—— ? ——

  It was a quiet night.

  And Jorik hated it.

  For once, in so many nights, he wished that something would happen. It had been hours since the Aurora had cut off. He kept glancing out the tinted glass, hoping to hear yells, to see movement.

  Minutes ticked by.

  Nothing.

  Jorik grimaced. That kid…

  Those two had left so many hours ago, and there was no sign of them.

  As a guard, he knew his job was to protect Varnholt. But the whole situation didn't sit right with him. If not for his role and his sense of duty to the people from his world, he might have said something. Jorik considered himself a principled person. That made this entire situation worse.

  This was what happened. Inevitably, situations arose where you would have to choose between your oath to protect, and what you believed was right.

  Make no mistake. Simon was crazy.

  But he wasn't evil.

  At least that was what Jorik believed. The so-called truth that Marden had unveiled seemed more of a ploy to rile up than anything else. Jorik had seen tactics like it before. Over and over.

  Perhaps it was true, but Jorik doubted it. His line of work required you to develop the ability to quickly discern someone's character. Sure, he had been wrong before, but he wasn’t ever that far off.

  Even if there was some truth to the accusations, Jorik doubted the kid was aware of what he was getting into. In that case, wouldn't the correct course of action be to help him?

  Guide him away from such an obvious path of destruction?

  Instead, they banished him to the wild. A valley filled with snow and violence. The dark where that creature hunted.

  Foolish.

  Jorik sighed.

  At the end of the day, he didn't have the power to do anything here. He was a guard, and it was his job to keep everyone safe. Not to have an opinion or to make moves on the political stage.

  He looked into the dark landscape. The flickering lights of his fire were dancing across the walls. They licked at the edges of the window, as if wanting to reach the shadows outside. Jorik leaned back in his chair and heard the whispering to his right.

  Jorik’s eyes flicked over, and he scoffed quietly.

  He wasn't the only one keeping watch tonight. Two Frost-kin guards and that smith waited. They had all come here after everyone had left, making up various excuses about protecting the town or whatever it was that they said they were here for.

  But Jorik knew. They didn't believe that he would make the right choice if Simon and Kaelalin came running out of the dark. They didn't believe he wouldn't let them back inside.

  But why wouldn't he? Why couldn't they wait to banish him? This whole situation stunk of rotten plots.

  To his other side, he heard a large yawn. At least he had good company - the massive bulk of Kurda the stonemason precariously balanced on a chair. The only person in this guardhouse whom he had given a chair.

  This had caused no small amount of protests from the others, but Jorik wouldn’t hear it. This was his post, and he made the rules here.

  He liked the big guy. Kurda had made some excuses as well. Jorik couldn’t even remember the entirety of what he said. It was some ill-conceived ramble about wanting to get a feel for how the guardhouse kept out the cold.

  Jorik shook his head. It was such an obvious lie, but he had merely nodded and said, “Anything to help your work, Councilor Kurda.”

  Outside the window, a glowing energy pulsed into existence. A thin sheen that lit the landscape beyond.

  “There it goes again,” Jorik said to no one in particular. “I wonder how long it will stay this time.” He turned to Kurda. “How long did it last? Almost two hours?”

  The stonemason’s eyes watched the pulsing energy outside the glass.

  “Yer’ bout’ that long.” Kurda studied the inconsistent pulses. “Yer’ think he's going to get it stable by morning?”

  Jorik shrugged. “Who knows. I understand little when it comes to magic. Not to mention something on this scale.” His eyes followed a pulse as it danced down the shining barrier.

  The first time the barrier had appeared, Jorik had rushed out of the guard house. He didn’t have guests at his post at the time, so all he could do was stare. That glowing energy that made up the barrier originated from the lab, based on where it arched to the sky. The pillar of light ascended, then seemed to hit an invisible wall. Energy then flattened and expanded across the sky, warping into a dome that covered all of Varnholt. It touched down just outside of the inner wall.

  Councilor Brian had succeeded in that barrier of his. Although it apparently wasn’t a complete success. Minutes later, the pulsing and crackling white energy had just crackled, sparked, then shut off.

  The next time it had reappeared was after his guests had arrived. They had all watched it for several minutes, whispering among themselves. Then it crackled off again.

  Every time the white translucent sheen appeared, it lasted longer. But by this point, it had go on and off so many times it was barely worth speaking on.

  So the five waited, each with their own reasons for keeping the watch. Some of duty, to role or friends. Others, more nefarious.

  May the gaze of the twisted stars not find our valley tonight.

  Jorik wished for an eventful night. He almost chuckled at his own thoughts. Never could he have imagined hoping for more political games to be played out around him. But he would gladly take shadows and plots at his gate than those two disappearing into the night. Never to return.

  But, with every passing minute, it seemed that wasn't going to happen. As the aurora faded and darkness crept across Varnholt, its dark grip dimmed his hopes.

  "Yer’ think dey’ found a way ter’ hide from dat’ der’ monster?" Kurda's whispered question broke the silence.

  Jorik looked at him. "I hope so, Kurda. I hope so."

  The big man stretched, his arms sliding behind his head. “Der’ lads mad. Crazier den’ a dust inhalin’ stonecrusher. He always seems to find er’ way ter’ live. Just needs ter’ do it one more time.” He paused. “Although, havin’ more options could er’ helped.”

  Kurda shot a dirty look across Jorik. It shot through the guardhouse, landing on Maelis. Jorik followed his gaze, then shook his head.

  He had heard of the Councilor’s changes to the tunnel. The speed at which he fabricated a gate had shocked everyone.

  Jorik shook his head. That's why this whole situation stunk. There were things moving in the shadows, hidden agendas, hidden wants, hidden plans.

  Jorik hated it.

  That's why he chose to be a guard - it was simpler. Stand and protect. That was his job. He didn't have to go through all of the rigmarole of deciding what the right move was or making big plans. His job was to protect, and that was it. Or, it should have been. It seemed no matter what, he kept finding himself stuck between ambitious people and their goals.

  Another sigh escaped his lips as his eyes turned back to the tinted glass and the frozen landscape beyond.

  He froze.

  Movement. On the edges of what he could see. The pulsing light from the barrier twisted shadows, making Jorik doubt it.

  But there was something about that movement that made him remember. A familiarity to it.

  Then the movement got closer.

  Jorik saw it then. An outline of a single figure. A figure that seemed to be carrying something.

  "Kurda!" he hissed.

  Kurda's fluttering eyes snapped to full attention. His gaze cut through the glass out to the shadows. The man had better vision in the dark than Jorik did, an aspect of their race.

  The giant of a man squinted and stared. “Oie see it.” Kurda whispered. Then his next words made Jorik’s heart fall into his stomach.

  “It’s both of dem’, but Simon is carryin’ Kaelalin. Der’ covered in blood.”

  Jorik rose to his feet, looking over to his other guests. The three were searching through the glass as well, their attention brought to it by Jorik and Kurda’s hushed conversation.

  In turn, each of their eyes lit up in recognition as Jorik passed them.

  They all saw the staggering, stumbling steps of the bloody man.

  Simon Starfall, coming back to Varnholt. One bloody step at a time.

  The guard post emptied as they all went to meet Varnholt’s first banished resident.

  —— ? ——

  *Crunch.*

  Simon's foot sounded as he took another step. He was tired. So tired. The hours of walking from the portal with his burden had been agony.

  For the first hour, his thoughts had descended into spirals.

  He blamed himself. Despite what Kaelalin had said, he blamed himself.

  If he had only made her stay. If he had only thought of something. If he had only fought the council.

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  If he had only…

  If he had only… done something different.

  These thoughts dragged him to deeper and darker places. His only company had been the wind, snow, and occasional moonlight. Because why wouldn’t the clouds emerge to help him descend?

  Spirals deepened. Thoughts darkened.

  Why was he doing any of this? Why did he care? Why did he try?

  He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t care.

  But he still had something. A singular goal. The one thing he would accomplish before addressing what came next.

  He would bring Kaelalin to Brian. That was it. There was nothing else.

  Simon had tried to think of better things. Maybe his future? But like the wind across his body, the spiral stole the warmth from that idea. It stole everything from him. Any idea of a goal, plan, or purpose died in his mind. The weight in his arms pulled him down in every way. Every step brought pain and agony, focusing on any attempt to just let his mind drift.

  Who needs coffee when your very bones creak and burn?

  So he walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  Finally, he had walked enough. Varnholt came within his sight.

  The worthless town looked just like how he had left it that evening. Well, except for the glowing white sheen that surrounded it.

  The pale white flickered in the clouded darkness. Its glow cast shadows in all directions.

  Pulsing lines and flickering spirals on its constantly moving surface reminded Simon of the system hub.

  It looked like it should have been a complete dome, yet sections of it would darken and split apart. They sputtered and became void of energy before the surrounding sheen would fill them in.

  Looked like Brian had finally done it.

  Well, mostly anyway. Simon had little understanding of magic in this world, but even he could see it was malfunctioning. The barrier flickered like some dying street light.

  Simon plodded down the incline towards the flat ground around the town. He set his gaze on the gate and focused on putting one foot after the other. He was dreading this. Simon had no idea how Brian would react, but it wasn’t going to be good.

  Understatement of the century right there.

  He stared at the gates as he approached. You know, he was really tired of the damn things. Simon had stumbled back to them, covered in blood and viscera, one to many times. This would be the last time he did. Simon vowed to that end. Because these gates?

  They were cursed.

  Yeah.

  Just like the valley.

  Or this fucking world.

  Simon shook away these thoughts.

  He was going to go to Brian. He was going to shake Marden down for healing potions. And then he was leaving. That was it. That was the plan. He would leave this shit valley.

  Simon steeled himself and slowly stepped across the last open area.

  The creak of cold metal made his blood-dry eyebrows rise. The gates behind the shimmering white rose outlines of figures were revealed.

  They watched from behind the new barrier.

  They always watched. Everyone always watched. Where were these people, these watchers, when Kaelalin was dying? When they were fighting for their lives? That's all anyone ever did in this fucking town.

  Watch.

  His steps steadied as he moved towards the open gate. Now only the flickering, shimmering barrier and a short walk on Varnholt’s streets stood between him and his goal.

  What did his banishment say? If he entered the town, security forces would be alerted? Good. That would serve as a wake-up call. They could go get Brian.

  Simon had heard the gasps as he neared. The recognition of the burden he carried.

  Couldn’t blame them for that. He hadn’t taken seeing her corpse well either.

  A slick, cocky voice rang out. "What are you doing, banished one?"

  Simon’s face twisted in disgust as he recognized that voice. Maelis. Asshole number three.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Simon squinted at him, bringing the stupid, overly scarred face of the dick into focus with his goggles.

  “Has the guilt of murder made you break?” Maelis continued. “Forced you to come turn yourself in?”

  Another voice broke in “What happened?! What have you done to our Rune-Mage?!”

  Simon slowed his approach, steps remaining between him and the glowing sheen. He took in the second speaker. Frost-kin. Tall, armoured and holding a spear. One of this shit ‘royal’ guards.

  Neat.

  He looked over the others. Frost-kin. Short asshole. Jorik. And… Kurda.

  His throat tightened, but he eked out a greeting to the sorrowful eyes of the chestnut giant. “Hey… hey Kurda.”

  Kurda blinked, then stammered. “Er’... hey… Simon.” He looked unsure of what to say, but spoke anyway. “Bad night?”

  “Yeah,” came Simon’s reply. “Bad night.”

  “Is…” Kurda began. “Is… she… er’... is…”

  His words stopped as he took in the slow shake of Simon’s head.

  The big man bowed, his forehead pointing to the ground. “Sorry, Simon”

  Simon gave the man a stiff nod he couldn’t see. Then he turned to the watchful eyes of the head guard. “Jorik.”

  Before Jorik could respond, the Frost-kin that spoke earlier snapped. “Why aren’t you answering my question?”

  Simon’s eyes gained a wild tinge as they snapped to the Frost-kin. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, answer the question! Are you daft and a murderer? What have you done to the Rune Mage?”

  “What have I done?” Simon hissed, his voice incredulous. “Me? Are you fucking kidding? I tried to save her! I–”

  “A likely story!” Maelis cut him off. “Sounds exactly like what a wretched Hollower would say. Were you that upset at being discovered? Your thirst for violence unsatisfied? So you murder a resident who only meant to help you, then come back here to deceive us?” Maelis scoffed. “What an absolutely moronic and disgusting attempt. You wish to make us believe she died in the snow, and you, oh so powerful, yet so weak, Simon Starfall, just happened to survive? Is this how you planned to get back into town? Spin some story and secretly gloat with the corpse of a beloved member of our community?”

  Maelis turned to Jorik. “Head Guardsman, I order you on behalf of the council. I demand you take this criminal into custody immediately.” Yet, he glanced at the barrier, seeming unsure.

  Simon had no response, as he stared in shocked amazement.

  You have got to be kidding. There. Is. No. Way. His eyes turned back to Jorik.

  Jorik had never moved his gaze. The head of guards only studied Simon, giving no indication that he even heard the smith. The two Frost-kin whispered to each other, the words ‘monster’ and ‘evil worshiper’ drifting over the snow. They were no doubt discussing the ‘evils’ Simon had committed and what he deserved.

  Kurda still bowed, shining large droplets raining down like a spring storm.

  Simon was quiet, his focus on the only person who mattered at this moment. Jorik.

  The Frost-kin’s whispering grew louder and Maelis joined their conversation. They went back and forth on what should be done, if Simon should just be slain right here and now, and other fun topics.

  “ENOUGH.” Jorik barked out. Everyone quieted. Kurda raised his head, his tearstained face glinting in the light of the barrier.

  Everyone looked at Jorik.

  “This is my watch. It is my duty to decide what to do here.” Jorik stated, firm and unmovable. “Simon Starfall. I do not know what occurred in the valley, but I cannot believe you would slay Inventor Kaelalin.”

  The others started protesting.

  “Silence.” The weighted word and Jorik’s glare slamming their mouths shut. He turned his attention back to Simon. “However, I cannot allow you to enter. You will advance no further.”

  Simon’s body chilled. Before he himself could protest, Jorik continued.

  “It is my duty. You have been banished from these streets and I will not violate that decree, despite my thoughts. I do have a request, if you are willing to listen.”

  Simon grew suspicious, but nodded.

  “Your actions tonight show you are a man of honor. To return the body of a comrade to their home is beyond reproach. Therefore, my request is one I believe you would agree to. I ask you to leave Kaelalin Zarvenna here and back away. Allow us to take this burden that you have carried.” Jorik bowed his head then lifted. “In return, I will get you anything you need and leave it where you can reach.”

  Simon looked forward, his eyes dull. "Just put her body down? Set her down and leave?"

  Jorik nodded.

  Simon paused for just a moment, then shook his head.

  “Jorik, I can’t do that. I’m here to fulfill her last request. She asked that I bring her to Brian.”

  The two Frost-kin’s faces were changing color from rage. Maelis looked pissed off.

  “You can’t do this–” Maelis began.

  “I asked for silence.” Jorik snapped, staring the Yoreboon down. "Your words are your own. There has been no council meeting regarding this matter. Therefore, the actions here are up to the one in charge. As active watch, that duty falls to me.”

  He turned back to Simon. “While I disagree with what has transpired, I cannot allow you entrance. It is my duty to protect this town.” He shook his head, his eyes tracing the pulsing energy of the barrier. “Regardless, with the barrier, no one can pass. I implore you to listen to my request and leave the body.”

  To his side, the two Frost-kin exchanged looks and a nonverbal conversation, then they nodded and one spoke up.

  “Guardsman Jorik?”

  Jorik turned his head and squinted at them. “I believe I made myself clear.”

  “We would speak of our people’s tradition regarding the deceased.” The Frost-kin insisted.

  Jorik seemed to think for a moment, then nodded for the Frost-kin to continue.

  “Rune-mage Zarvenna has done great deeds for our people, both in this world and in our own. We honor those who have fallen and blessed our people in life, and we insist her body be given to us as soon as possible so we may follow our traditions.”

  Simon had almost considered Jorik’s request, but with this statement, he knew that was no longer a possibility.

  “Ain’t gonna happen.” Simon cut in. “Kaelalin told me about your corpse ice transformation tradition. She said Brian gets to decide.”

  All eyes snapped to him. “You would dar–” The Frost-kin guard started to say.

  “Dare? Why don’t you try me, shit head?” Simon interrupted. “I’m not arguing this. I’m taking her to Brian. That’s the fucking plan. Don’t like?” Simon gave an exaggerated shrug. “Not my fucking problem. Go pound sand.”

  "Ha! You see?" Maelis spoke. "He wants to get in the town. This is all a ploy. Guardsman Jorick, we must arrest him. He has designs on Varnholt. His banishment was a mistake. He must be taken into custody."

  Jorick snapped a glare at Maelis. The man only smirked. "You know I'm right."

  Jorick looked back at Simon. "Is this true?"

  "Is what true?"

  "Is it true that she asked you to do this?" Jorik stated.

  “Guardsman Jorik!” The Frost-kin protested.

  “Holy shit.” Simon blinked rapidly. “Yes it’s fucking true, why in the hell would I lie about this?!”

  He looked between the five on the other side of the glowing barrier. “God damnit, are you guys going to just sit here and go back and forth with me all fucking night?! Really? Really?!” Simon’s voice cracked with barely suppressed emotions, “I just– holy shit– I just have one thing to do. One fucking thing! That’s all I’m asking for.”

  "We know," Maelis whispered, hissed. "The one thing you want to do—"

  "Would you shut the fuck up?" Simon's eyes glowed behind the lenses of his goggles. "Holy shit! No, I will not leave her! I will not let her be turned into—" his eyes snapped to the royal guards "—someshitty icicle! She asked me to do one thing. ONE THING!" His gaze snapped to Jorik. "Jorik, I'm coming in."

  Simon stepped forward.

  "I cannot allow you to enter Varnholt," Jorik said quietly, his hand moving to the sword at his waist.

  "I don't care." He took another step. "I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of the bullshit, the politics, the lies." He took another step. "I can't take it." Another step. "I am bringing her back. The one thing I can do for her. The one thing that I promised. I will not fail."

  He took another step.

  "Simon, stop!" Jorik ordered.

  The sparking energy barrier was now two steps away. The Frost-kin guards stepped back, raising their spears. Even Maelis had backed up as Simon kept moving towards the barrier.

  Simon was a man on the edge, the brink of sanity. No. Not even the edge, he had fallen off that hours ago. His thoughts surged as he stared into the pulsing barrier. Simon’s body trembled as anger, frustration, and despair swirled through him.

  He had nothing left. No goal. No future. No hope. Only a promise made to a friend dying in the cold. Simon’s gaze fell with his thoughts. His neck tensed, and resolve filled him.

  He would finish this.

  He took another step.

  “Oi! Simon!”

  Simon froze and looked up to see the giant of a man standing right in front of him.

  “It’s alright, Simon,” Kurda whispered. “We Thurgen, we honor der’ wishes of our dead.” His voice boomed with admonishment. “To do otherwise is disrespecting der’ memory and to bring der’ anger of der’ spirits.” He shot a glare at the two Frost-kin, a scowl creasing his face.

  He turned back to Simon, then kneeled, bringing their eyes level. “I will take her, Simon. Yer’ tell me what I need ter’ do, and I’ll do it. I swear it.” Kurda’s face softened. “I can’t imagine what yer’ have gone through, but I promise ter’ help yer’ fulfill her last request. Trust me, Simon.”

  Simon’s throat tightened, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He nodded to Kurda.

  “I do trust you, Kurda. But this is something I have to do.”

  Kurda took a breath, then nodded. “Yer’ a good man, Simon.”

  Simon grinned. “Thanks.” Fires grew in his eyes. “You might want to step back.”

  “Wurt?” Kurda looked befuddled, but stood. “Wurt der’ ya mean… Step back?”

  Simon shrugged, then gave him a cheeky grin. “Because I’m coming in.” Simon adjusted his hold, his arm shielding his cargo.

  Step.

  This is going to fucking hurt.

  Kurda leapt back as night turned to day.

  —— ? ——