The stranger put his knitwork aside, greeting them with a warm smile. He shielded his eyes from the Silverlight. “Lovely day, huh?” he said.

  The stranger wore a brown mantle and traveling clothes. They were intended to endure the long roads and whatever the wearer might face on their journey. But the material from which they were crafted, the finer details, and their robustness weren’t something a mere plebeian could afford.

  The stranger had short, light-brown hair and a groomed beard. He was a bear of a man, impressive in height and frame. He would have fit in the forge and would have made the smiths look like weaklings. Several scars covered his hand, some shallow, and some deep and ugly. This man had seen his fair share of violence. But whatever blood he had shed, it didn’t taint his welcoming smile. His genuineness promised a good friend who always had a small wisdom to share. Perfect to lower one’s guard.

  He sat on a larger stone that had once belonged to a house’s wall. Angin had said the outpost was in the cellar of the watchtower. That the thing still stood was by Harras’s will alone. Moss and mushrooms had conquered its surface long ago. It had partially collapsed already, the open side showing the dusty furniture that was left there.

  The watchtower was in the middle of an abandoned village. It was from the time of the War of Ascension, decades before the Silver Moon’s arrival, when the Sacred House warred against one another. It was raided by the Druids and had experienced their wrath, brought to waste. Not a single house still stood, nothing but pieces of walls having withstood time. They were all that remained, lurking out of the ground like broken ribcages. As with the tower, Solia had allowed nature to retake what was once hers. Underneath the pale green and mushrooms, Liron recognized remnants of windows and roofs, stone and glass buried deep.

  Angin cursed, shoving Liron behind him. They stood next to a house wall, which had blocked the view of Amor. He must have positioned himself in a way where they would only notice him once it was too late. Liron clenched his fist, his heart beating a fast-paced rhythm through his body. Whoever this was, he was waiting for them. For him.

  “Who the fuck are you?!” Angin yelled, drawing his rod and pointing it at him. “Answer now, you cunt, or I’ll fry your ass!”

  “Woah, let’s remain civil, alright?” the stranger said.

  “Civil, my ass! Do you think we’re simple?! Who are you and who are you working for? I want to know who I’ll send back to the scorched remnants of your head and cock!”

  The stranger was taken aback. “Can we calm it with the insults? I’m no saint, but that’s a bit much.”

  “Oh, is it? Apologies, my dearest friend. Could you please give me a reason to not paint the wall behind you with your brain fluids?”

  The stranger stood up, clearing his throat. “Hello, my name is Amor. You must be Anginseran. I’ve heard stories of your… charm. They didn’t exaggerate. And you must be Liron Sturm. I was ordered by Rarn Urach to kill the both of you and bring your heads to the Empire. I…”

  “Well, I’m still waiting,” Angin said, the runes on his rod lighting up. “All you just told me is that you’re an assassin. If the Urachs send you, you must be a Wizard. You’ve only given me more reason to kill you. Like I would ever trust an unknown charlatan!”

  “Charlatan?” Amor asked. He scratched his beard, frowning. “Angin, don’t tell me you’re caught up in this ancient quarrel. Who cares?”

  “I do! And I think my predecessor knew why to be suspicious of your kind.”

  “Oh, so all wizards are evil and can’t be trusted. Don’t you work with charlatans in the Resistance.”

  “Yes, I do, but they have proven themselves. They are the exception, not the rule. And the rule, unfortunately, is that Wizards either work for the Empire or don’t act. With your ass here, this tells me what kind of wizard you are.”

  Amor sighed, rubbing the back of his head. This wasn’t going like he had planned. “Wait, let’s calm down. I’m not here to fight or argue. I’m here to negotiate.”

  Angin grabbed his rod with both hands. “Hah, sure you are. And what exactly? How deep my boot can go into your ass? Or how many teeth I’ll leave in your caved-in head?”

  “You sure do paint a picture. But what could I expect from a Fealing?”

  The color drained from the Alchemist’s face. The grip on his rod intensified. “What did you just call me?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, doesn’t feel too good to be on the receiving end. Can I speak without interruption, or do you have another curse you want to get out?”

  Angin didn’t respond, glaring at the Wizard. “Good. So, what I was trying to say was, yes, I’m hired to kill you, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. I want out. You and the Resistance are my best bet.”

  Liron looked between the two. Despite Amor’s relaxed manner, tension lay in the air. One spark, and violence would follow. “You have something to prove yourself trustworthy?” Angin asked. He hadn’t recovered from Angin’s insult, his expression tense. He struggled to hold himself back.

  “Of course,” Amor said, taking a few steps to them. Steam hissed off the rod’s tip, and Amor stopped, holding his hands up. “Alright, I won’t come closer. I have information you and the Resistance will be interested in.”

  Angin nodded, brief and forced. “How did you know of the outpost?”

  “Oh, I got my hands on the man responsible for it. Made him sing. Killed him afterward. Made it look like an accident. Sorry, but I had no other choice back then.”

  “Figures,” Angin said. “What information do you have that will benefit us?”

  “I won’t give you all. You understand. But I’m ready to tell you two things. First, Rarn Urach isn’t on the side of the Empire. I've been working for him for years now. Nothing big. But a lot has harmed the Empire. Not much, but the damage was still done. And always in secret. He didn’t want it to be traced back to him.”

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  “Rarn has no connections to the Resistance,” Angin said. “He’s not on our side.”

  “I’ve never said that. I’ve only said he isn’t on the Empire’s side. No idea who he is helping or whether there’s someone he’s helping. But that has to be worth something, right?”

  Angin gave him no indication of whether it was. “And the second?”

  “The second,” Amor said, smiling at Angin’s lack of a response, “I know where Uma is, the best student of Mira Fran. You know her, right? The Winter Witch. She must be a thorn in the Resistance’s side. How many of your people were killed by either her or her students? Uma is supposed to take over from her one day. If you get her, you…”

  “Uma was killed a few months ago,” Angin said.

  Amor blinked, pursing his lips. “Pardon me?”

  Angin’s features twisted, steam erupting from his rod. “Uma is fucking dead. She was killed by Ragner. You rat tried to sell me worthless information.”

  Amor hissed, a hand on his hip, looking away. He appeared to be ashamed. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.”

  The Wizard flicked his fingers. Angin frowned, his eyes going wide. Without turning, he kicked Liron away. As he fell on his ass, something tore through the wall next to them, too fast for Liron to recognize it. The world froze for a moment, nothing having changed until Angin’s severed fingers fell to the ground.

  The Alchemist stumbled backwards. His left hand had turned into a gory mess, nothing but shreds remaining. His right one had fared better, but only his thumb and pointy finger had survived, holding the rod. Tiny holes covered the remnants of his hands. The attack had torn through Angin’s gloves, the Nanium falling down with his fingers. The stench of burned flesh tainted the air.

  Liron put his hand on his mouth, trembling. All courage and aggression was ripped from Angin. The Alchemist breathed hard, pressing his rod against his chest with his right hand. His weapon had survived the attack, unlike his gloves.

  Amor whistled. “Can’t believe it. You’ve dodged. I had aimed for your throat. Not bad. The stories weren’t exaggerated. A shame. I think we could have been great friends.”

  Amor spread his hands in front of him, the air seething until a little flame appeared. The fire reshaped itself, a metal needle forming in front of him, glowing like a newly forged blade. Amor summoned countless other needles in front of him. He gave Liron and Angin a parting nod and fired them forward.

  Instincts kicked in, and Liron grabbed Angin by the shoulders, pulling him after him. They could have hidden behind the wall to their left, but Amor’s trap might strike again. They dashed to their right, sprinting to the nearest ruin. Angin regained his composure, not needing Liron’s aid anymore. The surge of needles followed them, biting at their heels. Liron could sense their heat more than once passing him by, getting closer. Before the first could pierce them, they reached the wall they had aimed for, rolling into safety. Though, these needles wouldn’t be stopped by mere stone. Liron and Angin crawled on all fours, keeping their heads low.

  As they had reached the wall, the attack stopped. While they couldn’t see him, they heard Amor strolling towards where they were a moment ago. He stomped on something, presumably the rest of Angin’s Nanium. The Alchemist bared his teeth. He used his last finger, thumb, and remnants of his hand to activate his ability. He transmuted the skin next to his wounds, stretching it over them. They weren’t healed, but they wouldn’t bleed as much. The heat of the needles had scorched off most of the wounds they had caused, though.

  Angin tore off stripes of his coat, signaling Liron to help him wrap the rod around his right hand.

  “I’m impressed,” Amor said. “I truly am. I knew you two were tough, no easy kill, but I hoped my trap would work. Not the best, but I thought it would suffice. That’s what laziness gets you, I guess. If it’s any solace for the two of you, it’s nothing personal. It’s simply a dog-eat-dog world. A man does what he has to do to survive. Don’t fight back. It only makes it worse.”

  Angin pressed his head against the wall. He positioned himself to be opposite to Amor. Once he had, he pressed his left hand stump against the wall, transmuting the stone. Nothing visible changed. As the Alchemist did so, Liron looked around. Amor had been here for Harras knows how long. He had prepared the battlefield.

  Burning torches hanging on walls. Everywhere. Liron gulped, imagining what the meaning behind them could be. Angin nudged Liron behind him, pressing the rod against the wall. The blast was smaller than Liron had imagined, but it tore through the wall, hurling the smashed piece at Amor. The Alchemist must have weakened the wall, allowing him to weaponize it.

  The wall section collapsed, and Angin and Liron hurried away, hiding inside a new ruin. They glimpsed over the edge of a rock, dust having engulfed everything. As it dispersed, two larger pieces of debris became visible. A burning thread, made of nothing but fire, kept them bound to one another. It had blocked Angin’s attack, the fragments lying shattered in front of them.

  Amor sprinted from behind his shield, shooting a new wave of needles at them. They ducked, a blazing death missing them. The rock seethed, steam erupting from the needles digging into it. It endured the assault, but it would fall soon. The assassin crossed the distance, about to reach them.

  Angin aimed his rod at the ground, unleashing smaller fire blasts. Dust erupted from the scorched wreckage all around them. The Alchemist pulled Liron to his feet, pushing him forward. As soon as they ran out of the dust, Amor spotted them, taking aim again. He had to care little about accuracy, hurling dozens of needles at his prey.

  One slammed into Liron’s shoulder. The magical missile penetrated his flesh, burning him as it exploded out of the other side. The pain triggered a second later, his shoulder screaming from the inferno that had bitten into him. He hissed, tearing up. Before another one could taste his blood, they brought a new wall between them and their pursuer.

  Angin didn’t stop, running with no clear pattern through the ruins, keeping his left hand stump on Liron, forcing him forward. No matter where they went, torches greeted them. Amor had ceased his attack, but they heard no sign of his pursuit. As if he had given up.

  Angin noticed, too, steering them behind a wall. He glimpsed from behind it, searching for their enemy. He looked in the wrong direction. Liron saw him first, a shadow moving near the tower. Amor was airborne, flying over the ruins. As his momentum came to an end, gravity claiming him, he fired a needle into a branch above him, a burning thread attached to it. He held onto it, using it to swing himself forward.

  From a hawk’s perspective, he found them, smiling. He pointed his finger at them, but no spell cut through the air at them. Angin had faced Wizards before, so he knew what the assassin was doing. He kicked Liron away, turning to the torch. The flames intensified, spawning a needle. It had the size of a spear, stabbing at the Alchemist.

  Angin could have dodged, but he took the spell with his left arm, the spearhead piercing through his forearm. Embracing the strike and the raging flames allowed Angin to make use of their force, letting it twist him around. Wasting no moment, he aimed the rod at Amor and fired. This time, he didn’t lower the strength behind his weapon. The fireball would have paled compared to Illaxia’s, but it made Amor shriek at its sheer size. The assassin summoned dozens of needles in front of him, wanting to fight fire with fire. He noticed too late that the attack wasn’t meant for him but for the branch from which he hung.

  His yell as his hold collapsed and he fell was music to Liron’s ears. But while it would hurt, Amor wouldn’t die from this. The spear vanished, and the torch returned to normal. Angin collapsed to his knees, panting. No pain haunted him. But his wounds had cost him dearly, exhaustion carved deep into Angin’s features.

  Liron had lost his walking stick when the Alchemist had lost his fingers, but he had his axe, clinging on to it. His shoulder ached from every motion, but as with Angin, he hadn’t lost much blood, the wound burned from the needle’s flames. It would hurt like Drom’s embrace, but he would swing it if need be. And there was a need.

  After seeing what had happened to Dieter, Liron knew he couldn’t hesitate. His fear be damned, he needed to kill Amor now. But Aning stopped him, bringing his gored left arm in front of Liron, making him wait. Sweat ran down Angin’s forehead, intense as he thought. Based on his expression, the Alchemist feared that Amor had another trick up his sleeve.

  Liron’s throat tightened up, and whatever courage he had scraped by left him. As before, no sound of what Amor was doing. He needed to see them to attack even from the torch. The torch!

  Liron wanted to hack it down as they heard a crowing from above. The torch burned like Drom’s hate again, needles shooting out from them. They didn’t attack the same spot, firing in a wide swing. Liron managed to dodge them, but Angin wasn’t so lucky, needles hitting him in the gut.

  He exchanged a look with Liron, coughing up blood.

  “Fuck,” Liron whispered.