We don't delay in our journey forward onto the lake- heading out just before the crack of dawn even arrives. The sun isn't likely to show its face behind the thick, cotton clouds that hang with impending suspense overhead.

     Such an overcast day doesn't usually brighten spirits, but at the sight of a monolith with the engravings of the words Ciek Lake, we gain a second wind. There's some writing beneath the name of the landmark that we pause to consider but it's written in some ancient ruin or something. Sephora can only make out a few words that may be shaky in true context and Olivos is stumped completely so we ignore the writing and press on the rugged path up to the lake.

     "Hopefully, there was nothing of importance on that stone."

     It doesn't take us long to arrive at the lake, which isn't memorable in any way, shape, or form other than the thin, wispy tendrils of fog that curl up at the corners of the lake. It isn't vast, but it is wide, stretching east and west. The water is just like any other lake or sitting body of water- today, though, reflecting the gray murky sky overhead. As mentioned before, nothing mystical about this place other than the weak fog.

     Standing by the edge, we peer into the dark, blurry waters for a moment before getting down to business.

    "You ready to end this?" I ask, pulling out the stone.

    Elle takes a steeling breath, Olivos, too, seems to brace himself, Sephora gives me a meager nod, and Coxen answers affirmatively. Clifford is too absorbed leaning precariously over the water, his nose nearly touching the surface.

     "What does it do?" He wonders aloud not to anyone in particular.

     I inhale then briefly exhale, holding the accursed stone over the smooth water.

     "That's what we're going to find out."

     It feels like time has stopped, but only for me.

     Internally, I'm ready for this to be over. Externally, I'm poised and rearing to let go. Mentally, I'm there, but something still holds me back, still keeps me from letting go- letting gravity take care of the rest. I'm trying to put my finger on the issue but I can't, so I just stand there deliberating in my head- which is already on board with this plan- while precious seconds tick by.

     "Is everything okay?" Elle asks, her usual caring concern showing through.

     Shaking my head, I give them a reassuring smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

     Yet I never release that stone to the bottom of the lake.

     Perhaps the part of me that wasn't too certain about this plan, for some reason, is the culprit behind my hand's resistance to obey orders from my brain. Finally, I realize I'm torn about doing this, though the reasoning behind why I am is still a mystery.

    Just as I'm coming to this realization, I narrowly avoid being struck by a fast flying arrow. It lands only inches from my foot, almost hitting Elle's leg.

    We're taken back by this ambush, directing our attention to the origin of the arrow. It came from our right. Looking over, my breath hitches. If my body wasn't frozen before, it's paralyzed now.

    Emerging from the treeline, coming into view, is a trio of riders. The two flanking their leader brandish weapons. But it's not them that captures my full attention, it's their leader, mounted high on the back of an elegant yet broodish stallion, that I can tear my eyes away from.

    Every time I think we're a step ahead, he's always there to show me I'm not. On the contrary, we're just making it by the skin of our teeth.

     I can't stay transfixed on him for too long before my attention is redirected back to the threat at hand.

     The archer pulls back another arrow, pointed straight at us- no, at me!

     Thank God for people like Coxen or else I'd have an arrow through my heart. Pushed out of harm's way, I collapse on the grass, the stone now tight in my fist.

     My next thoughts aren't on chucking this thing into the lake (like it possibly should be; it would help end this and all). My main concern is for Clifford's safety. I couldn't let him get caught up in this. So quicker than I thought possible for me, I spring to my feet, sheltering the wide-eyed boy behind me- which is probably an awful idea if I'm thinking logically (which I'm not) because I'm the target they're aiming for.

     "I wanna see the action!" He whines, not grasping the severity of the situation we're in.

     "Just stay behind me," I bark.

     The skilled archer sends another arrow whizzing towards us. It almost gazes Sephora's arm.

     Xalale doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get to us. The trio remains at a distance from us as the archer takes yet another shot.

     Finally, common sense slaps itself into me and I look to my friends. They're not the ones with the stone, they're not the targets. I can't let them get hurt on behalf of me.

     "Run into the forest," I tell them as I narrowly dodge another arrow. "Don't stop until you're out of range."

     The forest to our left couldn't be more than fifty feet away, but it seemed like a marathon under this pressure.

     At first, nobody moves, still paralyzed by fear, but my commanding voice snaps them out of it.

     "Coxen, now!"

     I knew I could count on Coxen to get everybody to safety. He breaks out of his trance, recognizes the situation, then begins ushering the others to the forest. Elle takes a hold of my hand but I replace my own with Clifford's.

     "Make sure he's safe," I tell her, looking into her worry wracked eyes. "I'll be there in a minute."

     Before she has room to protest, the trio begins to close the distance, bearing down on us now. Gripping Clifford's hand, she hurries off for the safety of the forest.

     With the others off to safety, I can focus on finishing what I should have already completed.

     Stretching forth my hand over the water, I'm about to let go when a thought strikes me in that very millisecond.

      "I can't destroy the stone. I can't destroy it," I glance over at Xalale who is approaching rapidly. "I can't destroy it without destroying him."

    Just as this revelation occurs to me, I'm startled by another interruption coming from my side.

     "Axel!"

     Whipping my head in the other direction, I see Clifford straining to break free from Elle's grasp, a bright, eager shine on his face as he recognizes Xalale.

     Looking back over at Xalale, I can tell he wasn't expecting to see Clifford here. It takes him off guard for a moment, but not his archer.

     The arrow is only a hair away from my body, enough to cause me to gasp, losing my grip on the stone. The transparent stone falls from my hand into the water with a quick plop.

      "Shit!"

    Scrambling to my feet, I frantically search in the water trying to locate the sinking stone but gravity takes it down to the darkened bottom too quickly.

     As benign as this lake appears, there's certainly some magical aspect to it, for once the stone fades from view, it's properties can be seen. Unfortunately for Xalale, the lake is as toxic as it was foretold.

     He doubles over in pain as though the wind's just got knocked out of him- he can't regain his breath, though, leaving him gasping for air. He tries to dismount from Atlas, panic now kicking in, but he falters in his footing due to his struggle for a good breath. The two assailants by his side are baffled, clearly concerned but unsure about how to help.

     "Mallory!"

     I turn my attention back over to where Coxen and the others urgently beckon for me, unconcerned about what's happening before me. Clifford continues to struggle against Elle and Sephora, especially once he sees Xalale in distress.

     Returning my attention momentarily to where Xalale lies, literally dying before my eyes, I squeeze my eyes shut to the world.

    "Do something!" My mind yells at me.

    "Run for the hills." The loudest voice cries.

    That little voice yells out louder than ever. "For once in your life do the right thing!"

    With so much going on around me, now is not the time to be torn but I'm stuck in a frozen state of uncertainty.

     "Mallory, come on!" Coxen continues to bellow.

      "Do something!"

      My eyes snap open.

     Xalale continues to struggle, a thin trail of blood coming from his nose now. Without a second thought, I act.

     Diving headfirst into the murky waters, I recall my swimming lessons as a child as I swim down towards the bottom. Forcing my eyes open doesn't help much since the water is dark due to the overcast day. My thoughts are laser-focused as I cut through the water like a seasoned swimmer, going farther from the surface by the second.

     My lung capacity isn't the greatest so it's a race against time to scoop up the stone and return to the surface before my air supply expires.

     Cracking open my eyes, I spot a faint glowing that comes into view the closer I get. Settled at the bottom, cushioned in the sentiment and grass, is the stone. Its light is rapidly fading, though. Stretching my hand out, just within reach, I swim down frantically as the light starts to dim.

      "Almost there. Just one more- got it!"

    Snatching up the precious stone, I begin my ascent to the surface, my lungs on fire. Somehow, it feels like gravity is working against me as I fight to the surface like a madwoman, my legs aching at the speed which I'm propelling myself upward. The faint sunlight barely penetrates the water. With the surface in reach and my lungs about to give up, I summon a final surge of energy to finish my sprint.

    I break to the surface like a fish out of water, thrashing around, coughing and taking in greedy gulps of air before settling down, holding the stone above water.

     Pushing the wet hair that clings to my face aside, I look over to Xalale whose struggle has ceased. He takes a few moments to collect himself, sitting and wiping the blood from his nose. A weight, which inconspicuously settled on my chest, lifts from me.

     My brief second of relief is shattered when I hear Coxen calling me again, reminding me that we're still not out of the woods.

     "Stay there!" I cry back to him.

     The stone in my iron-tight fist, I begin swimming back to shore where I had abandoned the sword I had stolen when I jumped into the water. I needed to get the sword then hurry to where the others were before Xalale regained his composer fully.

     An inconsistent drizzle has begun to descend from the sky, but I paid it no mind as I hastily pull myself up out of the water.

     Though Xalale has just mounting himself back on Atlas, his cronies are dying for a fight. Before I have a chance to pick up the sword, one of the men is over me poised to swing at me.

     Gasping, I cower but never feel the cold cut of the blade. Instead, the clash of metal rings in my ears. Looking up, I'm grateful to see Coxen who has blocked the man's blade with his own sword.

     I don't hesitate a second longer before picking up my own weapon and slicing the man's arm. He howls in pain, backing up as he clutches his superficial wound.

     With my mind is in adrenaline phase, I'm acting on nothing but instincts. Seizing Coxen's arm, I withdrawing him from the fight.

     "Come on!"

     We begin our mad dash to the others with our threat bearing down on us.

     Xalale has apparently recovered in that brief amount of time, now ready to fulfill his mission. Unfortunately for us, Atlas is a fast creature; I could practically feel the horse's hot snorts on the nape of my neck.

      Just as we're reaching the others, I yell out at them, waving my arm.

     "Run further!"

     Even if it's just me they're after, I need for them to be out of harm's reach and potential danger.

     Thankfully, their adrenaline must be pumping too and they don't delay in disappearing into the forest, fading into the lush, green scenery.

     Coxen and I are on their coattails, breaking past the treeline into the forest but not slowing down. I never risk a glance behind us, but I don't have to- I can hear the hooves clamping against the ground behind us.

     My lungs are on fire again (they never really had a chance to breathe) but I know we can't stop. Just then, an idea comes into my head- it's crazy but we need crazy to escape this.

     As subtly as I can while we're running, I reach into the pouch and pull out the stone, sticking close to Coxen so our exchange won't be noticed. Thankfully, Coxen is a sharp one and receives the stone without question or so much as a glance, he just keeps running along with me until I break away down another path. While he continues on with the others, I try to divert Xalale's attention solely to me, listening to the approaching sound of hooves behind me. My plan is working seamlessly.

     Unfortunately, I only planned so far in advance and now that I have his attention I'm not sure what to do to get myself out of the hot water. So I do the only thing I could do: I continue to run.

     By now, the drizzle as evolved into a steady stream of healthy drops; it hits my skins harder than it would if I were standing still. Nevertheless, I keep going, nothing on my mind but avoiding hazards and keeping ahead.

     Suddenly, I get a lucky break (when I mean lucky I mean risky).

    The forest floor sharply inclines almost like a miniature cliff, except steeper. I'm lucky I didn't break any bones as I tumbled out of control down the slope, landing at the bottom into a pile of leaves. Dizzy, but uninjured, I scramble to my feet without glancing back and run once more. I didn't have to look back to know that it would be too hazardous for Xalale to urge Atlas down such a hill- he would either commence another way or give up.

     The nature of Xalale, though, is resilience- I'll credit him that at least.

     Taking a moment to look back, I see him steer Atlas back and along the edge, looking for another, safer route down.

     With the sting of rain in my eyes, I refocus on the path as I weave through the trees. I can't keep pushing on forever, there's no way.

      "Come on, Mal, think quick."

    Absentmindedly, I look around me. In this action, I form an idea. I just cross my fingers that'll work.

     Though I've never been the best at it, I quickly choose a tree that offers enough coverage and hastily begin to climb the branches. Tree climbing has never been my forte, but I'm scurrying up the branches like a squirrel. Though some branches snap in my grasp, I'm never fazed like I would be if I was doing this for leisure (which I never would).

     Eventually, I make it into the shelter of the treetop where the thick leave coverage camouflages me expertly. I'm not a second too late because just as I settle on a branch with a view of the ground below me, I hear Atlas' approaching hooves slow.

     I'm out of sight to him, but I can still see him if I lean over to peep through the leaves a bit. He's paused, looking about for any sign of me.

     I don't know why, but I hold my breath- as if he could hear me above the prattle of the rain- as he begins to carefully comb his way around the area. I think he has an intuition that I'm still hanging around close by but he's missing the mark by not looking up.

     Finally, it seems he's given up in his search for me. I'm expecting him to call it a day and give up, but I'm underestimating him.

     I completely forgot about his connection to the stone and his ability to trace what missing piece he needs until he turns Atlas around to head back the way he came- to head straight for Coxen and the others.

     Immediately, my body acts before my mind can have a say, but, again, the adrenaline is pumping and I can't let him get to the others. So, of course, the most logical thing for me to do in order to slow him down is fall out of the tree into the path of a 1,600 pound horse. Smart, I know.

     Thankfully, there's just enough time for Atlas to be spooked by my sudden appearance before crushing me. Lifting up on his back legs, he tosses off his rider before dashing away.

      "Yeah, I'm definitely going to feel the repercussions of that poor life decision." But at least I've brought the others some time.

      Xalale gets to his feet quicker than me, who has to rub the arm I landed on that cushioned my fall. Once I see that he's up, though, I scramble to my feet, gripping the sword- his sword- in a ready manner, a silent threat. He unsheathes his own weapon, a substitute, but doesn't approach me in any way.

      In a way, it's almost like our standoff from last time has just resumed. This is the second time I'm one-on-one with him, and like last time, not a word rises to the surface from either of us- we just stare at each other with a gaze that holds a thousand thoughts yet says nothing at the same time.

     Out of everything that's transpired, all I can silently ask him with a diluted glare is, "What are you doing?" Because, to be honest, I have some idea but mostly I don't. What is he doing?

     All I can get from him is a wall of unanswered questions and guarded thoughts (not a surprise from him).

     He sheaths his sword then, lingering on me for a few more seconds before whistling for Atlas who responds to his master's call. I keep my weapon poised, ready to strike.

     Just as he begins to mount the creature, I suddenly remember that he knows where the stone is which means he knows where the others are. Forgetting about myself, for the time being, I attempt to hinder his progress by blindly swinging the sword at him.

     For the brief second he took his eyes off me, he suffers for it, receiving a cut on the leg which only damages his pants from the looks of it.

     Abandoning the act of mounting Atlas, he unsheathes his sword once more, facing me with his weapon ready. I'm expecting that, so I back away slightly. What I wasn't expecting was the flash of surprise that he showed me before masking it- as if he was genuinely shocked that I would strike at him.

     I'm not taking any chances with my friends' well being.

    We stand there, practically circling each other, weapons readied, eyes locked.

     I guess I can say I'm genuinely surprised when he does take a strike at me, lunging for my legs. Hopping back, I release a shuddering breath before regaining my cool.

    "He's not trying." Again, he's putting on an act, trying to look like he'll take a swing at me but he never intends to hit me. It puts the question again in my head. "What really is he doing?"

    I'm not putting on an act, unfortunately for him, so I take a swing without restraint at his torso area that he deflects.

     The rain has picked up in a heavy stream- pouring upon us like the heat of a summer storm.

     With the rain, it makes it harder to grip the sword properly in my hand, plus with it dripping from my hair into my eyes it doesn't help matters.

     Even with the deterrence of the rain, I still risk swinging at him, going this time for his good arm, but again, he deviates my blow. Frustrated, I go in for another strike but once more his reflexes prove too keen for me. After a third, vain, attempt, he knocks me back then does something we've been avoiding since that night.

     "What are you doing?" He glowers at me as I get up.

     How come he always tries to turn the tables and make it seem like I'm the one acting without a method to my madness?

     Returning his hostile look, I go in for another hit. "What does it look like?"

     Easily deflecting me, he pushes back, not responding.

     We let the rain fill our silence again, circling each other in the downpour; nothing felt as important as keeping an eye on my opponent.

     This time, I speak up first, my voice as dead as the trust I once had with him.

     "Go home, Xalale."

     For a moment, he ceases circling, simply standing in place to stare me down with unyielding eyes. But he surprises me, putting away his weapon in its sheath once more but not moving to mount Atlas again- he continues his silent showdown with me.

     "Go home," I repeat again, finality in my words.

     This was a loss for him. He needs to go back to his manipulating mother and regroup.

     But he still refuses to mount Atlas, instead approaching me. I step back though I'm the one with the drawn sword. He stops before me, a hard expression still on his face but his voice has an underlying tone of a challenge.

      "Hit me."

      "What?" I keep my face a composed mask, but inside I'm baffled.

      At the same time, as there was a hostile challenge in his voice there was also something else lying under the surface that he wouldn't let show but that I could detect.

      Though he's open to attack, I'm weary. This has to be a trap of his. Or maybe not striking him is the trap.

      "Great, now I'm confused."

      He wants me to hit him, right? He definitely deserves it, hands down, I'm only held back by it possibly being some cunning scheme of his.

      But he's persistent about it, stepping closer to me with menace. "Hit me."

      I need to out trick the trickster, so I lower my sword showing my resistance to his command. He looks at me with that same flash of surprise, but with a trace of him being pleased by my action to step down- though it boils my blood, I keep the sword at my side.

      We stare at each other again, though this time his eyes don't hold the same fire to them as they did before- he's pacified by my actions (or lack thereof). Our staring doesn't last as long this time before he walks back over to Atlas' side to mount him. It's when he first turns his back to me that I go for the strike.

      Again, though, my efforts are futile.

      I've underestimated his guard once again. He stops the sword from hitting his shoulder with his own hand, the blade gripped in his grasp. For a second, I'm so stunned by his reaction skills that I just stare at him in shock as he looks at me with a sullen face. Collecting myself, I fear for a second that he might try to take back his sword (which would actually make sense and make my life easier), so acting without thought I quickly pull back to reclaim the weapon.

      Unfortunately, he never let go of the blade, meaning he got to feel the sharp metal slice open the tender skin of his palm, a bright river of red flowing down from his fist as he reels back from the cut.

      Now, I would expect to feel pretty proud of myself for this- he deserved it after all- and some part of me does look on in satisfaction, but that satisfaction is snuffed out by a greater sense of guilt. At first, I try to brush off this feeling, but the second he meets my eyes again, the guilt persists.

      That same emotion which he so rarely revealed flashed across his face for the briefest second, but I knew it by heart.

      The hurt in his eyes could strike a person down. I never expect it whenever he exhibits it- that's what makes it worse. After the hurt is buried, he wears an indecipherable mask that has cracks.

       Just that look of hurt in his eyes, like a wounded dog struck by the hand that fed it, almost makes me cry out an apology, but he breaks away from me, turning to mounting Atlas in haste then spurring him on. I never get a word in as he takes off through the rain, leaving behind in a flurry of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

      Somehow, I know deep inside, that he's not going after the others- they're safe. He's going to lick his wounds for the time being. We're safe, for now.

      But as I stand there in the pouring rain, the heavy drops twisting down the strands of my hair till the ends, my heart feels even heavier with the weight of regret and remorse.