The darkened streets of Nysara were quiet. A deepening gloom, born from overcast skies, settled over the deserted city as dusk approached. Only chickens, cats, crows, pigeons, and an occasional hound flitted about empty marketplace stalls near the riverfront, fattening themselves on meals they would have otherwise been denied.

Aureus remembered to breathe as he approached the cobblestone bridge connecting the northern and southern halves of the city, unsettled and alert to his surroundings. Where is everyone? he thought. There wasn't anyone on the road from Lund. Did they flee to Sylvanfall? Has my power really extended this far north already?

Unlike Alatyr, the Nysaran city proper wasn't as dependent on magical technology, save for a few Arcanarium-run compounds. By comparison, Nysara was a primitive city fueled by steam and electricity with few modes of transportation beyond horse-drawn carriages, which meant its populace wasn't as likely to suffer from the effects of his power and have cause to flee. Even if that had been the case, the fact that there wasn't a soul in sight made little sense.

Since escaping Alatyr, Aureus had grown more accustomed to his new ability to continuously absorb magic from his surroundings, and despite not being able to prevent himself from doing so, he'd learned how to speed up and slow down the process at will in addition to discharging and manipulating it. In fact, by slowly discharging it at a rate consistent with absorption, he could neutralize the impact of his ability on the environment—though only while conscious and concentrating. Without a store of magic to draw from, the method inhibited his ability to cast, yet it was the only method he'd been able to come up with to keep the Arcanarium from tracking him.

He'd also learned to trace tethers of magic channeling into him to their sources. Depending on the strength of the connection, he could sometimes determine the nature of those sources. The feeling was akin to what he could only describe as an extension of himself reaching out to siphon magic wherever it lay dormant in people, technology, wildlife, and even the land like a rapacious, tentacled monster. Like a parasite, he thought, drawing closer to the bridge.

Images of Xiomara rushed to the forefront of his mind, her lifeless body resting on the stone floor of the Unseelie chamber—likely burned to a charred husk during his escape from the embassy. She's dead. Xio is dead because of me. Guilt stabbed at his chest like a glacial knife, chilling his veins with a pang of grief and remorse—guilt, he was sure, that was haunting his every step.

I'm losing my mind, he reasoned, watching Xio's shade for the fourth time since leaving Alatyr—standing on the opposite side of the bridge, her hand proffered.

As soon as Aureus took his first step onto the bridge, another body collided with his and grappled him to the pavement behind a stack of crates. A gloved hand stifled his shout of protest, followed by a terse, husky command from his assailant, "Shut up and stay down!"

A thunderous roar filled the air, shattering the otherwise eerie silence and ceasing his initial attempt to struggle as the whoosh of immense wings signaled something taking flight. Restrained and at the mercy of his attacker, he waited helplessly until the sound of beating wings faded.

He scrambled to the railing as soon as he was released, affording him a better view of his assailant. Crouched behind the crates in front of him was a young woman—short-cropped auburn hair free of a helmet, clad in the armored uniform of an Arcanarium hexwarden. A sheathed sword on her belt supplemented an old steam rifle slung over her shoulder. "Stay low and follow me," she whispered. The woman dashed back toward the market, away from the bridge.

Aureus looked to the skies first, then across the river. Xio was gone, and there wasn't any sign of the creature.

A small rock hit him on the side of his head, but he thought better of voicing displeasure when motion from a nearby stall caught his attention. The hexwarden repeated the gesture, waving him over.

She'll try to stop me if she figures out who I am or where I'm going.

She waved him over again.

Despite his reservations, Aureus moved.

Using stalls and crates for cover, the pair weaved through the market and into the southern residential district—slipping into a narrow alleyway. Occasionally, the hexwarden would halt and order him to do the same as she scanned the skies. Eventually, she guided him through the exposed doors of a nearby cellar entrance built into the rear of a large tenement building.

The musty scent of mildew struck him as he entered the cellar. Temporarily blinded, he nearly toppled over the low railing of the tight staircase as the hexwarden followed, locking the hatch behind them. A single ground-level window provided enough light to make out an iron chair, bedroll, and a few empty food cans cluttered near a used portable cookpot opposite the wall on his right. An ornate wine rack served as a natural destination for a set of stairs leading down from what he imagined was someone's home.

"You're Arcanarium?" the hexwarden asked, stooping to grab a canteen near the bedroll.

Shit. That didn't take long, Aureus thought. "How'd you guess?"

"I didn't," she replied, pointing at his feet and taking a swig. "Insignia's embossed on your boot."

"Oh..."

The hexwarden handed him the canteen. "Glad you're here. How soon can we expect reinforcements?"

He stopped short of asking why Nysara would need troops at all. She thinks I'm reconnaissance. He accepted the canteen, nodding in gratitude before taking a drink. "Hard to say," he replied, handing it back to her. "I need to assess the threat first." The immediate plan that came to mind was to play along, but it occurred to him that he knew very little about military protocol, much less about being a scout. Too late now... Everything he knew, he'd learned during his studies as a scribe—and even then, it was mostly to navigate the archives for those who needed to study. Given the hexwardens' primary role as guards and peacekeepers in all major settlements under Arcanarium control, he could only hope the woman knew as little as he did.

"Shit," the hexwarden said, blowing out her cheeks. "Well, we've held out this long. I guess we can hold out a little longer." She tossed her canteen onto the bedroll and leaned the steam rifle against the wall at the base of the cellar door stairs. "I'm glad you got our distress call, at least. We weren't sure it made it out. Comms were patchy before, but they went completely dead right after that thing showed up."

"We? Where is everyone?"

Her mood shifted. "Well...it's just me, really. Has been for the last couple of weeks... But there are civilians hiding throughout the city."

"What happened here?"

She shrugged and took a seat on the chair. "I was hoping you could tell me. Current theory is that it's some kind of magic-eating demon. It came out of the woods a few weeks back and wreaked havoc on the northern part of the city for a few days before it just...stopped—then settled in like it owned the place. It mostly patrols along the river but occasionally circles the whole city, taking out anyone who tries to flee. Whatever it is, it's way smarter than we assumed, which was our first mistake if you ask me."

"And the second?"

She scoffed. "The second was thinking we could kill the damn thing."

"Well, you aren't going to kill anything with that," Aureus said, pointing at the steam rifle.

"I'm aware." She glared as if daring him to point out the obvious again. "Like I said: that thing's a magic-eating machine. Casting, comms, weapons, security—all useless. That," she said, jutting her chin toward the rifle, "is for any asshole who thinks they can do what they want while the city's under siege."

"I see..." Aureus took a seat at the foot of the stairs. Does this creature have the same powers as me? If so, what would that mean, and what would it have to do with Iliam? "What is it? Some sort of wyvern? A dragon? It sounded big."

"That message must've been pretty garbled if our description didn't make it through."

He refrained from saying more. There was no telling how much she knew about him. Only thing keeping me in the clear right now are her assumptions—best not to disabuse her of them.

The hexwarden sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, her sharp brown gaze not leaving his. "Corporal Rhys, by the way—but you can call me Cahira, given the circumstances."

"Cyrus," Aureus replied, using the first name that came to mind—an old classmate. "Arcanarium intelligence." It wasn't technically a lie. His department just dealt with magical theory instead of investigation and societal law, but she didn't need to know that. He let her fill in the gaps on her own.

Cahira's brows raised as she let out a low whistle. "You're AIB? You're not an inquisitor, are you?"

No, he thought, pushing the image of Killian from his mind. But I know what it's like to be interrogated by one. "I need to know more about how this started."

To his relief, Cahira didn't press the issue despite his apparent deflection. "First, it attacked the museum on the outskirts north of the city. The guards had to raise a manual alarm. Took it less than a night to suck the magic dry from that place, which is why I guess it hit there first."

Aureus tracked her logic, recalling the name of the museum—the Nysaran Museum of Arcane Artifacts. Most of the objects stored there were fae in origin—all magical in nature.

"Me and my squad were on patrol in the city at the time," Cahira continued, speaking as much with her hands as her voice, "but we heard it all the same. Everyone got called back to HQ. And a good thing, too—comms went to shit by the time our COs got a task force assembled."

"Then what happened?"

"One survivor, Private Proulx, made it back the next morning just as command was about to deploy a rescue. He was scared shitless, but there wasn't a scratch on him. Said he'd made it into the museum where he hid until dawn."

"What about his team?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Butchered. Proulx said the beast came out of the trees as soon as they approached the museum. His team barely had time to check the bodies littering the grounds when it attacked, but that wasn't nearly as concerning as what he found inside." She leaned forward in her chair. "Apparently, there was a break-in at the same time as the attack. There were a couple of hexwardens inside with their bells rung and evidence another had been killed, though Proulx never found a body. If you ask me, I think a group of Unseelie got inside and used one of their artifacts to summon that monstrosity."

Not likely. Summoning was debunked as a valid magical practice nearly a century ago. Instead of refuting her claim, Aureus asked, "Did the hexwardens inside the museum identify their attackers?"

"No," she said, leaning back. "Only one came to, but the surveillance officer never woke up—like he was in a coma or something. Apparently, the guard that did wake up tried to leave the museum, but he never made it to the city."

The wood groaned as Aureus shifted his weight on the step. "How could Proulx have known that?"

"He said he heard the guy get attacked and left outside screaming for hours, calling out for help until he stopped. He also saw the body later, on his way back to HQ. Poor guy had been ripped apart."

"How did your man make it out?"

Shrugging, she replied, "Pure luck, I guess. It wasn't until later in the afternoon that it resurfaced and started attacking the city. That's when we figured out we couldn't cast anymore. Some of the others blamed Proulx, thinking it followed him, but I think they were just scared and looking for someone to blame. He ran before anyone could hurt him... Gods, I hope he's holed up somewhere."

"What do you think it is?"

"I have no idea, there's nothing to compare it to. By all rights, it doesn't even look like a living thing—it's made of nothing but smoke and shadows. Like I said earlier, it's a demon. We threw everything we had at it, but it's practically invincible and just keeps getting bigger every time it takes damage."

A Deathless. The realization quickened Aureus's heartbeat. It actually happened... The Veil—it's gone!

His fear must have been evident. "What is it? What do you know?" Cahira asked.

How did a Deathless get here so quickly? The border is leagues away—my ability can't be that far-reaching!

"Cyrus?"

Only magic can kill it. But if what she says is true, every mage and magic weapon in the city is now useless. Unless...

"Hey, you okay?"

He met Cahira's worried gaze. "How did you survive? You were part of the defense, yes?"

"I didn't cower in a cellar if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything. You must've exploited a weakness—done something to have lasted this long?"

Cahira laughed. "Weakness? Haven't you been listening? I watched that thing cut down my friends every time we went up against it—over and over again—until I was the last one standing. Sure, it's a bit slow on the ground and can't fit between buildings too well, but I wouldn't really call those weaknesses. Call it luck or whatever you want, but I survived, and that's all there is to it. And I intend to do just that until I've won my city's freedom."

She's being modest—her mind clouded by survivor's guilt. Making it this long must've taken more wit and determination than she's giving herself credit for. If she could still cast or had the right weapon, she'd have probably killed the Deathless by now... I could be that weapon...but can I trust her?

No matter which way he looked at it, he could see no other alternative. If his plan worked, he and Cahira could liberate Nysara and open the way for him to continue on to Sylvanfall. And if they failed...

I'll never find Iliam or figure out a way to bring Xiomara back. The Deathless will kill us all.

"Listen," Aureus said. "I need to get across the river; you need the Deathless dead and gone. Neither of us can do it alone, but together, we ca—"

"Deathless?" she interrupted, nearly knocking over her chair as she stood. "You're telling me I've been dealing with a Deathless this whole time?"

"Yes, but there isn't really any time to explain—"

She held up her hand. "And getting across the river? I hope you have time to explain thatbecause unless my head's on backward, I'd say Alatyr is south of here—not north!"

Shit. He swallowed, afraid to say more.

"No presentation of rank," she said, hand drifting to the hilt of her sword, "taking a leisurely stroll through a city you supposedly know is under siege... You've reeked of bullshit since you opened your mouth. You never heard our distress call. Who are you really?"

Think of something, you idiot. Aureus raised his hands, speaking calmly, "All you need to know is that if there's one Deathless here, more are sure to follow. If I don't get to Sylvanfall, Nysara won't stand a chance. To be honest, I'm still not really sure it will matter either way—I'm taking a shot in the dark here, but it's the best chance either of us might have."

Still poised to draw her weapon, Cahira listened, scrutinizing his every word.

He continued, standing slowly, hands still raised, "I'm probably the only arcanist for miles still able to cast. And the only thing that can destroy Deathless is magic. You need me." He took a breath, stepping closer. "I am from Alatyr, and I promise you—things aren't going well there either. So, if you're holding out for support, it's going to take a lot longer than you're hoping for. They're likely readying their own defenses for what's coming."

She held the sword hilt. "If you can still cast, give me one good reason to believe you're not an Unseelie agent using glamour or something."

"Even if I was, I'm offering you help, Cahira. Arcadia, Eventide, Alatyr—I don't think they're coming—I might be all you get. What matters more to you: where the help comes from or that you get it? I don't think your fellow Nysarans care much, so as long as they get to see tomorrow."

The glint of partially revealed metal caught his eye as she inched the sword from its sheath.

I might've laid it on a bit thick with the arcanist part...

While he had been practicing small spells during his journey to Nysara, he hadn't been afforded an opportunity to practice using ley lines—meaning that any attempt at the arcane arts would be his first. That, however, wasn't something he necessarily wanted to share with Cahira as she deliberated whether or not to arrest him, or worse.

He decided to take the initiative. "Whose house is this? Yours?"

Cahira pulled the sword free, pointing it at him. "That's none of your concern. I'm asking the questions here—not you."

He took a step forward. Her body language spoke of a willingness to run him through if she heard something she didn't like—a manifestation of her grueling training as a hexwarden—but her searching eyes betrayed her. The last thing she wants to do is hurt me. She doesn't just need an ally, she wants one. Otherwise, she would've drawn on me sooner when she first suspected me. "That key there," he said, pointing to her left pocket, "I doubt you just found it lying around... You knew where to find it." She stopped short of shaking her head as if she were about to disagree, and then her eyes squinted and flitted away before centering back on him—a tell. "Or, you had it the whole time. Either way, you know who lives here. Am I right?"

"Are you reading my mind?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"No..." he replied, bearing her suspicion as he kept his hands up and drifted closer. "I'm drawing a logical conclusion. Who lives here? Friends? Family?"

She raised her sword level with his throat, halting his progress and giving him reason to question if he'd placed the wrong bet. He opted for silence instead of pressuring her, hoping her conscience would work in his favor.

"Lived," Cahira blurted. Tears brimmed her eyes, but the quiver of the sword tip was slight—steadfast, even in distress. "My brother lived here."

Aureus grimaced. "I'm sorry—really, I am. I lost someone, too. Recently. Back in Alatyr." Dead. Because of me. When Cahira didn't reply, he continued, "I want that to mean something... Don't you?"

The sound of her popping knuckles broke the silence as she gripped the hilt and sucked in a breath, and Aureus stopped breathing altogether, fearing she was about to strike.

"So, what's your plan?" she asked, lowering the sword. "How do we kill the Deathless?"

After their standoff, he took longer than he needed to explain his idea after another round of clarifying questions about the Deathless and its behavior. He found every excuse to delay putting it into action, and though she never questioned it, he could tell Cahira was impatient—ready to take it on at a moment's notice. It was all Aureus could do to buy himself enough time to absorb enough latent magical energy from his surroundings, but it was negligible and subpar at best, as much of it seemed to have been siphoned away already.

As night approached, he pretended to sleep under Cahira's watch. Despite their truce, she'd been reticent to let her guard down, but eventually, exhaustion won the day, and she drifted off, still sitting upright against the wall. While she snored, Aureus reflected on what little he knew about killing Deathless.

It would take an immense amount of magic to destroy even one, a feat that reportedly required the teamwork of several mages and spellswords.

And I just convinced her I can single-handedly kill one with hardly any magic... If I'd known I needed those reserves, I wouldn't have slowed down the absorption process or wasted magic practicing useless spells. Maybe then I'd have enough to do this... But then again, the Enclave might've been able to track me, and I wouldn't have made it to Nysara anyway.

Such were his thoughts until fatigue finally pulled him into an uneasy slumber filled with unrealized possibilities.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

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