"Kid."

A distant whine of panic woke in Asher's mind at the sound of the voice, but it was quickly drowned by the heavy, dark waves of sleep washing through him. He hesitated, vaguely aware of the cold wind pressed against his face and the rocky gait of his horse. Each step was sharp and hard, sending jolts of pain through his sore legs and back. Asher sank a little deeper into his dreams, reluctant to remain awake for much longer.

A warm weight settled on Asher's shoulder and gave it a sharp shake. A groan clawed its way free of Asher's throat as his head knocked against his horse's neck, snapping the threads dragging him towards unconsciousness.

"Kid. Asher."

Alarm flooded Asher's veins as he recognized Kain's voice. He bolted upright, his exhaustion disappearing in moments. The Valkir's hand was still on his shoulder; Asher knocked it away with all the force he could muster, fear tightening around his chest. Kain growled a curse, seizing Asher's wrist and yanking his arm down. The touch was like lightning, searing through Asher's body and making the world flicker. He tried to wrench himself free, his blood freezing over as he met the murderer's eyes.

"Calm down," Kain hissed, tightening his grip. The air crackled, and a few jolts of searing pain ran up Asher's forearm. Asher yelped and fought harder, but the burning only grew worse.

"Calm down." Each word was accompanied by another surge of pain. Kain's eyes darkened—still not that awful black fire, but far less calm.

Asher forced himself to still, chest heaving, feet caught in his stirrups, closer to Kain than he had been in nearly three days. He glanced up, desperately trying to reorient himself. Kain was walking beside Asher's horse, his own mount freely trotting on his left. Asher glimpsed Idris riding far ahead of them, while Rivas lagged some distance behind. The man had fallen asleep, his face hidden by his hood.

"Well, at least you're not dead," Kain sighed, releasing Asher after a moment and turning to his horse. He rummaged through the saddlebags, a cold smile tugging at his lips. "We can't have that now, can we?"

Terror lodged in Asher's throat; he choked on it, still able to feel the ghost of Kain's fingers. Kain hadn't spoken to him at all since Evran; Rivas, true to his word, had kept them apart. But Asher had often felt the man's icy brown eyes on him. And now... Asher quietly slipped his feet from his stirrups, preparing to scramble off the horse and run if he had to. Kain ignored him, moving on to another bag with a muttered curse.

"What do you want?" Asher finally managed. His voice cracked from disuse, and he held a hand to his throat. While Kain had been quiet, Asher had been all but mute.

Kain glanced over his shoulder, his sharp gaze slicing from Asher's face to his hands. Asher flinched away, instinctively tugging at his horse's reins to put some distance between them. As usual, it didn't listen to his feeble commands.

After another moment of searching, Kain pulled a vial from the bag and held it out. The silver liquid within was all too familiar. Asher dared to breathe again, realization chasing away some of his fear. It was just time for him to take that shikat drug again.

Kain gave the vial a little shake, narrowing his eyes in a silent command. Asher snatched it from the Valkir and drank as quickly as possible, wincing as the crash of exhaustion it usually brought swept over him. He handed the container back, flinching when his finger brushed against Kain's palm. Too close. They were too close. Asher resisted the urge to look back at Rivas.

How desperate I am, he thought dryly, feeling slightly ill. My only protection is the man who caught me in the first place.

Kain was still watching him. Asher clenched his jaw, another wave of dread shivering through him, and looked around again. The road was far wider than it had been when Asher closed his eyes that morning: two wagons would have been able to move it, though the only other travelers he spotted were far behind him. Trees lined either side of the cobbles, broadly spaced and interspersed with long grass and weeds. The sun shone directly overhead, though its watery light doing nothing to chase away the chill lingering in the air.

Asher clenched his hands, staring at Idris as she rounded a corner ahead of them. They were probably close to Crisea, considering the size of the road. Asher's recollection of Soren had become hazy, clouded with pain and fear. Even so, the king's blue gaze, sharp and bright, was seared into his memory. Asher closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the dread squirming through his veins.

"Hey, kid."

Asher stiffened, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands. He didn't know what Kain wanted from him: the Valkir was still far too close, his stare drilling into Asher's side. It was horribly unnerving, but he didn't dare speak out.

"Can you hear me, kid?"

"Yes," Asher mumbled, the word grating in his throat. Even mounted atop the horse, he'd never felt so small.

Kain paused before speaking again. "We're almost to Crisea."

"I figured." Asher's voice cracked, and he winced. Idiot. Just stop talking.

"I hope you're not going to try anything again." It was said like a casual remark, but ice ran down Asher's spine. Again.

"No," Asher said weakly. "I'm not."

"Look at me, kid."

Something about Kain's tone told Asher it would be best to listen. Trembling, he turned his head and met the murderer's eyes. Kain was frowning, the faintest hint of confusion in his face. Asher didn't try to figure it out; it was taking every bit of his willpower not to look away.

A faint, bitter smile touched Kain's lips, and he turned back to his horse. "That'll do it."

"What is it?" Asher dragged his gaze back to his hands, twisting his fingers into his horse's mane. "Kain, what do you want from me?"

"Nothing, just..." The Valkir paused, the faintest hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Nothing."

"Ka evenda."

Asher and Kain both looked around. Rivas kicked his horse and sped up to them, running a hand across the back of his neck. Asher stared, the translation of the words catching on his tongue. The loss? It wasn't a phrase that he'd heard of before.

Kain, on the other hand, seemed to recognize it. He tensed, the darkness in his face flickering and fading away.

"I never told you what that meant, did I?" Rivas continued, focusing his stony gaze on Kain.

"I figured it out." Kain spoke oddly, a frown shading his eyes. "Rivas, those days are over."

"I know." Rivas leaned back and sighed. "Go catch up to Idris and figure out why this road is empty. There should be at least a few other people this close to Crisea; something isn't right."

Kain's shoulders fell a little. He moved to his horse and swung himself atop, tugging the hood of his cloak up over his head. A sharp nod at Rivas, an empty look at Asher, and then he was galloping after Idris' distan figure. Asher watched him go, those two words still circling through his head.

"Did he do anything?" Rivas asked carefully, drawing up beside Asher.

"I... no." Asher blinked, tearing his attention away from Kain. "What loss?"

Rivas regarded him for a long moment, his posture stiffening. "A loss of... hope. In your expression. It's a term I made up a long time ago."

Asher flinched, but a distant thread of anger coiled in his heart. He hadn't given up yet. He hadn't. No matter how tired and scared he felt, he'd promised himself a long time ago that he would survive, whole and free. For Hannah.

Clinging to that anger, Asher forced his eyes forward. He had to keep himself together. Let them think I'm broken. I'm not.

The feigned confidence, however, couldn't drown the truth of Rivas' words.

<><><>

Asher was not ready for Crisea. The city wasn't surrounded by farmland like Aleran or Evran: they simply turned a corner in the path, and it struck him like a physical blow. Buildings littered either side of the road—just houses, but the sudden amount of them was staggering. Even in a neighborhood at the edge of the city, at the time most should be working, people were about. The traffic was rather muted, however; there was only a low hum of noise, swelling around Asher as he looked around. He was very aware of people turning as they passed, of the eyes flitting from Kain and Idris to Rivas before stopping on him.

"Saev," Rivas muttered. Ahead, Idris kicked her horse into a trot. The rest of the mounts followed, their heads dipped low as they strained to keep moving. "Word did get out fast."

"Surely they see Valkir more often," Asher replied, knowing full well that it wasn't the assassins these people were watching. Rogue magic-users were not brought back to the city, unless...

Asher froze, bile rising in his throat. No. Those in Evran had seen him run, and the Valkir had probably brought back new... recruits before. If word had spread from that town, these people knew something was different. Maybe. Asher took a deep breath, desperately hoping they knew the truth. He'd rather die than be known as a traitor.

"Keep your head down," Rivas warned, his voice soft but still clear.

"Does it matter?" Asher stared at his hands, letting his hair fall into his eyes. He would need to cut it, if he ever got the chance again.

A sigh. "I don't know. Probably not."

They rode in silence after that. Asher dug his fingers into his horse's mane, gripping the coarse hair for support as the true vastness of Crisea began to reveal itself. The buildings were heavy and dark, and were much larger than most houses Asher had seen. The road slanted upwards in a sharp hill: when they crested it, the rest of the city sprawled before them. It was mostly flat, with a few hills rising up in the outskirts. A shining river cut through its very center, its silver surface occasionally interrupted by a boat piled with goods.

And atop a nearby hill, hesitating between the city and the river, was a castle.

It was all too much to take in at once: Asher hardly glimpsed the building before the road dipped down and he lost sight of it. Still, the brief image hung in his memory. It had been so close, only a half-mile or so. He'd expected it to be in the center of the city, but the castle lying on the outskirts made more sense. Perhaps its first owners hadn't wanted to mingle with the commoners, or simply wanted an easy escape route.

Escape... Asher let his eyes sweep across the street. There were many alleys, and it would be easy to lose himself in the crowd. But he was keenly aware of Rivas beside him, and the empty haze where the magic around him should've been. Asher grit his teeth, clenching his hands as he looked away. The back of his head throbbed, and he automatically rubbed it with one hand. Survive. Don't be stupid.

Movement caught Asher's eye, and he jerked back to attention. It was growing steadily busier—as they rounded a corner and reached what seemed to be a sort of market square, the groups of people shifted into a crowd. Asher flinched, realizing that many were openly staring at him. There were a thousand different emotions in their gazes, all pressing against him—curiosity, terror, wariness. But there was also anger, sharp and bitter, a fermented version of the fear Asher had expected.

An older man, leaning against a wooden pole in front of a butcher's shop, caught Asher's eye. His arms were folded, his muscles rigid. Fury poured from him, spearing through Asher's heart like a blade. The man was looking at him. Not the Valkir: him.

Asher's stomach lurched, but he couldn't look away. It was always a shock to remember that some thought magic-users were the real danger, wild dogs that needed to be put down before they bit someone. He'd heard such sentiments, of course. But those people had never known who he was as he listened, heart in throat, anger and shame stirring in his chest. They'd never directed that rage toward him.

Realizing he had Asher's attention, the man slowly lifted one hand and sliced two fingers across the side of his neck. Asher recoiled, clutching at his saddle for support. He had other things to worry about. These people shouldn't have been affecting him. And yet that single gesture hurt, far more than anything else could. Asher blinked as they continued and the man faded from sight, his blood roaring in his ears.

There were too many people. At some point, Asher gave up and stretched forward, wrapping his arms around his horse's neck and hiding his face within the folds of his cloak. He let the rough fabric become his world, focused on the feel of it against his forearms and the way the daylight shone through the cloth. When the weight of the stares continued to crush his chest, he just screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on keeping himself from shattering.

What felt like an eternity later, Asher realized it had grown more quiet. He dared to lift his head a little and reeled: the castle was just before them. It was a massive structure, clearly built for defense; the walls were thick and tall, made of a smooth, dark stone. Even so, it retained a sort of grace. Perhaps it was the way the stone curved, as if it was nothing more than water in the hands of whoever had shaped it; perhaps it was the way the castle seemed to fit into the land around it, rising from the grass and rock as if it had been grown from the earth.

The rest of the inner castle was mostly obscured, however, by a large wall. Nothing broke the stone before them, save a relatively small gate. The portcullis was raised, but the thick wooden door was tightly shut. A single guard lounged atop the battlements, his helmet gleaming as he tilted his head to watch them. When Asher looked back, he realized that they'd circled around to the side of the castle. The path was still of stone, but overgrown and messy. A servant's entrance. Asher let out a small sigh of relief: this area was far more empty and secluded than the city.

Idris had already reached the gate. Her head was tilted back as she exchanged a few words with the guard, her face pale and drawn. By the time Asher and Rivas had caught up to Kain beside her, the man had vanished and she'd dismounted.

Asher stared up at the wall as he drew closer, fighting the strange feeling that it was going to collapse on top of him. The stone seemed rougher up close; it sucked in what little light the sun provided, casting him and the Valkir in a long shadow.

Idris muttered something, passing a hand over the door. There was a heavy scraping sound, and she shoved it open. Asher stared at the path beyond it, unable to see much except the shadow of a tree.

Instead of getting back on her horse, Idris grabbed its reins and walked through the gate. As his mount followed, Asher cast one last glance at the bustling city behind them. It was full of life and noise, and had been his last chance to run.

You wouldn't have made it anyways, Asher growled at himself. The walls closed around him, and he turned back around. For a moment, he was lost in the shadow of the gate; then the weak sunlight rushed back, and he was trapped inside the beating heart of Eldernia.

Trees spotted the castle grounds he'd emerged onto, shading the paths crisscrossing the thin grass. Servants and soldiers alike moved along them, casting furtive glances at Asher or the Valkir. Asher bit his lip, trying to ignore the gazes prickling across his skin.

Just before them, the inner castle sprawled across the open land. The set of the windows and build was clearly focused on defense, but the dark grace of the building still remained. Asher gazed up at it, a flash of cold fear freezing him to the spot. It was so big; he didn't know any structure he could possibly dare to compare it to. Hannah had once taken him to a massive cathedral, but this was at least ten times larger.

"Would you mind getting down?" Kain's voice cut through Asher's thoughts like a knife. The Valkir had all dismounted as he stared at the castle; Rivas was just to his left. Idris had taken hold of the freed horses' reins, watching impatiently.

Asher took a deep breath and slipped out of his saddle, stumbling as his feet struck the ground. He didn't know how long he'd been on horseback, but it was enough for his muscles to scream in protest. Idris snatched his horse's reins as well and led the four beasts down another path, towards a building that Asher guessed were the stables.

"You lead," Rivas said, waving a hand at Kain. The other man rolled his eyes and strode toward the castle, his cloak swirling behind him.

Asher took a deep breath and followed, stumbling as pain speared up his numb legs. Rivas kept pace just behind his shoulder, his expression blank as he looked around. Asher couldn't help but notice how the onlookers ducked their heads and continued when the Valkir met their eyes. Apparently, the fear the assassins inspired extended to their own home.

The path Kain took dipped low besides the castle, running through a far more secluded part of the grounds. They walked alongside it for some time; finally, the stone was broken by a plain door, heavy and windowless.

Kain waved his hand. Something in the lock clicked; with a gentle nudge of his hand, the door opened. The hall beyond was narrow and dark, quickly consumed by shadows that made it impossible to see further in. Kain hesitated beside the door, holding it open with a mocking sort of bow.

"After you," the man said, his eyes cold.

Rivas placed a hand on Asher's back and gently pushed him forward. Asher swallowed and darted past Kain, terribly aware of the two Valkir's footsteps echoing his own as they followed.

The shadows choking the hallway didn't recede. Asher squinted, drifting to the side and placing his hand on the wall. The stone was dry and cool, its surface rough against the pads of his fingers. Some distance ahead, he saw the faint glow of a torch. The air was bitterly cold and smelled of dust.

"Where are we going?" he asked, wincing at how his voice trembled in the silence.

Kain brushed past him, bright flames flaring to life around his hand. "Well, we have to keep you somewhere."

Rivas let the door slide shut, and the darkness deepened. He moved to Asher's shoulder, lifting his hand and summoning some more fire. Asher shrank away from the Valkir, his stomach twisting as Rivas motioned for him to follow Kain. The corridor seemed to press in on all sides, making it harder and harder to breathe as he moved forward. Eventually, doorways began to appear, leading off into the darkness.

Kain led them through the maze of halls, his steps sure and confident. They were all swathed in darkness, illuminated only by torches nailed into the walls at each corner. Most of them weren't even lit. Asher quickly lost track of where they were, only retaining a vague notion that they were travelling deeper into the castle. The floor never dipped, however, and they didn't move up or down any of the staircases they passed, so he assumed they remained at ground level.

"And, um," Asher said after a few minutes, glancing at Rivas. "Where, exactly, are you keeping me?"

"Here." Kain replied, turning around the corner. Asher followed, dread curling around his heart. The corridor was lit by another torch at the far end, and was clean and dry: exactly like every other hallway they'd walked through. However, the doors in this area were made of thin metal rods. Asher peered through one, wrapping his hand around one of the bars. It was freezing against his fingers. The room beyond was relatively small—no more than four paces across. Apart from a pile of straw bedding stuffed into the corner, it was empty.

"Which would you like?" Kain asked dryly, indicating the cells with a sweep of his arm.

Asher slowly turned to look at the Valkir, his throat dry. "None, please."

"Very funny." Kain carelessly flicked his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips. Asher jumped as something inside the door before him clicked, and it swung forward. He tried to look for the lock, confused, but saw nothing.

"It's an internal mechanism," Rivas explained, leaning against the wall.

Asher stared at the cell, tremors crawling through his body. His feet were rooted to the ground, as heavy as stone. He hadn't been free for over a week, but the city, the castle, the room before him—it brought the truth crashing over his shoulders.

A flicker of movement, and something struck the back of Asher's head—hard. He crumpled under the blow, unable to even cry out as he felt his skull strike the pavement of that alley once again. Throwing his hands out before him, Asher barely caught himself before he fell headfirst into the ground. Dull pain jolted through his body in protest, and he slipped a little lower to the floor.

"Kain," Rivas snarled, sudden anger crackling in his voice.

Asher twisted around just as Kain stepped forward and slammed the door shut, his face cold as ice. The faintest hint of the dark fire danced in his eyes.

It took all of Asher's strength not to scramble away. Shoving aside the terror racing through his muscles, he shakily stood up. He could already feel the walls of the cell pressing against his sides. With a deep breath, he took a step toward the door, then another. Meeting Kain's dark gaze, he curled his fingers around the bars and spat a curse.

Kain snarled, flattening his palm against the door. A burning pain tore through Asher's hands, and he jerked away from the bars with a muffled yelp. Golden sparks danced across the metal as he did. Rivas twitched, eyes still narrowed as he watched Kain.

"I'm going to kill you," Asher hissed, forcing himself not to back away further.

Kain laughed hollowly. "You won't get the chance, kid."

"It's time for you to go, Kain," Rivas warned, the usual ice creeping back into his tone. "Don't keep Soren waiting."

"I know." Kain shrugged the other man off and turned away, something like fear breaking through the anger in his eyes. A moment later, he was gone.

Rivas, on the other hand, didn't move. He seemed hesitant, his attention fixed on Asher.

"What?" Asher asked when the Valkir didn't speak, taking a half-step away. He shook his hands out, wincing as his muscles spasmed again.

"Nothing." Rivas paused. "There's a washroom nearby. Yell if you need it. And I'll bring some food later."

Asher stared at the assassin, fury swelling in his throat. "You," he growled, "are not my caretaker."

"No. I'm not," Rivas replied coolly. He turned, giving Asher one last look over his shoulder. "I'll be nearby."

Whether that was a threat or something else, Asher wasn't sure. He waited until the Valkir's vanished from sight down the corridor. Then, hesitantly, he crept to the door and pressed his face against the metal. There wasn't anybody or anything else, aside from that single torch and the dusty stone wall. The other cells seemed to be unoccupied. He was alone.

Alone.

Asher's knees gave out suddenly, and he slipped to the floor. He splayed his palms against the stone, staring at his fingers. His nails were bitten to the quick. He had thought he'd broken that habit long ago. Asher blinked, his eyes growing wet despite the numbness in his chest.

Survive.

With a deep breath, Asher forced his feet underneath him and stood. He rattled the door. It held firm, barely giving at all. Turning around, Asher took in the rest of the cell. There was no window, vent, or anything else to break the hard stone. He let his gaze roam across the floor, struggling to breathe. Only some extra straw from the bed.

Asher staggered away from the door until it was out of sight, pressing his side against the wall. A sob pushed its way up his throat; he clamped a hand over his mouth, sliding to the floor. No. He had to stay calm.

Survive.

The world blurred, and Asher felt a tear race down his cheek. He tried to breathe through his nose, shuddering as he looked at the cell again. It felt as if it were pressing on top of him, squeezing every bit of air from his lungs.

Why couldn't they have just left me alone? The thought echoed in his mind. It was too loud, demanding release. Asher took his hand from his mouth, feeling another tear fall. "Please," he whispered to nobody. "Just leave me alone. Please."

He didn't expect an answer, but the silence was still stifling. Asher pressed his forehead against the wall, a soft whimper escaping his mouth. "Leave me alone," he tried again, letting his cracked voice fill the room.

Don't scream. Don't let them hear you. Asher bit his tongue as he ducked his head, trying to keep himself silent as he wept. The panic roiling in his blood begged him to get up, to fight, to hit something, to move, but he didn't know what else he could do.

Survive.

Asher shuddered, curling his fingers into his hair and pulling at it. With nothing else to distract him, with nobody to see him, he let a few tendrils of that black despair break free. There wasn't a way out of the cell, much less the castle or the city or Eldernia. He could only hope that Wade and the others wouldn't be stupid enough to try to save him.

Survive.

Asher couldn't have hidden the next sob if he tried. He swore and leaned his head back, shivering as the cold of the stone leached through his cloak into his bones. His thoughts were whirling, clashing against each other as he fought to keep himself quiet.

"Leave me alone," he whispered, curling his knees to his chest.

Nobody answered.