Every rustle in the bushes made me jump.

The gruesome pig hadn't done anything to calm my shaking hands. It couldn't have been a long walk before a dimly lit hut came into view, but it felt like an eternity. My head swiveled to every nighttime sound in the trees and I tried to tread lightly.

Squish. Snap. Crunch.

I winced.

The shaman's hut wasn't pretty. I squinted to make out any details, but it was small and dilapidated, much like the rest of the town. A shabby roof tarred over with straw and dirt sat atop stone walls. It had a thick metal door.

As I neared the structure I wrinkled my nose. A pigpen off to the side held one filthy animal, which stared blankly as I tiptoed slowly past.

I reached for currents instinctively and they slipped away as usual. Lylisia always gave me strength when at times like these. This wasn't going to be easy.

Gritting my teeth, I rapped my knuckles on the door.

Nothing.

But I'd seen a light flickering inside, the shaman must be here. I knocked again, louder. The metal stung my fingers.

"Nobody's home!" came a voice from inside.

I rolled my eyes. Just my luck. He won't even let me in.

"I'm here to do business," I called, knocking again. This was Andrin's only chance. "And I'll knock this door down if you won't open it!"

A slat in the door whisked open. "I'd like to see you try." It closed again.

"Then I'll knock until you open it or it rots!" Now I was getting irritated. Andrin's life hung in the balance.

"Join the crowds that beat on my door all the day long, I'm sure they'll be glad to give their knuckles a rest and give you your turn!" the voice cried.

I scowled. My magic could turn the whole hut to ash. Calm. You can't leave a trail of destruction in your wake.

"A scoundrels and drunks, all of them," the voice continued, "begging for just a touch of Gullyseed elixir or smidge of Wedgender juice. I—"

"I'm paying!"

A pause.

The slat slid open again. Two beady, wrinkled eyes appeared. "How much?"

"You'll have to open the door and see."

The slat closed.

Tick clang. Kachunk.

The thick door swung open slowly and the wizened old shaman gestured me inside, glancing hurriedly into the darkness.

As the shaman swung the door shut again, I took a moment to take in everything inside. I almost laughed, because if Andrin was here, he would've never stopped talking, darting from shelf to shelf, bottle to bottle, firing questions faster than an archer could arrows.

Shelves stacked with books, bags, and plants I'd never seen, tables full of old parchment and strange artifacts, all piled together almost neatly, but haphazardly enough that I was afraid to touch any of it.

The shaman bustled around to a table made himself busy stoppering bottles and folding cloths. "Let me just tidy up and we'll discuss business, goodness knows it's been a time and two-thirds since I struck a real deal."

I nodded and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the ordered chaos. Clay pots and pans were hung from the ceiling and a little bed was stuffed in the corner. The stone floor was filthy, and I even noticed what looked scorch marks in one area.

The shaman unearthed a chair from a stack of what appeared to be rags and offered me a seat at the clearest table. He sat likewise and leaned forward, peering at me intently. "So what is it you're paying?"

"I guess that depends what it costs."

He nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, so what is it?" The little man flashed me a toothy grin.

I figured I shouldn't beat around the bush. "My friend needs healing, badly. He suffered a stab wound to the stomach and told us that a shaman would know how to heal him."

The shaman's eyes practically gleamed—he took pride in his craft. "Tricky, tricky one huh? Ha! Didn't say anything else? How injured?"

I fumbled over his questions. "He was unconscious and losing a lot of blood. Too much." The gaping wound flashed into my mind and I shook my head. Not now. "We gave this um... well I don't know what it was, some little blue rock. It got him conscious."

The shaman's grin faded, to be replaced with a grimace. "Little blue rock? Got him lucid did it? Don't happen to know what it was do you?"

"Uh, something like Rinen? Rillen?"

"Y'ririn." The old man shook his head. "Poor boy."

My heart rate picked up. "What? Why? What does Y'ririn do?"

"Well, it's terribly painful. Wakes a man up alright, but with fire in his veins not sunshine in his head!" The shaman laughed at his own joke before quickly looking somber again. "And some say it's poisonous."

I furrowed my brow. "So I'll be needing an antidote huh? From you I take it? Look, can you help me or not?"

"Now wait, wait, yes L'razar will help! I've not a heart of stone, I'll save this poor friend of yours. But what else did you do, what else did he say? How long ago was this?"

"We used a paste to stop the bleeding—"

"—Lootrot paste no doubt—"

"—yeah sure, that, and that helped as far as I know. But we don't think stopping the bleeding is all he needs."

L'razar was nodding sagely. "You came to the right man my boy, your friend was right. Lucky for you he's sharper than most."

A hundred thoughts erupted in my mind but I tried to ignore them. What do you know about my luck?

The shaman dug around in a wooden chest for a moment before emerging with two vials. They were dirty and mostly yellowed, but he treated them with care.

"Azendrine and Y'ririn Counter. Sold as a package. And what a package deal!" he clapped his hands as he set the vials before me.

I frowned.

The shaman continued on. "Did you think there'd be a magical solution to fix your friend? Some elixir to heal him instantly? Your friend is lucky to be alive, if he is still alive—" I shot him a nasty glare "—which I'm sure he is! He's lucky you found me, and smart, for healing most of the damage himself. Who carries Lootrot around?"

"So he's poisoned and bleeding to death?"

"Might be poisoned, might not. But we'd sure hate to find out the hard way!" He almost cackled with excitement. "What'll you be paying me with? Azendrine isn't cheap, no no, not here it's not!"

My stomach dropped. I didn't have much. Though I wasn't sure how much L'razar thought was 'cheap', I feared the few coins I still carried weren't going to be enough.

"Will this do?" I fished around in my cloak for a handful of silver coins. Eight of them rolled onto the table.

The shaman's grin faltered. "Corvel demtre? Silver? ...six, seven, eight silver demtre?"

My heart sank. I wasn't leaving without the Azendrine at least, even if I didn't know how to use it. You're not dying on me now Andrin.

"Surely you have something else! Eight silvers is nothing to the pigs! Or... just the one... hmm. But not enough I'm afraid." He made to put away the vials, taking care to be slow about it.

It worked. "Wait! I..." The men at the pub wanted it, why wouldn't he?

"Yes? Yes?"

I slowly unsheathed my prized possession, the last memory of Lylisia, and set it on the table. The silver dagger gleamed in the firelight.

L'razar cocked an eyebrow and licked his lips. The vials were back on the table and I sat with bated breathe as the shaman picked up the blade, twirling it in his fingers and examining its every angle. He balanced it on the table with the point just touching the wood, he inspected it from a hair's breadth away.

I tried not to twitch every time he moved it. Magic stirred naturally at my fingertips, but I clenched my fists and shoved them in my cloak.

He set the dagger on the table and slid it back to me. "Silver, silver, more silver. I don't want silver no, silver's no good out here! You're too far south for demtre to be worth much, who will take it for it's worth?"

I chomped on my own tongue to stop from screaming. I could tear this little man's head off if he wouldn't cooperate. Andrin's life was worth it, whatever the cost.

"I'm a shrewd man my friend, I will tell you that." The old man waggled a finger at me. He slid my coin across the table and leaned back in his chair. "And you are a resourceful man, no doubt about that. You found me, ha! Takes a witty one for that!" He lowered his voice. "But I've been a desperate man too, and I know one when I see one."

He got that right at least.

"So what's stopping me from taking these vials myself?" I didn't have time for this. Andrin didn't have time for this.

The shaman turned back to me slowly, a hard look in his eye. "Don't test me, friend. I know you can pay, we just haven't seen the capital yet."

"I told you, I don't have anything else!" I slammed my fist on the table. "You'll have to take what I can give you, eight silver demtre and an ornate silver knife! Take it, or I'll take it all and be on my way!" Somehow I found myself on my feet, breathing heavily. It wasn't even the magic that drove me to anger, though it readily followed my lead. I was glad it did.

Straightening up, the little man took a step forward. "You know," he said in low voice, eyeing my fingertips, "you are not the only man to wield magic." He held up his hand, showing me a small, black ring.

I didn't care. I have a life to save.

My hand went for the Azendrine, but I barely made it halfway before the shaman clamped his own down on my wrist. I braced myself to hold back the magic, suddenly regretting the decision—but the shock never came. Instead, I felt my own arm start tingle, and before I knew it the entire room was spinning. It was like a giant had picked me up and was swinging me around his head by my ankles.

My mouth hung slightly open and I took few short breaths before slumping back into my seat. The shaman's face was upside down, the table was bent in half, my own hand had nine fingers.

A few agonizing seconds went by before the shaman released my arm and let me slip to the floor. He spoke firmly. "Consider that your punishment, friend, for your clouded judgement. My offer still stands, but I will not settle until you pay me what I ask."

The vertigo didn't wear off instantly. Slowly, the floor flattened out again and turned horizontal like it was meant to be. I climbed cautiously to my feet again, glowering. If it wasn't for my self control, he'd have been blasted across the room by now. But that wasn't an option I'd settle for. Unfortunately, it didn't look like I had many alternatives.

What else do I even have? I dug in my pockets silently for more coins as the shaman looked expectedly on.

My fist closed on the amulet.

"I fear that if you came empty-handed, you'll leave the same, friend!" The shaman shook his head.

I set the amulet on the wood, perhaps a little forcefully. My knuckles were white. "It's gold," I said through my teeth. "And might be worth more than this whole hut."

L'razar's eyes widened and he clapped a hand to his head. "Well see here, this is all I needed, friend! Gold you say? This chain? No, maybe an alloy though, or just coated, but what will some rich trader know? Ha!"

The amulet was off the table almost before my hand left it, and I felt a pang. Lylisia had felt so strongly about the amulet. She would've been so disappointed in me.

At least Andrin will be okay. He's going to live. I knew I couldn't forget that.

The shaman bustled over to his chest again and pulled out a smaller, miniature chest to store the amulet. "This will do I say! Both vials and a hearty good luck sir! A hearty..." he trailed off, lid halfway closed on the little chest. "I... I wonder."

I wanted to take the vials and go, but just couldn't help myself. "Wonder what?"

"This gem is rather... odd. Wouldn't you say?"

Glancing again at the clouded emerald, I shrugged. Better not start looking too closely, i can't have him second-guessing it's value. "I suppose. It's still valuable though, there's a high price in Aelridia."

Why did I tell him that? Stupid. He didn't seem to notice what I told him, but I regretted opening my mouth. Hopefully someone wouldn't come asking about me.

"...just an old wives' tale anyway, not that I'd know about those. Ha! Can't hurt to check if it's seen much magic though, hmm?"

"You can do that?" I stowed the vials in a little pouch at my waist, just to be safe. "See if what, an object has channeled magic?"

The shaman barely gave me a glance as he stuffed a small stone in my hand, around the size of the amulet in his own. "Yes, yes, it's but a trifle. Magic leaves marks, don't you know? Can't ever wash it clean. Now, place the stone on this side, will you?" He pulled out a tarnished copper scale.

The scale's other arm snapped up as the stone weighed it down.

"Good. No funny business, see, just a rock!" He sprinkled white dust on the rock, then on the scale's other hand. Then slowly he pulled his end down so it was even across and placed the amulet in the little pile of dust.

He let go and let gravity do it's work. We waited for just a moment as it slowly tipped the rock down and lifted the amulet skyward. The rock's arm hit the table with an anticlimactic clunk.

L'razar looked up at me.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, never hurt to try I say, never hurt to try!" A grin spread across his face and he shrugged his shoulders. "Here keep this, a little gift from me to you!" He handed me the stone and I pocketed it.

The amulet lay on the table as the shaman put away his scale and magic powder. I picked up the artifact gently, the thin chain sliding through my fingers. "Did I miss something?"

"No, no, not at all. The amulet would have been heavier if it was infused with magic, but it wasn't, so the stone weighed it down!" L'razar turned back to me with a smile and held open the little chest to take his payment.

I switched the amulet to my right hand and opened my fingers in the wooden box.

Clunk.

A wide smile spread across the shaman's face. "Pleasure doing business with you." Clamping the box shut, he whisked it away and stowed it in the wooden trunk.

I slid my hand back in my pocket and sheathed Lylisia's knife. The shaman ushered me out with a gracious bow, and I broke into a brisk walk the moment the heavy door thudded shut behind me.

I couldn't believe it. I did it. Wait till Koren hears about this one.

There was some distance between me and the shaman's hut before I stopped to catch my breath. The two vials were safely stowed in my pouch, and I was on my way to Andrin. He'd have all the medicine he needed. Lylisia's knife was safely tucked away at my side, which was a huge sigh of relief. I had dreaded giving up the beautiful blade, but Andrin's life was more than worth it. It had never occurred to me to offer the amulet instead.

Vials, knife, coins—I dug deep into my pocket and there it was.

The amulet.

I pulled it out and it gleamed in the moonlight, winking at me as if in congratulations. The shaman would hopefully take a while to find the stone in his little chest, and by that time I'd be long gone.

A whoop of triumph escaped my lips at my own success. Now that trick, Lylisia would be proud of.

Holding the amulet up to the light, I thought back to one of the last conversations we had about it.

'I don't care to ask questions about who wants it and why,' she had said.

But I did. We all argued whether to take it to Aelridia. Koren and I were suspicious, but she wouldn't give it up. She blew up on us that day—smashed a giant rock in fact—but really had just been scared. Was her last wish what drove me to keep the amulet for myself?

The grin faded from my face. Why did I even care to steal it back from the poor shaman? Did he really deserve that? Did he do anything but help me? My stomach twisted into a sickly knot. Would she really be proud of who I am now?

The magic was always with me, but not like she had always been. This magic was wild, vicious—angry. Was I losing myself to it, just like the hooded man warned?

I took a slow, deep breath.

"You," I said, holding up the amulet, "have brought us nothing but pain." My voice shook but I went on. "Koren knew it, I knew it, Lyl—"

Say it.

"...Lylisia... she knew it too. We just didn't know how soon you'd bring us all to ruin."

I clenched the jewel tighter in my hand and crushed the magic down before it could even start to bring up its rage. For once, this was my own anger.

"Who cares if the Ska'al want you? We will go to Aelridia and be safe from them. But not with you. You've brought us enough trouble."

Slowly, the amulet slid through my fingers. It landed in the leaves at my feet.

Koren and Andrin would understand. Already, I planning what I would say. She wouldn't have wanted this. She wanted us to go, but she was scared. She wouldn't want us to take the risk, she would've wanted us to be safe. Because that's who she was. I sighed. The three of us—me, Andrin, Koren—she fought fiercely for us.

Memories drifted lazily through my mind as I made camp. I slowly decided that though hers would be a tough sword to carry, I was willing to try.

* * *

My little fire was just ashes. The moon had sunk below the trees. An owl hooted in the distance.

Eyes drooping, I rolled onto my back. I had easily fallen asleep, but for some reason now, it wasn't easy to close my eyes and drop back off into slumber. Some reason.

My mind stirred a bit more awake and my eyes snapped open. I rapidly searched the darkness but didn't move a muscle, my shallow breaths sounding downright deafening.

I had the worst feeling of being watched.

Sitting up, my hand drifted to my knife and I swiveled slowly, trying my best to assess my surroundings.

It seemed like eyes pricked the back of my head no matter where I turned.

Silently I cursed the currents. This is where I need you to cooperate, I told them.

I strained my senses, trying to gather the currents around me, to no avail. They were too tangled and confused, allowing me no grasp on them whatsoever.

It happened in an instant. One moment I was straining my eyes into the darkness, the next I was thrown sideways with a blinding pain in my shoulder. The magic rushed out of my wound instantly, lashing out at the attacker.

I rolled sideways wildly to avoid another slash. A Ska'al mask loomed out of the darkness, the harsh chalk features leering down at me. I tried to scramble backwards and get onto my feet but his fist connected to my jaw. I sprawled sideways, stars popping into my vision.

The Ska'al stood over me. He looked seven feet tall from the ground, everything but his mask blending into the darkness. The ever-present magic seemed to have left me in my time of need, only now beginning to pool again in the depths my soul. It was like the energy had been sapped from my limbs.

I went to draw my knife but a boot came down hard on my wrist. The jolt went all the way up to my shoulder—the injured one—and I heard myself scream.

I tried wiggling my fingers. Nothing. Magic finally roared through my veins like adrenaline. I had to give it control.