Daylight had already begun to fade, leaving the world beneath the canopy bathed in inky half-darkness, before Casek had put enough distance between himself and where he had seen the archdemon that he felt comfortable enough to stop for the night. Setting up camp was an oddly comforting ritual, especially when he could not find the memories of ever doing the things he was doing before.

  He found a gnarled and ancient looking hawthorn, whose roots and lower trunk and spread and twisted out across the forest floor, creating a series of small nooks and sheltered crevices to set himself down inside for the night, atop a makeshift bed of moss and ferns. He gathered the materials for a fire—dry firewood and stripped bark for tinder—and used a chunk of flint for sparks.

  He’d had reservations about building a fire, of course. Something so visible always risked attracting unwanted attention, and Casek’s gut warned him that even ignoring the archdemon, this forest was a long way from safe. But, as the sun climbed down below the tree line, and the rapidly lowering temperature highlighted his stark lack of outdoor appropriate clothing, he was quickly glad he’d prepared the materials for one, just in case.

  Now, hours into the night, he huddled around the only light penetrating the pitch black, gazing out into the nothing with a wary eye. It came as no surprise sleep was not coming easily to him, and not just because he had already done so much of it.

  Tauph had remained painfully silent as they had fled the archdemon’s attack on the building, but now, sat with nothing else to distract them, Casek would not be put off any further.

  “You’re not going to be able to avoid talking about this, Tauph,” he said, more calmly than he felt.

  And you should be sleeping and recovering your strength. Another day without food and water and we’re in trouble.

  “Then you should be all the more eager to talk so that I can clear my mind and concentrate on that. You can’t tell me that thing was my brother, and expect me to let that go.”

  Tauph sighed. I know, Casek. I do. It’s just—I was there when he became that. So were you, but I remember it. I’ve often wondered whether that day was the reason you were so quick to sacrifice your life and memories the way you did.

  “Tell me what happened,” Casek said, eyes clenched shut. “Please.”

  First, you have to understand the situation. The Shadow had attacked two years prior and ravaged everywhere they had appeared. Entire continents had fallen and gone dark, and now they were cutting an unstoppable path across our land. All this, and not a single person had confirmed they’d killed even a single shade. Without magic as we have it now, the fight was hopeless.

  You and your brother volunteered anyway. You both fought long and well, but he… Lost hope. Was corrupted. He betrayed us, Casek. The only way the Shadow can create an archdemon, is through the use of a willing human vessel—in this case, your brother. The battle that wounded you—the one that put you in that building—was our last stand. Do or die, protecting our home.

  Your brother ascended in the middle of our ranks. Slaughtered almost everyone, and put you in that facility on the brink of death. It— Tauph broke off, voice wavering as though he were holding back tears.

  It was a peculiar feeling—heartbreak over someone and something he didn’t remember—but it was there. A stabbing, wrenching pain in his chest, and the hot sting of tears in his eyes, that accompanied the somehow familiar, crushing desolation. He did not remember the man, or what he’d done to hurt him so, and not even Tauph’s words had sparked a hint of recognition, but he still felt the pain as keenly as any blade.

  Casek waited for a good while before speaking again, focusing his attention on the soft crackle of the fire he’d built, and its soothing, constant hissing. The forest made no sound at all and hadn’t since the archdemon—his brother—had levelled a good portion of it. Casek wondered if he would be nearly as safe with the fire alight if that hadn’t happened. What manner of Shadow creature normally prowled beneath the trees?

  “Well,” he said, with only a touch of hesitance, “I understand how I ended up in that building. How did I end up staying there?”

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  A pulse of anger blossomed in his mind, and for a moment Casek thought he’d asked his question too soon. They took advantage of you. They treated your wounds, yes, but they were not originally a medical facility. You were devastated, and angry, and grieving—and they used that. Used you. Said you could help them create a way to fight back against the shadow. It would only take some sacrifice.

  “I’m assuming it wasn’t them doing the sacrificing?”

  No. It was us. I still don’t understand what it was they did, but we both suffered for it. I’m glad you don’t remember. Either way, it ended with us bound.

  “I’m sorry, Tauph.”

  It’s fine. You didn’t know—even then. Besides, if they had asked, I would have been just as keen as you to volunteer. Your brother’s actions hurt me as well as they hurt you.

  Tauph’s voice made it clear exactly how not fine he was with being coerced into whatever happened to them, but Casek chose not to press the lie. Some deceits were better left well alone.

  “Did they at least succeed?”

  Yes. The foci resulted from what they did to you. They forged them with your blood. Something about our bonding changed you. Your magic differs from theirs, but like the Shadow, you have a foot in both realities now, and can affect both the real world and the Other. To hazard a guess, once you grow in power, you’ll be able to hurt Shadow creatures even without the use of a foci, though I think we’re a long way from that.

  Freeing yourself from the stasis crystal like that? No human that I know of has ever done that. It shouldn’t even be possible—not without what they did to us.

  “Well, considering that ability saved my life, and I have no memory of the rest, I can’t find it in myself to complain too much. I’m not exactly happy with my situation, but there’s not much I can do about it now, and bitterness isn’t much use, either. I don’t really have much choice but to push on. Given everything I’ve learned, it sounds as though my life before this was nothing to write home about. Despite everything, this is a second chance for me. I don’t intend to waste it resenting folk that died centuries ago.”

  I’m glad for that, Casek. Truly. You deserved more happiness than you got in your old life. I can’t let go so easily—I remember everything, after all. But I’ll do everything I can to help you with get the second chance you deserve. You have my word on that.

  Casek grinned. “Who knows—it might prove a second chance for you, too. Perhaps we’ll find a way to get your freedom back, and we can make a new life for the both of us?”

  A wave of intense gratitude flooded his mind, a warmth not unlike slipping into a hot bath. But there was another feeling behind that. A bittersweet hint of sadness so subtle he could easily have missed it. Before long, his eyes grew heavy, and sleep took a hold of him despite the lingering touch of grief he could still feel across his and Tauph’s bond.

  The following morning found Casek traipsing through the woods, his ancient boots already beginning to soak through from the dew-coated forest floor. Already he’d scrounged a handful of nut and berries on his way through the undergrowth, the knowledge of which were poisonous already in his mind, an imprint from his lost memories that lingered to create an innate instinct around the things he’d learned in his past life.

  It was not much, especially for somebody who hadn’t eaten for as long as he, but it was enough to keep him moving, even as bramble and thorn nipped and poked at his tattered trousers.

  The most pressing concern was water. He’d been able to wet his mouth with some of the morning condensation, picking out particularly moist leaves and plants that grew out of the reach of most of the ground-dwelling animals. However, this was obviously not enough, and a headache brought on by dehydration hampered the journey.

  He was tiring more quickly because of it, too. It had only been a few hours since sunrise before exhaustion had set in, his feet beginning to drag and his posture slouching. The only thing that kept Casek going were subtle signs he was going in the right direction. A flock of birds had given him a direction to head towards, and as they walked, animal tracks and sign became every more common to his eyes.

  Finally, the dense trees ahead of them parted, and Casek strode out into a small forest glade. A sea of emerald met his eyes, lush green grass standing waist high filling one of the few spaces in the forest not covered by looming trees. Crucially, the animal tracks he had been seeing led to the edge of the grass, and whatever mammal had caused them had carried on, creating a run for him to follow.

  A grin spread across his face as he reached the end of the run, and found the bank of a sizable forest pond, lined with towering rushes and shook and twittered with the movement of startled wrens and warblers that had been darting from plant to plant, feeding and singing.

  The water looked unspoiled, and Casek immediately set to work; stripping a beech tree of its bark and building a small fire. Beech bark made for a decent enough basket that, as long as you stopped it from actually catching alight, could boil water if you were without a pot or kettle. In the long term, he would need to find something to use as a skin so he could carry water as he travelled.

  For now, this would have to do. After only a few hours work, Casek set himself down beside his fire looking out over the pond as martins ducked and dived across its surface, plucking swarming midges from the air above it, and took the first proper drink of his second chance at life.

  A note from Dylan King

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