It had been a long time since Syra had been in the company of so many people at once.

  “Only one came from the ship?” Moth asked, peering at Firnix. “I came rushing to see a party, but this’ll be more like a drab execution.”

  “Those robes.” Da turned pallid. Everyone turned their attention to him; as Elkah’s right-hand man and a fully-fledged Medial Soulcaster, he rarely showed fear.

  “What’s wrong?” Syra quipped.

  “Are you a Warden, my boy?” Roshi asked.

  Even Jeol was caught off guard by Da’s tone. “A Warden? And that is?”

  Da’s eyes darted from Jeol to Elkah. “An order of powerful Soulcasters, always dressed in those dark green robes. None of you have heard of them?”

  “What do they do?” Elkah asked.

  “The Goddess Auri descended on Fraela a thousand years ago and built the Wall around the world. The Wardens watch over Fraela, the center of the world, composed of elite members from the world’s most powerful nations.”

  That sounds so cool! Syra thought. “You’re an elite Soulcaster, then?” she asked Firnix.

  He bowed and intoned an introduction. “Greetings to the Redcloaks Roshi and Moth. To clarify, I am not a Soulcaster, unlike the rest of my order.”

  He’s not a Soulcaster? Syra wondered, tilting her head. That explained why he hadn’t used any abilities to attack or escape earlier. But he had done whatever he had with the snakes, and Syra still didn’t understand that one bit. Elkah always talked about how dangerous foreigners were, and Syra was starting to understand that, but there was something so exciting, so refreshing, about how differently he did things. I can’t wait to get to know him more.

  “Will these Wardens come looking for you, boy?” Jeol asked.

  Firnix hesitated before answering. “No, they won’t. I have come alone for a field research trip, and—” his voice caught. “And I will return to them once I have done my research.”

  “Sounds to me like you got yourself kicked out,” Moth said, chewing on a leaf.

  Firnix dipped his head. “An astute observation. But it is only temporary. I must prove myself, first—”

  Moth waved a hand. “You can smooch that dream goodbye. Your past life? Blown away like dust. Trust me boy, it’s better for your sanity the sooner you accept that. Just look at me. An old crone’s lapdog.”

  Syra knew Moth and Jeol weren’t happy with having an Umbra — they made a hobby of expressing that particular feeling — but she also knew the kinds of lives they led before. Trampling on the weak with their powers, living cruelly and greedily. Jeol had been more of a tyrant than a king, and Moth had been the boss of a band of brigands. Their Umbras kept them from their greed. Of course a system that prioritized the good of the society rubbed their skin raw.

  “How did you become a Warden?” Da asked. “Are you of important birth? I can’t imagine why they would break a millennium-long rule and let in a noncaster for no good reason.”

  “Does it matter?” Jeol asked, rubbing knuckles roughly over his forehead.

  “With such powerful influence, we cannot keep him here,” Roshi said. “It’s too dangerous to receive foreign attention, especially when this island has finally settled on its new equilibrium.”

  “Now he’s just going to lie. So what are you, Firnix? The long-lost son of Auri?” Jeol scoffed.

  “Calm, calm, Jeol. Let’s hear what the boy has to say,” Elkah said.

  Firnix blinked rapidly. “There’s no one who would care to come for me. Powerful or not.” He took a deep breath. To Syra’s surprise, everyone quietly waited for his next words.

  “When I was seven years of age, wandering alone in the desert after I… after a Soulcaster killed my parents, Grand Warden Willar found me and took me to Fraela with him. Out of pity, I suppose. He saved my life. Every other Warden hated me being there, but Willar had the power to induct me into the order. Propriety kept them from doing the worst—”

  “Like what?” Syra asked, interjecting.

  Firnix swallowed. “Like killing me.”

  Syra fell silent. She hadn’t considered something that bad.

  “I’m of low birth, and I have no Soulcasting ability. Nor any desire to become a Soulcaster. Only Willar’s presence allowed me to call Fraela home. But he disappeared a month ago. Without a trace, without telling me, or anyone, what happened. And the Wardens wasted no time in devising a plan to get rid of me.”

  “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” Syra said, taking a step forward. “You’re here now! We’re all bound together by Umbras — everyone on this island! I could…”

  Her words trailed off. Do I even believe what I’m saying? But I have to make him see it’s not all bad! But… but…

  Firnix’s chest shook as his voice dropped even lower. “Even though Fraela was a cruel place, it was all I had. Now I have no place to call home. No one will mourn me if I die. I need to find my way back there. It’s my only hope.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Syra opened her mouth, but Elkah raised a hand.

  “We shall begin, now that all are present,” Elkah said. “Be sure not to look away, Syra.”

  Syra nodded stiffly. Her heart clenched as Elkah turned to Da. He really would be the one to spill blood. Syra had thought Elkah would make her do it instead, since being here was her punishment. But, in a way, it felt worse knowing Da would do it instead. He wasn’t suited for it.

  “Roshi, be good and fetch the sword from my room, would you?” Elkah said, in the same sweet tone as asking for help finding a walking stick. Da nodded and stepped deeper into the house.

  Seconds after he disappeared behind a dark doorway, Firnix pointed at a corner of the room. “Is that a snake?” he asked in a high voice.

  Flashes of verdant snakes jumping at her raced through Syra’s mind, fresh from the ordeal only hours ago. Was there really another one of those here? Had it followed them? Syra peered closer toward where he’d pointed, but it was too dark to see. The Glimmermoss lanterns didn’t quite reach.

  “Is this not another one of your schemes?” Jeol said, crossing his arms. “I don’t trust you, after what you did with that vial.”

  “It’s coming toward me!” Firnix shouted, jumping backwards. The naked fear in his voice drew everyone’s attention to the ground near his feet. Syra still didn’t see anything.

  Elkah came closer to inspect the ground around him.

  A sudden, whipping motion caught Syra’s eye, but it wasn’t from the ground; Firnix pulled something from his robes, something dark and long and writhing, and only after he’d flung it at Elkah did Syra register what she was seeing. A snake. An actual snake. He’d pulled a live snake out of his robes!

  Instantly, Moth, Duri, and Jeol’s Umbras flared brighter than the room’s lanterns. Elkah’s life was in danger, and they had to protect her.

  Duri reacted first, a palm outstretched and blasting wind at the snake away from Elkah and slapping it against a wooden wall. Jeol was upon it a moment later, creating a cage of marble with his hands.

  It was over in the blink of an eye.

  But Firnix was no longer in the room. He’d escaped during the chaos.

  How far ahead had he planned the assassination attempt? How did he even manage it? If Duri reacted one second too late, Elkah might’ve been…

  A shudder swept through Syra’s body.

  “It seems the boy is lost,” Elkah said, and though her voice held firm Syra could tell even she was slightly shaken. That hadn’t happened in years. “Help our guest find his way back to where he needs to be.”

  That must’ve been a law written for the three Redcloaks, as they immediately filed out of the doorway.

  Da returned to the room with a plain-looking sword, dull and worn. He looked between Syra and Elkah.

  “He managed to escape,” Syra said, still disbelieving.

  “He was a Soulcaster after all?” Da asked.

  Syra shook her head. “He was telling the truth about that, at least.”

  A few minutes later, Moth, Duri, and Jeol returned. Jeol carried Firnix as a tangle of limbs, and threw the Warden onto the floor.

  Syra should’ve expected he’d be caught. A noncaster like him couldn’t possibly run fast enough, and the Redcloaks knew the woods around Sylvanshade better than the back of their hands — there was nowhere he could hide for long. But she’d almost believed he could achieve the impossible again.

  “I’ll have to pick your brains later on how you managed to keep a live snake on your person,” Elkah said, smiling pleasantly as if Firnix hadn’t just set a snake loose on her.

  Firnix picked himself from the ground and silently inclined his head toward Elkah. He surprised Syra further when she saw his brown eyes still harboring some fire in them, despite how clearly frightened he was. They darted around the room, as if looking for some leverage, some way to escape his situation. But she knew there wouldn’t be any.

  Firnix’s gaze settled on the sword in Da’s hands, and he stared wide-eyed at it like it was a ghost.

  “You didn’t think Gifting meant you get a colorful box wrapped in a bow, did you, boy?” Moth said. “Huh. You know. If it eases the process any, I could wrap a bow around the sword for you.”

  Firnix fell to the ground and folded his hands toward Elkah. “I would like apologize for my foolishness, and plead for my life, at the least—”

  “To receive an Umbra, first you must die,” Elkah said, and Firnix only looked more confused.

  “Elkah will bring you back in seconds, don’t worry,” Syra clarified. “Death is the main part of the Gifting process.”

  Elkah nodded. “The Umbra needs to integrate into the soul once it's dormant, which happens after death, but it can only integrate before your soul’s ardor seeps into the ardor of the planet. That process takes minutes to hours. Be reassured, your life will continue past this night.”

  Firnix didn’t look reassured.

  Da raised the sword high in the air, and Firnix scrambled weakly along the ground to get away.

  Syra blinked away water getting in her eyes.

  Da approached Firnix. His Umbra blazed bright like a fire, compelling his every move. His shoulders were slumped, his legs sluggish, like he was wading through a mire.

  The blade stabbed into Firnix’s chest, making an unforgettable squelching sound like a heavy weight dropped onto wet mud. Da hefted the sword out of Firnix, spraying dark crimson droplets on the walls and floor. Some got on Da’s cloak, but it almost blended into the color of it.

  Blood pooled around Firnix’s body. His eyes were lifeless, all of that fight in them Syra had seen and even admired gone in one heart-wrenching instant. Syra couldn’t bring herself to look any longer. Elkah wouldn’t like it if she closed her eyes, so she shifted her gaze to Da.

  In the shadows under the hood of his cloak, Syra saw his bleak eyes as he looked down at Firnix’s body. Eyes that looked like they’d once shed tears, but had gone dry years ago.

  Something shifted, deep within Syra.

  A feeling that began as a tiny spark grew into a furious tempest that consumed her.

  The shrill scream of lightning pealed around the room. That was Syra’s first indication as to what was happening. What she’d done.

  She’d subconsciously cast her ardor.

  And she had no control over it.

  Blue streaks lashed all over her body, thicker and wilder than ever before. Arcs hungrily leapt from her body to her surroundings.

  Trying to reign in her ardor felt like trying to grab air. The lightning only grew more and more vicious, lashing out at anything and everything, herself included.

  The crashes of the wooden ceiling collapsing, the worried shouts, flashes of bright blue light, the acrid smell of smoke and burnt wood, all sensations dwarfed by a wave of overwhelming pain. Her skin ached like she’d set herself on fire.

  Floorboards burned and collapsed around Syra. After a brief moment of weightlessness, she fell into the darkness.