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  Asagai jumped.

  A pine's spiky branch caught his coarse brown hair in its grasp, making the young thief scream in shock. Emberchase's juggling torches had not been lit again — it had been a sensible decision too, for the boy dropped them so often every time he heard a rustle, a growl, or even a couple of leaves slapping him in the face.

  "Damn it, I knew I should've just left you behind!" Emberchase yelled in exasperation after freeing the screeching boy from the measly branch's grip.

  "You'll end up dying hopelessly with your teeth chattering so loudly like that. Didn't I tell you a hundred times that fear attracts the creatures?"

  Asagai replied with the long, lingering silence as he hastily picked up the juggling torches and placed them close to his breast. A hundred times Emberchase told him not to be frightened, and a hundred times he jumped, utterly petrified of the branches and bushes and faeries and bunnies. Why couldn't he stand tall and be brave? Sometimes Asagai just wanted to wring his own neck. Stupid. Stupid, cowardly Asagai.

  Fier had trotted soundlessly behind her master, golden eyes boring holes through the boy's face. It was almost as if she was sane, and Asagai looked away guiltily. A troll peered at them from a sycamore's trunk, black pebble eyes following the man with the twin scars.

  It had been two days, and Asagai still feared ghosts and monsters at night. Well, not that two days were enough to change a person's fears.

  Emberchase had taunted him again and again, saying that there was nothing to fear, and that everything he heard about the tales were just fragments of people's imaginations — with a few kernels of truth, he had added, resulting to the boy quivering with terror.

  "Is it true that you're the child of a phoenix?" Asagai had once asked when Emberchase awoke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and panting profusely. When he realized that the child was still there, he had broken into small chuckles and placed a hand on his chest.

  "No, of course not," he had answered back then, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair — it had seemed fairer and lighter in colour against the shimmering fire beside them, red hues adorning the sides of his locks like mirrors reflecting the flames.

  "Then," Asagai had enquired again, "where did you get the ability to talk to fire? Did you inherit them from your parents?"

  "I don't really remember having parents," answered the scarred man once more, a timid smile crawling up his features. "As for the fire... it had enjoyed my company for as long as I can remember."

  He had allowed the boy to ask numerous questions, sometimes about his life as a vagabond and sometimes about the exaggerated tales the townsfolk had spoken with such mixed expressions. The lad wondered if the people feared the man because of his unusual ability. Asagai often noticed him waking up in the middle of the night, so he made it a habit to sleep a little later and try to be on guard against ghosts.

  Emberchase had bad dreams, and the boy had kept on noticing his ragged breathing, the way he clenched and unclenched his fists, and the coldness of his skin — it was as if something had drained the fire away from him. Sometimes it made Asagai wonder what kind of dreams he had.

  "Looks like we're here," Emberchase announced as he tightened his grip on his rucksack. It was a little heavier this time, for the vixen was usually asleep during noon and Emberchase feared that poachers would snag her. He had cooed the animal into his bag to sleep, and only chuckled reservedly when the boy stared at him so incredulously.

  They had reached a small patch of houses on the far southeastern side of Amoria, though however hard the boy squinted his eyes, no sign of townsfolk toiling themselves on the fields could be spotted. Weren't people usually busy during such time of the day?

  "Emberchase?" It was a name Asagai had grown accustomed to calling every time something frightened him. The scarred man only glanced at him once, but he knew instantly what was bothering him.

  "Well, suppose they're resting?" Emberchase started thoughtfully, blinking up at the sun. "After all, it is pretty hot. Farmers would burn to the ground if they don't stop toiling the soil."

  Asagai nodded as he followed the weaver of flames, hissing the moment the hot cobblestones penetrated his sore, bare feet. It was as if Emberchase had thrust them into the bonfire, the heat lapping up his skin like multitudes of thorns scraping against his flesh and prying them open like an oyster. His legs were filled with grime and filth, insect bites and a few lacerations. A black ant crawled on his knee cap, and the boy flicked it away.

  Speaking of which, he recalled Emberchase offering to buy him a pair of boots. He just couldn't stand the boy walking around barefooted, fearing the wrath of snakes and scorpions. Asagai had assured him that he will be fine, though the man stubbornly shook his head and insisted.

  "We'll stop by the cobbler's store, then I'll let you juggle my torches in front of the crowd here. Suppose you'll be fine with five of them lit?" Asagai's eyes widened when Emberchase winked.

  "Really? Do you think I can pull it off with fire?"

  "Well, I think you're good enough." The man shielded his eyes from the sun.

  "But you didn't even teach me anything about making fire blossom like a flower!" demanded Asagai, his nose crinkling from the unnerving stench of dung wafting around.

  "Everyone starts small. Maybe next time I'll teach you how to stand on your hands while your feet hold the torches."

  "When will you teach me how to breathe fire?"

  "Soon." The weaver of flames stopped short when they arrived at the cobbler's shop. He handed his twice-as-heavy rucksack over to the boy.

  Asagai staggered from the weight, his legs wobbling as he stared pretentiously at the breathing bag. He glanced at the empty, almost barren houses whose wooden shutters seemed like it had been closed ever since the early ages.

  A few empty stalls lay on the side of the barren road, though there were no more than twenty stone, straw, and wooden huts with their flat roofs. A few bare patches of land stretched on without any plants, and the animals rested inside the barns and houses even though the sun shone with such mighty fervor. A thin gray cat trotted atop one of the flat roofs, and Asagai winced when it staggered and almost fell.

  The searing heat of the sun penetrated the boy's skull, and as sweat rained down his brows, Asagai noticed a small church made out of fine rocks and marbles situated atop a knoll, situated snugly beside a barn. The said building was the only infrastructure with a sloped rooftop, the tallest spire adorned with a flag of different color and sign.

  Asagai had never seen such a sign, one that bore a black wolf, gigantic and jaws layered with fangs, seemingly clawing its way out of the velvety, almost purple cloth. The said creature had a red earring, garnering the boy's attention and dragging his feet forward. Oh, how Asagai wanted to see that strange flag up close.

  No one trotted outside, not even a small peek out of those windows that protected them from the heat. How was the boy to perform and juggle the torches when it seemed like none of the folks were even there?

  His goat, Kila, was usually already out in the field during such time of the day, and if the boy had forgotten to lead him out by noon, Leticia would thwack the back of his head with her broom and lecture him for hours. Yet this place was different... so, so different.

  Why weren't the animals outside? Why wasn't anyone working, and why weren't the children playing and running around? Asagai turned curiously, peering into the dust-covered glass window of the cobbler's shop.

  "Please leave!" a rickety voice erupted from the store so suddenly that the young thief jumped. His frail arms held onto the rucksack tightly, unknowingly constricting the sleeping fox inside.

  "Sorry to be a bother, good sir — we just wanted a pair of boots — but this village seemed... desolate." Emberchase rubbed off the dust motes on his ragged cloak when he left the shop's abode. When he noticed Asagai staring at him, he smiled his strange smile and patted his head.

  "Well, looks like there aren't any boots for you just yet," he announced, pulling the hood above his head and the hem of the cloak over his scars. Apparently, everyone recognized Emberchase; the gruesome scars on the left side of his face weren't something anyone could have.

  "Why did he ask you to leave?" Asagai questioned, his grip on Emberchase's rucksack tightening. The village looked scary without people, even in broad daylight.

  "The old man was packing his things," replied the scarred man with a nonchalant shrug. "He said he had to leave right away."

  Emberchase took the rucksack from the boy's hands and slung it carefully over his broad shoulder. He looked around the place and beckoned Asagai to follow.

  "We're leaving. There doesn't seem to be anything for us here."

  "Can we at least check out the church?" Asagai asked, tugging onto the weaver of flame's sleeve. "I've heard about them, but there aren't any churches in Xaddercrux."

  "Suit yourself." The man ran a hand across his hair. But when the he glanced at the building and took notice of the nightly shaded flag, he stopped and turned to the direction of the old cobbler's shop.

  "Emberchase?" Asagai craned his head and glanced at the fire-dancer's pale face. The man's knuckles visibly whitened as he clenched his fists, and when he turned, he did so abruptly that the boy flinched.

  "Forget that damned church," snapped Emberchase, his face so grim that the boy felt the chills emanating from his figure. The young thief's heart hammered helplessly, clambering onto his mouth like a swallow entrapped in a cage.

  If Emberchase dreaded something, then didn't that mean it was scarier than the ghosts and monsters Asagai himself feared?

  "Are... are we leaving right away?" Asagai nearly gasped in pain when Emberchase gripped his wrist so tightly. He wanted to ask about juggling in front of the crowd, but abruptly forgot about it.

  Emberchase just stared into the vacant landscape, his viridian irises filled with emotions the boy never thought possible. Fear, anxiousness, dread... everything the thief thought he did not possess. Perhaps he had thought too highly of him, perhaps he had imagined that men spoken in tales were invincible, perhaps, perhaps...

  Asagai squinted, noticing for the first time a few men stalking the rocky walls of the houses, their jet-black coats making them look like mere shadows. Their footfalls were light — barely noticeable even under the poorly-made cobblestones. Most of them wore half-masks, all blackish in colour that bore the sign of the black wolf with the red earring. He had recognized a few of those men with the half-masks — they often wandered around Xaddercrux's streets. 

  The boy only snapped out of his trance when Emberchase pulled the rucksack from his arms so suddenly that the juggling torches — Asagai had forgotten to put them back inside and were still resting over his chest — fell and rolled all over the ground.

  Asagai knelt down and began gathering them as fast as he could with his little hands, but Emberchase's voice was so cutting when he snapped that the boy jumped.

  "Leave them!" he shouted, slinging the bag over his tense shoulder. He walked so briskly, his strides fast paced and rough and reckless and loud that for a moment, the thief thought the scarred man would leave him behind with his torches too.

  The boy quickly gathered the entertainment materials he had grown so fond of and cradled all eight of them carefully in his arms. He stood and smiled eagerly at Emberchase, until something hard and icy cold touched his neck. For a moment, Asagai's mind went blank, and he wondered what could that cold and hard thing might be.

  "Fancy meeting you here, Scarface," a mocking voice purred softly just beside Asagai's left ear. The boy visibly trembled, realizing for the first time that some stranger had gotten so close to him without him noticing it.

  The hot breath of this catlike person contradicted the chills sent by the cold and hard object pushing itself eagerly into his flesh. Oh, how Asagai wished that the said item wasn't what he now thought it was! The boy didn't even turn — he couldn't even do such a thing — and locked his eyes on Emberchase's grim scarred face. The man was already a good few paces away, and when the boy realized that, something slimy began coiling itself around his tiny heart. It was just as cold as the object on his throat, but more painful, more cutting. What was it?

  "Hello... Foxface," Emberchase spoke his endearment as if it had scorched the tip of his tongue and had left behind a rotten, bitter taste he could not remove.

  "Fate works in wondrous ways, am I right? Otherwise, how do you explain yourself walking in on us so casually like this?" The hard and cold thing pressed itself against Asagai's neck, and the boy ceased breathing entirely. His peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the man's sleeve, as shiny as a nobleman's black shoe and as dark as if he had worn the night itself.

  He was going to die, wasn't he? Asagai shuddered at the thought, his heart and lungs seemingly failing him. He never really bothered with the concept, but now that a knife rested on his neck and his life hung on the balance, the lad remembered his old hag. If he died, would she cry? How was he supposed to know? He was never the 'good' kind of son.

  "Lord Hyl sends you his warm regards," the man with the low, catlike voice continued to blabber incessantly, and when the boy in his grip twitched in the slightest, he immediately pressed his knife against the young one's soft skin. 

  Emberchase however, paid no such attention on the man. His eyes were locked onto the small figure of Asagai shaking violently even though Foxface's knife loosened a little bit. Slowly, he stepped back, placed a considerable amount of distance between Asagai and the fox-faced assailant, and smiled his strange smile. It was neither mocking nor sincere, supercilious nor lacking in bemusement. Sometimes Asagai wished he could barricade his emotions just as well as him. 

  "Unfortunately, I'd have to decline such offer." The scarred man bowed so low that it almost seemed mocking. His springtime eyes hovered over the boy for a few more moments before he returned to his rarefied posture.

  "Now if you don't mind me passing by so leisurely, then I shall take my leave. I bet you're all very busy." 

  "Surely, you can't abandon your little fire-assistant here!"

  The Foxface's knife inched deeper into Asagai's throat, and the boy could only sob helplessly as the crimson liquid came trickling down the malicious object designed for him to stand still. Cutting. Painfully cutting, but the certain something that had crept around his heart was greater. He tucked that pain away, as quickly as it came, hoping that it would not resurface again.

  Oh, how he wanted to kick the man in the jewels and scamper towards Emberchase! It felt like fire igniting inside his little breast, flickering and shouting wildly for a blind hope he so vividly saw in his mind's eye. It was so colourful and realistic that the boy almost forgot his fears and dared himself to make that vision a reality.

  If only his knees would quit shaking so clearly.

  But the scarred man said nothing about what he was going to do. He continued stepping back, his face so grim Asagai's chest constricted with something cold once again. What was he doing? Where was he going? What was this cold sensation called?

  "Keep him," spat Emberchase brusquely as he turned his back on the obviously irritated Foxface. "Good riddance."

  Asagai's small, bird-like heart seemed to twitter in protest, but shortly after, it couldn't even breathe. That slimy, chilly snake wrapped itself around him so tightly that the boy ended up huffing, gasping helplessly as he tried to catch his breath. What did he just say?

  "Bastard!" As quick as a sparrow, the man with the catlike voice threw the knife he held towards Emberchase. The sharp object, a roundel, was fortunately dodged as the scarred man ducked and hightailed... without even looking back.

  Immediately, the rest of the men hiding amongst the shadows emerged and gave chase, including the Foxface, who shoved Asagai so harshly that he fell to the ground, scraping his left knee on the stones.

  He whimpered as he slowly touched the side of his neck, where blood seemed to flow almost endlessly. He couldn't even feel the pain from his latest injuries anymore; the coiling, slimy sensation inside his breast was far more painful. It constricted his heart slowly but surely, crushing his once vivid visions of escape with the man he thought... he thought wouldn't be like the others. 

  Liar. A selfish, snake-tongued liar.

  The juggling torches and their beguiling red patterns lay on the ground, but the boy no longer picked them up.

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  Hello there, dearest readers! Thank you for once again reading a chapter of mine!

  How was the story? (Emberchase, you're awful as heck though!)

  If you liked this chapter (even if there's this lying man in it) then press that little star and give out a vote! I would really appreciate it!

  Hope to see you next week,
awesomeSTG😺