She trudged through the dim lit street with only the sound of her waterlogged boots to accompany her. Flickering lamplights guided her, but the inn where her friends waited was still a fair walk away. The panther would no doubt be in a mood, it was long past her time to return. But compared to Zack, Eclipse was a walk in the park. Something about the knight made her want to punch him; perhaps he reminded her why she fled Alexanderia to begin with. It was a place that preached tolerance but ignored its own bloody history. The society’s unattainable expectations suffocated any flicker of personality. Her stomach twisted; if Lollardum was a death wish, then Alexanderia was life imprisonment. But fate left her no choice, Allan needed to be warned, which meant her unexpected and resentful return.

Moira’s staff dragged behind her, a weighted burden taxing her strength and resolve. As a trail of water splattered the cobblestones; the arrogant knight proved more deadly than she anticipated. How did she not sense the magic in the blade? No matter, she’d be more cautious next time. If there was a next time. If was honest, she never wanted to see his face again. The Great Zack Dawson could die in a hole for all she cared. Her back molars grind against each other as she remembered his annoying smirk.

But a warm wave washed down her spine. She first felt it as they entered the kingdom. Before it was faint, a puzzle of some kind, but as her feet froze in place, she recognized it. The sensation pulsed at the base of her neck, and her body trembled as it remembered. The street was empty, even the homeless beggars had stumbled from their corners. The chittering rats were silent, so was the abundance of felines who hunt them. Patches of light broke through the cracks in the shuttered windows. Her breath hitched, as noticed she was alone. Well, except for him.

The scent of cloves mixed with hot sand drifted under her nose. It brought memories of ink-stained fingers and watching the stars from the desert dunes. Her heart pounded in her chest as it recalled the fear that once coursed through her body. She kept still, like a deer in a clearing and fought to keep her knees from buckling. It was her imagination; he was after another. The haunting aroma lingered, drifted over her, and wrapped her into a dangerous hug. Footsteps, measured and calculated, floated over the cobblestones. Reality snapped the foolish fantasy apart. The hunter approached.

“So, this is where you ended up.” She fought the quiver in her voice, trying to sound braver than she felt. He stopped behind her but she didn’t turn around; she couldn’t bare to look upon the creature that ruined her life. “Our world has laws, expectations appointed by Zander. Or have you chosen to defy his Word?”

“You are stalling, then again your kind prefers to fill the world with words. Be that as it may, lecture me if you desire. But your beloved Eclipse will not save you this time.”

An ancient world lingered in his hypnotizing voice. Soft and smooth, it rolled over her ears. There was a time she clung to them. But her mind pulsed, forcing her muscles to tense; danger is all it told. His cloak ruffled. She sprang into a run, the muscles uncoiling, as she raced through the street.

Her chest heaved as she pushed her body past exhaustion, operating on adrenaline alone. His patient footsteps followed, the clear precise sound of a master predator in control of his surroundings. Shuttered windows and boarded doors zoomed by her. Their shapes and addresses a blur in her watery eyes. She fought the vision of a memory, a nightmare and now a dangerous reality all rolled into one.

She turned into a narrow backstreet between two rundown buildings. Lights glowed from the cracks of boarded windows on the top floor. In her desperation she jerked the nearest doorknob, twisting, rattling it, and when it didn’t open, she tried the neighbour. And the next. Each door locked. Each owner refused to answer. She didn’t blame them, but she hated them all the same. His footprints echo through the thoroughfare. Sweat stuck to her skin, her heart leapt into her throat as she tried the next one.

A click. Her heart swelled. A twist. As his form rounded the corner she ducked inside. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness; outlines of objects took shape. She slowed her breathing; he was prowling outside and any noise could alert him. Unlike her, he won’t allow a door to get in his way. Ahead of what was possibly a crumbled pile of bricks was a warm glow. Maneuvering around broken chairs, bricks and rotting crates, she reached the exit. The glow led to the interior door which someone forgot to lock.

She stepped into the crooked windowless hallway; candles littered lopsided tables creating menacing shadows along the grimy walls. The worn floorboards creaked under her boots. The low ceiling felt like it would collapse on her at any given moment. To her dismay more doors lined one side of the hallway. But it was the unidentified stains on the baseboards that prevented her from knocking. The building didn’t feel as safe as she first thought, and the longer she lingered the worse it felt. No light or movement came from behind the doors, but that didn’t mean the occupants didn’t know she was there.

Near the end of the hallway, she found her exit. A set of crooked stairs leading to walnut door left ajar. Taking tentative steps, she climbed the stairs but paused to listen to the dwellers on the other side. The doorknob was new, compared to the rest of the wood beside it. She wondered if the inhabitant left the doors opened and if it was a usual occurrence. Perhaps a previous break in required a new lock? Either way, the occupants’ blunder was her saving grace.

She entered a quaint foyer, belonging to a residential home. She climbed three steps and reached the dark landing. A thin decorative rug lay at her feet leading to the stained white door. Cheap planks covered the flanking window on the left side. On the right, clouded glass reflected the glow from the lamps outside. Another set of stairs led to the living space above. A door upstairs slammed shut but she didn’t wait to find out who was awake.

The house exited onto an enclosed stone courtyard. Bars hugged the narrow windows on the first story. While except for her door and one other, all had hefty padlocks. A curved, if not crumbling, entranceway marked the only exit to the street. It was wide enough for a horse and cart, but not high enough for a carriage. The lamps provided enough light but stopped short of the furthest corners. Music float over the courtyard, and she noticed one building with smoke steaming through the chimney. The warm sensation pulsed at the back of her head, like the beginning of a migraine. Then came the footsteps, even paced and steady. Her body protested as she moved. But she needed help; it wasn’t safe in the open.

She was in no condition to use magic and lacked the skills to pick a lock. She followed the music to the only other accessible door. Shelves of salts, spices, and preserves greeted her as she entered the unknown storeroom. A maze of crates of produce and spare chairs laid scattered over the floor. A dead pig hung from the ceiling in the far corner. The music grew louder, cheers and drunk singing rang out from the other side of the door. A tavern, a lively one, with people. Her body relaxed, and she felt tears well in her eyes. She entered the main room, passing a bar maid in the narrow passage, and stood beside the busy bar counter. The lean man pouring the hempy beverage in a drunkard gave her a sideline glance.

“Please, I need help,” she fought the quiver in her voice. Her heart swelled at the sight of another person. But the bartender retreated from her as a hand tapped her shoulder. It was a slender woman, with wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and framing her mouth. Her chestnut hair was greying at the roots by her ears and remained in a a tight bun at the top of her head.

“Can I help you dear,”

“There’s someone after me. Please, can I stay here until they leave?” She wasn’t sure he would give up the hunt entirely but it would give her time to rest. To get a reprieve before she faced him again.

“Dell, what’s this?” A burly man, six foot tall with a face that told her he lost his patience long ago. Every hair on his head migrated to his face, and the set of unkempt eyebrows concealed most of his eyes. But he pursed his lips when he noticed her staff. She was so preoccupied with escaping, she forgot where she was. “Your kind aren’t welcomed here.”

The jovial music stopped as he crossed his arms and puffed his chest. She squeezed her staff with her sweaty palm as all eyes fell to her. Various expressions from curiosity, annoyance, to hatred reflected towards her. She chided herself for showing vulnerability.

“I don’t mean any harm,” she kept her voice even, a difficult task considering his advancement towards her.

“What were you doing in the back room?” he grabbed her wrist, yanking it above her head, “stealing from me were you?”

“No, I told her, I was being chased. I wanted help.”

“What has your kind done for us? You won’t find help here. Now get, or I’ll call the guard. Do you fancy a few days in the Tower?” He released his iron grip dropping her on her knees. “Get!”

Three men standing behind the owner acted as bodyguards and forced her out. They made sure to spit at her as she crossed the doorway before slamming the door. The lamp across the street was out; creating a dark void in front of the tavern. She clutched her chest, hoping to calm her pounding heart. She didn’t recognise the street she was on. Nor the name of the tavern. But it was painfully obvious why she never frequented it before. The music riled up, soon in full swing as it was before.

A lead pipe rolled in the dark corner of the street. Death's icy grip clamped over her throat as her back smashed against a wooden shed. Panic. Immobilizing, heart wrenching panic tore through her. His astute golden gaze bore into hers. Not again, please no. The thin lips, a shallow pink, tugged on one side. But the grip, his marble hand was as inflexible as the stone. One hand effortlessly lifted her, until only her toes reached the ground.

The street darkened and blurry spots formed at the edge of her vision. A forgotten wound bisecting her ribs throbbed. Her body remembered, even as her mind raced to form a plan. But her limbs were heavy and the sound of her staff hitting the stone felt distant.

"I regret our last parting, a bittersweet farewell. Forgive me but I was not about to miss out on a second chance. Your scent was always captivating." If stalking her wasn’t his plan, and he was on his own, why Lollardum. They didn’t like crowded hunting grounds, preferring their anonymity over mass panic.

"We don't get second chances Rian. That's the rules." His gripped tighten. "You're supposed to abandon the hunt and leave me be."

A heavy object rattled the planks behind her. It boomed, knocking her to her senses.

"Hey!" A flash of fire shot between them, breaking his grip on her. He leapt backwards and she collapsed into the hay littering the ground. A young man about her age held her staff and pointed at Rian. "Don't know who you are, but you're scaring the horses."

Horses? Her world fell into focus, neighing followed the banging behind her. Even the smell, he attacked near the tavern’s stable. He backed away, watching the newcomer and staff with an unblinking eye. She fumbled to her feet, joining the man with her staff. Rian slipped away, disappearing into the shadows as if he was never there.

“Thanks, you saved me.”

“You gotta be careful, there’s monsters out there hunting Mages.”

“A monster?”

“We call him shadow.”

“It's Rian.”

“What?”

“You're Shadow’s name is Rian. And that was him”

“No way, there's no way a guy like me could scare a monster like that away.”

“Have you used a staff before?”

“No,” he hung his head, turning it in his hands.

“Picking up a staff and instantly producing a viable attack isn't an easy task. I recommend you start practicing some simple manipulations.”

“Really? I never thought I was any good.”

“Only you know how far your magic will take you, but I don't think learning some basics wouldn't hurt. I'm Moira by the way.”

“Vahan, I'm the stable hand here. How do you know so much about that guy? And how come he fled like that? Seems silly, don't it? We aren’t exactly soldiers.”

“Only one,” she mumbled as she accepted the staff.

“Come again?”

“Book Four of the Code of Conduct. They can only fight one Mage at a time. So, the Gods will it, so it must be done.” But why did he choose to obey that law but not the other?

“There's more than one book of the Code of Conduct?”

“Yeah, well only if you're a glutton for punishment like me. Usually, one is enough for a lifetime.” Her peers survived the Academy with reading the main text outlining the relationship between Mage and Innocent. But whenever the professors deemed her insolent, Eclipse confined her to the library until she memorized an entire passage. Her rebellious tendencies introduced her to all four books. “I don't recommend challenging him any time soon. But it won't hurt to know what you're up against. Do you know Mister Drover?”

“Everyone knows him.”

“Fair enough. Seek him out, tell him I sent you. The girl with the Opal, he’ll know who you mean. Tell him to read Book Four of the Code. That's where you'll find the bit about Shadow. I would stay and help, but I'm exhausted and I need to return to my companions.”

She stood on the street corner staring at the inn. Quiet hung over the darken building. She had left Eclipse with Sara at a promise of one quick errand. Her body ached; her mind too tired to think struggled to grasp at the fragments of the night’s adventures. A charismatic thief. Zack, the knight with the magic weapon. Rian hunting the streets of Lollardum. What did the Gods force their paths to cross with hers? She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. Tomorrow she would leave the kingdom and never look back. A golden stare from judgmental eyes greeted her from the staircase.

“Where have you been? Have any idea how long you were gone?” Eclipse blocked her path, but she moved past him as she climbed the steps. “And why do you look like a drowned cat?”

“Save it for the morning.”