“The spell, Genmiol. Undo the spell.”

Chief Grimm stands over Berg as she rests on her bed, as does Ren and the others. A few children gather around as well, curious as to what’s attracted the attention of the adults.

“And why should I?” Berg asks, an edge in her voice.

“Because the Horseman isn’t here to protect you now,” Vane says. “You are on your own.”

Berg huffs. She doesn’t retort, not at all, and Ren thinks he knows why. Deep down, she knows that what Vane said is true. That deal she made with the Horseman was just that—a deal. If either of them were ever in danger, there was no chance that the other would help.

Berg’s captured, surrounded and with no way out. Ren doesn’t even think that the Bevillian soldiers would attempt a rescue mission. Maybe to save their captain, but Ren hardly thinks that Berg would be on the receiving end of any of their altruism.

She’s literally got nothing else to lose—undoing that spell wouldn’t cost her anything.

“That’s… true,” Berg says, after the longest time. “I suppose this is karmic retribution, isn’t it?”

“Retribution? I’d say you’re getting off pretty lightly for all the damage you’ve caused, over some petty revenge,” Penny says.

“Petty revenge!” Berg snarls. “How dare you say that like you know what I’ve been through? Have you ever had your mother killed right in front of your eyes? Whilst believing whatever that’s been forced down your throat?”

“What do you mean?” Gridel asks, brows furrowed.

Berg sneers. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You fell victim to the same lies that they’ve been spouting.”

“‘They’?” Penny asks. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“Them!” Berg stabs a finger at Chief Grimm, but the man looks less than perturbed, meeting her gaze evenly. “Him and… and Sylph. That ‘great’ spirit.”

“Lies? What kind of lies?” Gridel asks.

“The barrier will protect us, they said,” Berg singsongs mockingly. “We’ll be safe as long as we stay inside it. The same mantra, repeated again, and again, and again. Look how well that turned out for the both of us.”

“Surely, you cannot expect that Sylph would be able to keep the barrier up all the time,” Gridel says. “She may be a spirit, but even spirits may make mistakes.”

Berg harrumphs. “Do you feel no anger, then? That the people who should have protected you didn’t?”

“They are not the ones to blame for the tragedy that I suffered. I lost my memory when I washed up on Gravelle’s shores,” Gridel says. “I harbour no ill will towards those criminals who kidnapped me. To tell the truth, I… only learned about this recently.”

Berg folds her arms.

“If I were to feel any sort of hatred, then I would loathe the person who sent the bandits to attack the village in the first place. In other words, you.”

“That’s…” Berg flounders. “I—”

“I admit that I was probably lucky in that I became amnesiac,” Gridel says coldly. “Otherwise, I probably would have turned into someone like you, who committed crime after crime in order to seek revenge against the people who failed you.” She spins on her heels, her back to Berg, disgusted by the very person herself.

“What do you know, you—!” Berg clenches her fists. “You’ve never had to grieve for anyone! You never had to—”

“I lost many dear friends on the battlefield,” Gridel murmurs. “All to the Horseman of Death. For you, who’ve sat high and mighty on your throne this whole time, toying with the lives of others… you have no right to speak of grief.”

And with that, she exits the room, leaving silence in her wake. Ren glances from the empty doorway, and back to Berg. The latter still looks unconvinced, her gaze on the wall, refusing to meet the beady little eyes of the children gathered around.

Slowly, but surely, with nothing else to see, the children leave as well. All hushed whispers and questions, like they knew something big had gone down, but are not sure what. The room clears, till Ren, Vane, Berg, and Chief Grimm are left in the room. Penny chased after Gridel to check up on her.

Ren turns back to Berg. “We’re leaving to fight the Horseman tomorrow. Just so you know. And, just saying, but we’ll do whatever it takes to remove that spell.”

Berg merely gives a grunt of discontentment. Chief Grimm shoos them out of the room, telling them that he’d have a talk with her later, after they partake in dinner. As Ren approaches the door, with Vane and Chief Grimm walking ahead, he can’t help but toss a glance back at Berg’s pitiful form.

Embittered by the death of her mother, using that hatred as fuel to punish the people she thought were responsible, her entire life consumed by the fires of hate.

Her shoes are one pair that Ren never wants to wear.

*

“Money buys power, and power is something I can use to exact my revenge.”

Ren stops in his tracks, right in front of the room that should be housing Berg, whilst heading back to his room after a hearty dinner. That was her voice, but who is she talking to? Eavesdropping isn’t the most noble of acts—but it’s not like Ren’s never done this before. So, he presses his back against the wall, pricking his ears up and listening.

“And yet, your revenge amounted to nothing.” That’s Chief Grimm’s voice. This must be the talk that he informed them about. “What was the point of it all, then?”

“It just wasn’t the time yet. I still had—”

“You had the entire city under your control. Even the Captain of the Guard feared you. You could have sent an army marching out to Gyldon anytime and you would have decimated us.”

“I couldn’t have done it. Not with Gilroy still around. He was the biggest roadblock to my success. If not for him, then I would have laid waste to Gyldon so many years ago, and taken Sylph out whilst I was at it.”

“Are you sure?” Chief Grimm asks knowingly. Ren can almost see his twinkling eyes in his head. “You could have ordered the Horseman to kill Gilroy. The children told me about it.”

“That’s— Gilroy offered himself up, that foolish man.”

“Foolish? Hardly,” Chief Grimm says. “Not according to the children’s accounts, no. Gilroy was an honourable man, who died for the cause he believed in.”

“Huh?” Now Berg sounds confused, her voice pitching higher.

“One of the children told me all about it. Gilroy died for the sake of the children that he saved—it was their lives lost to the plague, or his.”

“But the Horseman still infected some of them anyway,” Berg says. “Gilroy’s efforts were useless in the end.”

“The Horseman did go back on his words, yes. But at the time, when he had to decide, Gilroy made a choice that he would not regret. He thought only of the children’s safety, and nothing of his own. His heart was in the right place.”

Berg says nothing. The room remains deadly silent. Ren pricks his ears up, hoping to hear more, and trying not to feel guilty about eavesdropping on such an important conversation.

“I think that whilst you were wronged, and you sought to commit evil acts, you never truly followed through with them because—”

“If you’re going to start talking about loyalty, I suggest you stop now.” Berg sneers, but there is no animosity in that tone. In fact, it sounds almost as though she’s trying to convince herself. “I feel nothing towards that backward village.”

Chief Grimm chuckles. “Of course. Take time to sort out your emotions, Genmiol. And ask yourself why you didn’t bother to ruin our village when you had the chance.”

The bed rustles, and Ren’s heart thumps hard against his ribcage. He hurries past the door, making sure to keep to the shadows. However, he fears that he’d been seen—he’s never been too great being stealthy.

Chief Grimm pauses halfway across the room, when Berg speaks again. “About that spell.”

“Hmm?” Chief Grimm hums.

“I’m going to remove it. Those kids were right. That thing isn’t on my side anymore. I have no reason to protect it.”

The chief chuckles. “I see. Whatever you reason, Genmiol, I’m glad you decided to cooperate.”

Berg harrumphs. Ren smiles, and he turns towards the corridor leading to his room. It’s time for him to hit the sack. God knows he’d need the energy tomorrow.

*

“Where the hell were you?” Penny cries, hands on her hips. Their band of four agreed to meet outside the temple, by where Sylph rests. The spirit offered to fly them to the top of Drasil Mountain, in spite of Her wounds. Whilst Penny tried to decline, Sylph wouldn’t take no for an answer. Here they are, ready to do battle with yet another harbinger (or spawn) of the apocalypse.

“Getting my coat,” Ren says, patting the animal fur cloak on his shoulders. He is the last person to hop onto Sylph’s back, scrambling up Her viridian scales. Gridel helps to pull him up onto Her body, such that he’s seated between Penny and herself.

“Are you sure it’s all right to leave now?” Vane asks. “Wouldn’t you want to say goodbye to our associates?”

“Well, it’s better than having the kids cling on to us and refusing to let us go,” Penny says. “We can always come back and see them once we’re done getting rid of the Horseman.”

It’s probably for the better, Ren thinks. He glances back at the temple—he still remembers Berg and Chief Grimm’s conversation, about how she’d remove the spell. Now, he can only hope that she wouldn’t go back on her word.

“Are we ready?” Sylph asks, Her voice as gentle as ever.

“Yeah. Definitely ready,” Penny says.

With a flap of Her massive wings, Sylph takes to the skies. She weaves through the dense, icy clouds for a mere second, before swooping to a more manageable altitude. Ren presses his body close to Hers, simply hating the way his stomach does flipflops.

This is not the first time that Ren has ridden on Sylph’s back. However, this is the first time he’s able to look down and be wowed by the forests below. Large patches of green topped with the white of snow breeze by in a blur, punctuated by grey rocks and boulders. Packs of wolves run about in the featureless tundra, whilst lonesome Bugbears roam the land.

The trip to Drasil Mountain may take half a day or so by foot from Beville, but it’s a couple of minutes’ journey from the Horseman’s palace by air. Very soon, Ren can hear the winds howling by his ears as they ascend the mountain.

“The Horseman is waiting for us at the very top,” Sylph says, the urgency clear in Her voice. “Draw your weapons!”

Ren grabs Ifrit from his strap, the wood firm against his fingers. Its red orb swirls and glows with crimson light, the warm energy it radiates seeping into Ren’s skin. They go higher and higher, the cold whipping their cloaks about them. Ren clutches tightly to his, shivering violently in the wake of the tempest.

Sylph grunts, and She jerks back as though She ran into a wall. She hurtles away from Drasil Mountain’s peak, body thrust back by an invisible force. Penny screams, clutching tightly to Sylph’s scales. Peering over Her shoulder, Ren can only see what looks to be a cyclone consuming the mountain’s peak. Winds tinged with green, with no plans of letting anything breach it.

Is the Horseman hiding out in the eye of the storm? Now that his palace has been taken over, his army revolting against him, and his biggest ally, Berg, has been captured, he’s afraid. Afraid that they’d come for his heart and slay him for good.

And they have.

“We may have to disperse the cyclone if we are to get any closer. Or we will have to break our way through,” Sylph says. “I suppose I can accomplish the latter, but as soon as we are through, you must be ready to take on the Horseman.”

“Well,” Penny says, glancing from one friend to the next, “we’re definitely ready. Do your thing, Sylph!”

Without further ado, Sylph winds up, Her entire body curling up like a compressed spring. Ren tightens his grip on Penny’s waist, and on Ifrit.

“Hold on!” Sylph cries.

A shriek tears from Ren’s throat as Sylph shoots forth, as fast as a rocket. The wind whips by his face, and he ducks his head when they near the tornado. Blades of air cut into his skin, as though they were trying to slice him apart. Pinpricks of pain spider along his limbs, all across his torso, and even his face.

However, the pain ceases just as suddenly as it had come. Ren opens his eyes, finding the peak of Drasil Mountain vastly different from how he remembered it. Back when he came with the Bevillian soldiers to harvest the Duskbells, the place was flourishing. With an entire field of those violet beauties in bloom, surrounded by mounds of snow, watched over by a magnificent tree.

However, the summit of the mountain is now barren. Not a single Duskbell in sight. The tree is also shaved away, now nothing more than a dead stump buried in the snow. Waiting for them—alone with his steed this time—is the Horseman, clutching his heart tightly to his breastplate.

Sylph comes to a halt in front of the Horseman, allowing Her passengers to disembark. Penny is the first to hop off Her, landing lightly on the blanket of snow, followed by Gridel, then Ren, then Vane. Ren can feel the Horseman’s piercing gaze on him, as though drilling holes into his very skull.

“You don’t have a team of horses with you?” Ren asks.

The Horseman doesn’t answer, and he continues to stare them down. Ren’s gaze flits to the heart tucked under his arm.

“The cyclone is much too strong for me to remain here,” Sylph says. “I will have to leave you for now.”

“Yeah,” Penny agrees, without looking away from their enemy. “You did lots. We’ll see you after the whole thing’s over.”

“Aerius,” the Horseman breathes. “How dare you run.”

“Aerius?” Sylph laughs. “This is Sylph. Aerius no longer walks this earth in this form.”

Isn’t Aerius… the name of Gridel’s crossbow? But from this exchange, that means that…

“Stealing her body… You desecrate Aerius’ honour,” the Horseman says, drawing his sword, blade pointed at Sylph. “She was a worthy opponent, and I have not yet found an adversary as skilled and talented as she was.”

“I’m sure Aerius is glad to hear that,” Sylph says. Ren can almost imagine the cheeky wink that usually accompanies that tone. However, Sylph does not stay long. She winds herself up, coiling and ready to barrel through the wall of green once more.

“You aren’t getting away!” the Horseman bellows. He raises his blade, prepared to charge at Sylph. At that moment, a bolt soars through the air. It hits the sword with a sharp clink and diverts the Horseman’s attention away from Her. With a roar, Sylph springs back through the tornado, parting the wall of wind effortlessly.

“You…” The Horseman’s voice is raspy, dry like sandpaper. “You are the Luminaries.”

Gridel nocks another bolt to her crossbow, her finger on the trigger and ready to pull it. “We are companions of the Luminaries. But we share the same goal: to erase you and your kind for good.”

Penny nods, drawing Mira, and water splashes to the ground. “That’s right We’re here to take your heart from you if it’s the last thing we do.”

The Horseman’s laugh is deep and rumbly, his cackle echoing throughout the peak of Drasil Mountain. He tugs on his reins, and his horse turns to face them, the barest puffs of mist wisping from its flared nostrils as it stares them down. Ren clutches his staff tight, not once backing away from the duo.

“Very well,” the Horseman says, his blade stabbed in their direction. “If it is death you seek… You will fall by my hand, just like the warrior who came before you.”