Garbled murmurs were the first thing he heard from the abyss. Then an icy tingle against his cheek. One after another with a few pauses between for more murmurs. Slowly, the icy patter began to sting hot.

Leor cracked his eyes open. It took a couple of blinks to reset the whirling world and the blinding light.

“About time you woke up.” His eyes glazed over to the cold voice. Emilia was rummaging through the rubble. When she found what she sought, she returned to his side and cradled him up like a sickly child. “Drink,” she hissed.

There was something unusual hidden behind her fangs; it made his thoughts swim. He narrowed his eyes at the luminescent liquid cupped in a bowl of shattered glass. “Trying to finish me off with poison?”

A burst of air blew out her lips. “Don’t tempt me.”

Emilia tilted his chin and fed him. The sediment pulp made it a challenge to drink but he needed only a small sip to finish the meager shot. A chilling bite washed through his body, numbing the throbbing pain that plagued all over. He was almost saddened when it dissipated, but then, a cozy bonfire settled within, engulfing him with the sweet embrace of a lover.

He tried to rise, putting his weight on his right arm. The stabbing pains came back roaring like a fiery whip. Fighting back tears, he yelped through clenched teeth and flopped back down, veins bulging along his neck, legs springing.

“Best not move that arm.” Emilia rose and helped him up by his good arm.

He winced at her. You could have told me sooner.

“The tiny amount of healing waters you had couldn’t have healed you fully.” She sighed and picked her longsword from the ground, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it. All the while, her gaze lingered on his arm. “It’s a shame the vial broke from our fall.”

He craned his neck up when her words jogged his memory. “The others —”

“Are safe, most like. Menno might be a girthy bastard but he’s as quick as the rest of us Dragonslayers. We’re not Stormkin for nothing.” Pride bled from that smile of hers. Ear-to-ear and beaming.

“And the edgewolf?” he asked under his breath, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“The mutt too. Menno loves animals, despite the way he carries himself.”

Still, his worried face did not ease. How could he trust her word? She tried to kill him. He searched and found a reason to calm his mind. For now. There was Alden. Surely, he would endorse Yoru. He could only hope.

Leor swung his cloak over his neck and fashioned a sling for his right arm. Using his good hand, he patted down his clothes and was pleased to find Gerald’s greatsword and the lichtsword still on his person. He kept the lichtsword steady in his grasp, for the greatsword proved too painful to draw, let alone wield. No doubt, he would need to keep a blade in hand for the prowling accursed. Or if a Dragonslayer grew a taste for purblights.

He had no idea where they were. All he knew was they fell about halfway between the Thumb and Forefinger. He could follow the arch bridges. Follow the direction and hope a climbable tower was at the end of the stretch. That was the only option he saw.

Accursed would be crawling around. Too many to fight alone with a useless limb. If one of those ballista golems blocked his path, he would be dead for sure. He cursed his luck. Stuck with the one willing to kill him in cold blood, separated from the key to Lisa and Yola’s lives, and an approaching pillar who will no doubt flay him for the failure on the wall.

“Shit.” He had to push forward. He had to hope the accursed were blind, hope Emilia would not backstab him. Hope that his luck will turn around, but deep down he knew it was too much to ask for. Hoping never did him any good.

False dusk had started to settle by the time Leor was nearing the second ring. The absent sunset trapped within the solar dial’s glass, blooming like a miasma of amber milk. He pressed his back against the ivy-covered skeleton of a decrepit cottage and glanced through the sagging reeds, heart thumping down to the tight grip he had around his steel.

Standing before a lesser gate was a similar band of accursed knights. They looked just as menacing as he remembered. Twice the size of man with spears and tower shields equal to their hulk. He counted four of them grouped in pairs, patrolling the roads littered with pruned corpses, checking each body with a stab to the torso. March, stab, return, repeat. Again and again, stabbing the same poor speckled bastards.

Just my luck. The sight made Leor question if he would find humans beneath the spiked armor. Perhaps they were kin of the ballista golems.

He shot a sideway glance at the Dragonslayer who had been stalking him in silence since departing. They had passed empty shells of pigsties, cowsheds, and withering homes that once housed more peasants than there were rooms. The stink of decay etched into the very soil.

A constant chill crawled up his spine as she walked his rear. He had to always look over his shoulder to check if she was aiming her blade at him, but as always, it was her pointed gaze.

“What?” she said, arms crossed as if he was the unruly one. “Got a problem?”

“Yes. Why are you following me?”

Her face churned with disgust. “Follow you? What a foolish thing to say. Our destination is one and the same. It is not mere chance our paths coincide.”

Yet, you choose to walk the exact same route. He clicked his tongue. She was playing coy to get some kind of response from him, he saw. He refused to give her the satisfaction. “Then perhaps you can shed some light, bright one. How do you plan on passing through?”

“Like this.” She hurled her longsword. Lightning spluttered violently in all directions as the amethyst bolt pierced the air and skewered an accursed duo, tearing a hole the size of a cannonball into their chest as effortlessly as poking through a sheet of paper. Dark muck spat from the rupture.

Leor’s hair sprung up, a feeling rooted deep within his bones. He raised his hands to guard, ducked, and watched the armament whistle by his head. Stabbing pains shot up his arm. It hurt so bad he thought he failed to dodge. “Watch it!” he groaned.

Emilia’s eye dimmed as coldly as the fleeting tendrils of lightning. “Why did you dodge?”

“What do you mean why? Anyone with the tiniest sort of sense would do the same.” When her face scrunched with more confusion, drums started beating inside his head. He started to wish Menno the Silent was the one he was imprisoned with. He waved her off. “Well, get on with it. Take out the other two.”

“Those two are yours for the taking, purblight.”

Bitch means to kill me. “I don’t think I am in any condition to take on those behemoths.”

“You can throw, can’t you?” She twirled the handle of her longsword towards him.

A strange gesture no doubt. He studied her weighty face, searched for some sort of hint into her thoughts, and yielded nothing.

“You can do as I say and hurl my blade as I’ve commanded or I can sheath it into your torso.” She continued, somehow managing an innocent grin. “Best not try to fight me if that’s what you’re thinking. You have no hope of winning with that arm of yours. And don’t think your victory on the bridge holds any weight. I was merely. . . stunned, is all.”

Leor snatched the longsword and scoffed. There are no lesser victories in battle. He juggled the armament, finding it only a bit heavier than his katana. That filled him with confidence. Lifting the blade overhead, he swung with more force than he would’ve for Inazuma. It carved through the air in a twirling wheel of death before stabbing one of the accursed knights square in the chest. Dark sludge squirted, though the display was far less extravagant than the Dragonslayer’s.

Ha! Perhaps now you will not take me so lightly. He wanted to shout and rub salt into her haughty face, but he stomached the urge.

“What are you smiling like a fool for?” she said, interrupting his mental cheer. “Go and fetch my sword. There’s still one more to be slain.”

He raised a brow. “You want me to saunter past the remaining knight and pray it doesn’t notice me?”

“No, bright one. Command it back to your possession.”

“How do you expect me to do that? Whistle? Offer it a snack?”

Emilia frowned. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“Is it?”

She squeezed his injured arm until a muffled cry unleashed through his clenched teeth. “Do as you did on the bridge. Now.”

“Apologies milady, but I have no recollection of calling any blade at will,” Leor said. “Other than my own.”

She looked at him, long and unwavering. Her honey-colored eye bounded him; it was unsettling to be entranced by a single glare, yet he could not look away. She took a glance at his hand and broke off with a scowl. She killed the last accursed knight with a wave of her hand, and the blade reeled back to her before walking off.

For a moment Leor had dared hope the difficulties would calm as they made their way deeper toward the heart. But a few clashes of steel had wrought him from his delusions. He started to wonder if he should hope for omens instead.

Beyond the second ring, the accursed dwelled; some wandered aimlessly, heads sunken between their shoulders; others balled up on the floor as if weeping or praying. At first, they seemed to be nothing more than mummified husks of those who once lived in the old city. Yet somehow the dead still had a living sense.

The drifters lurched at them, arms flailing and shrieking with a sense of desperation akin to a wild animal on its final breaths. The grievers waited in the shadows or sprawled on the floor before lunging. Missing their mark left the poor bastards helpless and wriggling like a turtle flipped on its shell. It was a pitiful sight, yet Leor cut them down all the same. He had learned not to leave them be. One griever managed to catch him off guard as he recoiled from cutting down a pouncing drifter. It would’ve had him if not for Emilia stabbing it midair with her flying sword. It made him sick to his stomach but they agreed to mimic the accursed knights. Leave no corpse unattended.

After that, the slaughter blurred one after the other. Accursed blood dripped down Leor’s blade and soaked his clothes heavy. A crimson gore so dark it could be mistaken for black.

Emilia remained as rearguard so Leor ate the brunt of assaults. He cursed her after every kill, after each throbbing swing. Making the injured one lead the way, he grumbled to himself.

Sometimes they would try to sneak past a horde but it was futile. They were found. Was it their smell? He wondered. Could the accursed see through those hollowed sockets? Leor could not say. All he knew for certain was they were drawn to him like flies to shit.

They came to a rest in the hollow of a curling tower that toppled over the adjacent market hall like a frozen wave. Walls became the floor, beams turned to tilted columns, ladders to rickety bridges. The wooden interior creaked and bits of wall chunked off as they snaked up and around to the tower’s spire. It was far from a secure resting place, but any reprieve from the onslaught was welcomed with open arms.

The number of accursed seemed to thin as they approached the third ring. Still, Leor made sure no grievers were lurking in the shadows before sinking into a pile of rubble. He began cleaning the lichtsword with his coat in long, careful strokes. It was a struggle to keep the sword in place. His hand quivered from the endless impact, but his mentor’s voice rang louder than the pain. No matter the instance, a blade must be kept well.

Emilia stood opposite of him, watching him work with an eye as sharp as a starving hawk. Light from the tower’s wound brushed across her glower.

“What?” he said when the weight of her stare grew too heavy.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. I’m simply curious what you must have done to acquire such luck.”

He scoffed. “What luck do you speak of? I am trapped in a crumbling tower, hiding from a swarm of accursed, searching for a way to King’s Finger only to wait for a lapdog to wring my neck. Worst of all, it is you whom I had the displeasure to accompany. Some luck, indeed.”

“And yet you remain breathing.”

Leor said nothing to that and raised the sword to the light. The way it gleamed made him long for Inazuma and Ikazuchi. He saw Emilia pacing towards him in the steel’s reflection. When he turned to face her, his cheek stopped just shy of the point of her blade.

“Tell me, purblight, how long do you plan on playing this charade?”

Leor remained stone. “You’ll have to be more specific, milady.”

“Your abilities, why do you hide them?”

“I don—”

“Don’t you dare lie!” She roared, prodding the blade closer. “I’ve seen you fight, felt your blows, witnessed you command the King’s lightning! I refuse to believe you lacked the means to protect her! I will not believe it!”

He eyed the blade shaking with rage. “I was only granted Ludwig’s power after her passing. Believe it or not, that is the truth. As much as it pains me.”

“Lies. I know your kind all too well. You watch from the shadows, content with the crimes and evils before you as long as you remain unaffected. You hide your strength in hopes to ward off trouble. The worst kind of man is what you are. I wager you were relieved once Ceri died.”

He erupted to his feet and wrenched the longsword from his face. “And what of you!? Had you been there I have no doubt with milady’s strength you could have stopped the knight with no issue. Yet, you weren’t. You’re as guilty as me — no, even more so. As her sworn guardian, you are a failure.”

The room turned sideways. Next thing he knew he was on the floor, cheek stinging.

And tears began to fall from that honey-glazed eye.

Leor could not believe it. Who would have thought there was softness beneath her scales? An ocean stirred in his chest the longer he watched. The sight of a crying woman never sat right with him; it reminded him of his late mother. But what was he to do? Kiss her on the forehead and flower her with comforting lies?

Women are partners, women are partners. Leor chanted his mentor’s words and took a deep breath. “I was ready to die that day.” He said, gazing at the memories playing in empty space. “She just needed to run and let the blade cut my throat. . . but the foolish girl took my blade of her own volition and stabbed the knight from behind. She was shaking like a leaf when the deed was done. Though it amounted to nothing. He unsheathed my sword from his hide and returned the favor.” He opened and closed his hand. “My own steel. Stained with her blood.”

Emilia wiped a tear and sniffed. “Damn it, Ceri. . . I warned you that would be your undoing.”

“I told her the same. She had a bad habit of throwing herself into the fire for the sake of another.”

A faint smile curled on her lips as Emilia traced over her scar. “I suppose that’s what made her so lovely. I owe my life to that foolish courage.” Her smile disappeared when her gaze snapped back at him. “It should have been me at her side, not you. I would’ve killed any man who dared lay a hand on her. Or at least, take her stead.”

“I suppose you had a reason for your absence.”

“She and Lord Alden left without my knowledge! All I received was a letter telling me to remain by the King’s side. What was I supposed to do? Forsake the knighthood she gave me and drag her back home?”

Her walls are crumbling. “She would’ve resented that.”

“Yes, she always was a bird too beautiful to be kept in a cage.” Emilia crossed the room and grumbled out the tower’s wound. “And the Order clipped her wings.”

Leor nodded, glossing over Ceri’s ring. She held great love for Ceri, he saw. Perhaps that could sway her. He tried his best to sound as kind as possible. “Then why oppose me? You wish to see her again, do you not?”

“Of course. What kind of foolish question is that? Watch your tone. Don’t forget, direct or not, your hands are still red with her blood.”

“Which is why I plan on seeking an audience with your king.”

“By becoming Champion?” she scoffed, glancing over her shoulder. “If you had the strength, maybe there’d be weight in your words.”

“How do you plan on seeing her again? In the afterlife?”

Her hazel eye regarded him, wary. “And what makes you worthy as Champion? Who’s to say I will not take the title?”

“You can’t even if you tried. I may be a purblight, but I am not deaf. Your queen must have forbidden you to partake in the trials since you are here as Alden’s escort. Nothing more. You are bound by law and fealty while I serve myself.” Leor rose, sheathed the lichtsword, and joined her at the wound with a flash of the ring. “Like it or not, I am your best bet to see her again.”

Emilia tsked. “You’re full of it.”

“A dream, for sure, but one well within reach. All I ask is aid from the shadows.”

Though she replied with silence, Leor grinned. Her eye softened like a maiden full of youthful hope. I have her.