The wind slapped Liron in the face hard, threatening to pull him off Illaxia’s back, but he didn’t care. He had dreamed often about how it would feel to ride a dragon, so he had to enjoy it. He howled, touching the clouds with his fingers.

  “Careful, boy!” Lance laughed.

  Liron sat in the saddle behind him. He had held onto the Knight Dracon for dear life at first. The rush of it all made him forget his fear. It still felt not real. He, a Ravenspawn, chosen to become a Draconist by Blackbone himself. Everon hadn’t yet spoken to him in his mind. Lance had assured him not to worry. A dragon like Everon, who hadn't been bound in centuries, would need his time to properly settle in. Dragons, Lance had described, are like cats. They are fiercely loyal, but they have a mind of their own and couldn’t be forced to do anything. They do everything on their own accord.

  Illaxia looked at Liron, a mischievous look in her eyes. Before Liron knew what happened, the dragon sent him off her back with a minute twist. Airborne for a moment, she caught him with her tail. Liron laughed as Illaxia performed countless flight maneuvers, dancing through the sky, making the world around him spin. He couldn’t tell where up and down was this high above the ground, swimming through oceans of clouds.

  After giving him a taste of what he would experience on a daily basis, Lance steered Illaxia towards a larger hill, landing on it. The dragon lowered Liron with great care. He stumbled over his feet, struggling to stand still. His black hair stood up in all directions. He wanted to be up there again, yearning for the rush once more. Standing on solid ground, not dashing forward like a fired arrow, felt wrong now.

  Liron fell down, giggling to himself. “Harras, that was something! Can we go again?”

  Lance jumped off Illaxia’s back, sharing Liron’s enthusiasm. “We will, don’t worry. But you have to get used to it. I don’t want you to throw up all over Illaxia’s scales.”

  The thought didn’t seem to concern the dragon, watching Liron like a mother would her son taking his first step. Lance sat down next to Liron, cracking his neck. “The first time is something worth remembering. Cherish these moments, Liron. They will keep you warm and offer you solace on darker days.”

  Liron nodded, rubbing his eyes. Having the Promised Dawn next to him. All his tales built this man up as something beyond human, more myth than man. They all failed to capture his more plain side. In moments of silence, he appeared more melancholic. He had been fighting for years now. He had seen the worst of the war. Every word he spoke to him was molded by this, carrying the burden of his lived experience. Even his laugh was lessened by it, bearing an exhausted edge.

  “Remember, Liron,” Lance said. “Our bodies and our souls are a gift from Harras. We ought to keep them strong for His sake and for the ones that can’t. Being a Knight Dracon means to stand for something greater. We are in service to Harras, the Empire, and the Emperor, yes. But loyalty belongs to the people first.

  “We defend the defenseless. We will carry their burden so they don’t have to. We are the blade of the innocent. It is their hands that wield us. Take pride in our oath, but never believe yourself more than them. It is in their name that we fight and bleed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir!” Liron said, slamming his hand against his forehead in salute.

  Lance smiled, roughing up Liron’s wild hair. “That’s what I want to hear. You will be a good Hatchling and even a better Knight Dracon. That I’m convinced of.”

  They sat together in silence, watching the scenery. They would remain in Eisenrahm for the next few days before they would depart, giving Liron the opportunity to say his goodbyes to his family for now. A heavy silence surrounded Lance, and he loved to indulge in it. His eyes glimmered with something strange as he turned towards Liron. Sad but also intrigued. As if unknown forces fought behind them, struggling against one another to determine what to do next.

  Liron fumbled with his hands, working his mouth. “I… have a question?”

  Whatever was going through his head, Lance got out of there, his full attention back on Liron. “Of course. What is it?”

  “You will teach me how to fence, right?”

  “Naturally, yes. Every Knight Dracon needs to know how to fight.”

  “Could you teach me something now?”

  Lance laughed at that, standing up. He walked to the nearest tree and broke off two branches. “Catch,” he said, throwing one to Liron.

  He caught it, grinning as Lance took a fencing position. He lowered his stance, his knees bent. Furthermore, he kept his back straight and held the branch in front of him. “Come at me. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Liron mimicked Lance, failing to capture it. He felt awkward, not knowing how to properly move. He recalled the wolf and its deception. Without having the proper knowledge, he decided to go for a similar strategy. Liron closed up to Lance, keeping the act up. Once their branches were about to touch, Liron dashed forward, going low for a strike to Lance’s legs.

  What happened next, Liron couldn’t follow. The Knight Dracon parried with ease, his motions swift and trained to be as minimal as possible, with no unnecessary fat to them. Liron’s branch was slapped aside, having Lance’s stick pointed at his neck. Lance had barely moved, standing in the same stance as before.

  “Try again,” Lance said, smiling.

  Liron did so, failing each time. He worked several strategies to get past Lance’s defense, but the Draconist had seen it all, having a counter for each vain attempt. “Good,” Lance said, giving Liron a slap on the back hard enough to rock him forward. “You’re using your head. Fighting is as much a mental battle as it is a physical one. But come here, let me show you something.”

  Lance showed Liron a simple downward slash. As Liron tried to do it, Lance corrected his form. “Keep your back straight, Liron. You're holding a sword, so you should stand proud. But also, you shouldn’t give your enemy an easy target by leaning forward. Point your hip forward. You need both your hands at the blade. Go a bit lower with your legs. You require balance.

  “When it comes to the Hau, the actual strength behind it doesn’t come out of your arms, but how fast you rotate the blade. Your left hand pulls at the sword pommel, and your right hand helps to direct the strike, making sure the edge hits its target.”

  Liron performed the strike a few more times. Lance always had something to critique, but he gave Liron a smile at the end. “You’ve got talent, Liron. Before you know it, you’ll be a master.”

  Hearing this praise from the Promised Dawn, Liron didn’t know how to properly handle it. Despite his mouth hurting from all the smiling he had done today, he did so again.

  …

  Liron opened his eyes, his smile gone. He groaned as he rose. His head didn’t hurt as much as last time, but every fiber of his being ached with a dull soreness. He slowly reorientated himself, realizing where he was. Angin was fully clothed, working on a strip he had taken from the heater. He had taken Liron’s coat after it had dried and put it on him as a blanket. He had done the same with the scarf, giving it to him as a cushion for his head. It radiated a warmth, keeping the cold at bay.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” Angin said. “I was afraid for a bit.”

  “What do you mean?” Liron said, stretching.

  Angin pushed a bowl made from bark to him, filled with fried fish. Next to it he laid a waterskin. Based on the material, the Alchemist had crafted it out of animal skin. Seeing the fish, Liron noticed he was starving. He devoured it without hesitation.

  Angin formed the strip into a button, twisting its features to add minute details to it. “Take your time, Liron. You must be starving. You’ve slept for more than a day.”

  Liron paused. “I… I did?”

  “Yeah, you were gone. I tried to wake you several times, but you babbled something about flying. I take it you also had… let’s call it a vision.”

  Liron processed the fact he had slept for an entire day before he fathomed what Angin had said. “Yo… you had them, too?”

  Angin nodded. “Dreamed about you being pronounced the next Hatchling to Lance Chevalier, chosen by Blackbone himself. What a story, huh? A shovel boy turned into a prospect for a Knight Dracon. That’s what everybody said.”

  Liron remembered that. After the disbelief had ceased, the entire town had treated him like a hero. As if they hadn’t proclaimed him living blasphemy, the lingering influence of the Dread Raven. He remembered it as if it had happened, no different from all his normal memories. This dream hadn’t had the fleeting nature of the nightmares that had haunted him before…

  “What… what’s going on?” Liron asked. “What does any of this mean?”

  Angin placed the button on his temples. His eyes grew distant, his mind working on something. He smiled to himself, pulling the button off. “No idea. I can’t even begin to comprehend what has happened.

  “Well, based on our dreams, I think we can say that we are seeing what would have been if the vision hadn’t occurred. Meaning, you would have been made into Lance’s Hatchling. Whatever caused this, it is very likely it hadn’t just revealed the future to us. It seems to also show us how our lives would have played out. Fascinating.”

  Fascinating? “Sh… shouldn’t you be more… scared? I mean, we don't understand why this happened. Couldn’t this become a problem?

  “Oh, it certainly will.”

  Harras had abandoned Liron. He was told so countless times, but he felt it now. Angin noticed Liron’s lack of enthusiasm towards his answer. “Ah, fuck. Apologies, Liron. I forget that this must be rather overwhelming. Allow me to share some wisdom with you. I’ve seen my fair share of our world. I’ve encountered things that boggle the mind and refuse to yield to the laws of rationality and the expected.

  “One could think that this would teach one how to dream. To revel in awe. But that’s nonsense. The only thing it will teach you is that you are at the whims of forces that have no care or concern for you. Control is nothing but an illusion, Liron. Searching for it will grant you nothing but a shallow grave. You have to learn how to swim with the flow, not fight it. Do this, and you might have a chance. Might have.”

  Liron wanted to say something, but he didn’t, taking what Angin had said to heart. Questioning him would yield no satisfying result. The more he explained, the heavier the lump in his guts would get. Angin studied Liron, giving him an approving smile.

  “Speaking of the greater forces in life,” Angin said. “I have some news for you, and I can’t say that you will like it.”

  “Fuck, what is it now?”

  “Well, I have contacted the Resistance and…”

  “What?” Liron asked. “How? We are in the middle of nowhere.”

  Angin threw the button to Liron. He caught it, turning it over in his hands. It had a few tiny runes carved into it, but besides its green shine, it looked not much different from a button on Liron’s coat.

  “This, Liron, is a Nexus. It allows long distance communication. With them, you can talk to someone else who has a Nexus themselves.”

  “How does this work?”

  “The details are beyond my comprehension, but it is rather simple. Your Nexus needs to be similar to someone else's Nexus in appearance. You need a clear picture of them and who they are in your head. And then you just activate your Nexus, reaching out for the other person. If they accept the connection, you will hear each other in your head.

  “I’ll be frank, Liron. A Nexus is one of the greater forces I meant. No one knows how they truly function. They don’t come in the same form. Warpriests, for example, are utilizing cups as Nexus, and they work. No idea how.”

  Liron grimaced, handing the Nexus back. He started to see the wisdom in what Angin had promised. Angin cleared his throat, putting the Nexus away. “So, where was I? Ah, yes. I’ve used this Nexus to communicate with the Resistance. I’ve given them a clear report on our situation and asked for reinforcement.

  “They can’t send someone to just pick us up. But what they have offered is aid. They have sowed chaos inside the Empire and in Sannara, getting the Qilesh to attack several Silvered Gold mines.”

  Several masses and posters have told about how the Resistance somehow collaborated with the Qilesh to attack the Empire and its faithful soldiers. “I… is it true that the Resistance is in bed with the Fleshdancer.”

  Angin frowned, looking offended. “Have you gone mad, Liron? Of course not. No, the Qilesh have no allies on Ekon. Who the fuck would work with them? No, the Resistance is not in bed with them. You don’t need to be working with a beast to bait it into eating someone else.

  “What the Resistance is doing, Liron, is luring the Qilesh into attacking the Empire. They do this through revealing outposts and army movement to them, cutting off reinforcement for a short while, or poking them hard enough so they start hunting them, leading straight to where they want them. At worst, you could say the Qilesh and Resistance have an unspoken deal with one another. The Fleshdancer don’t make an open hunt on us, and we don’t fuck with them too hard.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Liron understood the reason, but the thought of helping the Qilesh in any way struck him as wrong. He still struggled to accept the Empire wasn’t what it appeared to be, but even Angin acknowledged that they hadn’t lied when it came to the Fleshdancer. They aimed to devour all of mankind in the name of the Silver Moon, their tainted mother.

  “This is of no importance here,” Angin continued. “What I tried to say was that the Resistance has created an opening for us. As long as they can keep up the pressure, the Empire can’t relocate its resources to hunt us down. But, as you can imagine, an operation of this magnitude doesn’t come cheaply.”

  “They want something in return,” Liron said. Of course.

  Angin pointed his finger at him, a grim smile on his lips. “They want you, Liron.”

  “Me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Liron, your future self did the impossible and killed the Emperor. The Resistance desires nothing but the Empire’s death. You have the potential of committing the act yet again. They are betting on you. For their aid and getting you out of here alive, you're indebted to them. And the only thing the Resistance will accept as adequate payment is the head of Harras’s Scion.”

  What cruel fate did Harras write for him? Yesterday, Liron had wished to fight for the Emperor, and now he would be expected to one day kill him. Everything he was taught and had believed in, he would have to fight against that, tearing the Empire down. He had seen its mercy, experienced it, but the thought of going against his teaching made him sick.

  If Angin was correct and the Empire deserved its fate, then what of Harras? His god, the true evil after all? For all his life, he had prayed to Him. In his darkest hour, knowing to have Him at his side gave him the solace he desperately needed. What would be left to him without Harras? Drom? Did they lie about the Dread Raven, too, or was Ekon filled with nothing but monsters?

  Angin appeared used to not having any faith in something divine. A true heretic. How was Liron supposed to live without a guiding light? The Alchemist’s words stung deeper, making his skin crawl. He was lost in a dark ocean, drowning. The depths called for him, wanting his body and soul whole. No savior and no promise of respite. All taken from Liron. Nothing seemed to be certain anymore. Except his debt and death.

  No, inside this callous void, sucking out any hope and joy he once had, there was one thing that could offer him some feelings of relief. Something he had avoided thinking about, fearing what would follow. Losing his religion and faith was a more comforting prospect to ponder than this.

  “Angin?” Liron asked. “What will happen with my family?”

  Angin had worked on his rod, polishing it. He stopped, his eyes heavy with something he had done so many times before but could never get used to. “I’m sorry, Liron. There is nothing to be done. Don’t think about it. Makes it easier”

  “What will happen to them?”

  Angin didn’t want to respond at first, but as Liron’s stare never left him, he sighed. “It depends. The Resistance distracts the Empire as best as they can, but they will send an Inquisitor after you. It’s impossible to say who. But they will take your family as prisoners and question them. From there on, I can’t say. The Inquisition can do with them as they please.”

  Liron expected as much. That’s what they got from not following the healer’s advice and leaving him in the forest. They raised and loved him, and they received the Inquisition’s wrath for it. He wondered whether they cursed his name at this very moment. Or perhaps they cursed themselves for their naivety. For believing a Ravenspawn could bring anything but ruin to those around them.

  The pressure of the last days and this last bit of knowledge were too much. Silent at first, Liron sobbed. He loathed nothing more than someone seeing him shed tears. Why reveal his weakness to someone? But after losing everything, he didn’t have the strength to suppress it anymore.

  Angin’s head jerked upwards, eyes wide, mouth open in shock. He watched Liron as if he were an unknown horror unleashed from the Silver Moon. His body tensed, ready to run away as fast as possible. But his conscience kept him there. After a few moments of not knowing what to do, he went over to Liron. He patted his shoulder, his motions awkward and unsure.

  “Liron, all… all is good. Just… let… it out. Yeah, let it all out. Then you will feel better. I think.”

  Liron struggled to regain control, but after the worst had gotten out, he wiped his face clean. There was much more that wanted out, but Liron refused to waste another second on crying. He sniffed, his eyes stinging. “I… I’m better. It’s all good now.”

  “You’re sure. It’s fine if you…”

  “No. We don’t have the time, right? They're still after us, and we’re still close to Eisenrahm.”

  Angin wasn’t convinced. He knew Liron to be everything but fine. He worked his mouth, trying to say something soothing, but he gave up rather quickly. “Yeah, we are. You’re right.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” Liron asked, his eyes bloodshot.

  “Ehr… as I had mentioned yesterday, we need to restock. The outpost is a few days away. On foot it’s over a week. We don’t have the time for that. So, we’ll capture another beast and repeat the mink routine.”

  Liron nodded. “Makes sense. What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing really. Get ready, check your axe and backpack, and wait until I’m finished with my preparations.”

  Liron did as he was told. He felt weak after his breakdown, his limbs limp and his chest aching. His axe and backpack had survived the ordeal with surprising grace. They showed signs of the pursuit, but they would continue their service. Liron rummaged through the backpack, checking every little thing.

  As with the branches, he wanted to empty his mind with simple tasks. Like the forge, having something to focus on would keep the bad thoughts away. But this time it didn’t work. Images of his parents, the torture they would endure, and Emma being turned with them into Sinners. His hands trembled, and another sob announced itself, creeping its way up from his bleeding heart. His guts cramped, too, the threat of vomiting a possibility that became more plausible with each passing second.

  He needed something to occupy himself with.

  “Angin… oh, what are your gloves made from?”

  The Alchemist required only a passing glance to know what lay behind that question. Again, he wanted to address something but failed. “They’re made from Nanium. It’s a material from the time of the True Dawn. They are required for the most complex of the Greater Machina. You can reassemble them in whatever form you desire. And they pack quite the punch if you know how to use them.”

  Liron had never heard of anything like this. Though he had never seen anything more advanced than a heater. “How do you build this Nanium?”

  Angin flashed him a sad smile. “You don’t. We have lost the knowledge on how to do it. Nanium was created by the Frozen Cities of Ukun.”

  Liron gulped. Ukun was a lost continent. The Qilesh, after conquering the Tainted Mountain, attacked the Cities of Ukun first, annihilating them within weeks. Beside the endless horde of the Fleshdancer, Ukun was hit with an unrelenting cold after the sun’s taking. The outer rims of Ekon all faced the same fate: the very oceans frozen over.

  The Empire depicted them as long-lost cousins who would have fought side by side with the imperial forces. The masses never went into much detail about them, but some traveling merchants spread rumors of the greatest of adventurers setting into the icy hell of Ukun, searching its ruins for the magical artifacts that still lay there. All in service of the Empire, of course.

  Despite the horror in the back of his mind, hearing this awoke something in Liron he had thought to be lost. Awe. “You were in Ukun? Is it true that living Machina patrol the Frozen Cities to this day.”

  “Yes, that is true. In Ukun, there are several methods to gain Nanium, but the most reliable is to defeat an Amotus. But you have seen what I can do with those gloves alone. Imagine an iron giant, as tall as a house, aiming to take your life for the sin of stepping foot in the Corpse Cities.”

  “How did you defeat one of them?” Liron asked. He felt like a child again, asking a storyteller about every little detail that intrigued him.

  “Through stronger allies and a lot of cheating. An Amotus isn’t something you should take on in a fair fight, Liron. Deceit and wit are the sharpest of all blades. It won’t shy away from iron and steel. If used right, it will sever divine gifts from the human hands that wield it. So, never hold back, Liron. Be a cunt.

  “Though, don’t be a cunt in Ukun. Not the place to go. At least anymore.”

  Liron could grasp the core of Angin’s little speeches, but a lot went over his head. Despite that, they were something worth listening to. “Why not?”

  “What do you think?”

  Liron rubbed his chin, having put on his clothes. “Nanium sounds really important. So, everybody wants it, right? That means there’s a lot of fightin’ going down in the Corpse Cities.”

  “And?”

  “And… the way you described it, there’s no bottomless bag of Nanium. There isn’t much left anymore.”

  “Great work, Liron! Yes, as the brilliant minds of the Corpse Cities are long dead, no one has produced more Nanium. During the first expeditions into the Frozen Cities, there was as much as the eye could see. Over the decades, though, all the greater spots have been looted. This leaves mostly Amotus as the only source for Nanium.

  “The old guardians have adapted, though, fusing into greater beings as a method to defend themselves. Furthermore, as you rightly deduced, there was much competition. Empire, Resistance, and even Qilesh fought over the cities. The Fleshdancer have no use for Nanium. They just don’t want anybody to have it.

  “This has changed, though. The Empire, the Resistance, and everybody else had quite a large stock of Nanium. As it is adaptable, never becomes dull or brittle, and is mostly kept from the battlefield, they don’t have to be afraid to run out of it. So, with that, no one goes there anymore in larger numbers. And with that, the Qilesh also lost interest. By that logic, to a certain extent, it should be easier to travel there and search for riches, correct?”

  Liron nodded.

  “No!” Angin said, slapping his hand on his knee. “Wrong, Liron! You fell for it! Think. Due to the constant fighting, several powerful combatants died there. And because of the cold, the Qilesh couldn’t consume them to empower themselves. What do you think happened? These corpses attracted the most powerful of beasts. The ones that could endure the extreme cold, have the capabilities to reach Ukun, and devour the dead there.

  “As I have described to you, the Silver Moon caused everything to mutate. Ehr… to rapidly grow and change. But what I have not yet mentioned was that this influence does not operate on a general level. This means that the Silverlight can impact certain individuals more strongly than others.

  “This causes a greater variety in all beasts. Some of them would gain intellect, strength, and abilities that border on what Wizards can do. Those fuckers, Liron, have made a home in Ukun, and they are flourishing. When I went there, I saw a lion attack and kill an Amotus. It fucking ate it, Liron, ate it! It absorbed the Nanium and learned to utilize it. Do you have any idea how fucking scary this is?”

  Illaxia’s fire breath came to Liron’s mind. If she had wanted, she could have killed every beast living in Lichtwald with ease. And some of them appeared more like living nightmares than anything else. “I… I can.”

  “Good. That’s why you should stay away from there. Unless you want Nanium. That shit is very useful. And very expensive. I might have to go back to Ukun to restock.”

  “Will there be Nanium in the outpost?”

  “Should be. If not, we have a problem, Liron. Hah, we would be so fucked.”

  Angin laughed to himself. But as he did, a thought crossed his mind. He studied Liron with newfound interest. Or suspicion.

  “Say, Liron, I have a question. Why did you come to me out of all people? You couldn’t have known with certainty that I would help you.”

  That would be awkward to explain. “A… a voice in my head told me to.”

  At last, Aning appeared disturbed. It lasted for a moment, an unbridled curiosity taking over. “Fascinating. Liron, that is very intriguing. Based on everything, I see two potential explanations behind this. One, you have turned mad, which caused a part of you to analyze all available knowledge to you, coming to the conclusion I was the best bet you have. Or, someone else helped you.”

  A rush went through Liron’s skin, and his heart skipped a beat. “Everon.”

  Aning had the same idea, sharing Liron’s excitement. “From what we know, this seems to be the most likely. Blackbone hasn’t abandoned you, after all.”

  “But… how? He’s one of the Empire's most famed dragons. Why would he betray them? And how did he know you would help me?”

  Angin’s eyes gained their trance-like quality again. “Dragons are not necessarily of the Empire. The Society of the Dragon was formed before its birth. They had a whole bloody civil war about whether they should join at all.”

  Dragonfall was spoken of often. When Lanrion, the founder of the Society of the Dragon, was betrayed and killed by his son, Arthur. His death was avenged in the same battle. Peran, the youngest son of Lanrion, defeated his brother. Arthur and his brethren were forced to flee. They formed their own order, the Fallen. Heretics that fly on dragons made from death and decay, desiring nothing but beginning what they started once long ago. Peran led the order to the Empire’s side, swearing allegiance. He and his dragon, Everon.

  “So,” Angin continued, “it’s not unreasonable to find dragons that don’t bend to the Empire. Blackbone, though… that is truly shocking. I can’t say why he would help you. As to how he knew about me… hmm. I never studied dragons. They share a special bond with their riders, and they can speak telepathically to one another. Dragons have a physical and spiritual form. Perhaps this is how he knew of me…”

  Angin turned towards Liron, beaming. “Liron, I have no idea. You and your… condition never fail to amaze me.”

  “Good to hear,” Liron said, twisting his mouth. “But, wait. If he helped me once, will he do so again?”

  “Impossible to say, Liron. But, if I had to guess, I’d dare to say he will. Perhaps he will fight with you one day.”

  The joys of flying, riding through the sky itself. They might not have been lost to him.

  “Has he spoken to you again? The voice, I mean.”

  Liron shook his head. “In my dream, Lance had mentioned that an ancient dragon like Everon would need his time. And he sounded weak when he talked to me.”

  “We still can’t say with certainty that it was Everon. But if it was him, then… fuck! I don’t know enough about them to hypothesize. Hatchlings have to go through several rituals before becoming a Knight Dracon, that I know.”

  Liron’s time to shine had come after all. “A Hatchling has to serve as a squire to a Knight Dracon. They train and learn from them. This will help them to strengthen their bond to their dragon. Once it's strong enough, they can summon parts of their dragon. At the end, they have to set out to collect the materials for their sword and armor. They forge them on Casar’s Summit and complete their training and bond. Only then can they fully summon their dragon.”

  “Ah, I see. You are rather enthusiastic about the Draconists. Well, thank you, Liron. Based on that intel, you have to complete similar training before you can access Blackbone. So, we can’t rely on your dragon friend helping us out. If it was Everon.”

  The conversation came to an end. Angin finished his preparations. He disassembled his heater. It had nearly run out of energy, but as it ceased its work, Liron shuddered under the wave of cold reaching them. The Alchemist turned it into a mirror, horrified at what he saw. He struggled to salvage remnants of his beauty, but his hair wouldn’t follow his command, greasy. Liron had seen parents less distraught at their child’s funeral.

  Aning signaled Liron to move out. As they left the cave, the Alchemist studying their surroundings, Liron had one final question popping up in his head. “You were planning to make me Resistance, right?”

  “Obviously. I have been stationed inside the Empire to infiltrate it as a travelling Alchemist, helping them with whatever they need while spying on them. Most aid included fighting and killing. Perfect excuse to travel a lot. We always require new people who are ready to resist. You seemed rather keen to get out of here. You and your…”

  Aning stopped himself, muttering to himself. “I’m sorry. Let’s continue.”

  Liron nodded. He had forgotten them for a moment. But he was glad for the reminder. The least he could do was think about them. About their fate.

  “Yeah, let’s continue,” he said. What else could he do?