“Wake up…”

  My eyes fluttered open. I blinked, adjusting my vision to the dark room.

  Cynthia…

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  There was something I had to do.

  I got to my feet and crept to the door, weaving around Thor and Castille's snoring bodies.

  "You're up early."

  I froze and turned to the voice in the dark.

  "Shay? You're awake?" I whispered.

  "I told you I don't sleep."

  He did, didn't he?

  “Where are you off to?”

  "I want to look at the sunrise."

  "An odd ritual."

  I smiled to myself.

  "An old one, too."

  "Hmm. Then don't let me stop you."

  I slipped out of the room and looked over the railing.

  Lanterns shined a dim light on the evacuated civilians sleeping on the first floor of the Pit. They made beds out of linen sheets laid out on the hardwood—rolled-up blankets became poor pillows under their heads. At the bar, Tiny Tom Harwick lay passed out, slumped over the countertop. I stalked down the stairs, and I walked past the large man to the front doors, cracking them open.

  A fresh set of guards lined the makeshift barricades on each side of the street. In the middle of our slapped-together base, Reed's guards prepared three wagons.

  Floorboards creaked behind me. I spun on the balls of my feet, hand on my cane.

  Oh.

  It was just Tom. I let my shoulders fall while he looked over me into the street.

  "So, you're really going?" He asked with a yawn, rubbing one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

  "I am."

  "Say, you're all friendly with the Special Inquisitor. Think you could put in a good word for me?"

  "You want to come?"

  "Yeah, it looks fun."

  "Fun?"

  And Isla thought I was reckless.

  "I wanna fight more of those stone fellas."

  I sighed.

  "I think you should stay here. You almost died last time."

  "Would that be so bad?"

  I frowned.

  "Dying is bad, Tom."

  He shrugged.

  "I'd get to be with my ma."

  I narrowed my eyes.

  "Uh… Back at the party… When we figured out the wine was poisoned, you kept staring at your cup. What were you thinking?"

  Tom’s eyes widened through his long strands of brown hair. He moved his mouth, but no words came out.

  "You were thinking of drinking the wine, weren’t you?"

  He looked away.

  Correction, not reckless. Suicidal.

  "Do you want to watch the sunrise with me?"

  "Huh?"

  "The sunrise. It’s going to be dawn soon."

  I walked out of the Pit, crossing my arms and turning East. Tom lumbered after me, still hung over from the night before. Some of the guards waved from the barricade.

  I returned the gesture with a clumsy wave back.

  Tom laughed.

  “That’s my handiwork. I told ‘em all about you and me fighting on them frontlines. We’re big damn heroes.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  That word again…

  Say anything enough times, and people start believing it.

  "So why are we looking at the sunrise?" Tom asked.

  "Superstition.”

  “Super-what?”

  “Every time my life’s changed course, I watched the sunrise. I watched it when I got adopted—when I got engaged. I get the feeling my life is going to change again. Maybe your life will change too."

  "I was right ‘bout you. You’re a strange fella."

  “Never said I wasn’t.”

  We stood in silence in front of the Pit’s steps, watching the sky shift from black to lighter and lighter shades of blue.

  I turned to him.

  "Why didn't you do it? Drink the wine."

  "My momma raised a fighter. I ain’t dying a coward, and when I go, it gotta mean something."

  I nodded.

  "I took this quest expecting to die. But now..."

  "Now?"

  "I want to live."

  "Live?! For what?"

  I frowned.

  "I don't know yet."

  "Hmm... When ya figure it out, let me know."

  Heavy boots stepped through the front doors of the Pit.

  I turned to see Dugan, Castille and the rest of my party.

  "What are we looking at?" Castille asked.

  "The sunrise."

  "Where? The buildings are blocking it," Isla said.

  "Aye, you can't see anything, can you?"

  Dugan shook his head. Thor snorted out a laugh.

  I sighed.

  On the other side of the street, the doors of the Sanctifier Guildhall opened. Reed marched out at the head of two orderly lines of guards. She broke off from them to walk to us, club slung over her shoulder.

  "What are you looking at?"

  "Nothing."

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  "If you say so."

  Reed turned to Tom.

  "Can you excuse us?"

  "I guess."

  He sulked back into the Pit with his shoulders slumped. A pang of guilt cut through me.

  What’s wrong with me?

  I was fighting him less than a day ago. Why did I care about him now? Why did I want to give him a reason to live?

  "Where's Shay?" Reed asked.

  Castille pointed down at Thor.

  "We're keeping him in the saddlebags for safekeeping."

  The Inquisitor nodded and looked over the party.

  "Have you eaten?"

  "Not yet. We had to find this one first," Castille said, jerking her chin at me.

  "He looks found. You should eat. An army marches on its stomach. This is especially true for mages.”

  She turned around and went to inspect the wagons, leaving us to re-enter the Pit and eat what could be our last meal.

  # # #

  After eating a breakfast of hard tack and jerky, we piled into the lead wagon with Reed. The caravan rumbled to slow roll. Cheers and applause rose up from the guards at the barricades and the few civilians who woke up to see us off.

  Everything was riding on this—on us.

  Tension smothered conversation inside the wagon. We each sat in our own worlds, expressing our anxiousness in different ways. Isla chewed on her bottom lip, wringing her black wooden staff with her hands. Castille triple-checked her weapon, examining the edge of her long sword in the dawn light. Dugan focused on Thor, grooming the pack animal with a dandy brush better suited for a horse.

  And me? I was busy watching them—my party. My friends.

  How many of them would die today?

  "Are we outside of the town?" Reed asked.

  The Inquisitor sat across from us in the wagon—eyes closed with her long, iron club balanced on her lap. She was as still as a statue except when she swayed from a bump in the road.

  "We just passed the last building, Special Inquisitor,” the wagon driver said.

  This was a guard I hadn’t seen before. He was young—maybe a year younger than me. An eager grin flashed on his face, drawing attention away from the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose.

  At least someone was excited. My full stomach churned from the bumpy ride—from the anticipation of what was waiting for us.

  "Dugan, can you let out Shay?" Reed asked.

  He nodded, reaching down to Thor's saddlebags and unhooking the flap of one of the bags.

  Purple cloth exploded into the wagon, whipping around the interior with a force that made everyone duck to the floor—everyone except Reed. She opened her eyes and watched as the fabric coalesced into a tall, familiar shape.

  "Finally!" Shay said. His head and shoulders pressed against the top of the wagon’s round canopy ceiling.

  "Shay, you know we have to maintain your cover while in town," Reed said. “Officially, you’re hiding in your shop right now.”

  Her eyes flicked to the driver, whose head was turned, eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “Right, Francis?”

  The young man yelped.

  “Y-Yes. Special Inquisitor.”

  I slight smile spread on her lips.

  She closed her eyes, settling back into her meditative state.

  Shay sighed, sitting down next to Reed with crossed legs.

  "Apprentice, see to it that I am reassigned after Nostrand Del is defeated—no more hiding. My retirement is over. You made sure of that."

  Reed’s smile widened.

  "I'll see what I can do."

  "Shay? How did you get involved with the Sanctifier Guild?" I asked.

  Reed's eyes snapped open.

  "Shay!"

  "I know, I know, apprentice."

  He looked at me and smiled.

  "Maybe I'll tell you one day. If you can get me alone again."

  Oh, now I had to know.

  "Let's change the subject, shall we?" Reed asked, the pitch of her voice higher than usual.

  "Sure. Why don’t you tell us your plan of attack?" Castille asked.

  "Oh, that.”

  Reed smirked.

  “A frontal assault on the Mountains."

  Isla fumbled her staff on the wagon bed.

  "That sounds like suicide!”

  "It would be... without Shay."

  Shay mirrored Reed’s smirk.

  "It’s not suicide if you’re already dead."

  "The one thing an enchanter fears is another enchanter," Reed said. "Shay will be our distraction; my guards will secure our exit, and we will hunt down Nostrand Del."

  "You make it sound so simple."

  She laughed.

  "Simple doesn't mean easy."

  "Special Inquisitor, we're approaching the ruins," Francis said.

  "That was fast."

  "I told them to ride at full speed. Prepare to move as soon as we stop."

  "Special Inquisitor! Enemies sp-"

  Francis’s voice cut off. His head snapped back into the seat with the end of an arrow sticking out of his eye.

  We exchanged worried looks.

  We were speeding down a mountain trail in the back of a wagon…

  and we just lost our driver.

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