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PREFACE: Reikk returns in this crazy adventure where he has to confront… a god? Oh boy, this is not going to end well, is it? Oh, and fair warning: the opening is a tidbit graphic!

The sun-drenched valley assaulted my senses with all its gory details. A slaughter had come for a stroll—dismembered bodies sprawled across the ground, with blood soaking the earth and grass. Frightened horses neighed nearby.

I dismounted from mine, tied it to a tree, and moved closer to inspect the carnage. Six humans, all dead, all wearing armor that had been split open. Not neatly like one might expect from a sword—more like ripped by the claws of some monstrous beast.

With a wave of my hand, I opened my veil to examine the scene. The traces of magic were faint, but not lacking. Following the trail, I noticed marks on the ground—as if two corpses had been dragged up the hill.

When I reached the top, I swiped the veil away and stared.

Gaps floated in the air—or perhaps I should call them tears—as if the very fabric of reality had been gouged. From these dripped a thick, dark brown substance that foamed and bubbled and ate the earth wherever it landed. Within these wounds shimmered bizarre landscapes—a black land under a dark red sky, with twisted trees, their branches reaching out like begging arms; a sterile sea of purplish green; the ominous ruins of spike-covered ramparts surrounding a crumbling tower that felt oddly familiar; and so many more disquieting scenes. One thing all had in common was a sense of emptiness, of abandonment, as if death itself had lingered there a while too long.

I tore my eyes away to look at the ground. Kept them there as I moved, careful not to touch any of the hovering shards or the simmering pools underneath. The marks went through them, suggesting that whatever happened here happened after the dragging was done.

The two bodies lay next to each other at the foot of an oak—its trunk was split and scorched, and still stunk of soot and smoke.

Crouching, I studied the man. Something large had pierced a hole through his chest, big as my fist. Peering in, I could see the blood-stained ground underneath.

What could have done such damage?

I turned to look at the woman and found no wound on her. Checking her pulse, I realized she still lived. Gently picking her up, I carried her down the hill, away from the maddening scene. I went well past her slaughtered escort and set her down on the floor.

The two on the hill wore different clothes from the soldiers. These were civilians—possibly nobles.

After gathering branches and stones, I started a fire.

Then I sat next to the crackling flames and waited.

***

The woman’s body twitched. Shifted.

Her eyes fluttered open. Fell on me. Widened.

She scrambled back, hissing.

“You!” she screamed. “What have you done?”

Before I could react, she jumped to her feet, drew her sword, and lunged at me.

I had not expected that.

She leaped over the fire and swung her blade at my neck. I barely had time to roll out of the way.

“I am not who you think I am!” I called out.

“You’re Reikk!”

Okay. Maybe I was, after all.

She came at me again, and I cursed. Jumped to the side. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she was making it difficult for me not to.

I made a Gesture and a gust of wind pushed her back.

“Stop!” I shouted. “I am not the enemy.”

“You killed my brother!”

How do you convince a hysterical noble that you are not who she thinks you are when she gets your name right?

“I did no such thing.”

Weaving a shield around me, I relaxed. At least her blade could no longer reach me now.

Just in time, too, as she rushed me... only for her weapon to bounce back, making her lose her balance and fall. I hurried to press my shoe against her wrist until she was forced to let go, grimacing. Leaning, I picked up the sword and glared down at her. Held it in front of her eyes.

“Look.” I tossed it away. “Would I do that if I wanted to kill you?” I pointed at Firnenth, still sheathed at my belt. “I haven’t even drawn mine.”

She frowned as she considered my blade.

“That’s not the same sword you wielded earlier.”

“Wasn’t me,” I told her.

“But I saw you!”

“I’m going to let you go now, but no more fighting, alright?”

She scowled. Nodded.

I lifted my foot and stepped back. Watched warily as she stood and rubbed her wrist, her eyes still like daggers.

“Are you or are you not Reikk?”

“The better question,” I said, “is why do you think that was that man’s name? Did he mention it?”

She blinked. “He must have... How would I know it otherwise?” She didn’t sound so sure anymore—we were making progress.

“People tend to know me wherever I go, even when I’d never been there before.”

Now she looked confused.

“How is that possible?”

I shrugged. Pointed at the fire as I went back to the spot where I’d been sitting before. “It’s always been like this. I don’t know why. Now, how about you tell me what happened? Maybe we can make some sense out of this mess.”

For the first time, her eyes scanned our surroundings—mostly bushes and trees. We were far enough that she couldn’t see the corpses or the hill; I’d figured it’d be easier on her.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Not far from where I found you.” She shuddered as memories flooded back to her. “Night will be upon us soon, and the heat of the flames will do you good. Come.”

She hesitated, then joined me, sitting across the fire from me, watching me.

“You already know my name, so what’s yours?” I asked.

“Amella Dark.”

I quirked a brow. “Dark? Really?”

“It’s really Darkenden, but everyone shortens it to Dark.”

“I see.” I fed some branches to the famished flames. “So, want to tell me what happened?”

She looked away, her whole body tensing.

“We were returning from Nabera when we were attacked by these creatures. I’d never seen anything like them. Pale-skinned with razor-sharp fangs and claws. Red triangles for eyes. Four arms each and tongues like snakes. They shimmered and faded with every move. And every time they shimmered or faded, our blades would go right through them as if they weren’t there at all. And then their claws would sink through armors, ripping them apart as if they were meat.”

“And there was a man with them?”

Amella turned to look at me. Studied my face for a moment.

“Not at first,” she said. “Darwen and I were spared. The creatures killed everyone else. But no matter how vigorously we fought them, they simply... ignored us. That’s how it felt, anyway. And once all our guards were dead, they faded again, never to return.” The woman rubbed her arms, shaking her head. “Instead, a great shadow fell upon us. When we looked up, he dropped from the sky. The closer he came, the dizzier I felt. Everything blurred around me.”

Her account made me uncomfortable. The siblings had clearly been placed under a spell, but by what type of being? One of formidable power, that much was obvious.

“I couldn’t say what he looked like exactly,” she admitted. “Only that he had red hair.” She pointed at my head. “Just like you. Though he might have been older. Then we were thrown to the ground, as if by some giant’s invisible hand. And we were dragged up the hill, though the man floated above us.”

When she fell quiet, I offered her my waterskin. She gratefully took it. Drank and handed it back.

“I couldn’t say much more,” she muttered. “Everything was a blur after that.” A wince. “But he killed Darwen, that much I know. He had this huge sword, at least twice your height, though he wielded it as if it were light as a feather. Drove it right through my brother’s chest. Lifted him off the ground and laughed as my brother’s body slid down to the hilt.”

Tears ran down her cheeks now, and she wiped them with the back of her hand.

“Who did this to us?”

A more troubling question haunted me.

Why was Amella still alive?

***

I did not sleep well that night, my dreams plagued with pale-skinned creatures clawing at my skin. Every time I woke, I glanced at Amella and saw her wriggling, covered in sweat, muttering in her sleep.

No matter how I looked at it, I could only think of two possibilities—neither of them pleasant.

The whole set-up stank of a ritual. If she still lived, then she must have been the target. Whoever had done this to her must have needed her as a vessel. Was she possessed, or did she carry something within her?

In the morning, I decided to escort her. I made sure we traveled around the hill, circling far from the evidence.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

She motioned toward the south. “Salathen. Shouldn’t be more than an hour away.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“All my life. The town was co-founded by my ancestors, though my family no longer has a say in how things are run.” There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

“Why did you go to Nabera?”

“My brother and I run...” Amella bit down on her lip. “We ran a business,” she continued after taking a deep breath. “The Darkendens have owned vineyards and produced wine for generations. Nabera is an important market for us.”

Her answers came naturally, and her pain seemed genuine. If she were possessed, she would not remember things so clearly, or feel human emotions. Which meant that man must have put something inside her.

I fell quiet, not wanting to distress her with further questions.

As we rode, I studied her through my veil, but found nothing unusual—which proved nothing. All it meant was that she was not under a spell.

There was no road here, but Amella knew the way. She led us through fields and plains until we saw the outlines of buildings in the distance. Relief painted her face then, and I wondered if she’d ever find the courage to leave her home again after what she’d endured.

“I’m sorry for attacking you back there,” she muttered as we entered the town. “I was so sure...”

“You were dazed, and I looked like that stranger. I understand.”

She glanced at me. Nodded.

“I want to properly thank you for helping me. Would you accept my hospitality—for however long you wish to stay?”

The offer relieved me, because I wanted to get to the bottom of this and had been struggling to find a good excuse to stay in Salathen, but she’d just handed me one.

“Only a couple of days, then, if it is no bother?”

She smiled. “None at all. I am pleased. Come.”

And I followed her toward the manor that had belonged to her family for centuries.

***

“I must warn you,” she said as she led me down the dimly lit hall, “it is a peculiar house. Not everything here is as it seems—or where you might expect it to be.”

Her words made me curious enough to raise my veil. There was magic here, undeniably. Colored strands swirled, patterns shifted, pulsating lights gleamed.

“You had wizards in your family?”

We went up a flight of stairs that threatened to dissolve under our feet, then down another glittering field of stars. When the walls distorted and my head began to spin, I brought the veil down, and immediately felt relieved.

“Perhaps,” she muttered.

It occurred to me that she had taken a long time to answer. I would have questioned her further, but she stopped at a door and opened it.

“You can have this room. It is safe. And it has a great view of the lake.”

The town had been built around a small lake, and the manor loomed over it.

Amella had walked in to inspect the bed. She shook her head.

“I will have Pelle change the sheets. These are dusty. Let her know if you need anything, and she can take care of it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She smiled. “Very well. I must go take care of some matters, but you will join me for lunch, yes?”

“Of course. But, Amella...”

She paused at the door. “Yes?”

“I haven’t seen anyone else in this house. Where is the rest of your family?”

Her expression darkened. “It always was just Darwen and me.”

Without another word, she left.

***

I should have followed her.

If something was inside her, as I suspected, she could be in danger. It was not reasonable to let her out of my sight. But how could I justify going everywhere she went? I was not her bodyguard, much less her friend. Just some stranger she happened to meet on the road. It wasn’t even as if I’d saved her life. Had I not been there, she would still have awakened; and she’d have gone down that hill; she’d found her horse and she’d have ridden home. At most, I’d spared her the sight of those corpses.

Staring out the window, I watched as birds flew in the sky. By the lake, children played. An old woman strolled in the street. A normal town, with normal people.

Why was I even here?

Amella was nothing to me either—just as much a stranger as I was to her.

Something very wrong had happened on that hill, and that was something I could not ignore. What lay dormant inside her could disrupt this town and turn normalcy into nightmare.

I could not allow that.

***

After the servant came and went, I wandered through the halls.

The manor intrigued me.

There was magic here—lots of it—and part of me wondered if it was connected to what had happened to Amella. And yet, this place had been in her family for so long... She seemed to know it well—and, certainly, not to be frightened. If there was a mystery here—and surely there was—it had to be of a different nature.

I walked down the stairs, only to arrive in a large room that looked nothing like the hall we’d been through earlier. There were comfortable-looking chairs, a desk, shelves, and books. Many books.

A library, perhaps. Or a study.

The sole window had a view of the garden. There was a fountain there, surrounded by birches, and a cobbled path that led to the front gate. I spotted two statues as well, overlooking the fountain.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

I spun.

Amella stood at the door, wearing a crimson dress with embroidered flower motifs.

“I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” She pointed at the carpet. “It’s very good at dampening sounds.”

I suspected magic had been threaded into the fabric but resisted the urge to check through my veil—I did not care for a sensory overload.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

She sighed. “Exhausted. Isn’t that strange when I just woke up a few hours ago?”

Neither of us had slept well, so I did not find it so odd. Though I wondered if it might not be a sign of something more sinister.

“No more dizziness?”

She frowned at the question. “I do not wish to be reminded of that, if it’s all the same to you.”

I could have told her of my concerns, of my suspicions, but I feared how she might react. Nor did I want to further torment her. She’d been through a lot already.

“Apologies.”

She looked away.

“I’ve sent men to the hill,” she said after a moment of silence. “To retrieve Darwen’s body and give the others a proper burial.”

I nodded.

After another silence, she straightened and looked at me.

“If you’ll follow me, lunch is about to be served.”

She turned and walked out of the room.

***

I never saw any other servants.

When we arrived, the table was already laden with food.

We sat and ate in silence.

I watched her from the corner of my eye.

Every once in a while, she would pause and rub her forehead.

“Are you alright?” I asked after she’d done it for the umpteenth time.

“Just a headache,” she mumbled.

Or perhaps something was eating her up from inside.

But how could I be sure?

And even if I confirmed it, what could I do about it?

This was nothing like anything I’d ever encountered before.

The more I thought about it, the more I suspected a being from a different plane. It would explain so much—the shimmering and fading creatures; the heavy sword that seemed so light; the ripped sky that hinted at other worlds...

But why the ritual? And what was the ultimate goal?

When we finished eating, we rose.

Amella walked toward the door. Paused. Wobbled.

I hurried to her side.

“Lean on me,” I said.

She did.

“What is happening to me?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.”

***

Amella showed me the way to her room, and I helped her to her bed.

She lay down and sighed.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you...”

“You would have called Pelle.”

“Pelle. Yes.” She closed her eyes. “Of course.”

I waited until her breathing slowed.

Once she was asleep, I raised my veil again for a quick glimpse of her body. But still, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Something was gnawing at her. If I could not get to it, then I needed it to come to me—and if not that, its master. Was there a way I could summon this red-haired being?

There was no magic on her, but such creatures have an aura. The more powerful they are, the more this aura lingers on all it touches or even approaches. I had not sensed it, but neither had I searched for it. A veil would not pick out such a subtle thing.

I needed a spell.

Focusing on my intent, I began to utter the Words that would give it shape. Once it formed, two Gestures cast it. A faint glow appeared around the woman—one that must have been bright as a star when I’d first found her on the top of that hill. A few hours more and it would be entirely gone.

This did not tell me who the creature was, but it gave me a thread I could pull on.

Which is exactly what I did.

I weaved strands around the aura, trying to ignore the distracting colors that filled the room. Tightened the vise. Tugged. Again and again.

Until a flow of energy coursed through the thread, jolting me backward.

A loud boom cracked.

A stink of mildew permeated the air.

And there he stood. Tall, commanding, red hair flowing down the sides of a dark green tunic. His eyes burrowed into mine.

And all I read in them was rage.

***

“How dare you?” the god roared.

For that was what most mortal men would call such a being.

I knew it instantly when I saw him.

“What have you done to her?”

I pointed to Amella—who, despite the din and stench, remained sound asleep.

The god narrowed his eyes. “You question me, mortal?”

Except, I was not that. Had not been in decades. Centuries, perhaps? It is so easy to lose track after the first hundred years.

Did this give me the right to challenge him?

Perhaps not.

“Reikk?”

The woman turned sleepy eyes toward me. I cringed. Would that she had slept through it all... But I could not lose my focus. Not now.

“This is not your world,” I said. “You do not belong here. There are rules. Rules that apply even to creatures such as yourself.”

An evil grin crept across his lips, though the fury never left his eyes.

“Oh, but that is about to change, wizard. For soon I shall be reborn through her.”

“What did you do?”

“A simple case of possession, dead one.”

“There is no sign of magic—”

Even as I spoke, I understood. As a planar being, the signs of his meddling could be hidden in another reality.

Amella was wide awake now, shaken by the god’s words.

“No!” she shrieked, pulling at her hair. “Get out of my head!”

I could hear the horror in her voice, though I never turned my gaze from the being. “Who are you?” I asked.

He laughed. “I am Wrath! And once I have broken her and stolen her flesh, I shall consume this world, for only feeding can appease my Wrath.”

The logic of a serpent eating its own tail. Wonderful.

“You will undo what you have done.”

The god crossed his arms, smirking.

“Or else what?”

That was a good question, wasn’t it?

How was I to fight such a creature? I was powerful, but even my magic had its limits. This Wrath had done things—out there, on that hill—that I could not begin to comprehend. I was clearly out of my depth.

Besides, I was no slayer of gods.

And yet...

An idea popped into my head, and I dared to hope.

I mirrored his smirk—risky, I know.

“Or else I will destroy you.”

***

I was bluffing, of course, though not by much.

The house was the key.

At least, I hoped.

It was filled with magic, was it not?

A source I could tap into to my heart’s content.

The god, in his august hubris, flared his nostrils, and opened his mouth.

His voice shattered the air.

The window exploded, shards flying through the room.

Floor and walls shook.

I stumbled back, barely keeping my balance.

But the god said not a word.

Sound poured out, meaningless yet lethal.

My arms extended, I drew power from the colors that still swirled around us—though I alone could see them.

Energy pulsed through me.

Today, I would silence a god.

***

Amella screamed.

The god roared.

My Words echoed through like thunder.

Wrath held out his hands, and a sword shimmered into existence.

Huge.

Twice my height, at the very least.

He lifted it.

Swung it.

I twisted the strands that floated between us, thickened and strengthened them.

The blade came slowly. And the closer it got, the slower it moved.

I read the frustration in his eyes.

Still, his voice bled like rain from the clouds.

But I would not let it chip at my sanity.

I worried about Amella, but I could do nothing for her without lowering my guard, which would have been disastrous.

The whole house shuddered—whether from the assault or from my actions, I could not have said. I hoped the former.

Gathering more strands, I flung them at the god.

“Undo what you’ve done!” I yelled.

It was pointless, of course.

The power at my disposal may help me vanquish him here, in this realm, but it would not destroy him, much less remove what he’d placed inside Amella.

I saw the bed, then.

And it was empty.

Where had she gone?

No time.

Must focus.

I cast more spells at Wrath.

Again and again.

Pummeled him into the ground.

Until he screamed no more.

And silence returned.

***

The god was gone—for now—but so was Amella.

That was disturbing.

After dispelling the veil, I searched the room. Noticed the door was open. Went out and found her on the next floor, muttering to herself in the corridor, opening door after door.

“Where is it? Where is it?” she kept asking.

“What are you looking for?”

She jumped at the sound of my voice.

Looked in panic behind me.

“Is he coming?”

“No. He’s gone.”

She closed her eyes. Shuddered.

“Good. I must... I must remove it...”

“What?”

“That thing inside me.” She banged on the side of her head, then opened another door. “I can’t remember the way. It keeps changing!”

The frustration in her tone was plain enough.

“Where do you want to go?”

“The laboratory! There are tomes there with secret spells. Surely one of them—”

“Amella!”

“—could fix me, get that thing—”

I grabbed her shoulders and swung her around.

“Look at me! Focus.”

She blinked.

“Reikk?”

“Listen. There is a way.”

“There is?”

Her mind was unraveling, and I had to keep her sane. Though what I needed to tell her was unlikely to help.

“That creature comes from another plane. But there are rules—rules it broke.”

She laughed, but it sounded a bit too hysterical for my taste.

“No one cares about rules. No one, no one, no one.”

I shook her and she fell quiet.

“There are ways to travel through planes. I’ve done it before. We can bring your case before the Council of Beasts. While I doubt Wrath is that being’s real name, they might have ways to identify him. Either way, they have the power and authority to do what I cannot, and remove what he put inside your brain.”

A hint of steel returned to her eyes.

“Then you must take me to them at once.”

***

The Council rules over all of reality—the infinity of planes and beyond. One of their cardinal rules is that one should never interfere in a realm that is not one’s own. While this commandment is often broken, it can be enforced through an appeal. Of course, most people would not know how to do this, which is why ghosts and spirits continue to haunt the realm of men.

I opened the way with a spell—one I learned from a grateful old wizard after I’d stopped a troll from eating him.

We stepped through the breach and onto a platform that floated above the void.

Amella peered down—but she did not tremble, did not flinch.

“Where are we?” she asked, voice filled with awe.

“I don’t know that it has a name, but this is where we can call upon the Council.”

“How?”

I motioned to the emptiness before us and took a step forward.

She gasped, reaching out to stop me, but my foot landed on solid ground—as I knew it would.

“It cannot be seen,” I explained, “but there is a bridge here.”

When I kept going, she followed me.

“How do you know where to step if you can’t see it?”

“There are markers, if you look carefully. See those stars on each side? They’re spread out unevenly, so you might think they are, in fact, stars, but they are not. So long as you always keep one to your right and another to your left, you are safe.”

“Oh.”

We went on until we reached an arch of golden vines that writhed and gleamed when we passed through. And though it had looked like more void awaited us, instead we arrived in a vast chamber filled with floating orbs and cylindrical shapes. There were no chairs or tables here, though twelve creatures hovered in the center. Three dragons, two centaurs, a giant centipede, a unicorn, four minotaurs, and a cat.

If Wrath were a god, what were these creatures who formed the Council of Beasts?

“Who comes before us?” asked a female voice.

It held no hostility, only curiosity with perhaps a hint of amusement.

“My name is Reikk, and I come forth to speak for this human, Amella.”

“Are you not human as well?”

The voice came from the cat, I realized. But before I could respond, another boomed—deeper and commanding.

“He is not.” The red dragon spread out its wings, as if it were about to take off, though it folded them back right away.

“I am,” I said.

While I would not normally contradict a dragon, I knew these creatures valued truth and honesty.

The dragon lowered its head onto its paws, eyes fixed upon me.

“Interesting,” it muttered.

Part of me wondered if it could see what I could not—had it some inkling of who I truly was?

I dared not ask, for that was not the purpose of my presence. And if one thing mattered here, it was to remain focused.

One of the centaurs approached us. Inclined his head after studying us both closely.

“What do you request?”

“Justice,” I said.

“Ah! Justice! Ever elusive.” The cat again. She lay on the floor, front paws extended, as she eyed us. Her fur was silver and white with streaks of yellow, her eyes an unsettling green. “Why should we grant you what we ourselves cannot attain?”

I pondered the odd phrasing.

“I want it out!” suddenly screamed Amella, falling to her knees. “I can feel it growing!” She punched at her skull. “I can’t take it anymore!”

All the beasts turned to stare at her.

“Peculiar,” said the unicorn.

“A being who calls himself Wrath put something inside her,” I explained.

“We smell his stink still,” said another dragon—white, this one.

The centipede slid back and forth. “His aura shines,” it hissed.

And yet I could see it no more.

“We know the one you speak of,” added the cat.

“Can you heal her?”

The second minotaur snorted. “She is not ill. Merely tainted.”

“Wrath should not have done this to her,” I remarked. “She is human. He broke the rules when he went into the realm of men. He killed her people and used her brother’s blood in a ritual.”

“Yes,” said the cat, “for only the blood of a relative can do what was done here.”

“Most inconvenient,” muttered the unicorn.

A flap of wings and the white dragon landed before us.

“How would you pay?”

“Pay?” Amella’s voice rang like a shriek. “This is my body!”

The cat rose and walked up to her. Purred. Rubbed itself against the sobbing woman.

I stared in disbelief.

Ignoring it all, the dragon insisted.

“A payment must be made if the deed is to be undone.”

The words drew me back to the creature.

“I don’t understand. Is it not your role to mete out justice? Since when is there a price attached to enforcing the law?”

“You misunderstand, human.” The centipede’s voice grated on my nerves. “Justice requires punishment of the one who broke the law—and this shall be done, free of charge, for that is the way.”

“But this,” the unicorn continued, “is different. You are asking us to interfere. Which we are willing to do, for this was the product of another interference.”

“It is, however, beyond the purview of this Council.”

“But not beyond its power,” the cat said with amusement.

“Provided payment, of course,” added the red dragon.

The cat had settled in Amella’s lap by now, and the woman absent-mindedly stroked its fur, muttering to herself.

She was slipping again.

“What type of payment would be deemed appropriate for such a service?” I asked in annoyance.

“A thousand lives of servitude,” said the white dragon, “or the dust of a star. Whichever is more convenient.”

I rubbed my face. “This is insane. None of these are within a human’s reach.”

The cat chuckled. “There is another way.”

With a sigh, I turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Payment is for disposing of the pith. If she keeps it—”

“I want it out!” Amella screamed again, startling the cat who scurried away, her back arched.

“Yes,” said the third dragon, who had not yet spoken, its voice surprisingly soft. “The pith shall be removed, but placed under your care.” Its golden scales shimmered in the afterglow. “You would have dominion over it.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

The cat moved back toward Amella, eyeing her warily.

“It means that it would do anything you wanted it to do. You would control it completely.”

“But what is it?” I asked. “What is this pith?”

“If it were left to grow inside of her, it would fully possess her mind and body, becoming a god in human flesh, with the power to devour all organic matter with a simple touch. Once removed, however, it will be a source of power shaped by the one who controls it.” The cat stopped next to Amella. Sat on her haunches. Blinked innocent eyes. “It would be whatever you wanted it to be.”

“Truly?” The wonder was back in the woman’s voice.

“Truly,” the cat purred.

***

In the end, it was Amella’s choice to make, and she decided to keep the pith. Though, to be fair, it was not much of a choice.

We returned to the manor with the promise that Wrath would be dealt with swiftly and that he would no longer trouble the realm of men—let alone Amella.

She sat in the study, staring at the glowing multi-colored sphere in her hands. It was large enough that she needed both to hold it.

“What will I do with it?” she asked.

“It was meant for evil, but now you can use it for good.”

“Yes,” she muttered. “What better revenge than to turn a weapon against its wielder?”

That was one way to look at it.

I walked to the window and peered outside.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sky was overcast. Lightning flashed in the distance.

“I know,” said Amella. “I’ll turn it into my brother.”

My eyes went wide. I spun around.

“I don’t—”

It was too late, of course.

A young man stood there, a blank look on his face, staring into the void.

On her tiptoes, Amella waved a hand before his eyes.

He did not move.

Or even blink.

She pursed her lips.

I remained quiet.

What was I to say now? That it would hurt her to have him by her side without having him by her side? Who was I to know this? Perhaps instead it would bring her peace. People cope with tragedy in different ways.

She was smiling, at least.

After a few minutes of watching her hug her fake brother and smooth out his clothes, I straightened and coughed.

“Lady Dark, I thank you for your hospitality, but I think it is time for me to go.”

She paused and looked at me with a startled expression, as if she’d forgotten I was there.

“Oh. Alright. If that’s what you want. I will have Pelle guide you to the stable to get your horse.”

I smiled. “No need. I know the way well enough.”

“As you wish. Thank you, Reikk. For everything.”

She came to me, leaned in, and dropped a kiss on my cheek.

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

We parted ways then.

I found the stable, climbed on my horse, pulled my hood on, and rode out of Salathen.

Just as rain bled from the clouds above.

If you like my writing, please consider buying a copy of my novel, upgrading to a paid subscription, or making a Paypal or Ko-fi donation. As an independent author, any of these would help a lot!

Want to read some other Reikk stories? You can try these:

• ​Deathbringer (where our hero fights a dragon and meets another wizard)
• ​Shadows of Deceit (a case of mistaken identity leads to much chaos)

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Text (c) 2025 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image, edited by me.

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