A chill always enveloped me whenever I was around Brother Blake. Apparently, I was the only one that felt it. It wasn’t the sudden silence that fell like a curtain whenever he walked into our field of vision, or the tension that builds the longer we stay in his presence. It was a cold spot hanging in the air. It wrapped me now, a cold blanket, as he led me away from the formation and far into the distance.

“Where are we going?” My voice sounded even smaller with his large hands on my shoulder. His eyes were rheumy obsidian. I did not like looking at them. I feared that the blackness will swallow me whole.

He did not answer.

Blake had not a shred of Wilbur’s patience as he took me away. Wilbur would swerve me gently to avoid obstacles or kick big stones out of our path. Blake did not. Yet, I did not trip. It seemed that roots, rocks, and grass wilted and crumbled away at his feet.

Swithin stood on a mound, looking beyond. There was a harsh glow ahead, a flaming waving thing that disturbed the darkness – a torch. Once we were beside him, Swithin muttered. “Night patrol. I knew I smelled something off. Forgive me, Brother. I chose a different route than the one we are treading. I didn’t see the outpost.”

Two fireballs, strong against the winds, cast just enough light on the people holding them. Swithin described them for us with his owl-like eyes. “Two men are standing outside what appears to be a makeshift shed. They are holding spears.” He squinted, then he shuffled and sniffed the air. “Something isn’t right. They are pouring something into the flames that affect my vision. It doesn’t smell like oil.”

A curious thing happened then. The flames crackled like logs on a fireplace. They rose higher, burned from red to green in an instant and swirled together into a giant candle. We saw the shed now, heard one of the men shout, “Be careful with that!”

His companion responded with urgency. “The dogs are acting up. There is someone out there.”

Dogs. Knox’s tricks would be useless now. They saw through the veil of his illusions. It was one of the reasons why our monasteries didn’t tolerate them. Crows, ravens, and owls, yes. But never dogs. They hated us. Knox harbored an equal hatred; their incessant yapping broke the spell of his concentration so he could not conjure apparitions.

A low growl beside us made me jump. I thought they had already let loose one of their hounds as a trap. I thought there must be a pack of them in this field. Even if he had taken another path. how could Swithin not have seen this? He was our huntsman; he knew how to track animals and people, knew where to find the next footprint, the next mark of his prey. He knew exactly what kind of weapon left marks on trees.

We played a game of hide and seek once, more for his entertainment than mine. I flipped stones to cover my tracks. I crossed a river to wash off my scent and hid myself under a pile of boulders. It was dangerous, but I was determined to win. He found me in no time. He rolled the boulder over, smiling triumphantly. You left other markers, Erin, he chuckled, holding short strands of my wet hair. And I can spot a deliberate hiding spot a mile away.

You could never ambush or surprise Swithin. But there he was on the ground, growling like a cornered animal. He scratched his eyes, and covered his face with his hood. He whimpered, he whined. “It’s burning my face!” He was trying not to shout.

My eyes widened. “Swithin?”

Blake looked towards the men, still waving their great torches, their dogs warning them about us. He spoke coolly. “It seems that they now suspect supernatural danger in the dark. I suppose it was a matter of time. They will blame their neighbors, and then they will blame fate, then they will blame us. Fall back to the formation, Brother. We will handle this.”

Swithin, his hands over his nose, looked at Blake to make sure he heard correctly. He was thankful. Before he scampered back, he left us with information. “They look like farmers, but they may be citadel soldiers wearing simple tunics.”

Citadel soldiers? Blake pushed me forward, ignoring my wide eyes.

I did not know what he was thinking. There was only one constant rule in all our travels; one law that we all obeyed. I must not interact with the common people any longer than was necessary. He only showed me to the public once; the first time we arrived in a village. I suspected it was because to garner sympathy for my pitiful appearance. I would stand with the brothers, always beside Wilbur, my hood lifted just enough to reveal the skin that looked like broken glass. Fathers would murmur to their wives. Mothers would shield their children from such a gruesome sight. Children would point while hiding behind skirts. Then I would disappear into the bowels of the monastery, never to resurface until the blanket of night, until Wilbur calls me for help. Years passed, as years always did, and people claimed that they imagined me.

Woodrow was amused. He, the only one allowed to mingle with people, told us that I had become a legend; the ghost of a monk child that succumbed to his illness. A ruined cherub, they said, who had not reached the halls of heaven. He appeared in their dreams, wiping the cold sweat from their brow. Some say that this cherub was always peeping under your cloak, Wilbur dear, Woodrow taunted. They say he collects tired souls and guides them away. Wilbur and I tried our best to not look at each other.

Now, Brother Blake broke his own rule. He brought me forward to a threatening duo who could be armed soldiers in disguise, holding great torches that overstimulated our brother’s hyper senses, reigning in a pair of snarling dogs.

There was a noise of struggle behind us. I heard Knox hiss. “Be still!”

Brother Blake tutted. “Your primary guardian has always been overprotective of you. I must admit, it has become rather irritating.” He leaned toward me, his breath cold as death. “Erin, do you remember when you begged me not to cast him out?”

I did. It was one of the rare moments when he called me into his quarters. He told me that Knox can undoubtedly absorb Wilbur’s collection of knowledge and take on his duties. Wilbur would then be set free, out into the world.

I stared at him. “But didn’t you say that it wasn’t safe for us?” I stammered. One man walking alone is as good as dead. “They would attack him.”

“I imagine so,” he said, rolling parchment on his desk.

“But he can’t –” I didn’t want to say that he was weak. “He’s not as invulnerable as you, Brother. And he is one of us!” That did nothing to change his mind. I reached for stronger arguments in my panicking mind. “You know as well as I that even if Knox can follow his journals, metals will not transform under his touch. Nor will barks and roots. The best he can come up with is an herbal remedy and a quick metallic poison to their bloodstream.”

Blake seemed to consider it. “Hm. Knox may not do it precisely, but he can do well enough. At the very least, he can make your medicines. I trust you’ll be there to help him, won’t you?”

“Trade Wilbur’s company for Knox? I’d rather run off with Wilbur.” I didn’t realize that I spoke it. There was an impulse to put my hand over my mouth. I ignored it. The image of being so close to Knox repulsed me. My life was nothing but hiding from view, and now I have to spend the little liberties of my existence I had with someone who despised me? It was prison.

“You would run with a guardian who can’t even defend you than be with us?”

“I’ll take my chances with him. If this is how you treat whom you deem worthless, then I shall spare you the decision of weeding me out. Brother.” I checked myself.

Blake grinned; an expression out of place. “My, but such force. I never knew you had the courage.” He was eyeing me, testing me. “What would you do if I allowed him to remain as your caretaker?”

Anything you want, was the immediate answer. Blake seemed to study me, but I knew that he was smiling behind his clasped hands. He nodded. He pretended to consider. “So be it, Erin. I shall keep him for now. Mediocre as his talents may be, I suppose a learned alchemist is better than none.”

Why not send me away with him, I wondered. If anyone should go, it was I.

Now, as he led me forward, I realized how stupid I was not to think that he was merely bluffing. He could have used his powers over me, why didn’t he? Perhaps he has decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble of exhibiting his power. He wanted my submission with little force and I caved in.

I sent myself into this situation. Brother Blake doesn’t want to be tested.

They did not seem to hear our footsteps. Their eyes helplessly scanned the blackness in front of them, their big torches waving. The dogs stopped their barking. Their heads both snapped in our direction. It was a shame that dogs didn’t like us. I valued their loyalty to their masters. Even now, as their ears pointed upwards and they again began to growl, it was because they loved the men holding them back. If they did not feel such deep devotion, they would have tucked tails and ran, just like Swithin.

“What do you want me to do?” Fear was a rare visitor. Now, fear was in my shaking hands, my unwilling steps, and my voice.

The dogs have started barking now, louder and more ferocious than ever. They pulled against the chains on their necks, their jaws threatening to chew me to bits. I have never seen the others bleed, or get hurt in any way. I certainly can. Wilbur takes a phial of my blood every year to study it.

“Imagine a fire that can hinder our brother Swithin,” he observed, his wolf-like hands now clutching my tunic’s neckline. “And dogs to rattle Knox. I don’t suppose Woodrow can charm them now that they’re this suspicious and alert, do you, Erin? No, it is up to us to ensure safe passage for our brothers.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I said again.

He didn’t respond. Blake Just looked ahead, until finally, the flames had reached us. I looked at Wilbur in alarm, but Knox had concealed them in shadow.

“Halt there!”

We stopped at the edge of the light, a circular border that shielded them from threats lurking in the dark. Our faces reflected each other’s looks of confusion and bewilderment. Their faces did not carry the hardiness of elite soldiers, and the way they held their weapons betrayed their lack of experience. The fingers around my neck softened. Looking at their sunken eyes and thin frames, these farmers had become prey.

Blake’s breath was pleasant under his hood. “Good evening.”

One of the men looked more frightened than the other. He was the one who made the fire brighter. He gaped like a fish, mouth forming silent words. Cold sweat plastered his mud-stained hair to his forehead.

The other man, the one that looked more sensible, looked at our clothes and the crosses that dangled on our necks. “Why would monks be walking at a time like this?”

Blake pointed to the torches they were holding with his free hand. “Please. Your fire is too bright.”

There was a pail of water nearby. The men did not approach it. I warned them through my eyes. No, don’t put out your fire. The sensible man looked at Blake. While his companion was shaking, his composure was calm. He did not douse the fire, but raised it higher and positioned it slightly behind his head.

“No. First, let me see your faces.”

Blake did not reveal himself right away. He thought of his next move as he fumbled through his robes. “Certainly,” he said, finally. “Erin, let us show these men our faces.”

We lifted our hoods back. They could be thinking about a number of things by now. They could have thought that we were thieves disguised as monks. But the moment they saw me, they stepped back. If they were suspicious of us before, now they were scared. The frightened man touched the handle of his club. My heart banged in my chest. It has been so long since I was this near to villagers; the ones who still breathed and walked fine on two legs, anyway.

“What is wrong with him?”

Brother Blake feigned affection. His finger slid down my jaw and rested on my shoulder. I suppressed the urge to shiver, instead looking helplessly at the sensible man’s eyes.

“He has a sickness we could not determine. Not the plague, no. It isn’t contagious. But it leaves him with such an odd appearance.”

They stared as if I wasn’t real. They had covered their noses when they saw me, thinking the sickness would quickly latch onto them. “But his veins. He is not normal.” Little did they know that I was the least strange in our little group.

“Please, can you turn down your flames? My old eyes cannot take it.”

The men had pulled the snarling dogs with them when they moved back, but those teeth still wanted my flesh. In spite of their master’s hold, their spit landed on the thin cloth protecting my ankle. Would I get sick from their bite?

“Please,” I repeated. I was not sure if I was pleading to Blake or to the two men.

Hearing my voice snapped their attention away from the veins ever-present on my skin and back to the space lit by their torches.

The calm man nodded to his companion. “Are you sure?” After a nod, he walked back to the side of the shed, dragging the unwilling dogs with him. We heard the chains being hung on what I imagined to be a hook on a wall.

While he was away, his companion asked us, “Brother, surely you could have traveled during daylight? And with such a frail cargo? At your age?” Most people let fear overtake their senses. This man did not.

“We traveled with the rest of our brothers,” Blake began, making his voice sound old and strained. “But we got separated when thieves hiding in the forest attacked us.”

“How lowly of them to attack pious men.”

“Indeed. Erin and I count ourselves fortunate that they did not harm us. We could not defend ourselves, even if we tried. Thankfully, we convinced them to take the donkey pulling our wagon of cheese and fish. And once they saw Erin, they nodded amongst themselves and fled. They must have thought we all would die shortly, anyway.”

The calm man did not seem to absorb Blake’s barb humor. He looked at me again and I sensed a subtle shift in his focus. I have gotten better at picking up these subtle cues. He was trying to unsee the veins lurking beneath my arms and face. He was trying to be kind. His tone was soft when he addressed me. “Are you all right now, lad?”

There were other questions in his eyes. Blake answered them. “Little Erin here is an orphan, abandoned at our monastery steps some years back. We’ve been looking after him since then.”

“How lucky you are,” he said.

I stifled a scoff. I knew of young boys sheltered in monasteries. The monks would be their foster family; their guardians and teachers, their brothers in the faith. They would be learned, but in return, they would offer their lives in solemn servitude. All they would ever know is to work and pray for the rest of their days, shunning all vice and excess pleasure. Some prefer it than to live in a hostile world.

“Why were you on the road to begin with?”

Blake’s answers were quicker than the man’s questions. “The lord governing the town near our monastery was good enough to reward us land for all our hard work. We are thankful for the gift, although, bless him, we do not serve him nor recognize his authority. We simply devote ourselves to the land and its people, and we nurture their body and soul the best we can.” Blake smiled at the man.

“Just as well, too. Although we are happy to stay in our humble abode, we have heard passing news that a great fever sweeps the town, seizing everyone, man and woman, child and elderly. They often fall to the ground once touched. They can’t even reach our doorstep to save themselves in time, not that we can help them.”

How easy it was for him to lie, to make up stories. With Woodrow’s charm, we wouldn’t have bothered with lying. We could have just shut him up and told him what to do.

“We have heard about this fever. I don’t suppose any of your doctors there have found a cure? Any answers you can divine?”

“I’m afraid not. I am afraid the sky hasn’t opened up to reveal their answers.”

The sky hasn’t opened up at all. Patches of clouds clumped together. It was always the same whenever we traveled. Sunlight was so rare that if one saw a single ray slashing through the gray, people likened it to a beacon of gold descending from the heavens.

Brother Blake placed both of his hands on my bony shoulders. “What I do know is the next thing to be done. For what’s best for little Erin here. We move to the land yonder where the fever can’t touch him. I am afraid that his body will not handle it. I am sure the lord will be safe in his keep.”

“Him and all the other nobles,” he spat.

The man’s companion had returned by then. His eyes narrowed then widened when Blake told his story, his chest quivering. He looked more frightened, except he was shaking with the effort to conceal it. He went back inside the shed. It sounded like he was dragging barrels and chests on wooden boards.

When next he spoke, his tone was light, but his voice still shook like a stream passing through pebbles. “Take shelter here. The road is too treacherous at night, brothers, especially during these times. We could offer you ale and bread.”

There was a sound of flint against stone inside the shed followed by a glinting thing that shone in my eye. Like a pixie had swooshed by if such things existed. And then an unpleasant sound of breath and voice.

Blake was taken aback by the sudden kindness of the man inside the shed. “We thank your charity. But we must really be going. Our brothers are probably worried sick for us in the monastery up ahead.”

“Brothers, I must insist. Please.”

“No, but I shall remember you. I hope we find you well the next we meet.” He turned me around and bowed slowly, his hood falling down on his face. “Hurry now, Erin.”

“Stay right where you are.” The man demanded in a high-pitched voice, abandoning all pretense. He walked out of the doorway, a crossbow in his hands. My first thought was that he was a citadel soldier. His boots squelched in the mud. My eyes saw only his face and the arrowhead pointing directly at me. Quicky, he went back to the dogs and with one chain unhooked them. Their faces appeared from the darkness once more, just as angry as ever.

I did not know if I could die. We all did not. Will I feel it as it pierced my skull? I hope he does aim there and not my chest. Wilbur said death came quickly if the damage was on the head. I did not wish to be groaning and screaming in pain.

“Give us the boy,” the man said.

Brother Blake froze behind me. His long fingers wrapped around my neck, the nails digging into my skin. For one brief moment, I considered if he would kill me first. Better to end me now than kept hostage and be forced to spill our secrets. Or was it because of a bruised ego? Maybe he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of besting his plan.

“How did you know?’ He whispered.

Both men did not answer. Blake didn’t like that. He snapped when we could not answer promptly, he got irritated when we do not know the answer at all. I looked up at him and my body dropped to the ground.

Blake’s eyes were dark red. I have seen bile and blood, I have touched decaying skin, missing eyes, and punctured hearts. None of those made me squirm. I have just now been held by an arrow’s spearpoint. But to see those rheumy obsidian eyes change to a monstrous shade released the fear I kept in my throat. I yelled and fell back to the ground.

I have never seen him like that. He looked at both men again, and when he spoke, an invisible weight passed through the air. “How did you know?”

The man, straining against Blake’s order, stepped inside the shed and brought out a mirror.

A mirror as tall as me, its reflection glossier than any mirror I’ve seen before. There was my frightened face, and then, towering over me, was a figure bristling in dark smoke. The fingers that held my neck were angry purple-yellow. I forced my gaze to not look at its face. I knew he would not have the face of a man. I was afraid to see those deathless red eyes bore into mine.

“An artifact?!” Blake roared. The mirror shattered and the men released the dogs, told them to run. They snarled at Blake and sped off through the night. He turned to the men again. “Who are you and what are you doing here? Where is the rest of your men?”

“My men are dead.” The man with the arrow reluctantly answered. He spoke clearly, but his eyes darted from me to his companion, to Blake, to his fingers on the crossbow’s trigger. They were useless now, fingers knitted together. Hopeless, he looked at the sky. He hoped someone would save him.

“I was one of the thieves that traveled that forest you spoke of. We were hunting for food, but the animals we discovered were torn to shreds, their mangled carcass thrown about in a frenzy. We should have stopped. There were no signs of life. It was then we heard soft prowling in the trees.”

Tears flowed from his bulging eyes. His hands clenched into fists as his mouth moved without his control. “I fled the scene as my friends fell to the ground, torn to pieces by a beast. Just like the animals.” He then looked at Blake. He had regained his limbs and he dropped to his knees, breathing hard. He wiped the spit from his mouth. He held his crossbow firmly again. “It was you, wasn’t it?” I thought he was aiming at me, but the weapon was now pointing at Blake’s heart.

Blake could have stopped his movements, then. He could have told him to resign to his fate and meet his end, but he watched his entertainment unfold. He smiled wickedly.

The man swore. In wild, stupid fear, he abandoned his crossbow and ran to the sputtering torch that was hung on the wall. Blake looked at him curiously and watched the man bring out from his pocket a small pouch of powder. Blake's eyes widened and he lunged at him just as he placed it on the torch.

We were blinded by burning light.

When I opened my eyes, I saw from the burst of flame a scorched, howling Blake. I thought I would be dead, melted away. But I did not feel pain. I did not even feel the heat.

Blake was covering his face, angry and snarling. He would not let this knock him down. And then I saw the man, slowly creeping up at him with a silver dagger. I squinted. No, not a dagger. It was a shard of the mirror. “Run man!” I screamed through the fire’s roar. “Flee!”

From the gaps of his fingers, Blake spotted the man. Those large ancient hands went to the frightened face just as a shard stabbed him in the chest.

Blood. Dark, unnatural blood so thick it oozed out of him. It was more like acid. The man started screaming again, until Blake's hands crushed his head. I closed my eyes.

It was a mistake.

When I opened them again, he was on top of me, and his hand lunged for my throat. It was my turn. His eyes wanted nothing but my death. Oh, the misfortune of staring at them as I left this world. I could not even scream as I felt the nails dig into my skin. Blake was the only face in our group with lines of age. I saw now how they were also a trick. I should have looked at the mirror, then, to warn me of how monstrous he really was. The lines were actually slits. They were more eyes that blinked and leered and crinkled with delight at my demise. His lips curled, showing pointed teeth. He brought me down so that his decaying breath filled my nostrils.

“I waited for this.” It was not his voice. It was like deadly volcanic smoke rising from the ground. His other hand struck. His nails jabbed the center of my chest, almost where my heart was frantically beating. This is it. He would grab it with those revolting hands and he would eat me raw. “I waited for this for so long. Finally.” He closed his eyes, reveling in his triumph. And then he huffed and looked at me distastefully. “But not yet. Not quite yet. Once we get to the monastery, you and I will finally—”

An explosion of sound. Blake stumbled and I had enough frantic strength in me to kick him in the jaw. He dropped me, and then another sound. My head thumped in all the chaos. My ears rang. I could not tell which was up from down even as I fell.

Blake was on the ground too. He was rage personified. His lips moved, though he uttered no sound. And then his face grew hazy, and the rest of my brothers moved. I saw a striking red shade in the middle of all this fire, and a gloved hand covering my eyes.

“Erin!” Wilbur shouted. At least it would be the last sound I heard.

As I sunk into the blackness, the only thought was,

What are we?