—— ? ——

  Kaelalin shuddered as she coughed again, the sound hoarse and wet. She looked up at Simon and gave him another bloody grin.

  “Good. That thing can rot in every layer of hell,” she wheezed out. Simon took her hand, his body shaking. Tears just wouldn’t stop coming.

  “Without you, I would have never beaten it.” He whispered. “I think it was just toying with me. Waiting for my guard to drop.”

  “Damn right.” Kaelalin let out a whimper. “Shit. While it was effective, I wouldn’t recommend getting skewered as a method to kill an enemy.”

  Simon let go of her hand and wiped tears away. This wasn’t the time. He needed to find a potion. He dug frantically through the pouches and bags, then just started dumping them onto the bloody snow.

  “Where are they?” he hissed as he pawed through the contents.

  “Simon.”

  “There has to be one here somewhere.”

  “Simon.”

  Simon reached over Kaelalin’s body and started to dig through her bags. There had to be one. Somewhere, there was a potion.

  “Ow!” Kaelalin hissed as Simon bumped a bone barb in his haste. “Simon, stop!”

  “No! Kaelalin, where are the other potions?! Which bag?

  He met her eyes, and his heart dropped. She wore a sad smile. Resigned, and resolute.

  “What?” Simon croaked out. “Theres–gotta—Theres has to be–where is–”

  “Simon, it's okay,” Kaelalin said softly. She gave him a sad smile. “Trust me. I packed the bags. I know what we had.” Her eyes moved to the empty bandolier. “The ones in your pouch and the ones in that were all we had.”

  Simon pushed himself to his feet. The effort it took was monumental, but he did it.

  “Okay. Shit. Um. Alright." His eyes turned to the darkness. “I’ll carry you then. We can run back to Varnholt.”

  “I won’t last that long,” her voice echoed in his mind.

  Simon’s eyes snapped back to her. That same resolute sadness was back.

  “What?! No.” Simon blinked. “No. No noonononono.”

  An idea popped into his head. He screamed into his mental world, demanding a prompt show itself.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > You have slain an Aurora Stalker

  > Experience has been earned.

  > Level U–”

  He cut the prompt off, his eyes filling with hope.

  “Kaelalin! I got experience for killing that thing! Remember in the Realm of the Forger? I dumped stats into via-”

  “I already used them, Simon. Why do you think I’m not dead yet?” Her thought cut his words off cold

  Simon slumped to his knees.

  His eyes searched her face, hoping this was some big joke. She was pulling his leg. A grand prank.

  “But… Why aren’t you healing then?”

  He remembered when he had dumped everything into that stat. The change had been almost magical. Simon would have been a burn victim for life without it.

  “It’s just our luck, Simon. That asshole had some type of shadow poison. I’m just glad it didn’t get you with it.”

  She coughed up blood again, the fluid stained with a dark hue.

  But Simon had been hit. He had been hit hard. Yet, he was still walking.

  Had that cold feeling that had coursed through him been the poison? Why wasn’t it affecting him like Kaelalin?

  Then it hit him. The god damned onesie. Made from Aurora Hopper hide.

  >> Aurora-Touched Hide: Provides significant resistance to shadow magic.

  Simon started to pull the outfit off himself. His hood fell back, and he finished untying the top. Simon’s bloody chest steamed in the cold night air.

  He shivered as the wind swept across him. From within him, the cold in his bones returned. It coursed through his body, as if the hand of death itself was caressing his flesh.

  “What the hell are you doing, Simon? I don’t have you stripping for me on my list of last requests.”

  Simon shivered but pushed forward, reaching for the ties of his pants.

  “Holy shit, Simon, stop! Look at your chest!”

  Simon met her eyes, then he looked down. On his chest, extending from the still-healing holes, was a black tar. It pulsed and spread, growing visibly.

  He looked back at Kaelalin.

  “I can deal with it. You need this more than I do.”

  “Simon Starfall.” Her internal voice had the finality of a trap slamming shut. “Put your damn shirt back on. I will not have you dying for me. It’s absolutely moronic.”

  “But… the pois–”

  “SHIRT. ON. This IS on my list. Think for a moment. If you die, you’re going to dump me in the snow, and I’ll just die anyway.”

  Her head cocked ever so slightly.

  “Besides. Isn’t that outfit suited to you? The fact that it can fight that shadow magic is already an impossibility. I don’t even think it will work the same way on me.”

  Simon swallowed. He glanced inward and found the line.

  “If worn by the source of the legend, all attributes are enhanced.”

  “God damnit!” Simon yelled, an involuntary shiver taking hold. “God damnit. God damnit. God damnit!”

  He yanked the top of his outfit back on. With shaking hands, he tied it back.

  The cold tendrils stopped growing. They slowly started to retract, but it was so god damned slow.

  “What if I leveled up? Dumped my stats? Then I could take it off and start run–”

  Kaelalin coughed again, blood spewing out. It was darker this time.

  “Just stop. Please.” Her eyes locked with his, pleading. “Stop.”

  New tears rolled down Simon’s face as he looked at his friend. She smiled again.

  “That was one hell of a fight, wasn’t it?”

  Simon nodded through tears. “Yeah.”

  For a few moments, the wind stilled, and the world was silent.

  Kaelalin lifted her hand ever so slightly. Simon took it.

  “Now. Listen.” The words were a whisper, but they carried more weight than anything Kaelalin had ever said.

  But just those words set off a fit of hacking wet coughs. Dark blood spewed from her. Finally, the fit stopped, dark drops dribbling down her pale blue chin.

  “Damn. Thought I might be able to say more. This will have to do.”

  Simon nodded in response.

  “Look, Simon. Things like this just happen, alright? I’m going to die. That’s a fact.”

  Simon opened his mouth.

  “Nope. Quiet. I don’t have time for your words. Do me this favor and just listen.”

  Simon’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Thank you.” Kaelalin’s thought was soft. “I’m probably not the first to die in this fucked up world, Simon. But I know for sure, I won’t be the last. You’re going to have to keep facing forward, alright? Move on, get stronger. For frost’s sake, leave this damned valley. Okay?”

  Tears flowed, and Simon clenched his jaw. He nodded stiffly.

  “Good. But before you do that, I have a favor to ask you. Can you do it?”

  “Of course,” Simon whispered.

  Kaelalin smiled. “I really wanted to explore this new world. Wanted to do it with you and Brian. Between us three, what could have stopped us, you know? Hell, we beat that thing.”

  Her eyes flicked over to the shattered remains of the creature. She frowned.

  “Help me sit up, would you? I want to see what you did to the asshole.”

  Simon leaned over, carefully, and with slow movements, he helped move his friend to a sitting position. Her eyes went wide, and she whimpered as the tendrils dragged and pulled on the barbs. But she clenched her jaws. Simon piled bags behind her, careful not to jostle the fleshy appendages.

  He moved back in front of her.

  “Would you look at that? Well done, Simon. Well done.” She chuckled, then coughed up more blood. “Shattered the damn thing. Fantastic.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Her eyes turned back to Simon.

  “Now, here’s my favor. Ready?”

  Simon’s teeth felt like they would snap. He nodded again.

  “Oh, don’t look so grim, dumbass.” Her thoughts felt like she shook her head. “Now, when I pass, I need you to carry me back to Varnholt.”

  Simon sobbed.

  “I know. I know. Pull yourself together. This is important.” Her eyes were soft, her own tears falling. “When you bring my… body back. Shit, that's hard to say.” More tears. “When you get to Varnholt, my people will most likely want to honor me. There are countless things I did to help my people. In this world and our own. You can’t let them, Simon. Not before you bring me to Brian.”

  Simon wiped his tears on his arm, his eyes stinging from the blood that mixed in his face.

  “Our people honor those who have helped our race with a ritual. I don’t know if they have figured out how to do it again, but I wouldn’t doubt it. It’s called the ‘Frozen Vigil’. Do not let them.” Her expression turned hard. “Please. Not until you get me to Brian. He gets to decide, alright? If they complete that ritual, He won’t be able to touch me. The ‘Frozen Vigil’ brings out the cold that lies within my kind. Or so they say. It also protects the… body, from those who want to do it harm.”

  She coughed again, and Simon couldn’t stand to watch the dark blood again. His gaze dropped, and his tears were added to the tapestry of battle and death.

  Kaelalin recovered, her breaths now shallow. They caught and hitched as she struggled to live.

  “Can you do that, Simon?

  Simon turned his gaze back to her. His face firmed as he mastered his emotions.

  He was going to do this. He would fulfill her last request.

  “Yes. I got you, Kaelalin.”

  She gave him a blood-soaked smile, then her neck muscles tensed. She grunted with effort as her right hand rose.

  Her fingers closed into a fist, and she gave him a bloody thumbs-up.

  Simon laughed. “That’s my thing, you jerk.”

  Her hand dropped, her body shaking as her grin grew.

  “Yeah? Well, too bad. I’m stealing it.”

  Her breaths grew shorter as Simon saw the color in her face start to fade.

  “Is–” Simon’s voice cracked. He tensed and shook his head. He forced a smile to his face.

  “Is there anything else?” he finished.

  Kaelalin’s eyes had started to dull, then sparked back.

  “Wai… Wait, actually yes! Simon, a tan bag at my waist. Empty and get the notebook.”

  Simon quickly did as she asked, unceremoniously dumping the contents to the ground.

  Writing tools and magical implements fell from the bag. Simon shook it again, and a notebook fell free. Before he let go of the bag, one more object fell out.

  It shimmered in the moonlight, rays glimmering off the shiny thing.

  Simon grabbed the notebook and the shining metal, curious. He held out the two to Kaelalin.

  “Please have Brian read that.” Her eyes moved from the notebook to Simon. “Tha–” her thought cut off, as her eyes snapped to the metal in Simon’s hand.

  “Wait. Simon giv.. give me that.”

  Simon nodded, pushing the notebook closer to her.

  “No, not th.. The.. Note.. noootte. Book. Metal!” Kaelalin grunted, her eyes dimming and her arm lifting. She reached out a bloody hand towards him.

  Simon held out the metal, her fingers curled around it, and him.

  “Sim…Simon… don..t… give up. Whatever you do… don’t give up hope. Remember what I w…..”

  Her body convulsed, a slight glow sparking in her eyes.

  Then she went limp.

  Her fingers slipped free, falling from his hand.

  The soft slap of her palm against her lap hit Simon like a hammer.

  Simon just stared, unmoving.

  “Kaelalin?” he whispered.

  There was no response.

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “No. no. NO!”

  His frantic eyes searched her face. He listened for her breathing.

  Nothing.

  He reached out a hand and shook her gently. Her limp body started to fall, and he pulled her back.

  No.

  Simon glanced down at his hand. A trail of smeared blood marked where her fingers had been.

  He opened his hand, the shimmering metal glinting in the moonlight.

  No.

  There was a way, right?

  Kaelalin was smart. This metal. It was what they got from the Realm of the Forger, right?

  A soul metal construct!

  Hope battled with grief as he stared at the metal. There was a way. Kaelalin could have done it.

  If anyone could have done it, it was her!

  *ding*

  The chime shook Simon to his core. The prompt stole his soul.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > A member of your party has fallen.

  > Name: Kaelalin Zarvenna.

  > Status: Deceased.

  > Note: Kaelalin Zarvenna has been removed from the party.

  Harmony is offered. Growth is earned.

  ——————————

  "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

  Simon stumbled back and fell to his knees. He desperately clutched the metal to his chest.

  It wasn’t true.

  It wasn’t real.

  It couldn’t be.

  His last shred of hope. His eyes locked on it.

  “Identify,” He prayed.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > IDENTIFICATION SUCCESS

  > Purified Soul Construct of the Serraki

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  > Description: This masterpiece of magical and soul engineering was created by the Serraki Researcher Zerathis. Through decades of effort, the researcher was able to quarantine the metal’s hungering entity. The researcher has inscribed a complex array with one purpose: to house his soul, to allow him to continue his task. This is one of the two magical constructs he created.

  ——————————

  No. No. No!

  “IDENTIFY,” Simon snarled at the metal.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > IDENTIFICATION SUCCESS

  > Purified Soul Construct of the Serraki

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  …

  “NO! KAELALIN COULD HAVE DONE IT,” Simon screamed. “IDENTIFY”

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  “GOD DAMNIT NO! IDENTIFY”

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  “IDENTIFY”

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  “IDENTIFY! IDENTIFY! IDENTIFY!”

  > Status: Array empty - Ready for soul transfer.

  > Status: Array empty…

  …Array empty…

  Simon fell to his knees. Waves of grief racked his body as he bent over, tears streaming down his face and onto the unforgiving snow.

  His mind blurred as he tried to think of a way to bring her back. A way to save her.

  But there wasn’t any.

  Kaelalin was gone.

  He was here, alone.

  Doubled over, sobbing in the snow. Damned. Banished. Forgotten.

  Simon had nothing left to give. This unfair fucking world had taken everything from him.

  His grief numbed in the cold wind.

  This unfair world.

  A fire lit in his soul. The flames of rage.

  Simon pulled himself up and screamed, his voice cutting itself raw.

  Anger boiled in him. Everything he thought of filled his mind with rage.

  The snow. The world. The system. The gods.

  The councilors and people of Varnholt had damned him and Kaelalin to a night of horror and blood.

  “...You’re going to have to keep facing forward, alright?”

  Kaelalin’s words echoed in his mind unbidden.

  “...I have a favor to ask you. Can you do it?”

  Simon screamed into the night.

  “...Now, when I pass, I need you to carry me back to Varnholt.”

  His body shuddered as he pulled himself to his feet.

  “Of course.” Simon’s voice carried across the battlefield. “I got you, Kaelalin.”

  But first.

  Simon took a stumbling step. His body was broken. He stumbled forward.

  Simon needed to be more. He ripped into his mind, searching for something he knew should be there.

  Stats.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE—-

  > YOU HAVE LEVELED

  > Level: 8 -> 10

  > You have gained:

  >> 20 Stat Points.

  >> 2 Skill points.

  >Skill Point Allocated:

  >> Theodia’s Instrum…

  ——————————

  “Fuck off.” Simon snarled, dismissing the prompt. “I already know you, piece of shit.”

  Simon poured half of the available stats into vitality. Then he put five in strength and dexterity.

  The energy surged into him, and he felt some of his body knit back together.

  Good enough.

  Simon continued to stumble forward, his eyes on fire with hatred.

  His steps brought him to the corpse of the stalker. Rage boiled inside him as he gazed over the face of the beast.

  That face that smiled at him as it slaughtered his friend.

  He bent down, his fingers searching. Simon gripped both sides of its head and pulled.

  Pain shot through his black and blue bruised hand failed to grip. He fell backwards

  “Fuck!” He screamed as he pulled himself back up.

  For the last time.

  He was going to get this one thing. Simon wasn’t going to stop. He plunged his fingers back in and willed his hand to grip.

  The sleeve of his bruised hand warped and wriggled at the thought. Simon would have leapt away, but he was so god damned tired. Instead, he just looked at his arm.

  The stitching on his arm was black and moving. Simon blinked as he watched the fabric elongate and extend. The tendrils of material spun around his fingers and then constricted. He felt like his fingers had been wrapped in a cast as the tendrils locked in his grip.

  Those tendrils moved just like these creatures did.

  Simon tilted his head back, and manic laughter escaped his lips. He sucked in a breath, then faced the dead face of the creature.

  “Almost poetic, don’t you think!?” he said, then spat on the corpse.

  Then he pulled. His fingers locked in, his clothing assisting his grip.

  His muscles bulged as he pulled, and pulled, and pulled.

  Then, with a sickening squelch, the head separated from the rest of the body.

  Simon dragged it towards Kaelalin. He set it a few feet away, then carefully searched the bags around her body.

  He found the one he was looking for.

  The one he had used all those days ago to store the corpses of the Hoppers.

  Simon plopped the head inside, then turned back to Kaelalin. He picked up the poured-out contents of the bags.

  He put the notebook and her items back in the tan bag, then paused.

  Where was that metal?

  He looked around.

  Simon must have dropped it. He searched around her body, trying to find it.

  Where was it? Did it matter? He gazed over her chilling body.

  He needed to get back to Varnholt.

  But then he stopped.

  No.

  He needed to find it.

  Simon searched for minutes, trying to figure out where it was.

  Finally, he found it. It had fallen when he screamed, his stumbling steps driving it into the snow.

  It was a lie. A metal lie. But it was one of Kaelalin’s things.

  He stored the metal in the tan bag, then took several deep breaths.

  Time for the hardest part.

  Simon moved back to his friend. She looked peaceful… but the tendrils were still stabbed into her.

  Simon tried to be careful, but it was gruesome work. He finally figured out he could compress the barbs and pull them through her.

  He hated every second of it.

  Finally, he wiped his hands on the snow, cleaning them the best he could.

  He used his trembling fingers to close her dull eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, then lifted her.

  His body was on fire, his bones tired. But he didn’t care.

  Simon turned to face the night, the body of his friend in his arms.

  He took a step. Then another. Then another.

  To Varnholt.

  And he swore.

  For the last time.

  —— ? ——