Flat rhythmic thumps throbbed the Edgewoods like a steady heartbeat. The ancient oak trembled and wept its leaves onto Leor who had been pounding its body for days. The bandages around his fist were stained red at the knuckles. Each strike tore at the wrappings, slowly revealing the pulpous skin beneath. The tree’s stock was stripped of its bark and dented beyond belief as if someone had been chopping at it with a hammer. Stinging pain jolted up his arms, but his mind was numb to it; his thoughts elsewhere.

It had been four days since the summons. Alden handed him his blood-soaked reward, a pouch of gold Alden had to hold with two hands. He thanked Leor before leaving to speak with that mysterious woman, Celestyn. And just like that, Alden left. Leor knew not when or if he would see him again. Something about that left a burning pit inside his stomach. The jingle of coin no longer stirred his hunger or his lust for gold. Rather, it fueled his beaten fists to push past the pain. It infuriated him to know the sacrifice he exchanged for coin.

“Must. Get. . . Stronger,” he grunted between each strike, thrusting with all his vigor into the last. The tree gave a final shudder before returning to normal, standing tall and strong just as it always been. Unaffected by his desperate attempts to fell the great oak. His knees quaked, unable to bear the weight of his body any longer, and he collapsed onto his back. His breath sharp, blistering heat pulsed in his fist. He pulled at the grass with his fingers; it was cold to the touch as if it were made of prickly ice.

Leor took a weak glance at the tree above him. The ample leaves masked the sunlight, the ancient oak leaned back slightly but not from his efforts. Damn it. He cursed himself for submitting to the tree’s stubbornness. He had been beating it ever since he returned to the wolf den. When his fists could not take the pain any longer, he used his legs and when his legs gave out, he swapped them again. On and on, his limbs weathered the beatings, but now, neither would listen to his commands for more.

He grazed over Ceri’s ring with his thumb. Did it truly hold any power? No matter how hard he swung, squeezed, and slammed it against something, it rested dead and silent on his finger. Was it all a farce?

His face sank with heavy memories. Ceri filled his head whenever he lost himself staring into the ring. Desperate, he clung to the crowned band and pressed it against his chest. Just as Ceri had often done when she was troubled. . . but nothing changed. His heart still wept even when his eyes could not. What did he expect? The faithless could not hope to find appeasement in a lord’s possession. He used his forearm as a blindfold and chuckled pitifully to himself for even attempting such a foolish act. As he laid in the shade and a warm breeze coddled him, his eyelids became heavier with each blink and he had no more fight in him; slumber came to collect what had been many days overdue.

Phantoms, blacker than night, came flying from the abyss and swirled around him like a twister of black cloth. They whispered into his ears as they flew by. Their voices were sinister and broken as if they were speaking with slit throats.

You let them die.

Weakling.

You are to blame.

Frightened, he cupped his ears and ran. Ran into nothingness. Anywhere was better than there, he thought. But the ground fought against him like ocean tides, trapping him in place. Freezing hands of the dead coiled his neck, silencing his attempts to cry for help. A wraith drifted before him. Its hand drenched red with blood as it inched closer to his heart. Leor thrashed and muffled his pleas but dark hands bound his limbs like a captured pig. Helpless, he shut his eyes for what was to come and repeated, living is my sin.

The hand touched his chest and caressed its way up to his chin. A gentle flame blossomed in his chest, a familiar feeling. Leor peeked a single eye open and emerald eyes smiled at him beneath the dark cloth, his limbs and throat freed from shackles. But before he could speak, the wraith kissed him with the tenderness of a lover before turning to stone and shattering.

“Ceri,” he shouted as he sprung up. Yoru jerked at his sudden movement.

Streaks of lavender and scarlet pierced through the tiny gaps in the canopy. A chill ran up his spine as the summer wind had been replaced with winter’s. The wolfling barked at him and ran around him in circles. Slobber inched down his cheek. He rubbed the crust from his eyes and sighed heavily over his constant night terrors. Was he cursed to live his life with them for eternity even without the aid of ale?

“Bold of you to sleep in the open,” a woman’s voice called out to him from the understory.

His eyes followed the voice and a flickering flame danced amongst the tree branches.

“What do you want?” Leor hissed as he watched Yui float gently to the ground. The leaves whispered a crunch at her landing.

“Is that any way to speak to someone guarding your defenseless slumber?” A smirk crossed her lips. “I believe thanks are in order.”

Leor glared at Yoru. How could she slip through your senses? He turned to his unwanted guest. “It is none of your concern where I choose to sleep. Why are you following me?”

“You’re a thick-headed one, aren’t you? You are no longer just an unknown sellsword. A simple slip up could mean your throat.” She slipped her hand into her dress and whipped out her pipe. Miki breathed it ablaze. She took a puff, then exhaled a great cloud. “Foolish mistakes are unforgiven in the lost lands.”

“I don’t need your ill tidings.”

She chuckled, underwhelmed by the barking of sulking whelp. “Keep to your ways and you’ll meet your end before coming close to seeing Ceri again.”

“Wha—”

“No point in playing the fool. Why else would a purblight ally with the realm?”

Leor had no fighting words for that. His motives were chiseled into his stone scowl.

“Many warriors entered the lost lands and never returned. A fair lot far more skilled than you. And you plan to participate in the trials in such a sorry state? Don’t be a fool.” Her voice stung more than he cared for.

“And who’s fault is that?” Leor flashed her a mocking grin. “I am empty-handed. My katanas are no longer in my possession.”

“Your own,” She spat back, squeezing the blades in question. “They are not yours to wield. Your own weakness is the root of your failure. You lack the resolve to do what must be done. If you had any semblance of a warrior’s virtue, you would have ended that knight and saved —”

“Shut your mouth!” Leor slammed his fist into the tree. A fissure cracked up its body, the timber creaked and groaned. “I will hear none of it from a lord’s lapdog. What good is all that power if your Gods do nothing but watch countless lives waste away from their ruling? They grant power to those who bring pain and suffering to the blindly faithful.” Valmir’s nasty grin flashed through his mind.

Still, he could not read the emotions on her face. Yui remained silent for a time, smoking her pipe, gazing into the distance as if lost in thought. The embers in the pipe bowl started to fade. Yoru’s panting and rustling leaves filled the silence as the wolfling chased the oversized flaming bird.

“Saving a soul. . .” Yui began, her voice somber now. “. . . is a noble cause. But how could one fathom to save another when their own is broken? The trials will be an arduous journey. Many do not have the heart to see it through.” Her icy gaze met his. “Steel yourself, Leor. Do not bring further shame to the Sky Splitter. ”

Storm’s Decree almost seemed to brand his finger with a frost. He gazed upon it long and thoughtful. He had watched enough people die before him, heard their screams, felt the warmth leave their bodies, all without his requitement. It has gone on far too long. It ends now. He looked back at her with unwavering resolve. “You need not worry. I will not make the same mistake again.”

Peaceful tides push and pull the foot of land but never beyond its confinement. Such were the teachings of the Oceanhart. At Thalesia, people had once kept their eyes from wandering too far and strayed from trouble like an affliction. Purblights roaming the streets and foreigners visiting the Hydrian port city were nothing out of the sort. But now the walls grew eyes and ears. The Licht Order claimed the city against the Stallion’s wishes. Leor had overheard some say it was for the well-being of Tridon, to protect Thalesia from the arrival of the other houses whom he could only assume were partaking in the departure. But he saw little of that “protection”.

Droves of armed forces occupied the taverns and lodgings, feasting and partying until it was time to go beyond the Walls. All had made Thalesia their own in some way. During the day, each house hid in their claimed quadrant and guarded against anyone who was not their kin. But it was at nightfall, the qualms stormed the streets like a flood. Skirmishes and drunken bouts plagued the once-bustling nightlife. Gutless civilians halted their night outings and some tavern owners closed their doors entirely to avoid ruin.

Leor had stopped by a butcher shop and bought a bottle of Lightberry wine and a pound of the fattest, Ocean-kissed steak he could get his hands on. A fine gift for Gerald, he thought. He had heard the drunken rambles of how the meat was marinated with sea salt extracted from Naiomi’s blessed ocean waters, and how fat would melt in your mouth like butter. His mouth watered at the thought of the juicy meat sending his tongues to a land unbeknownst to it.

But the daydreams were short-lived. Tales from Logtown traveled far quicker than he imagined. Civilians, mercenaries, knights. All seemed to halt and stare at him with contempt, muttering something as he passed. No matter how hard he tried to lay low as he always did, eyes followed him wherever he went. He’d take the darkest alleys, dipped through secluded underpasses, avoided the heavy footed streets, and made certain his path was maze-like. And yet, he felt a presence always chasing his shadow. Was it in his head or perhaps what Yui warned him of was true?

With Yoru lurking in his shadow, Leor walked aimlessly until late dusk and waited for the brawls to ring in the distance. He waited and waited for the slightest hint of a presence to prick his senses, but when there was none to feel, he scaled the rickety wall with haste and slipped inside the inn through the window of his room. Yoru jumped in soon after. It was unlocked, he knew. Gerald’s inn couldn’t afford locks, not that it was needed.

Old, dark, and empty. Just as he remembered. Though his room felt much larger than before. The shoddy bed seemed to be made not for a single body like it once did, thoughts of his passionate night with Ceri flooded his head. Her ghostly touch caressed his neck; he felt her thin supple body resting perfectly in his arms and her fingers interlocking with his. He clamped his eyes shut and dug his fingers so deep that his palms lost their fleshy pigment. Stop, he pleaded, not now.

The wolflings' sudden growl called his attention. Yoru bared his fangs at the empty hallway and dread raised the hairs on Leor’s neck when nothing came out from the shadows. Gerald would have come to investigate the room, he told himself. It was next to impossible to sneak about with such derelict flooring.

He told the wolfling to stay in the room for he feared Gerald might kill the thing by accident if caught off guard. Leor raised his fists and traversed the dark hall, one foot inching forward with careful steps while avoiding the creaky midsection of the planks. Still, the feeble timber groaned with each stride, striking up dust and his heart. Cold sweat beaded his temples. He wasn’t sure if the sound of falling sediment was from his walk or someone else's. He kept his lips tight, his breath stifled so as to not warn what could be lurking in the shadows.

Reaching the stairs to the lobby, the climbing breeze howled. The front door clapped open and shut. The drapes flapped a waving song. Something was off. The lobby was torchless, which was strange. Gerald would be sitting at the front desk, reading something or dozing off. Whichever came first.

The flickering street lamps peered through the unkempt windows. The dining table had been snapped in half, the chairs flung across the room and exploded. His boots clunked and echoed the hollow floorboards until shattered glass crunched beneath his steps.

A robbery? No, not for a place like this.

He heard a small splash under his foot. His heart flinched at the sight of his boot dipped in a pool of red liquid. Drums pounded in his ears. He swallowed what little saliva he had left and followed the trail inch by inch, his head ticking as if resisting the urge to look. But he needed to know. There, behind the counter, a set of legs plopped out and laid sprawled on the floor.

He ran over to the body, his heart now in his stomach. No, no, no, no.

Then, a shadow rushed him like a bull, his legs swept under him, and the room turned sideways. The floorboards cracked and splintered when he slammed into the floor. He felt the air in his lungs stolen from him. As he tried to rise, the shadow anchored him with its foot.

“Damn, outlanders. Haven’t I told you not to come back?”

Leor groaned. He knew that grumpy, aged voice anywhere. “. . . Gerald?”

The tree stump of a foot lightened. “Leor? That you?”

“Yes. . . “

Gerald let out a hearty laugh and helped him to his feet. “I almost snapped your ribs! Why didn’t you call me out sooner?”

“I thought there may have been an intruder,” Leor said, rubbing his chest, trying to find his breath. “What happened?”

Gerald ignited the lobby lanterns, his sour face and shining dome illuminated by the wavering light. “Those damn outlanders are running amok. A group of them tried for a stay and threatened me when I refused.” He pointed at the body behind the counter. “That’s one of them there. The rest of them ran away stumbling. Damn fools can’t hold their liquor.”

Leor studied the sleeping man. He recognized the sleeveless clothes and scarred skin. An Arindian. “You kill him?”

“Him?” Gerald waved his hand without a care in the world. Leor wondered if he knew what house he hailed from. “He’ll be fine. I only slammed him through the table and hurled him over the counter.” His face darkened more when he gazed upon the spilt alcohol. “But those bastards broke all my bottles. What am I to drink now?”

“Oh, worry not, old man,” Leor said, smirking. He whistled and Yoru emerged from the shadows with his satchel of gifts. “First things first. Missing rent and more” He tossed him the pouch of gold.

Gerald dipped at the sudden weight. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out its sockets. He examined the bag, juggled it in his hand, then opened it to inspect the contents. “You. . . made all this?” he said at last with a tone to match his doubtful actions.

“That’s not all,” Leor said as flat as he could and presented Gerald the aged wine and the golden seal that held the meat’s packaging.

“No. . . that can’t be,” Gerald mumbled in shock, cupping his hands towards the gifts like they were newborns.

“They’re all yours,” Leor said as he forced them into his hands. “My debt is paid. Use the money to fix up this damn place, will you?”

“Aye. . . but first, we dine like kings tonight!”

The rumors were a sham, Leor thought as he smacked down on the meal Gerald had prepared for them. The texture was as they said: soft and melty like butter. But he would’ve gladly exchanged that for something with taste. He wondered if Gerald prepped the meat correctly, but the old man’s reactions showed otherwise. He moaned as he chewed, drank some lightberry wine, moaned, and stuffed his face some more. Leor feared he may choke between his breaths.

Leor took a sip from his wine glass, hoping it would reset his tongue. But the wine was far too sour and tart for his liking and a lot harder to swallow than the cheap ale he was used to. He frowned in disappointment over the dinner he had high hopes for. Nothing seemed to be going his way.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like the food?” Gerald said with his mouth full of food and hard disbelief.

“Had a small feast earlier,” he lied. He pushed his plate across the lobby counter. “You want the rest?”

Gerald shrugged. He forked the rest of his meal and sucked it all up, then washed it down with some more wine. “Damn, that hits the spot,” he said, wiping the trail of wine from the corner of his lip with his thumb. “With all these gifts and gold, it's almost like I owe you now!” He slapped the counter with his burly hand and he laughed like the drunkard he is. He was a few more glasses away before the heartfelt Gerald came out, Leor knew.

They clinked glasses at that and finished what was left in their cheap goblets. The red liquid set his throat on fire and his stomach aboil. The room began to twirl. His legs struggled to keep him standing still.

“Speaking of gifts,” Gerald said while filling their glasses to the brim. “You’ve brought something else back with you.” He pointed at Yoru who was gnawing the raw leftovers.

“That’s Yoru. An edgewolf pup.”

“Damn that curt mouth of yours.” The drunkard pounded his fist onto the counter. “I’m old, not blind. Why’s it here inside the city?”

Leor dodged the question with a chug. He heard Ceri arguing with him over the wolfling again. He was certain Gerald would’ve liked to see that.

“Well, no matter. Just make sure that thing doesn’t ruin my inn and stir up more trouble in the city. The Stallions, the Licht Order, the outlanders. . . hell, you’d think this be the safest city in Syvernia with them all gathered here.” Gerald’s eyes shifted to the body on the floor, then studied Leor with glazed eyes. He took another gulp. “I spoke with some drinking buddies and my. . . female companions. None of them has a clue about the gatherings. You have any inkling? You came from that way after all.”

Leor peered into the swishing liquor. In the light, it almost seemed to glitter like gems sunken in a pool of blood. “No. . . can’t say that I do.”

“Hm. . . is that right?” Gerald stroked his beard. Leor could sense the old man did not believe a word he said. A knock on the door cut any further prodding. Gerald grunted as he stood and made way to greet the visitor.

Leor’s eyes hung low and heavy, the wine started taking its toll now. He feared something may slip his tongue if Gerald interrogated him further. That was the last thing he wanted: roping another person into his qualms. That became painfully clear when he thought that body on the floor was Gerald and the spilt wine his blood. This plight is mine alone.

“He’s over here.” Gerald’s voice rang near the door, his footsteps approaching closer. But not just his, the floorboards clunked heavier and twice as much. “Leor, someone’s here to speak with you about some. . . important matters?” His voice was thick with uncertainty.

Who could it be now, he wondered. Was it Yui coming to pester him again? Leor turned and found a face he loathed to see, the blonde locks shared amongst the Order, the icy blue eyes that watched hidden amongst the crowd, the one who slipped his grasp when she died. His senses left him just as they did on that dark day, the alcohol adding fuel to the fire in his chest. He bolted at him and slugged his fist across his face with all the drunken rage he could muster, almost stumbling as he did so. Afzal smashed through the remnants of the table as he fell. Gerald was left speechless, Yoru readied his pounce. Leor grabbed him by the cloak collar and slammed him up against the wall.

“It was you, wasn’t it!” he barked, striking him again before Afzal could utter a word. “You got her killed!”

“Leor, stop!” Gerald tried to pry back his winding arm, but Leor shook off his attempts and drove his fist into Afzal’s gut. The blow sent Afzal hunching forward and made a cracking sound, but it wasn’t clear if it was his fist or Afzal’s bones. Nonetheless, Leor felt no pain. Just the heat rising to his face and with it, the urge to turn Afzael’s face into a bloody mess.

“I said stop!” Gerald peeled him off, throwing him back to the counter.

Leor ricocheted to his feet and Gerald pinned him with his forearm. “This has nothing to do with you, Gerald!”

“This is my inn, boy!” Gerald bellowed, jabbing his finger to his face. “Control yourself!”

His voice shook Leor; he had never heard Gerald shout before. Not like that.

Afzal stumbled to his feet, gasping for air and wiping blood from his lip. “I’ve come with no ill will, Leor. I only bear information.”

“Bullshit! You lie through your teeth.”

Gerald dug his arm deeper into Leor’s chest and whispered. “ Leor, don’t be a fool and hear him out. Think about it. He came to fetch you himself. Alone. Dressed like that? It might do you some good.”

“No, I refuse to listen to this scum.”

Afzal sighed. “Leor, I am truly sorry for what happened in Logtown. Truly, I am. But I promise you, I did not send that knight upon you and the girl.”

“Enough of your lies,” he growled, fighting to free himself like a rabid dog, but Gerald's arm and the alcohol proved too much to resist. “You followed us all the way from Thalesia. I saw you in the crowd, watching your scheme unfold. Why else would you be there!?”

Afzal pinched his brow. “Perhaps. . . it is too soon to have this chat with you. Sir Gerald, if I may, I’ll take that body off your hands and to the guards.” When Gerald nodded, Afzal carried it over his shoulder. “I’ll take my leave then, but before I go, hear my words, Leor. The houses will be departing on the morrow rather than three days from now. I suggest you do not lag behind.”

And with that, Afzal left. Gerald relinquished his hold and went for his drink. The room remained silent. Leor hung his head low, his fist still quaking with rage.

Pop. Gerald gestured the lightberry wine at him before pouring himself a helping. “Want another?” He didn't wait for an answer and poured a glass anyway.

They continued drinking in silence. Leor kept his eyes down but he could feel Gerald’s judgeful gaze. The drawn-out silence pissed him off more. What is he planning? If he’s going to ask, then ask.

“Leor. . .” Here it comes. “Wait here,” Gerald said softly as he disappeared into his room behind the lobby. After a while, he came out with a sword wrapped in discolored and ragged cloth. He placed it gently between them. “Here.”

Confused, he looked to and fro the item. “What’s this for?”

Gerald finished his drink in a single chug and let out a great ah, then he smiled. “Look here, Leor. I am neither blind nor deaf. I’ve known you for quite some time now. The swords you cradle like a suckling baby are no longer on you, you’re quieter than a ghost, and you fall into a drunken rage. Even a blind man can sense your distress.”

Leor bit his lip. You know nothing.

“I will not ask you what troubles you so nor do I wish to know. . . But if you need an ear, I’ll lend it to you.” Gerald cracked a smile. “But buy me a drink first at least.” He let out a brawny howl of laughter and gripped Leor’s shoulder, pushing the greatsword onto him. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right? Take this with you. It brought me back home from my journey. I pray it does the same for you.”

Pray. Today was a first for many things, but he’d never thought that word would come out of a purblight. “I- I don’t know what to say. . .”

Gerald tapped him on the chest, still grinning like the old drunken fool he was. “A man needs not to speak if words are lost. The heart speaks for the man and pushes him to act.”