“I gritted my teeth and brought Dusk up to my chest. I pointed my intention at the space between the courtyard and me. I focused on not trying to separate the space between the altar in front of me and myself. I knew my darker counterpart would have filled that space with a negative black magic; opening myself up to that kind of influence would end the fight before it even began.

  “If I could raise the temperature of the freezing cold ground beneath his feet, though, that would create a cover for me to enter. I channeled a focused trickle of summer through my sword, and I felt what little power I could spare flow through me. I watched as the fog started to rise up slowly, then rapidly, as my will took purchase. Excess fog blew into the hallway behind me. He already knew I was here, but now with my cover secured, I rushed silently inside the courtyard, straight toward him.

  “The Winter Warden inhaled sharply, almost as if tasting the air. Then, he sniffed openly like some sort of predator. A guttural laugh tore through his mouth. It wasn't the sound humans make; it sounded tortured and shrill. My heart sank into my stomach like a stone being dropped into a dark well. I adjusted my trajectory and slid away from him, circling the altar.

  “‘Well then, this is interesting,’ he said. ‘Have you come to avenge the other townsfolk?’ His words came out slow and controlled in a mocking tone. His voice took on a grizzled pitch. It left a sinewy feeling in my mind.

  “Walking low, I kept circling him, my will held that tiny space still, so he had no idea where I was. He started walking in a semicircle away from the stone table.

  “‘Here, piggy, piggy, piggy,’ he said with a wicked smile showing far too many gnarled teeth. I focused some more will and forced the scent of the townsfolk from earlier to mix with the fog all around me. That’s when his smile faded.

  “‘So you've got a little spellcraft, do you? Maybe you're not like the other pigs.’ He smelled the air deeply, letting his tongue lick the air, before slithering back into his mouth. His head whipped around.

  “‘Wait, I know this smell; this power.’

  “I stood behind the stone table. Damn that sense of smell, he's starting to figure it out. He could actually smell me, not just the town but the signature of my will. I need to make this quick. Moving in one fluid motion, I leaped over the stone table, threw the mist off, and held my sword high. I was ready to end this.

  “Like quicksilver, the Winter Warden whipped around and smiled. In one fluid motion, he sprang up faster than I thought possible. In one hand, he grabbed my sword hand, and in the other, my throat, halting my momentum. In my next gasping breath, he slammed me down on the stone table, driving the rest of the air out of my lungs. My vision swam, my concentration on the fog, and my glamour both faded.

  “‘Well, look what the fates brought in,’ he said in a sing-song tone. ‘It must be my birthday because, lo and behold, the Summer Warden is here to supply me with my final ingredient!’ I wanted to shoot back a smart remark or a quip about his smell, but all I got out was the sound of a man being choked to death. That made him smile.

  “‘You weren't expecting me to be this strong, were you?’ he said, squeezing down hard on my sword hand, forcing me to drop my sword. Once disarmed, he violently slammed my head against the stone three times. My vision grew dark around the edges. I began to see stars. He let me go and walked around the stone table.

  “‘These backwater peasant folk have honored the old ways,’ he remarked. ‘The darkness in these woods drew me to it. I saw how well they did by feeding into the will of such an ancient spirit.’ He walked to the head of the table near the tree where my head lay.

  “‘Do you know what I learned?’ he asked with a wry smile. ‘You understand as well as I do that we Wardens protect the balance of nature unless absolutely necessary. In a lot of ways, so do the ancient spirits. However, the power that it takes is minimal and wide-reaching. That also means it's slow-moving and its roots run deep.’ He slammed his hands on the table and leaned in. His burning, blue eyes bore themselves into mine, hungry and wild.

  “‘So far-reaching yet so careful not to take too much, not to drink the land dry, and inevitably starve itself,’ he continued. ‘But what happens when something more drastic takes place? A flood comes in and destroys the crops. Or pestilence strips the land. Something must be done. Sacrifices must be made. Blood to land. But what happens when you only feed the land blood? What happens when that ancient spirit space between overflows with ritualistic, raw power? When it can no longer drink, but now it's vomiting it up? Where does all that power go then?’ the Winter Warden mused.

  “I felt the color leave my face as the realization hit me. He smiled cruelly as he saw it dawn on me. He was forcing the ancient spirit to accept these sacrifices with rituals. It couldn't use the energy of the ritual. When the energy lapped over, he was there, ready to eat like a wild animal. This was his own personal blood fountain of power. This poor spirit, these poor people, this poor land. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I stared up past the Winter Warden into the lifeless eyes of those hanged on that tree. I dried my tears and focused my resolve. I would not let this injustice go unmatched.

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  “Before he moved away from my face, I grabbed the back of his neck and smashed one of the bottles I stole from the bar across his head. A strong sour smell filled the air. He staggered back, probably more stunned than harmed, I surmised.

  “I sprang up and flicked the heat of the floor back to light, but only around him. The alcohol from the bottle caught fire, and he started to burn. I ran for the hallway I came from. The fog there was still thick. As I turned the corner, I heard him howl. The sound was a high-pitched wail, like wind moving through broken mountains. Terror ripped through me, and my bladder threatened to relieve itself, but I held it together… mostly. Only able to see a few steps in front of me, I trusted my memory to guide me back. I spared a glance behind me, looking for any sign of him. A burning, flickering image, a shape... lump… being, lumbered toward me on all fours. Its image was displaced, but that only made it worse.

  “Turning another corner, I dove for the hatch, slipped underneath like a rat, and hid in the darkness below. I waited a moment between heartbeats as I skulked further into the cellar. I heard the sound of the hatch opening violently and him stepping down. His boots hit the wooden steps with ferocity. The wood groaned underneath his feet as if his size grew. He stalked through the wet underground cellar floors and spoke.

  “‘Hiding yourself in darkness? That is not the way of a Summer Warden.’ His voice was now heavy and more bestial. ‘The dark, the cold, and the fear all belong to my mantle; it is mine to bend and wield.’ He inhaled, and the dim light from the hatch was snuffed out like a candle, and the room was covered in true darkness.

  “There are two types of darkness in this world: one that comes by night and one that comes by name. He called life in the space between the land outside and the room below, and his will became reality. Darkness fell, reaching and searching for me, trying to bind my body. It made sweet whispers in my ears, trying to get me to close my eyes and sleep, submit to its pressure, and rest forever. I felt my body start to go limp until I remembered the faces of those people hanging on that tree. My heart started to burn and cry out. I felt my body respond to its call.

  “That wild dog was intending to sacrifice me on that stone table in a moment. He wanted to upset the balance. In a lot of ways, he was like me. No, not like me, I intended to only shift the dynamic. This creature intended to play at being a god. Lady Fate was definitely on his side, but Lady Luck was on mine. I stepped out of my hiding spot and stood proudly with a righteous anger rising up in me. The heat of my wrath was now brimming to its peak.

  “‘You, who would break the balance of the Old World with your choices,’ I said as I began to glow. ‘You, who would forget your duties in pursuit of power.’ I saw his outlined form, a partly furred beast twice the size it was before. Ten pointed antlers jettisoned from his helmet, its visor revealed a pointed snout and a lipless, toothy maw. He turned, dropping to all fours, and rushed me.

  “‘You, who would pretend to be a god!’

  “Nearly on top of me, his eyes grew wide now, as he saw that the wet floor was covered with alcohol from the barrels.

  “This time, I smiled. ‘You, who will now burn.’ I wreath the space between the liquid alcohol in my own desire with the intention of true summer fire.

  “I clicked my tongue, and in a spark, true fire ignited the cellar floor and consumed us both in a ravenous inferno. The screaming white flame split all the sound with a high-pitched cry.

  “All fire is of the same fire. All fires are children of the sun. The sun is the father of my mantle. The freedom to wield white flame is my birthright.

  “I poured all my wrath into this fire. The faces of the hanged men, the heartbreak of the spirit, and one's own feelings of being trapped for so long in Jezebel's service. Even deeper than that, I poured in my feelings about this armor, and my feelings for her. All of this was for her and the love I felt for her. The fire grew, and the screams tore through his throat like a thousand voices. He reached for me and, with both his arms wrapped around my chest, he tried to squeeze the life out of me.

  “The world was bright and hot for what seemed like an eternity, but truly, it only lasted a few moments. I roared alongside him until my throat was raw.

  “‘Now BURN!’ I cried, using the last of my breath. The room was superheated, and the whining pitch of the flame hit such a frequency that my ears bled. Then, Boom. The roof, the walls, and the world around me went spinning away from me. With my will and my anger subsiding, my vision faded, and darkness took me.

  “I awoke already standing at the stone table with the charred body of the Winter Warden. I watched his chest wearily. After a count of ten, it rose. He was still alive, unfortunately. I noticed Dusk was back in my hand. I looked at the tree, and my eyes grew hot. My flames had caught it, and it, too, was charred and dying.

  “In a way, I felt it wanted to die. It wanted to be released from its pain and took hold of the fire with me. It helped me free it, and I intended to finish this. Blinking my eyes clear, I looked down at the Winter Warden. I raised my blade against his throat.

  “‘For the sake of tradition,’ I said coldly, ‘I do this on the stone table, and I break free of the armor that now binds me. May the mantle of winter find someone else far more worthy than you.’

  “I pressed my blade into his throat, all the way through, slowly. His eyes flared open in demonic rage before the blue color faded, the Winter Mantle now shifting away. I felt his life slip away as he choked on his own blood. Wind passed through the tree as if it were giving its final sigh and then grew still, no longer moving. The power flashed hot in my chest, and I watched with blurry vision the ebony armor fall away. I wept bitterly.”

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