Scarlet was loath to wait until the next day to take action, but Death insisted they needed to be at full strength before entering Riordan’s realm. At sunrise, Death led them outside to a point along the river of souls. Scarlet barely noticed the moisture seeping through her boots as she stepped through the muddy bank. She let her hands brush the tips of the reeds as she made her way to the edge of the river, where a small boat waited for them, tethered to the end of a short pier. She could hear Dante sloshing through the mud a few feet behind her, but her focus was set straight ahead.

Death paused as she reached the pier. “Scarlet,” she said quietly, almost obscured by the white noise of the river rushing by in its loop around Deianira.

“What?”

“You cannot leave the Crossworld. Do not attempt to go through a portal to the World.”

Scarlet’s emissary marks began to burn. This was an order, not a request. She clenched her jaw. “Got it.”

She and Dante stepped onto the pier. “Paddle across,” Death instructed them, “and try not to drift too far downstream, or you’ll end up in the wrong realm. There is a pole on the other side that you can tie the boat to. You want to keep travelling straight through from there. You should reach a path that will take you all the way to Riordan’s fortress. The injured emissaries should be hiding somewhere nearby.”

Scarlet stared across the water. The opposite bank looked much the same as their side. Gloomy, barren trees ringed the edge of the river, mushy swampland for as far as she could see. That was where Riordan was—or perhaps just his forces. And Bronwen. And, if she could call forth enough hope, maybe her mother.

“Do not approach his fortress,” Death continued. “The two of you cannot face him alone. I’m sure that goes without saying.” She gave Scarlet a pointed look.

Scarlet grunted a confirmation. A hand touched her shoulder and Scarlet jumped away in surprise. “Sorry,” said Dante. “You have a look on your face. You okay?”

“Better than ever,” Scarlet said. The comment was only half-sarcastic. The situation was dire, but at least she was being given a chance to do something about it.

Dante, grim-faced, let Death give him a hand as he stepped into the boat. He tried to offer Scarlet a hand in turn, but she refused it. She stumbled down into the boat, causing it to slosh back and forth. She almost lost her balance, but caught herself before she tumbled headfirst into the river.

“Supplies are under your seats,” Death said, handing them each a paddle that had been laying on the pier. “Food. Sleeping bags. It should take about a day and a half to get to Riordan’s fortress on foot.”

“Anything else we should know?” Dante asked.

“There is very little I know myself, other than what I have felt through the emissary bonds.” Death paused for a moment. “Saving Bronwen is a priority. Healing is a rare ability.”

“And that’s all that matters about him, is it?” Scarlet gripped her paddle tightly to stop her hands from shaking, and turned to Dante. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

Dante didn’t argue, and Death shut up and untethered the boat. Scarlet started to paddle, and didn’t look back to see if Death was watching their progress. “At least you know that she’ll care if you live or die,” she said to Dante as he began to paddle from the seat behind her.

“What?”

“You’re a healer, too.”

“So?”

“She doesn’t care about anyone, except to the extent that they’re helpful to her.”

“You really think that?”

“Did you not hear her just now? Bronwen is the priority, because he’s a healer. What about all the other emissaries—the others left alive, or the ones who just died for her?”

“I’m sure she—”

“Death got Bronwen to save you because you were useful to them, not because it was the right thing to do. They brought you here to be my friend. Because if I’m happy, I’m more useful. Plus, bonus: you’re a healer.”

“I don’t know if I can be mad about having my life saved, regardless of why it happened.”

The silence between them was filled by the sound of rushing water. Scarlet worried they were drifting too far downstream. She switched what side she was paddling on, hoping to steer them straighter across.

“They wouldn’t bring your sister here,” she reminded him, in her bitterness. “Because they don’t need her.”

She wondered if that was too harsh. She wanted to glance back at him to see how he reacted, but she had to turn forward to focus on paddling, lest they drift too far off-course. Maybe it was for the best. Talking face-to-face was nerve-racking in a whole different way.

“I saw her in my vision,” Dante said.

That hadn’t been what Scarlet expected him to say next. She’d nearly asked about his vision a number of times over the past couple days, but always stopped herself. She felt weird about that night. Comforting him. Holding his hand. It was safer to avoid the topic altogether.

“You saw your sister?”

“I saw my village burning down. I saw my house. And Jayden, being pulled away by soldiers. They know she’s a mage.” He took a shuddering breath. “They know, and they’ll burn her for it. I don’t even know when this vision was from. She could be dead already. Or none of it could have happened yet. But if it has… the rest of my family is probably dead too. And my master. Everything was destroyed.”

“That’s awful.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

“You’re not an emissary.”

“So?”

“So you can leave. Death can’t stop you, not in the way she can stop me.”

Scarlet’s stomach twisted into knots waiting for Dante’s reply, but he took a minute to think. They were making good progress across the river, not even drifting too far downstream anymore.

“You think I should run away?”

“You have no real obligation to be here. So if you think that your sister could be saved still, that you could find her with your visions… I know what it’s like to want to find someone.”

“Your mother.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe she can be saved still, too—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can trust me. Talk to me. That’s what friends are—”

“I don’t want to talk,” Scarlet snarled. “Look, all I’m saying is, I’m stuck here, but you aren’t. You can’t open a portal yourself, because you aren’t an emissary. But I might be able to, if that’s what you want. Death compelled me against going through a portal, not making one.”

“Do you even know how to make a portal?”

“I’ve never had the chance to try, since Death’s realm isn’t connected to the World in the same way the other gods’ realms are. But, I can try.”

The rest of their journey across the river was spent in silence. Scarlet disembarked on the opposite bank first, giving Dante a hand out of the boat after. They hitched the boat to the post. Scarlet glanced back to Deianira, protruding from the trees in the center of Death’s realm. She couldn’t see Death back on the pier.

“Maybe,” Dante said, “Maybe on our way back. Once everyone we can rescue is safe. If… if you can figure out how to open a portal. Then, maybe—”

“Then you’ll go.”

And she’d still be stuck here. Alone.

#

The swampland faded into plains, making Scarlet and Dante now undeniably in Riordan’s realm. They found a stone pathway and began to follow it.

“More directions might have been nice,” Dante said.

Scarlet shrugged.

“It’s the only path,” he said. “And she said it goes right to Riordan’s fortress, so maybe we’re fine.”

“I guess.”

Dante took the hint, and stopped trying to make conversation. They continued down the road, which led them a fairly straight direction across the plains. It never split into any other paths, so navigation wasn’t much of a point of discussion after that.

Their next few days were going to be full of awkward silence at this rate. Well, at the end of it, Dante would run off to rescue his sister, and Scarlet wouldn’t have to try to be friends anymore. Something in her chest ached, but she did her best to ignore the sensation. It would be a relief, she told herself. She wouldn’t have to try so hard.

After a couple hours, they entered a pine forest. Dante glanced around constantly, seeming to search the trees for danger.

“Are you worried?” Scarlet asked.

“Of course. We’re in Riordan’s realm, there could be enemies anywhere.”

“We’re still at least a day’s walk from his fortress.”

“Not that far, in the grand scheme of things. Plus, this place reminds me of Saridian.”

Scarlet hadn’t thought about that much. The landscape was just… the landscape. It was what she was used to, back home. Which meant, yes, it was in fact much like Saridian, other than the fact that all the foliage that should have been green was instead a shade of teal.

“Have you been to Saridian?” Dante asked.

“That’s where I’m from.” She supposed she hadn’t volunteered much information about her life before coming to the Crossworld.

“Oh. Sorry, I guess I assumed, since you don’t look Saridi…”

“I’m half,” Scarlet said. “Half Galapi, half Saridi. My mom and I traveled all around Saridian, wherever she needed to go for her emissary duties.”

“Oh.” Dante crossed his arms and continued to look around nervously.

Apparently, Dante needed conversation to relieve his unease. Talking took energy but it was easier than enduring the tense silence, so Scarlet obliged.

They made light conversation as they continued down the path, and the hours drifted by. They stopped for a quick midday meal, munching on some fruits and bread that were packed in their knapsacks. The day drew onwards, and despite the sky darkening, Dante seemed a lot calmer than when they had first entered the forest. Scarlet hoped the forest went far enough that they would end up camping in it. She didn’t relish the thought of sleeping in an open plain like the one they had passed through earlier.

“I’m tired,” Scarlet said when it was reasonably dark. “Do you think we should set up camp soon?”

“I—” Dante started, and then abruptly stopped.

“What?”

Dante shushed her, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the cover of trees. Scarlet grunted as branches scraped across her face. “We’re in enemy territory, remember?” His voice was gruff. “Don’t you hear that?”

Scarlet had done her best to not think about how serious their mission was. She would be a nervous wreck if she really let herself consider how much was on the line. Now that she had to face that they were in possibly immediate danger, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Holding her breath, she heard voices coming from farther down the path.

“Maybe they’re emissaries who survived?” she whispered.

“Maybe. But if not...” Dante grabbed her hand and dragged her farther into the woods. They crouched in the brush, hidden from the road. Scarlet felt for the dagger clipped to her boots. The sheath was still strapped on tightly. It was unlikely she would use the dagger—magic was much more effective—but having the weapon her mother gave her granted a modicum of calm.

The voices drew near. Scarlet readjusted so she could peek, just barely, at the oncoming passersby. Two men marched down the road, toward Death’s realm. They wore blue and gold tabards. Riordan’s colors. Each had a circular shield, blue with Riordan’s sigil emblazoned on them in gold. She couldn’t see their weapons, but she could only assume they had swords sheathed on their hips. They were close enough now that Scarlet began to make out their conversation.

“...don’t think that she has any reinforcements to send.”

“Can’t underestimate a god, though.”

“True. But—” the soldier stopped cold. “Hm. I sense something. You feel that?”

Scarlet realized that Dante was still holding her hand when his grip became painfully tight. “Mage hunters,” he whispered. His eyes were wide. “We have to run.” The soldiers began to bushwhack toward them. It would be mere seconds until they spotted them in their hiding spot.

Scarlet almost nodded, nearly letting him drag her along once more, deeper into the woods. But a pang ran through her, remembering when she and her mother were hunted by Riordan, the headlong dive through the nighttime woods as they ran for their lives. Instead, she released his hand, and called forth flame.

“Scarlet—”

“I’m staying.” No more hiding. No fear. It hadn’t worked that night with her mother, and it wouldn’t work now. It was time to forge flight into fight.

Scarlet stepped out of the bushes to face the hunters. She fired a bolt of flame at each of them, causing them to squawk in surprise. One of her shots went wide of its mark, and the other was blocked by the soldier’s shield, thrown up in quick response.

The soldiers drew their swords, one charged towards her while the other drew in on Dante. Scarlet let more flames flow from her hands and spun the fire into a ring to surround the man rushing at her. Pouring more energy into the fire, she grew the ring into a whole wall of fire separating them.

Glancing to Dante, she realized that he was struggling with the soldier that had targeted him. He jumped back to avoid a swing of the man’s sword, then fired a few energy bolts that only made contact with his enemy’s shield. Scarlet focused her powers once more and blasted a fireball at the soldier before he could take another jab at Dante. The fire hit him squarely in the chest, making him stumble back and singeing his tabard.

Scarlet thought she had a moment to breathe and take account of their situation, but a shield burst through the wall of fire. The flames dissipated with the shield’s touch, and the soldier emerged, continuing his charge.

She swiveled back to her original attacker, caught off-guard. He blocked her panicked volley of energy darts and forced her to tumble backwards with a swing of his sword. He managed to slice the front of her leg. She yelled out in frustration as her flesh was torn open. She wasn’t sure how bad the cut was, only that it hurt.

Meanwhile, Dante was doing his best at holding off the other soldier, who had gotten back on his feet. She watched him in her peripheral vision as her own opponent stared her down, grinning.

“Come on now,” he said to her. “Why don’t you just come with us nicely? No one has to get hurt here.”

His condescending tone made Scarlet’s blood run as hot as her new wound did. She spat at him. “Never.”

The soldier leveled his sword at her. “Hah. You give ‘spitfire’ a whole new meaning don’t you?” He glanced at his partner, who tackled Dante into a tree. “Careful, Glen. I’m sure Riordan would want these two little mages alive.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just got him pinned now. You getting the girl, or what?”

“No,” said Scarlet. “He’s not.” She shot a series of energy bolts at her attacker, but something felt off. Her control was slipping. None of her shots landed.

“Oh, shush,” the soldier said. He bashed her with his shield. She stumbled back, barely able to keep her balance with her injured leg.

“Scarlet!” Dante yelled out.

She had to focus. She had to get them out of here.

Focus, and breathe.

The next burst of flames Scarlet emitted overtook the soldier, coiling around his shield and scorching him. For good measure, she sent a couple energy bolts into his chest as he fell. She formed a fire whip and swung it at the soldier pinning Dante. It lashed across his back, he grunted and released Dante. Another well-placed bolt dropped him to the ground as well.

“Okay,” Scarlet said. “Now run?”

Dante stared at her, nodded, and together they fled.

#

They made it to the edge of the woods before setting up camp. It was fully dark now. They didn’t make a campfire. No one had come after them, and they didn’t want to change that. Scarlet summoned the tiniest light orb she could muster so that they could see enough to set up camp.

“Do you think they’re dead?” Scarlet asked. She was sitting on her laid out bedroll, her back to a tree. Dante sat across from her, cross-legged.

“Maybe,” he said. The bread and fruit they had eaten sat uneasily in Scarlet’s stomach. “I don’t know. You… you did what you had to do.”

“I guess.” Scarlet leaned back into the tree, letting the bark prickle through her shirt and into her skin. “Was I wrong? Should we have ran?”

“No. We couldn’t have gotten away from them. Even if we did, they’d just track us. I froze. I didn’t think I could fight them. They had mage hunter shields.”

”You’ve fought a mage hunter before?”

“No. Just know about them.”

“So… they’re different from other soldiers, or…?”

“Yeah. They go through special training, specifically geared towards fighting mages. And their shields are reinforced against magic, which I’m not sure how they do, but you saw—they weren’t damaged at all. And they...” Dante stopped short.

“And they what?”

Dante shifted around. “I’ve heard before that they can sense mages, or magic. I thought it was a tale told to scare people. I don’t know how it could be true unless they’re mages themselves—which, I never thought they could be, until Calder came to Deianira. He wanted you to join their side. They don’t just kill mages, they use them too.”

Scarlet nodded. “The hunters could feel us in the woods. They sensed us.”

“Yeah, seems like it. Unless they heard us.”

“We were quiet when they were close. And they weren’t looking toward us.”

“Yeah. I think… they must have magic. Maybe they aren’t even fully aware of it, but they do.”

They lapsed into silence. Scarlet wished they could have a fire. The warmth would be nice, the cold was biting through her clothes, and the crackle of wood burning would fill the gaps in their conversation.

“Your leg,” Dante said.

“Yeah.” Scarlet had been doing her best to not think about the pain radiating from her leg. The wound ran from her hip bone diagonally down to nearly her knee. It wasn’t that deep, but it was deep enough. Fleeing had hurt horribly, and she’d barely endured their search for a decent place to camp.

“You need to let me bandage it properly. And I could try healing you.”

After they were relatively sure they’d lost the mage hunters, Scarlet had quickly cleaned it and bandaged it with a strip of her bloodstained clothing. She hadn’t wanted to stop moving for too long until it was darker, in case the hunters were alive.

“Give me the gauze. I can do it,” Scarlet said.

Dante dug through his bag, seeming reluctant. Scarlet wondered if she hurt his feelings by rejecting his help. He was better trained for it, but she could bandage a wound well enough on her own.

Once he’d found it, Dante handed her a roll of gauze. “What about healing?”

Scarlet used her waterskin to clean her leg, cringing as the cool water ran over her wound and soaked her pants. “No healing.”

“We have a long way to travel still. And we might come across more reasons to run. With your leg wounded—”

“If we come across Bronwen or one of the other emissaries, and they’re on the verge of death, and you used up a bunch of your energy healing my leg and can’t save them…” Scarlet shook her head. “That’s not happening.”

Dante sat up a bit straighter. “Scarlet. Sure, you don’t have a mortal wound. But if you’re injured tomorrow, it could easily cost you your life. Or mine, if you aren’t able to keep me out of danger—I’m no good at fighting, you know this. I’m the support, so let me play my part.”

Scarlet was still hesitant, but couldn’t think of a reasonable argument. “Alright. Fine.” She leaned her head back against the tree, bark prickling into her scalp now, and closed her eyes. Hopefully not looking would make the process more bearable. “Only enough to get me through tomorrow.”

Dante cleaned her wound more thoroughly, and used a cloth to pat it dry. Scarlet grimaced the whole time. Her entire leg was lit up with pain. Then, the familiar tingling of healing magic washed away some of the sensation.

It wasn’t the first time he had healed her—Bronwen had supervised him in healing some of Scarlet’s scrapes and bruises from training—but it was always an uncomfortable experience. And right now, she was worried about him using up too much energy.

From her understanding, healing was more or less shoving a bunch of energy into a wound—feeding it the energy that it would normally use to mend itself over a matter of days or weeks in a few minutes instead. With a decent healing session, some of the progress happened nearly instantly and the rest of the mending process would be sped up considerably. It was all probably a bit more complicated than that, given the amount of time Dante spent with Bronwen. But even simplified, she knew even small amounts of healing could take a lot out of a mage.

“Not too much,” Scarlet said after a couple minutes.

“I know what I’m doing,” Dante said, but he stopped. As soon as the stream of magic ended, much of the pain returned. It was a little duller than before, even that was a slight relief. Dante bandaged her leg. She didn’t protest this time, she was too exhausted.

When he was finished, she said softly, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Scarlet slumped into her bedroll, taking cover in its warmth. Dante didn’t settle into his own bedroll.

“You sleep,” he told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“You need rest too.”

Dante shook his head. Scarlet’s pinprick light orb floated next to him. He reached out and gently enclosed it in his hands, dissipating it. There was only darkness now. Scarlet shivered.

“I can’t sleep,” he said. “I can’t risk it. If I dream, I’ll wake blind. You know this.”

She did. But he still needed energy for tomorrow. “Dante—”

“It’s okay. You keep me safe in the day. Let me keep you safe at night.”

His words made the darkness seem less dark. Scarlet, exhausted, was quickly claimed by slumber.

The next morning was filled with tension. Scarlet was sure that Dante felt the same urgency she did. A full day had passed since their last confirmation from Death that Bronwen and a couple other emissaries were alive. They had to move fast.

Scarlet’s leg still pained her as they continued down the path through Riordan’s realm, though it had mended a decent amount overnight. She grudgingly admitted to herself that Dante was right to heal her. Today’s journey would have been unbearable otherwise.

They travelled through the sparse landscape, open plains with a smattering of trees. As the sun rose, the snowy peaks of a mountain started to appear on the horizon. By the time the sun was about to hit its apex, the spires of a tower came into sight as well.

The road led them through a copse of tall pines that sheltered them from the brunt of the biting wind. Scarlet suddenly realized that Dante had stopped a few paces behind her. He was staring toward the side of the path, into the trees.

“What is it?” she asked. Dante didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. A moment after she spoke, Scarlet saw for herself: a lifeless body, strewn at the base of a tree, a dark pool of blood beneath.