“Let him go, he’s a free man—”

  “Yes, he’s free from you Pamela you damn—”

  “Alright!” I yell, shutting them both up. My head is exploding. “That’s enough!” I withdraw my wrists from both women and stand. “Sorina? Let’s talk. Alone.”

  She smiles at first, thinking it's her victory in this stupid rivalry of theirs. But, when she studies my expression further, her smile dims.

  It's like she can already tell what I’m about to say.

  Pamela catches this interaction and grins broadly.

  I do not like adding more fuel to this bickering. But, I have my own goals, my own motivations. I will not be swayed.

  I will not let Masaru escape my grasp.

  …

  Sorina enters the empty barracks and I close the door behind me, muffling the sounds of Saegor’s cursing. Apparently, his resurrection of the elk isn’t going so well. Good. I think, remembering that dream I had of the Witch and her armies spreading over the land, with her riding the revived elk. At least that won’t come to pass.

  Sorina approaches me. Pauses.

  I stiffen. I forget that our last interaction wasn’t the best—what with me disparaging her in front of Hilda. That was wrong.

  So bridge that gap yourself idiot. “Thank you,” I tell her.

  She raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “You know what.”

  She smiles. “No, I don’t. Be specific. Lay the well-deserved praise upon your master.”

  I chuckle. “If you hadn’t pulled… well, whatever maneuver you pulled in my fight against Baroth, I wouldn’t have—”

  “Wait, Baroth!? Like, that Baroth? The djinn you fought as a child?”

  Right. Nearly forgot I cried to her about most of my past demons.

  “Yes. That one.”

  She rubs her eyes. “How? Whatever that… thing is, it certainly isn’t a djinn.”

  “To be honest, I’m just as lost as you are on that front,” I tell her, thinking back to Baroth’s explanation. “Apparently, after I killed him, he spent some time in Jahanam—his perception of the hells. I think he said 50 years.”

  She nods along as if this makes perfect sense. I ask her to elaborate.

  “Time in the hells passes differently. After all, they exist in a different realm.”

  “And this is just common knowledge?” I ask, frustration leaking through my voice. Most of it is directed at my own concerning lack of knowledge. I need to learn proper magicks one day.

  She shrugs. “There are popular fables about it. Realm-crossed lovers, separated by planes of time and space and all sorts of nonsense. Most of it is wrong—but Mancers and Scholars have proved some of the broader ideas of those fables are correct…” She trails off, as if catching herself ranting. Another facet of Sorina I’m fairly used to. Hells, I’m even starting to admire that part of her.

  “Regardless, what were you saying?”

  I tell her of my encounter with Baroth in full: the boasts he made, the powers he held, and of course, his most pressing claim—being a benefactor of the Witch.

  Sorina listens calmly, probing about his powers at certain points. She takes particular interest in his soul fire capabilities. By the end of my tale, she just shakes her head.

  “You got lucky.”

  “No shit,” I chuckle darkly. “I mean, he practically had me in every moment of that fight. If you hadn’t performed that scream of yours, I’d be dead.”

  That last sentiment settles the conversation for a moment as we finally take seats around the same mapping table that Pamela used to explain the mancer mission.

  I have to catch myself being happy—it's a disgusting feeling. Really, at this moment in time, how can I experience one ounce of joy?

  When Masaru marches towards us.

  Yet, I feel like I’m forcing that hate now. Which is wrong. It shouldn’t be that way. My rage should persist unaffected. I try deluding myself by replaying those same, haunting images of my mother’s spiked head. Nothing comes of it.

  I meet Sorina’s calming gaze. And I’m starting to understand why.

  This is bad. Very very bad.

  I need to focus.

  I need to end this before it becomes worse.

  That thought both sickens and hardens me.

  I try putting it off. Distracting myself.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Where is Kara and her band by the way?” I ask, breaking our small silence. “Did they sneak in with you or…”

  “They are waiting outside. I told them to hold out for me, though now our situation is a little more complicated,” Sorina says, muttering her last words. Another silence passes between us. Sorina looks straight into my eyes, my soul, reading my depths. For how little time we’ve spent together, she knows me too well. That’s because, like a little crying boy, you wept to her. Miss your mommy do you Raiten? Want to replace her Raiten?

  Fucking pathetic.

  Think about what matters.

  “What did she offer you?” Sorina asks.

  “What?”

  “What did Pamela offer you? I know she must have offered you something. After all, you’re not in chains, you’re wearing a Catolican uniform, and you were talking with that warlock of theirs.”

  I stay silent. With a shrug, she scoots her seat back and takes a stand on the table. With slow, deliberate steps, her hunting boots pound against the wood as she comes towards me. She squats in front of me. Her hair droops from her face like an animalistic curtain. Too close. I lean back, nearly losing balance on the chair. She ignores my flailing.

  “What was it?” she asks again, interrogative. Not a hint of anger, nor any of her usual playfulness.

  I ground my chair and scoot back, standing away from her. Her eyes follow me as I begin pacing.

  “Raiten. Come on now. Answer me,” she asks.

  No getting around it then: “Masaru is leading Sorayvlad,” I say.

  Her face contorts in confusion. Then, she puts name to memory: “Your Masaru? The Masaru of Clan Adachi?”

  “Yes.”

  “That's… how is that possible?”

  “According to Pamela, after the civil war for the shogunate in your clan, Masaru defected from Clan Adachi and swooped in to bring a young shogun to power.”

  “Hmm. But why would—”

  “Does it matter?” I snap. She backs away slightly at this outburst. Eyes flickering with fear. That makes me feel bad, for a moment. But I press on. “Does any of it matter? I’m tired of asking questions. I’m tired of planning and mulling and thinking it all over. I want to act—not react. And all I’ve been doing is playing this stupid game by the whims of my enemies. The Witch, Baroth, Sorayvlad, Catolica—I don’t care and I don’t want to care!”

  Though it's hard to be… angry around her, once I get started, I just can’t stop. Probably my best and worst quality: snowballing rage.

  Makes me say things that I know aren’t true. I have to convince myself they are. For my sake.

  “What about—Dandy? Us? The villages, the plague, Takemeadow?” Sorina asks.

  I get up on the table. Walk her to its edge. Sneer.

  “What about it? I thought you of all people would understand.”

  “Raiten I—” she takes a breath, as if bracing herself for an Eternal Spring punch. “I do understand. I know how it feels to be stuck—”

  “He killed my mother. He and the rest of the Elders. And I had to sit for ten years and defend them as a slave! You know this! You’re the only one that knows this.”

  This part is true.

  “Raiten, stop yelling. Please.”

  “I mean, you told me ‘You’re the only friend I’ve had in a long time.’ Well guess what? You’re the only friend I’ve had in ten years. Do you know how maddening that is? Ten years of me defending the people who killed my mother right in front of me?”

  “Look, whatever it is you’re about to do, it's a mistake.” She stands taller now, eyes peering up at me.

  I don’t back away. “No, for once in my life, I’m doing what I need to do.”

  “You know that’s not true. I can see it in your eyes. Raiten, we need to be going after the Witch. I mean, she’s already going after you! She had Baroth watching you for a whole month’s time. And, if we don’t go after her, all of our problems, all of your problems, will just get worse. I’m telling you—”

  “How could you even say that? If you knew you’re husband’s killers were out there —”

  “They are out there Raiten, in the Giant’s Glades. All of Sorayvlad killed my husband. But I know what's at stake. I know I can’t be selfish—”

  “Selfish? You think this is selfish?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “For once, I’m doing what I have to, and you think that’s selfish—”

  “Would you stop interrupting me!” she yells. Her eyes are glistening now. I realize that I am huffing and puffing from exertion. My face feels red hot. “God, you're so— so—”

  “Angry,” I mutter. It's the same thing that Hui told me after I refused to join her party at the Tower. And here I am, repeating my mistakes.

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. But I can’t let him go.”

  I step off the table and head towards the door.

  “So what? Is that? You’re going to throw it all away? Give up? That’s not like you, Raiten. I know you.”

  “No. You don’t.” Half-truth, half-lie.

  She runs around and blocks the door, hands outraised. “I won’t let you run from this.”

  I glare down. “Make me.”

  She doesn’t move. One second. Then the next. Her eyes are actually tearing up now, because she sees that I won’t budge. I feel a stabbing pang of guilt, watching one of the only people I somewhat care about start to hold back tears in front of me.

  I sigh. “Sorina, please. Move.” I put a hand on her shoulder to gently push her to the side.

  “Don’t touch me!” she slaps my hand away. She sniffs. “I won’t let you make this mistake. I won’t let you abandon everyone else.”

  Now the anger bubbles again. “What do you expect from me? Do you expect me to be some hero? I’m not Hui Long. I’m not anybody—I’m just a slave. I don’t know why you and everyone else seems to expect this of me.”

  “It’s not about being a hero Raiten, it's just—” she groans in frustration, struggling to find the words. “I’m just trying to help you.”

  “You can help me by moving.” When she doesn’t, I shove past her, opening the door.

  Saegor is still cursing at the elk and the twins are watching. Pamela stands sentinel above us. She seems to have overheard some of our argument, for she gives Sorina a subtle smile.

  “Saegor!” I yell for him. He turns back to me. “Forget the Elk, let’s just go!”

  “But, we wanted to move out tonight—”

  “We’re leaving. Now.” Something in my voice makes him nod, though I suspect it's not out of fear.

  One of the twins, the girl, protests: “I only follow Saegor’s orders—”

  “Nah let him be Zyla. I like his energy right now,” Saegor says. “Let’s go then.”

  Sorina grabs my wrist from behind. I turn around and twist out of it. She’s actually crying now, and I force myself to look away.

  “Umbrahorn!” I yell. The shark emerges next to me.

  He doesn’t look too pleased.

  “I heard everything,” he says, crossing his fins. “I’m thinking that I’m going to stay with Sorina for now.”

  Peeving bastard. “No, you’re not.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Erot entrusted you to me. That means, you’ll listen to me.”

  “Erot did that under the assumption that you’d save his granddaughter. And, as much as I sometimes dislike the old man, his granddaughter feeds me fish every now and then. So… fuck you Raiten.”

  “Is that your final answer?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. That makes this next part a bit easier.”

  With that, I deliver a solid kick to Umbrahorn maw. He reels back, my shin smashing against his wood, sending splinters exploding outward. I don’t do much damage, but the shock of it confuses him.

  Which is fair, considering it seems like a tantrum—which it is, to some degree. But, while I can lose Sorina, I can’t lose Umbrahorn. More specifically, I can’t lose his nose.

  After all, he’s the only one who can sniff out my prey.

  His eyes go mad with anger.

  Good. Very good Umbrahorn, I think, readying myself.

  I need something to hit.