarrett wasn’t sure which. He only knew the stench of burnt hair and flesh was horrifying. Other bodies had arrows pierced deep into their flesh, or had been slashed open with blades.

Though the scene was awful, Jarrett was grateful that most of the bodies were uniformed soldiers, and not Ravens or his people. His heart dropped every time he saw one of his own fallen. They would have to take account of who had been lost after the battle concluded. Now was not the time for mourning.

“Come on,” Morgane said. “I hear people at the square. We have to make sure the statue is defended.”

“Don’t blow our cover after all this!” Jarrett yelled at her as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street.

“Only if we must.”

Jarrett growled but hustled to the square alongside her.

What used to be a cheery and bustling market was now the most grisly scene they had come across. Bodies, fires, and fighting all around them. The lieutenant appeared to have survived the initial onslaught, and a group of new arrivals were defending him. The other soldiers were setting up one of the few remaining explosives at the base of the statue. Vanguard and Raven mages blasted magic bolts at them, but the guards effectively absorbed the volleys with large shields that Jarrett suspected were reinforced specifically for this purpose.

“We have to help stop them,” Morgane said.

“How? We’re dead meat in the long run if they think the village is involved.”

“We’re dead meat now if the Ravens are right about that artifact being here.”

“I want to be in there as much as you, Morgane, but—”

“Stay here.” Morgane strode towards the fray.

“Morgane!”

Morgane spoke over her shoulder, not slowing down, “Stay here. I’ve got this.”

Jarrett swore under his breath. He was caught between obeying his leader and defending her in a dangerous situation. He steeled himself, pushing against his instincts. As much as he wanted to protect Morgane, she wouldn’t forgive him for disobeying a direct order because of his hot-headedness. He could only hope that she, in typical Morgane fashion, had thought things out more than he had.

Morgane forced herself through the chaos, making a run for the statue. Sweat dripped from Jarrett’s palms as soldiers began to light the fuses. A deadly blast was imminent. His friends would be caught in the explosion. He had spent the whole battle sitting back and watching the violence unfold around him, restraining himself at every turn. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Jarrett drew his sword and leaped into the square. A Raven mage had been backed against a market stand by a soldier and was desperately defending herself against his sword swings with shimmering shields of magic. Jarrett tackled the soldier from behind, throwing him onto the ground. The soldier’s head hit the stone pavement hard, and Jarrett thrust his sword into his neck before he regained his faculties.

The mage that Jarrett rescued flashed him a smile. It was Fae. Most mages could only create short-lived spot-shields, but Fae had been using long lasting ones that surrounded large portions of her body. She was a protection mage, attuned to Meyra.

“Nice assist,” Fae commented. She glanced at the statue. “Those explosives will go off any second. We have to stop them.”

Jarrett nodded and followed her toward the center of the square. Between Fae’s magical blasts and Jarrett slicing through any soldier who got in their path, they cut their way forward to the pile of explosives. The fuses ran short.

Jarrett grabbed a barrel and heaved it over onto its side so he could roll it away. Fae was using her magic to blast the barrels towards the Saridi soldiers attempting to clear the area. One by one they began to combust. A concussive blast almost knocked Jarrett off his feet, but he was far enough away from the barrel to not have been exploded, at least. It was time to get out of here.

Dazed and ears ringing, he reoriented himself and stumbled away from the blast zone, grabbing Fae’s arm to drag her out with him.

Wait—where had Morgane gone? Jarrett turned back just in time for another explosion to nearly blind him in its destructive luminescence. Acrid fumes from the newly born flames and noxious explosive powders filled his lungs and made his eyes sting.

He coughed as smoke filled his lungs, but he wasn’t about to leave without finding Morgane. He scanned the area frantically before spotting a familiar silhouette. Morgane was on the ground, laid out face up right next to an explosive, its fuse burning perilously short. He was too far to get there in time.

“Fae,” Jarrett choked out as loudly as he could, knowing her ears would be ringing as loudly as his were. “Morgane is in trouble. Get that barrel away, or shield her—now!”

“Hold on.” Fae was focused back towards the statue. She had noticed one last barrel within range of the statue. She blasted magic at it, trying to push it out of range.

“Forget the vault, Morgane is about to die! Save her.”

“I can’t. Not until—”

“Fae!”

A series of explosions rocked the ground beneath them. The buzzing in Jarrett’s ears became too loud to hear over, the smoke too thick to see or breathe through. He heaved, desperate to find oxygen in the air around him.

This couldn’t be the end. Not for him, for Morgane, for the Vanguard. They were the only hope for the kingdom, they had to survive. He choked on the smoke, there was no reprieve for his lungs. The last of his vision blotted out into darkness.