A sensation of warmth whirled inside Quin’s chest. Faint and small, it gradually grew up to spread across his torso. Pleasant at first, the warmth blazed up in both speed and heat.

  Unbearable. Incessant. Unrelenting. His soul had nowhere to go, trapped in a burning home. Just when it felt like it would persist forever, he snapped back to consciousness.

  Suspended above the ground, a wooden post kept him steady. The person behind the bind was caught up in his mind.

  “...and it’s not like I wasn’t trying,” said Desmon, conversing with no one in particular. “I was doing the best I could, but one day I woke up and well, I wanted to die.

  “The trainer. He saw me, he asked, ‘Do you want to go home?’ and I was like, ‘I don’t know what to do.’ and he asked me again, ‘Do you want to go home?’ then I said, ‘Yes.’. WHY DID I SAY YEESSS?!”

  Quin tried to squirm out. No luck.

  “Oh, you’re awake,” Desmon noticed, the anguish on his face disappeared. He wiped his face. “Don’t mind what I was saying just now. All I want, is to get better, do better and hopefully, be better.”

  Panic planted itself in Quin’s heart. His mouth and eyes dropped as he contemplated his life choices. The two were all alone high up in the mountains on a small plateau. Daylight dimmed, the festival would soon commence.

  All of the previous evening, Quin cleaned and polished the sandals. His thoughts gravitated so much on Aesther, he couldn’t sleep. He thought he’d have plenty of time for that after the festival. He didn’t think it’d be prior.

  Desmon paced backwards away from Quin. “Alright, looks like we’re all ready.”

  The slovenly Sentar’i stood a few feet across from his victim. He engaged in some light stretches as his arms and legs folded. He breathed slowly while he opened and closed his fists.

  Quin’s breaths far outpaced his. He didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t ready.

  Desmon then locked eyes on Quin. He raised his arm and on cue, so did his shadow above the earth.

  The end was about to begin when his attacker walked back to his victim, his head swayed back and forth.

  “No. No, this doesn’t feel right,” Desmon concluded. “If this were my usual tye-mmm and my usual spa-aht, it’d all be fine.”

  He crouched beneath Quin then on one pull, picked him up with the entire post. “Now I have to find a different angle with the sun. I should have waited til tomorrow. Can’t find a nice quiet spot with all these people around. Damned festival. Completely forgot.”

  Lugged over Desmon’s shoulders, Quin had a view of the surroundings below. His body, tied up, floated over the edge. The high heights hastened his heartbeats. Trees and people overlapped each other as his vision swirled.

  That morning, the sun rose with his hopes as he thought the day would go as one of the best of his life. Instead, it had all the conditions to end up as his worst. At least fortune had the kindness to make it his last.

  A black spot appeared in Quin’s view. His vision restored somewhat when he noticed the shape of a person, one in a black cloak. Unlikely to be another impersonator, Quin figured it had to be an actual Cosondere. If he could get their attention, they’ll more than likely take a glance.

  But even if he yelled for help and even if they answered, nothing guaranteed he would survive the rescue. He had to find a different way to alert them.

  “This looks better,” said the aloof individual as he propped Quin up in direct line to the sun.

  Forced to look down, he saw Desmon’s shadow emerge from the ground. Heavy breaths took over his auditory senses. His eyes zipped from one side of his face to the other, he searched for anything both inside and out that could save him.

  His line of sight stopped at the sash bag. Brought to the peaks with him, it had been cast aside; left supervised by the sun. That’s when he had an idea.

  “Wait!” Quin blurted, his head the only part he could move. “Before you do this, you need to know something.”

  “Like what?” Desmon asked with a shrug. “You’re going to tell me you’re an important person?”

  “No. Not me. The bag. Inside the bag.”

  Quin’s words raised an eyebrow on his captor. Incredulous yet curious, Desmon went over to the sash bag. He rummaged around until his hands discovered the box and uncovered the figurine from within.

  “It’s Lady Sexené,” Quin said. “People are going to Tyru Castle tonight to sing praises on her. But if the sculpture’s not there, that could be trouble.”

  “Why is that my problem?”

  “It’s not. It’s your solution.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. If you turn it in before the festival, you’ll get everyone’s gratitude. Then you’ll be able to walk freely in town again.”

  “Wait, I will?”

  “Yeaahhh. After all, it’s all the cloaks fault that you’re life’s like this to begin with. Things would have been the same if you’d never joined them right?”

  “They made my life like this?”

  “YEAAHHH! You owed them nothing yet they took everything! When you said yes that day, it was because they wanted you to say it, so they’d have an excuse to take your life away!”

  “That sounds right. You might be right! That might be right!”

  “The life they took from you can be yours again! Because if you turn that statue in, the people will give it back to you!”

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

  “Yeah. Yeah!”

  “Then when you have that life back, you can say ‘screw the Cosondera.’”

  “Screw the Cosondera? Screw the Cosondera. Screeww the Coson-DERAAAAA!”

  “Excuse me?” asked a voice from across the plateau.

  The Sentar’i snapped around. Across from him underneath the sun’s glare, stood a lady in black tights with a blue shirt as well as the typical black cloak and boots.

  Everything about her appearance differed from Desmon’s. The unsettling stare behind the mask. The sharp stance and tense posture. The sudden sense of dourness. There was no mistake about it, she was the real deal.

  “You,” Desmon addressed while he shielded his eyes. “This is all your fault!”

  The Cosondere stood silent.

  “I wanted to join you guys so I could do amazing things and be an amazing person, but you all ruined my life instead.”

  The lady in black remained silent.

  “Joining you guys was supposed to make my life better, but it’s been worse. ‘An honorable decision,’ you said. ‘People will respect you,’ you said. Look what you’ve done to me!”

  More silence followed.

  “Dammit! Don’t you have any thing to say for yourself?!”

  Her head turned slightly to face Quin before her attention returned to Desmon. “A weak Sentar’i gets a wretched fate,” she responded.

  “Weak? Don’t act like you’re better than me. You’re still in a mask, lady. You’re no different!”

  “Then where is your gold clasp, trainee?” she asked as she tugged the fastener to her cloak. “Trainees who pass, turn in their silver clasp for a golden one.”

  The revelation compelled Desmon to grasp his clasp.

  “Of course you still have a silver clasp. It was because you were incapable to pass.”

  “I’m plenty capable!”

  “Plenty wanted is what you are. A madman who goes around masquerading as one of us. Then they snatch up Yerps off the road and leave them for dead after who knows what. Sounds a lot like you.”

  “It was train-ing! I train my shadow arts on them. What does it matter to you, they’re Yerps! Being my training partner was probably the biggest contribution they’ve made.

  “Besides, I’m done with all that thanks to this.” He presented the statuette. “Once I turn this in, I’ll never have to do anything for you ever again.”

  Silence dominated the scene once more.

  The Cosondere opened out her cloak and began stretching. “I do not know what is in your head, but Lady Sexené will not save you,” she stated. “The Cosondera do not take kindly to failures who pretend.”

  Dismayed by those words, the tattered slob turned his eyes to the statuette, he clutched it as he pressed it against his face.

  “Then take this!” he blurted as he chucked the statuette at his opponent.

  “Noooo!!” Quin yelled.

  More likely to miss the Cosondere, the statuette was in danger of being flung off the heights. The masked lady sprang toward it when a silhouette sped toward her. A choice had to be made and on her next step, the Cosondere evaded the aggressive shadow. The statuette was left to gravity.

  With her attention all on the disheveled Sentar’i, she jumped away from his shadow and its coiled movements. His shadow had to retract after every strike, the Cosondere closed in with every dodge. She zigzagged toward him while the sun helped obscure her image.

  Desmon had a difficult time pinpointing her, until her backhand gave him a clue.

  The smack spun him around and the fighters spun around from their positions. Now the Cosondere stood closer to Quin.

  The statuette likely lost, Quin’s journey had lost its purpose. That would be the least of his troubles however should the Cosondere lose. His future depended on her.

  Boots stomped on the dirt as she charged at her opponent. She unleashed a flurry of punches, each one blocked by protruding silhouettes.

  Now it was her turn to contend with the sun as her punches gradually turned to winces. Given an opening, Desmon’s shadow sprang up in the shape of a slab and whomped his opponent back.

  She maintained her footing as she skidded across the soil. Closer to Quin than before, the Cosondere had a better look at him.

  “You again,” she remarked.

  Quin remembered her as well and the sharp blow to his neck from the day prior. Though much more helpful this time, Quin wasn’t sure if he should be glad to see her again.

  “My puppet’s getting better,” Desmon declared as he admired his shadow. “You’re lucky it’s not the middle of the day.”

  “Your puppet will let you down,” replied the Cosondere. “Then you will know how people felt about you.”

  Visibly rankled, the faux Cosondere rose his shadow in line with his face and in one motion lurched it at his foe.

  She dodged it at the last second and bolted toward him. The sun no longer a hindrance, Desmon easily avoided most of her strikes while his shadow blocked the rest. Undeterred, the young lady continued her advance. Desmon sported a smile in his evasion before it vanished.

  The edge reminded him of its presence with no support for his heel. He teetered over, arms flailed as he tried to keep balance.

  The Cosondere pounced as she charged with a jab.

  Desmon’s balance returned in time to sidestep out of her way.

  Her back foot off the ground, only the tip of her other foot to keep her steady. Mere centimeters away from gravity’s embrace, her next move had to be crucial.

  She used it to pivot off her boot and swung herself around. The knee of her free leg connected with Desmon’s back and knocked him back to the center.

  He toppled over, slow to get back up. He realized he returned to where he started. Sweat poured down his face to his open mouth, it needed as much air as it could get. He looked up and faced two different glares once again.

  “Tired already?” the Cosondere asked. “You must be a whistler. No wonder you failed.”

  Desmon seethed up in rage but his body froze. Seconds ago, he could move his head. Nature now kept it still. He tried to use his shadow. No avail. Instead, another shadow superseded his, the Cosondere’s.

  “You’re a shadow artist too?” he murmured under his breath.

  She walked right past him, her shadow affixed to him as she approached Quin.

  “No. NOOOOOoooo!!” Desmon bellowed. “It’s not even mid-day, how is your puppet overpowering mine?!”

  “Your shadow arts are weak,” the Cosondere answered. “Also, what are you on about with this mid-day talk? Shadow arts are most effective at two times: sunrise and sunset.”

  As the massive sphere of fire dipped in the horizon, so too did Desmon’s spirit. It descended further when another cloaked figure rose up into the sky before they landed beside him.

  Similar in dress with a white tunic and black trousers, this Cosondere had no mask to cover his red stubble nor the gash on his forehead. In his palm rested Lady Sexené, still in one piece. A side of his face curled up.

  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. “I see two Tyrovivs fightin’ each other. I have this flyin’ right at me. What is all this?”

  “This is the guy we have been looking for,” his masked friend answered while she undid Quin’s bindings.

  “Is he?” he hunched down to meet the wanted Sentar'i at eye level. “Oh, he is.”

  “I did nothing wrong!” Desmon yelled with an expression that mixed fear and anger. “They were only Yerps! Let me go!”

  “Yer pleadin’ to the wrong folks, brother,” the man said. “We’re just here to take you ‘n but we do need you to be quiet so...”

  He winded his arm back before he delivered a vicious hook on the defenseless Sentar’i. A definite whack reverberated over the mountains. Desmon’s body quivered from head to toe before he collapsed unconscious.

  “Good work Onyl,” the man said with a grin and a raised thumb. “We might get another chance after this.”

  “I hope this will make up their minds,” she responded. “Either we get a new partner or they put us on new teams.”

  Quin, free as a bird wanted nothing more than to leave but one matter remained.

  “Um, excuse me,” he addressed.

  The two cloaks whipped back to him. They quickly forgot all about him.

  “What do you want now?” asked the lady named Onyl.

  “Well it’s about the statuette you have.”

  “We will take care of it. Go home.”

  “Oh, okay. But, we’re pretty high up and I don’t-”

  “You either get off this mountain on your own, or not. Pick one.”

  Quin received the message. He walked over to the plateau’s edge and tried to find a good spot to climb down.

  When the day began, he never expected it to proceed so terribly. Minutes ago, he thought it’d come to a violent end. Miraculously, he could think about his future again. With Aesther likely on her way to the shop at the very moment, Quin quickly had to think about his near future.