Jarrett’s lungs burned as he and Barek circled one another. They’d only been sparring for a couple of minutes, but Jarrett was already regretting going up against the younger man. It might not have been so bad had mages been kept out of the mix, but right now Jarrett was teamed up with Lars and together they were facing both Barek and Jayden.

It had only taken a few days of rest before the newcomers had insisted on joining in on the Vanguard’s training regimen. Now, they’d been in Rosewood for a month and Jarrett had learned that he needed to stop underestimating them.

Jarrett and Lars had strategized before this match, but their plan wasn’t coming together. From watching the newcomers in their previous spars, they knew that Jayden used her enhancement magic to power up Barek, then stayed back to act as support, firing energy darts at her enemies from afar.

Jarrett had been sure he could take on Barek regardless of his magically increased speed and strength, but it turned out that he was harder to keep at bay than expected. He was used to the younger members of the Vanguard having the edge on him physically, but with Jayden’s enhancements, Barek was clearly outmatching him even though Jarrett’s swordsmanship was superior.

Meanwhile, Lars was supposed to come around and flank Jayden, using his obfuscation magic to conceal his movements and gain the element of surprise. They’d thought Jayden would be the weak link, as her bolts weren’t very accurate while she was focusing on her enhancements on Barek and mostly relied on him to protect her.

But that wasn’t working out either. Jayden was uncannily good at keeping track of Lars, despite his magic rendering him close to invisible. She’d fire a volley of bolts at him, which even though they went wide, alerted Barek to where his other opponent was and allowed him to intercept before Lars could reach her.

As the spar continued, the other training activities taking place in the converted barn ceased as curious onlookers gathered to size up the Vanguard’s newest members: a couple of kids who were now walloping their leader and one of their most experienced mages.

Jarrett’s frustration grew as the crowd did, the pressure to perform building. How was he supposed to lead the Vanguard into battle against a god, if he couldn’t even beat a couple barely-trained teens? He had to turn the tide of this fight, or he’d never live down the embarrassment.

Barek beat back Lars once again, forcing him to block with a series of spot-shields and retreat back to Jarrett’s side. Some of the crowd whooped and hollered in support of the newcomers.

“What now?” Lars hissed. “We’re getting clobbered.”

“I know.” Jarrett kept his voice low. “Switch with me. Keep Barek occupied, I’ll take the girl.”

Jarrett’s partner nodded, eyes narrowing as he refocused. Barek charged in, raising his dulled practice sword to take a swing at Jarrett. But Lars was ready to intercept the attack, and sent a large orb of energy at Barek. While not as condensed and powerful as a concentrated bolt of magic, it was enough to knock him to the ground.

They wouldn’t have another opportunity this good. Jarrett had to end this now.

Jarrett sidestepped the fallen Barek and rushed toward Jayden. Her eyes widened. She took a defensive posture, but it was obvious that she hadn’t expected the tide of battle to turn so quickly. Jarrett tackled her to the ground before she could react, sparing her from the blow of even a dulled sword.

With the two newcomers downed, the crowd cheered at Jarrett and Lars’ triumph. Jarrett wiped his brow. That had been too close. Experience had won out in the end, but he barely deserved the victory.

Jarrett helped Jayden up and shook her hand, then Barek’s. Lars followed suit. Jayden and Barek looked exhausted and a little disappointed. They moved off to the side, avidly discussing something, presumably debriefing. Jarrett dispersed the crowd, chiding them to get back to their own training instead of sticking their noses into his.

As the rabble thinned, Jarrett spotted Rohan. The man’s arms were crossed, and he stared at Jarrett sternly.

“Ah,” Jarrett said. “Sorry, Rohan. I forgot our meeting, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did.” Rohan’s eyes flicked over to the newcomers. “Distracted by those ones, I see.”

“I was. They’re quite a pair.”

“So they are.” Rohan shifted on his feet. Jarrett got the sense he was holding something back.

“What is it, Rohan? Shall we head to the hall for our meeting?”

“I’ll cut right to it.” Rohan stopped, cleared his throat, and then blurted out, “We have to test the weapons.”

“What? You insisted it was too dangerous.”

“Would you rather backtrack and accept the Ravens’ help? As dangerous as it is, we can’t risk going into battle with Riordan without knowing what the weapons do.”

Jarrett sighed. His hot-headed decision to force the Ravens out continued to be controversial. Some members of the Vanguard stood by him, either because they had never trusted the Ravens in the first place, or Morgane’s untimely death had soured their acceptance of them. Others were angry that Jarrett had thrown out allies that had aided them in their time of need.

Jarrett didn’t regret his choice, although the godsforsaken mist that the Ravens had conjured infuriated him to the point where he nearly changed his mind. They couldn’t exactly go attack Riordan with their newfound artifact weapons until they found a way out of their own town.

“Alright,” Jarrett said. “So, say we test the weapons. Who are we going to test them on?”

“Me,” Rohan said. “I’ll take the risk.”

Jarrett shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re one of our best mages. If something were to happen—”

“My life isn’t more important because I’m a mage.”

“Come on, Rohan. You know that we need you.”

“If I don’t do it, then who? I’m not going to ask someone else to volunteer.”

A voice came from behind them. “I’ll do it.”

Jarrett spun. It was Jayden. This girl had a knack for eavesdropping on him and Rohan. “What?”

“Test the weapons on me,” she said. Her voice quavered, but she held her head high.

Barek came up next to Jayden, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not happening.” He took her by the shoulders, as if about to drag her away, but she shook him off.

“I want to help,” she said. Her green eyes bore into Jarrett. “I’ve been in contact with magus stone before. I know what it’s like. And I’m not afraid.”

Silence held between the four of them for a few beats. Jarrett cleared his throat. “I think I have to agree with Barek, in this case.”

“Why? Because I’m just a kid?” Jayden balled her hands into fists.

“Yes,” Jarrett said. “I’m sorry but you’re a child. I’m not letting you risk yourself.”

“I want to be a part of this rebellion,” Jayden said. “So what if I’m a kid? I don’t feel like one anymore, not after what I’ve seen. I’ll put my life on the line, the same as everyone else here. Being young hasn’t spared me from the Tyrant.”

Rohan shook his head. “Jayden, I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. But I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll be the test subject, if there is to be one.”

Jayden was shaking now. “You don’t trust us. I can see it. I get it, we’re new, and you have to be careful. But let us prove ourselves. I’ll show you that I’m as committed to bringing Riordan down as you are.”

Jarrett had to respect this girl. She had been through a lot, but instead of hiding away, she wanted to fight. There was a tickling feeling at the back of his mind—she almost reminded him of someone, but the “who” of it kept slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Jayden.” Barek’s voice rose as he went on. “We risked everything to get you out of that prison, away from magus stone. Stop trying to subject yourself to more of this. It’s done, we’re free from that place, let’s leave it behind.”

“It’s not over,” Jayden bit back. “It’s not done until Riordan is.”

Jayden stormed away, through the curious onlookers who had begun to perk up as the conversation grew heated.

“Let’s go somewhere more private to finish discussing this,” Jarrett suggested to Rohan.

#

The next day, Jarrett, Rohan, and the three mages who had been analyzing the artifacts, all met up outside the padlocked shed where the swords were being stored. Rohan would be the test subject after all. Jarrett still wasn’t happy with the decision, but Rohan had continued to insist, and the rest of the council members had begrudgingly signed off on it.

Rohan unlocked the shed. Jarrett and the mages followed him in. It was a tight squeeze to fit all of them inside. The shed used to be for storage, until they needed somewhere to lock up the magus weapons. Some firewood was still stacked against the far wall. A sturdy table had been built against another, where the swords rested. Opposite that was a shelf full of various tools, some axes remaining from the shed’s old life, as well as magnifying glasses and some bottles of strange concoctions that the mages had been using to try to identify the weapons’ uses.

“Are you sure about this?” Aribelle, one of the mages, asked.

“For the thousandth time everyone, yes,” Rohan said. “Jayden told us that the magus stone in the mage prison drained her magic. These swords probably do the same thing. As you have seen, Jayden’s magic returned once she was freed, so hopefully the effects of these swords are also temporary.”

“Hopefully.” Jarrett rubbed his forehead. The thought of his friend losing his magic, or worse, his life, was heightening the anxiety he already felt on a daily basis.

“If these weapons can drain Riordan’s power, we have a chance at facing him head on,” Rohan continued. “And, if we’re lucky, they’ll do what we really need them to—stop him from being able to choose a new incarnate. Even if they delay his return to physical form temporarily, we’ll have a better shot at seizing Kingsmount and control of Saridian. This is what we’re fighting for. Freedom for our people. So yes, I am sure about this.”

Jarrett and the mages stood solemn as Rohan picked up one of the swords and took a deep breath as he leveled it over his hand, preparing to draw blood.

The door to the shed swung open. They all turned to see who the intruder was, but the light from outside was bright, only revealing a silhouette.

The intruder spoke, her voice pure and bright. “Oh good, I’m just in time.”

The mages took fighting stances and Jarrett drew his sword. The woman took a step into the shed. She wasn’t anyone Jarrett recognized, another newcomer. Her blonde hair covered half her head, the other side was shaved. He squeezed by to stand between her and the mages.

“Whatever you’re doing here, I would stop,” the intruder said.

Jarrett took another step closer to her. She appeared utterly unconcerned at the bare steel facing her. They outnumbered her, so her lack of fear told him that she was either a mage or lacked a survival instinct. Him and his people were trapped in tight quarters, but she probably wasn’t expecting the majority of them to be mages, and that boded well for his side.

“And who in the gods’ names are you?” Jarrett asked.

“Well, most importantly,” the woman said, “I’m the one who made those swords. So, just saying, you should really take my advice and put that down.”

He heard a soft clunk as Rohan placed the sword back down on the table, but Jarrett kept his eyes trained on the intruder. His tattoo itched almost unbearably, which he did his best to ignore.

“How did you get here?” Rohan asked. “What do you want?”

“A little obfuscation magic isn’t going to stop me,” the woman said. “I mean no harm, I’m just here to reclaim what’s mine.”

“Look,” Jarrett said. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

“Whatever you want to know,” she said, brushing a lock of hair out of her eye. Jarrett caught a glimpse of tattooed circles on her hand. It almost gave him hope, until he remembered that he had sworn off his search and anything to do with the Ravens.

“So you’re a Raven?” he asked, grip tightening on his hilt.

She scoffed. “A Raven? No. I have better things to do than run around with that lot.” Her eyes narrowed as she examined Jarrett’s face. “Wait. Jarrett? Dear gods, I didn’t even recognize you with that beard. I didn’t know you were in Rosewood.”

“What?” Jarrett searched his mind for any trace of this woman. “How do you know my name?”

“It’s Ange,” she said, stepping closer. “Angelise? It’s been a while but—you really don’t recognize me?”

She was very distinctive, from her voice, to her hair, to the wildly mismatched eyes that he could make out now that she was nearly within arm’s reach. Jarrett was sure he had never seen her in his life. He took a hand off his sword to itch his tattoo, his heart nearly beating out of his chest underneath. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Oh dear.” Ange scrunched her face up. “What did she do to you?”

“I really—I don’t know—”

“This changes everything. I think we should talk, privately.”

Rohan stormed up next to Jarrett. “I don’t think so. I don’t care who you are, you aren’t dragging our leader off somewhere alone without a very good explanation of how you found us, how you got here, why we should trust you—”

Ange reached out, and pressed two fingers onto Jarrett’s chest, right over where his raven tattoo was. The itch on his chest expanded over his whole body and intensified tenfold. His head buzzed, like his brain itself was vibrating. He dropped his sword and stumbled backward, overwhelmed, Rohan catching him so that he didn’t fall. The feeling faded after a moment, leaving Jarrett gasping for breath.

He was sure Rohan and the others were about to eviscerate Ange, so he quickly held his hand up and choked out, “Don’t. It’s fine.” He took a few breaths, staring at the woman that he should remember, but didn’t. “Let’s talk.”

#

Back in his home, Jarrett stared at Ange across the coffee table. He had waited for this moment. Ached for it, every day since his memories had fled.

“So who are you?” he asked.

“I already told you. I’m Ange,” she said. Her prying eyes examined each corner of his home. “Angelise, if you prefer.”

“And I’m… I’m supposed to know who you are.”

“We used to know each other. We met not far from here, in a village called Kindlespire. You lived there for a while.”

Jarrett searched his memories. He knew of Kindlespire, but had no recollection of living there. “And you’re an emissary of Death?”

“I used to be. My bond to her is broken.”

“And you aren’t a Raven?”

“I am not.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Ange snorted. “Because of their mist? Please. I took a portal most of the way through it, directly from the Crossworld. Though I’m no longer an emissary, I still have enough connection to the gods to do so. Anyway, it wasn’t hard to get through that last bit of mist.”

“The Crossworld,” he repeated. “What’s that?”

“You forget that much? She did a good job concealing your memories. Very thorough.”

She? So, it wasn’t Calder who did this to me… if Ange can be trusted. “How do you know what was done to me?”

“Well, first of all, you should know who I am but you don’t,” said Ange. “And less obviously, because of that tattoo. The magic signature on it is unmistakable to me.”

“Have you seen something like this before?”

Ange held up her hand, showing off her faded emissary mark. “It’s like this, but also not. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“But you can tell who made it. Was it Death?”

“No, not Death. An obfuscation mage. Your tattoo—think of it like the mist that the Ravens made. It’s a seal surrounding specific memories of yours, keeping them hidden.”

“Can it be broken?”

“I broke my connection with Death. Your tattoo, it’s similar to an emissary bond, in a sense. I believe I can break the seal…”

Jarrett’s heart leapt. “Please.”

“...and I will do so, on the condition that you and the Vanguard work with me on my plot against Riordan. Now that I have been reunited with the swords, it is time to move forward.”

“Absolutely.” Was Ange truly the answer to all of his problems? The creator of these weapons, here to fight Riordan with them, and also to solve the mystery that had haunted him for years. He was so hungry for answers. “The swords. You made them? What exactly do they do?”

“They’re my life's work. They get around the whole problems of Riordan simply choosing a new incarnate if his current mortal body gets slain. If you land a good enough hit with one, it will draw his soul into the blade, trapping him. A surface wound isn’t sufficient, but with a deep strike, the swords will do their job.”

“That’s… amazing. So then, we wouldn’t even have to worry about Calder first, we can go straight to Riordan.”

“Yes. Although, personally I wouldn’t mind tracking down Calder anyway. But that’s less important, for now.”

Jarrett was absolutely dumbstruck. They had a way to take care of Riordan, permanently. It was more than he ever could have dreamed of. Even with this revelation, he couldn’t help but circle back to the other issue at hand. “Do you… do you know why my memories were taken?”

“To protect you. To get rid of you. I’m not sure. You knew things that were dangerous to know. You knew people who were dangerous to know—including myself, as well as the one that sealed your memories.

“As tragic as I’m sure all of this has been for you, there is also a potential benefit. This seal put upon you is powerful, and it holds the signature of the mage who put it on you. When it is broken, this magic will be released. When this happens, I believe this release will be strong enough that Riordan will sense it from afar. I think he will come to us. We must use this to our advantage and lure Riordan into a trap.”

Jarrett didn’t fully understand, but he nodded. If they could prepare themselves, with Ange’s help, and bring Riordan here on their terms instead of barreling into Kingsmount, maybe they would be able to get that one good strike they needed on him. He would get his memories back, on top of it all. But still, the question remained: “Who did this to me, Ange? I need to know.”

“An emissary of Death. A woman named Kiera.”

Jarrett didn’t recognize the name. Of course he wouldn’t. It rang empty through his soul, an answer without being an answer.

The stealer of his memories.

The one who had ruined his life.

Kiera.