The body they found in the copse of trees wasn’t Bronwen’s; not that this discovery made Dante feel much better.

He knelt next to the corpse of the unknown man. He’d been an emissary, made evident by the markings on his hand. Dante had seen bodies before, back in Ferrick’s clinic. Some patients were beyond saving. But it was different to know that this man had been killed. A fatal blow had been punched through the chain shirt he wore under his cloak and pierced deep into his chest.

He was dealing with the discovery better than Scarlet was. She had confirmed it wasn’t Bronwen, and otherwise kept her distance. She turned away, and was staring at the path ahead of them, arms crossed. He wondered if this had been her first time seeing someone dead. No. She just killed those mage hunters.

He didn’t know if he should be thinking of death differently after training with the god of Death. She’d told him that souls move to the Nextworld when they died in this one, and she didn’t seem to think that it was a tragic thing. But, did she really know what the Nextworld even was? Even if it was an alright place, people would still be separated from all of their friends and family. What if they weren’t done in this World yet? There were too many questions left unanswered.

Scarlet brought him out of his thoughts. “I think there are more.”

Dante used his waterskin to wash off the blood that had stained his hands during his inspection of the body, then went over to Scarlet. “More what?”

“Bodies.” She pointed out past the grove of trees they stood in. There were shapes farther out in the open plains that could definitely be considered body-like. Dante took a shaky breath.

“Okay. Let’s… let’s go see.” Dante didn’t want to take the lead, but Scarlet stood fast and obviously wasn’t going to, so he headed their journey out of the trees.

Scarlet snapped out of her brooding and caught up to him. “There could be more mage hunters, too.”

“Yeah.”

They investigated the closest shape. As they neared, it became even more evident that it was another corpse. Before they approached it, Dante turned to Scarlet. “Are you okay?”

“Why would I be okay?”

Her blunt words almost made Dante flinch. He supposed it hadn’t been the greatest question he could’ve asked, under current circumstances. “I know that none of this is remotely okay. I just want to make sure…”

“I’m okay enough,” she conceded.

“Alright.”

Dante stepped up to the body. It was a woman this time, another emissary. Multiple wounds had been pierced into her, leaving a pool of blood to soak into the earth. Dante was getting queasy.

“What are we going to do?” Scarlet asked quietly. “They’re all… they’re all dead, aren’t they?”

“We can’t think like that. There could still be some alive, hiding out. Or captured. But the ones who are dead… we should bury them.”

“It’ll take too much time. We can’t dig that many graves. The hunters would come after us long before we finished. It would make a lot of smoke, but maybe we could build a pyre—”

“No.” Dante stomped towards the next probably-body in the distance. Scarlet almost had to jog to keep up with him. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I—no, I guess not.”

“Burning is for mages.”

“They are mages.”

“No. It’s a punishment for mages.” Dante stopped. His breaths were ragged. He stared at her, and she stared back, face to face. “You said you grew up in Saridian. You’re a mage. Your mother was a mage. Why don’t you know this?”

“I don’t know. My mother tried to protect me from a lot of things.”

“That’s how they execute mages, Scarlet. They burn them at the stake in the capital. They do it as a show, a spectacle. For entertainment, and more importantly, as a lesson. A promise. A threat.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Honestly, I didn’t know.” Her voice was thin. “I think… I think they cremate everyone in the Galapia Islands. I read about it. But I’m more Saridi than Galapi. My mother kept it from me, but I should have known.”

The roaring boil of Dante’s temper quieted to a simmer. He wasn’t used to being angry. Usually, the only person who could get on his nerves was Jayden. He took a sharp breath at the thought of his sister.

“Are we okay?” Scarlet asked. The tension between them was palpable.

“We’re okay enough.”

#

They took account of the rest of the bodies. There were six in all, spread across the open field, each of them emissaries. If any of Riordan’s soldiers had fallen, they had since been taken away.

The emissaries’ corpses would stay here for now. As much as it pained Dante to leave them behind, they didn’t have time for burials and he would rather see them rot than go through the disrespect of burning.

As they moved farther down the path, more of Riordan’s fortress became visible. No mage hunters appeared, but it was impossible to be at ease in the looming shadow of the enemy’s home.

“There’s only open plains between here and the fortress, it looks like,” Scarlet said. “I don’t know that we can get much closer.”

“We’ll have to search the trees around here, in case any injured emissaries are hiding out,” Dante said. “And then...”

“And then we go back.” Scarlet took a last look at the spires of Riordan’s fortress. “Could my mother be there? And Bronwen too, now? It’s so close, but…”

“I know. I wish there was more we could do.” Dante’s heart ached at the thought of Bronwen, imprisoned by Riordan, or dead somewhere, lying unburied.

They headed back to the copse of trees where they’d found the first body and searched it for any trace of survivors. They found nothing and moved to another grouping of trees nearby.

“You could still go find your sister,” Scarlet said. “We couldn’t rescue anyone but, maybe we can at least get you out of here.”

Going to find Jayden was a tempting proposition, but it wasn’t without its problems. “Can you even open a portal?”

“I can figure it out,” Scarlet said. A pause. “Probably.”

“Okay, but even if you can…”

“What?”

“If I go look for her… what am I supposed to do? It’s the same conundrum as this. We can’t walk up to Riordan’s fortress. Jayden would be taken to Kingsmount, the next most intimidating place after that. Riordan’s home in the World. And she might already be dead. I don’t know when that vision was from.”

“You also told me that it might have not even happened yet. You can’t give up that easy.”

“It happened. I couldn’t sleep for weeks, because I started to have the vision every time, and I kept waking myself because it was awful. But I know. I can feel it. It’s over.”

“Dante…”

“Plus, if I go, you’ll be all alone.”

Scarlet got sharp. “I can be alone.”

“The only way to stop this, for real, is to stop Riordan. So maybe I should focus on that. Maybe Death will let us do more now.”

“She also might not. This is a way to take action, Dante. Don’t be too afraid to take that chance while you have it.”

Dante bristled. “I would do anything for my sister. But right now, if she’s alive, I have to believe that she can handle this on her own. I never thought I’d say this, but I have to stay, and to keep learning magic. The situation is dire, Death is going to need us.”

Scarlet grabbed at his sleeve suddenly. “Dante—”

He almost ripped his arm away from her, but then he saw what she saw.

Calder stood in front of the next copse of trees. At his feet was a slumped figure, wearing a black cloak. Dante froze.

“Run?” he asked Scarlet. “Or fight?”

“Fight. Always fight.”

“Death said—”

“That we couldn’t face Riordan alone. Calder is still a mortal. And he could probably catch us even if we run. We may as well see his attacks coming.”

Dante exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. I wish she wasn’t right. Together, they approached Calder. When he saw their aggressive stances, he held up his hands in mock surrender.

Calder called out to them, “Settle down. I’m not here to fight you.”

“Good one,” said Scarlet. “But somehow I doubt that.”

“I would start believing me, especially if you want your friend here to live.” Calder gestured to the cloaked figure next to him. “Come closer now, but if you attack me, he’s dead. Got it?”

Scarlet froze. Dante stopped next to her. She was visibly shaking. “Do you think that’s Bronwen?” she asked.

“I-I don’t know.” Dante gently took her by the arm. He thought for a moment she would shake him off, but she didn’t. “Come on, we have to go see.”

Even after they got close, Dante couldn’t identify the emissary. The cloak covered their head and they were faced away. He could, however, see them taking shallow breaths.

“I’m ever so pleased that Death sent you,” Calder said. He flashed a smile, which sent shivers down Dante’s spine. “And don’t worry, I’m going to send you home unscathed, once you promise to do a favor for me.”

“What do you want?” Dante asked.

“I need you to deliver a gift for Death, along with a message.” Calder kicked the cloaked man, rolling him over. It was, in fact, Bronwen. He groaned, and let out a mouthful of blood. Dante’s breath hitched at the sight of his mentor. Bronwen’s face was unnaturally pale, and parts of his cloak were dark with blood. Dante’s instincts fought with each other—half of him wanted to run up and immediately start tending to him, the other half was too terrified to take a step closer to Calder.

Next to Dante, Scarlet was still shaking. Her voice cracked a little when she spoke. “And what’s the message?”

“Tell her that Riordan spared her favorites, Bronwen along with you two, as a courtesy. She can consider it a bridal gift.”

“Wait,” Scarlet said. Though she hadn’t summoned fire, Dante could feel the heat rolling off of her. “Riordan wants her to marry him? That’s what this is all about?”

Calder shrugged. “Among other things.”

“You’re both despicable, do you know that?”

His grin faded. “You’re just a pest. You’ll be dealt with in due time.”

“So do it,” Scarlet growled. “Kill me. Riordan already failed at it once. Let’s see what you can do.”

Dante’s heart skipped a beat. He squeezed her arm harder. “Scarlet. What are you doing?”

“Kill you?” Calder chuckled. “I don’t need to. You’re dancing the line between Worlds already.”

Dante could feel the flames sparking at Scarlet’s fingertips. He yanked her arm, trying to snap her out of whatever deathwish trance she’d apparently fallen into, or at least distract her from attacking a god that would easily crush them.

Dante thought she would stand strong, but instead he felt a ripple of magic and Scarlet deflated, collapsing into his arms. He barely managed to stop himself from tumbling over from her unexpected weight. Had Calder drained her energy?

Calder flashed one last grin toward Dante, and without another word, he turned on his heel and started back toward Riordan’s fortress.

“Scarlet?” Dante shook her, limp in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think. Just… lightheaded.” She pulled herself up out of his lap. “Go. Go check Bronwen.”

Dante rushed to his mentor’s side, Scarlet slowly following behind a few moments later.

“Ah,” Bronwen croaked, “You two are a sight for sore… well, sore everything, really.”

“We’re here, we’re going to help you. I’m going to heal you.” Dante swallowed hard. Oozing wounds covered Bronwen. His face was slashed, and his shoulder was cleaved open, but what worried Dante the most was that Bronwen held his hand over a dark stain on his abdomen.

Bronwen shook his head. “Dante. You haven’t done anything like this before… bruises, scrapes… but this...”

“He healed me yesterday,” Scarlet said. “It was more than a papercut.”

“This is different. This could kill him.”

“I can do this,” Dante said. His hands shook as he helped Bronwen roll onto his back. Bronwen’s face contorted with every movement. Riordan and Calder’s generosity was limited; Bronwen wouldn’t last much longer in this condition. Dante had to do this.

Bronwen’s words were labored, and perspiration dripped down his dirty brow. “Dante. Listen carefully. Don’t… try to do it all. Just… stabilize me. Get me well enough… that we can return to Deianira. That’s it.”

“I’m getting tired of people telling me not to heal them. You taught me well, Bronwen. Trust me now.” Dante hoped he could fake confidence until he felt it. He and Scarlet cleaned Bronwen’s wounds as gently and thoroughly as they could using their waterskins before he began the healing session. He clasped his hands together and began the process of calling forth the energy he needed to mend what was broken.

The energy wouldn’t come. Usually, after a few moments of focus, he would feel tingling, starting at his fingertips and then spreading into his hands, and down his arms. Instead, his body was shaking, his heart fluttering as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

Then there was a hand on his back. “Take a deep breath,” Scarlet told him. “In, and out. In… and out.” She seemed to have recovered from her own shock, and her steadiness permeated through her touch. She coached him for a few more breaths before withdrawing her hand and taking a step back.

The magic coalesced this time, obeying his wishes. He allowed it to stream through himself and into Bronwen. He could feel so much of the wrongness in his mentor’s body, so many aches and incisions. Not enough blood. Internal damage. Dante sussed out the worst of it, channeling the energy to those parts, coaxing organs into patching themselves, torn flesh to pull together once more.

Dante was lightheaded when Bronwen called out, “Enough, enough.” It was followed by a series of punctuating coughs, and he sat up. Dante ceased his flow of magic and sat back. Now that he stopped, he was frighteningly woozy. He closed his eyes to stop the trees from spinning around him.

Scarlet said from above them, “Is it safe enough to rest here?”

“No,” Bronwen said, his breathing still labored. “Riordan… could change his mind. We’ve been here… been here too long already.”

“Come on, then.” Scarlet offered Dante a hand up, but he waved it away.

“I need just a second.”

She helped Bronwen up first instead. He groaned as he rose, and still held his side, but was much less pale. “Come on,” she said to Dante, insistently thrusting her hand at him. “Up.”

He took her hand, wobbled to his feet, and they slowly began the journey back to Deianira.