The explosion came not with colors in the sky, but darkness at the city center. The ground shuttered under Mills’ feet. An image of the clocktower crumbling to the ground flashed in his mind. He gripped the baluster.
The rumbling stopped. Screams rose from the streets. There was a hole carved out of Main Street, to the left of city hall itself. Baz stared at Mills with wide, stunned eyes. His arms were limp at his side.
Pink flares went up in the night, from the places defenders were perched. Mills darted to the other side of the clocktower, leaned over the baluster, and tried to see through the dark forest. Baz was still in place, staring at Main Street.
“Baz!” Mills shouted.
Baz twitched, and swung around to Mills.
“Baz, look at the Gardens; tell me if you see anything. Tell me if you see relics coming through the gates,” Mills said.
Baz hurried to Mills’ side, and stared at the ground below.
“Well?” Mills demanded.
Baz shook his head.
Mills glanced back. The flares had petered out now, but their locations were burned into Mills’ memory. He was certain the defenders hadn’t seen anything outside though, and were sending up their flares about the explosion on Main Street.
“I think…” Baz stared at the emptiness where the explosion went off.
“That was an Abyss attack,” Mills said. “I don’t know how relics got in unnoticed, but–”
Baz scooped up his sack, and darted down the stairs. Mills followed without question, because he knew what Baz was doing, and he knew Baz was right.
The pair left the clocktower, and stumbled into a crowd of confused people.
“Cheau is under attack! Get to shelter now!” Mills shouted. Nobody listened, not even the people who could see Mills and the sword on his hip.
“Move! Shelter! Now!” Mills barked. If these people didn’t listen to Mills, they’d be staring down relics. They had to listen to him. It would have been worth burning a card to make sure they went inside, but Mills didn’t have time for that. Baz was slipping away through the crowd, and Mills needed to stick close with his partner.
Baz sprinted through the cobblestone streets for a few minutes, then he had to slow down. He stayed ahead of Mills, but he wasn’t getting any further away now.
The pair popped out at the end of Main Street. People in festival costumes milled around the edges and stared down the street. There was a hole where the explosion went off. There was no trace of anything that had been in the explosion’s black radius.
Soldiers, along with Mills’ volunteers, stood at the edge of the broken world. They were helping people who’d been half caught in the explosion, and lost limbs to the Abyss. There were more people wailing on the ground than there were soldiers and volunteers capable of helping.
Mills turned to the people on the sides of the street.
“Did anyone here see a relic?” Mills asked.
A few people turned their attention to him.
“Hey, this is important! Was there a relic here? Where did it go?” Mills asked. “Or was it caught in the explosion? Does anyone know?”
The dazed mumbles from the crowd weren’t helping.
Mills hissed between his teeth. As much as Mills wanted to rush to the crater and help, whatever monster set off the explosion needed to be caught and destroyed. Mills wasn’t going to get help from the townsfolk, so he pulled out his cards and pen.
Baz was still at his side. Mills would be able to take down whatever relic he summoned, but his new friend might get in the way during a fight.
“Baz, can you help people who got caught in the blast?” Mills asked.
“I…” Baz glanced between Mills and the crater.
“I’m gonna summon the fucker who did this, and kill them before they can make more trouble.” Mills wrote on his card.
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“Shouldn’t I help fight?” Baz asked.
“I’m trained to deal with relics; I’ll be okay alone,” Mills finished his card, and prepared to burn it.
A ball of darkness erupted. It came from the crater, and expanded down the street. It was coming for Mills and Baz. People screamed.
“Back!” Mills grabbed Baz, and pulled him along.
The ball of darkness came to a stop. A chill swept through the air, and ripped Mills’ card from his fingers. The card was dragged into the ball of darkness, then disintegrated. The void pulled against Mills, like the Abyss could. He planted his feet on the ground, and held tight to Baz’s arm. Mills was certain the painter wasn’t going to be dragged into the Abyss, but keeping his grip felt right.
The darkness faded away, and nothing but a crater remained. The cobblestone street had been stolen, leaving only dirt and sewage pipes. The concession stands were gone. Chunks of the nearby buildings had been carved away, revealing the innards of public offices. The people were gone. The soldiers, and the volunteers, and the injured celebrators, had been consumed by the void. Mills was certain he recognized some of the volunteers. He hadn’t seen Tress, but she could have made it to Main Street. She could have been caught in the explosion. What if she had been evaporated with everyone else? What did Mills do then?
No, Tress wasn’t dead. Maybe the people who’d been caught in the explosion were okay, too; Mills couldn’t know. Not knowing only made things scarier.
“Mills.” Baz pointed.
There was a figure walking through the crater, a human. Or something that looked human.
Mills swore, and wrote on a new card.
“Baz, get out of here. Everyone, get out of here,” he growled.
The reaver stepped up the crater.
Mills finished his card–I do not take a fatal hit–and burned it. Then he drew his sword.
The reaver stepped into the moonlight. It was the same monster who attacked Camp 33, and now it had attacked Cheau. Maybe the reaver wouldn’t die that night, but Mills would make sure the monster didn’t get away unscathed.
The reaver marched with sure, steady steps.
Mills dashed forward and readied a strike.
The reaver’s sword appeared in its hand, and slashed. Mills dropped onto his stomach. The sword whistled above him. The reaver kicked Mills before he could stand up.
Mills rolled across the cobblestone. The reaver loomed over him with its sword high in the air and ready to stab down.
Mills held his sword up. His weapon would be far weaker than the black sword in the reaver’s hand, but it had to hold. Mills had to survive.
A figure of paint slammed into the reaver. The monster didn’t flinch; it was a brick wall, but the interference got its attention.
The reaver flicked its wrist, and its sword slashed through the summon. As the paint arced into the air, Mills realized that the summon was a tiger. Then the summon crumpled into black paint on the pavement.
Baz stood next to a building with his canvases surrounding him. One was blank. He rose his hand over another, and a sketched falcon emerged from the canvas.
“No! Get back!” Mills scrambled to his feet.
The falcon bulleted toward the reaver, only to be slashed in half. The reaver marched toward Baz.
Baz summoned two more tigers.
Mills struck at the reaver from behind.
The monster slashed wide. The sword cut through Baz’s summons, then came for Mills. He scrambled back. The blade whistled past his face.
A painted ox thundered toward the reaver. The monster sidestepped, and slashed through the summon. Mills tried to attack, but the reaver’s sword swings left no openings.
Then Baz was in the fight with a dagger. Mills didn’t have time to change the situation.
Baz lunged for the reaver.
The reaver stepped to the side, and readied a swing. Mills darted forward, and slammed into Baz.
The reaver’s sword slashed across Mills’ back. Pain arced through his body. His limbs refused to work, so he collapsed.
Mills cried in pain. Warm blood spread across his shoulder.
The reaver shoved Mills against the cobblestone, and fresh pain erupted from his back. The reaver moved in close.
Mills still had his sword. He swung up, aiming for the reaver’s chest.
The tip of the sword connected with the reaver’s chest. Then the blade shattered. The impact went down Mills’ arms, right to his shoulders. He had enough time to gasp.
The reaver grabbed Mills’ face, and pinned his head against the ground. Energy shifted in Mills body. He’d never felt the energy before, but Mills immediately knew it was the magic within his body. The reaver was going to suck the magic out of him.
An inky snake writhed across the reaver. The monster grabbed this new attacker, and tore the snake in half. Baz slammed against the relic with a grunt. The reaver stepped back, and readied its sword.
Baz pulled on Mills’ arm. He was trying to help, but he only sent waves of pain through Mills’ back. He tried to pick himself up without Baz’s assistance.
Once the two were on their feet, they backed away from the reaver.
“I used all my summons,” Baz held his dagger ready.
Misshapen figures appeared from streets and alleyways. They were going to surround Mills and Baz. Blood oozed down Mills’s back.
“We have to run,” Mills whispered.
“What?” Baz snapped.
There was no time to argue. Mills grabbed Baz’s arm, and pulled him along.
The reaver marched after them. The relics ran.
Mills let go of Baz’s arm so he could draw his karambit dagger.
The pair shoved their way through the relics, and into a plaza. Bodies dotted the ground, and fresh blood made the cobblestones slick. The relics had already been here.
Mills took Baz down random streets, not taking the time to think up a strategy other than, run. Bodies littered the city. Mills and Baz found another plaza. There, two guardian statues fought against relics. When they spotted the relics following Mills and Baz, they lunged at them.
The relics swarmed the statues. With the monsters distracted, there was a chance to hide.
Baz tugged Mills toward the shops. One had its door ajar. The shopkeeper was slumped outside, gripping his slashed open stomach.
A boom rattled the world.
The reaver had appeared in the plaza, hand outstretched. Black energy gathered at its fingertips, then blasted through one of the statues. The stone crumbled away, leaving only one defender.
Mills and Baz slipped into the empty shop, then shut the door behind them.

