The battle was getting tiresome.

Edita's arm throbbed. Her sword was beginning to feel like a cumbersome weight, a hefty plank of steel long enough to stretch from her ribcage down to the tips of her toes. She curled both her hands around its hilt, planting her feet firmly into the cobbles, and held it up just in time to meet Oswin's jarring blow.

She twisted his sword away and hopped a step backwards, meeting his gaze over the silver glare of the blade. His brow quirked, eyes lit with challenge, as he raised his weapon above his head and brought it down towards her chest.

This time, she dodged sideways, sword dragging in her grip. A smile tugged at her lips. She released her left hand from the hilt and channelled all her strength into her right arm, preparing as Oswin whipped round to face her.

Under his lifted sword, there was a perfect path to his chest. She slashed.

Her blade clanged against his oversized breastplate, nearly slipping from her sweaty hand as she yanked the sword back, but the brunt of the force was enough to send him stumbling back. His eyes widened as his feet skidded out from under him and he landed with a gasp on his backside.

She laughed, gratefully lowering her sword so that its point jammed between the cobbles. "Too offensive again. Stop waving that about and protect your chest, or you'll be impaled on the battlefield."

Oswin rolled his eyes as he pushed off the path and clambered to his feet. "Not if I stab them first."

"That's not how it--"

His sword cut a wide arc. With a yelp, she leapt out of the way as the blade sliced the air where her legs had been. Her unprotected, vulnerable legs.

Throwing her sword down, she shot him a forceful glare. "Idiot! You could have cut me open! Father will take these off us if he sees you behaving like that!"

He twirled the hilt over in his hand, but lost it halfway through and hurriedly controlled its fall to the ground. His hand went to his hip, as if that made him cooler despite the error. "I win though, yes?"

Shaking her head, she snatched up her sword, ramming it into her sheath. "Idiot," she repeated. Their mother had been reluctant to let them practice fighting, and with Oswin's distinct lack of awareness, she could see why.

If only Tyler would practice with her. Yet it was difficult enough to coax him out of his parents' bar, let alone force a blade into his hands.

She might have said more, had a piercing sound not cut through the air and splintered her train of thought. Her head jerked up at the same time as Oswin. It was a horn, low and brash, its continuous note ringing out in a way that declared a village meeting.

As Oswin wavered, his frown freezing him in place, she plucked his sword from his hands and slid it into his holster. It was unfair that his was so much lighter than hers. He was only a year younger, and barely an inch shorter.

"Come on," she said, shoving at his shoulder. "We need to follow that."

His frown deepened, and he grabbed at her arm before she could stride off. "Mother said children don't go to the meetings."

"We're not children," she snapped back, prising his fingers away. Her gaze lingered on his. "Well, I'm not. But you're coming."

Before he could protest, she clamped her hand around his, tugging him towards the end of the street. Her sword sheath swung at her side, connecting dully with her hip at every brisk step. She rested a hand on the hilt, then traced a finger over her breastplate, checking its straps were secure. If the last few village meetings were anything to go by, she knew what this was about. It paid to be prepared.

Her gaze drifted to the south of Katamen, where flecks of green peeked from behind straw rooftops. Especially when the forest was involved.

After a few moments, Oswin snatched his hand back, though he continued to trail after her as she wound into Katamen's main street. "If I'm a child, you are," he whined.

She scoffed. "I'm a teenager."

"I basically am too." He lifted his chin.

"No, you're twelve. That doesn't end in teen, so you're not."

She ignored his scowl as they rounded the corner and the street opened out into the square.

There were already several people crowding the cobbled space. Some feigned disinterest, milling in the shadows of the houses edging the square, their chatter a quiet hum, though it was clear their eyes still drifted in the direction of the group forming a tight semi-circle around the central plinth. And, of course, the man stood behind it.

The platform he stood on brought his chest above the heads around, but even without it Edita guessed he'd be tall. His armour shone a brilliant white, and his helmet framed his broad jaw, sides spreading out like stunted wings. As she slowed to a stop, he raised the curved, bronze horn to his lips and blew out another hollow note, before tossing it to his left. An older woman with a net pulled over her silver-striped hair fumbled to catch it.

Oswin didn't need pulling along anymore. He was already hurrying past Edita, neck craned to get a better look at the man in the armour. She grabbed a handful of his shirt sleeve, jolting him back.

He opened his mouth. She silenced him with a look, then jerked a thumb towards the houses to their left. He tilted his head, squinting at her, and she sighed.

"Follow me," she hissed. Waving away his curious look, she darted sideways.

As always, the crates were piled up outside Old Faja's house. For as long as Edita could remember, she'd never shifted them, but Edita wasn't complaining. They gave her a leg-up onto the best look out point in the village, and a perfect place to spy on the meetings without anyone forcing her away. Just because she was young didn't mean she didn't deserve to know what was going on.

Particularly if what was going on was a murderous beast prowling their forest.

She paused at the base of the first crate, then tore her breastplate off, propping it up carefully against the wood. Oswin followed suit behind, thankfully. Then, it was an easy scramble, the footholds well-placed and worn. She twisted around to sit at the ledge lining the house's roof just as the man began to speak.

"People of Katamen!" he boomed. His voice was every bit as loud and flashy as the light glinting off his polished helmet. "Your saviour has come!"

Edita sighed, dropping her gaze to watch Oswin struggle up the last crate. She held a hand out absentmindedly to yank him up beside her. Another one of them. Her mother had told her enough about the travellers that had visited Katamen before to know how this would end.

Nevertheless, the people cheered, shouts pitched high with hope. The man welcomed it, spreading his palms wide as he basked in their joy.

"What does he mean?" Oswin whispered as he shuffled into place on the roof, flinching away from prodding strands of straw.

She shushed him. "Just wait."

Her eyes swept the crowd. There was Tyler, leaning against the side of a house with his nose in a book, his father nudging at his shoulder unsuccessfully. A quick search closer to the armoured man located her father, right near the front, always ready to pounce on this sort of bravado. He hoped, every time. Unlike her mother; she was nowhere to be seen.

The man continued. "For too long, a terrible curse has plagued you. A monster, lurking in the shadows of the tallest mountain around, sent by the darkest demons and the cruellest of deities. It has killed your men, your children, your livestock. But no longer!"

"No longer!" the crowd chanted. Edita shook her head.

"I, Dunstan Thorle, of Oscensi's great army, am here to cast away all of your woes." From seemingly nowhere, he produced a sword longer than hers, brandishing it high above his head. "I will defeat your monster, and free you from its torment!"

The gathered people cheered again. Even those lurking at the edges were being drawn in, hands brought together in applause. Biting her tongue, Edita stared down at her dangling boots. At least Tyler was still buried in his book, but she figured that would be the case regardless of who stood at the plinth.

"So, who's with me?"

The crowd fell silent. She swallowed her bitter laugh.

"Anyone?" The first crack of uncertainty in his steeled tone. "Any brave warriors willing to test their skills against the forces of evil?"

Still nothing. A few faces turned away, doubt darkening their eyes. No-one would volunteer. No-one who knew the reality of the beast, who'd seen the deaths and destruction it left in its wake, would be crazy enough to.

"The travellers think they're better than anyone else, that every one before them was simply too weak," her mother had told her, in a whisper, out of her father's earshot. "But they're wrong, every time. They come here for glory, and they leave as shamed corpses. Stay away from them, Edita. And keep Oswin far away from that nonsense."

She winced, fiddling with the scruffy edge of her grey tunic. It was probably a good thing her mother wasn't here.

Her attention drifted back to the man, Dunstan, just as he let out an awkward laugh. He hurriedly pulled himself straight again, puffing out his chest. "No matter. You are wise to stay out of my path. I will single-handedly slay the beast!"

Applause again, and suddenly the support was back. All so false. They all knew the truth of what this traveller was stepping into, even if they would never admit it.

There wasn't a person older than sixteen in Katamen who hadn't seen the bodies. Lifeless eyes, cracked skin smouldering with choking darkness. Sometimes they were nothing but blackened bones by the time someone found them. Edita was simply glad she and Oswin had been spared the image; their mother's descriptions were more than enough.

Still watching Dunstan as he stepped back from the plinth and noisily sheathed his sword, soaking in the hollow cheers again, she leaned over towards Oswin. "Now you see," she murmured. "It's just--"

She bit off the words with a sharp gasp, nearly toppling from the roof as she whipped around. No shoulder had met hers.

Oswin was gone.

Curling her fist around a handful of straw, she scanned the crowd frantically. He was going to do something stupid. As his sister, it was supposed to be her job to keep him on a tight leash, not let him wander off to be at the mercy of his own idiocy.

Tyler was slowly closing his book, head jerking up as if surprised to see that it was all over. Practically throwing herself onto the crates, Edita launched after him before he could turn and follow his father, clutching for his arm.

"Oswin," she gasped.

His brows knitted together as he ran a finger over the spine of his book. "No, I'm Tyler. But hi."

She glared at him. "No, I'm looking for Oswin. Have you seen him?"

Shading his eyes, he briefly looked over the crowd. "Can't say I have. I'll let you know if I do."

Pulling away, he started peeling open his book again, but she clamped her hand harder around his wrist. "No, you're coming with me to find him. Now."

He knew better than to argue. Together, they sprinted past the plinth, Edita barging through the throng of people to search their faces. She caught a glimpse of her father and hurriedly twisted the other way.

In a passing glance, she saw Dunstan's white figure charging around to the southern path. That was when she saw him.

A small figure, sword clutched in both hands and crossed over his chest, crouching at the corner of the building.

Edita smacked her palm against Tyler's shoulder. "Found him," she murmured. Without waiting for him to reply, she took off from the square, just as Oswin scurried around the corner in Dunstan's footsteps.

Her boots skidded on the cobbles as she rounded the corner just in time to see Dunstan vanish into the shade of the trees. Several paces behind him, Oswin prowled, his sword still lifted aloft. Despite her warnings, he still wasn't protecting his chest.

For a moment, she hesitated, frozen by the stirring shadows of the woods. Her chest grew tight, closing in around her thumping heart. Surely, Oswin had some sense in him. Surely, he wouldn't venture into there.

But he would always be the brazen idiot, too keen on the offensive to worry about practicalities. Before she could even find her voice to call to him, he was sliding into the darkness.

"He's actually going in there," Tyler breathed. She met his eyes, and he twitched back. "You're not--"

"I have to." Coiling her fingers tightly around her hilt, she marched forward, not allowing her steps to falter. He hurried after her, book wedged under his arm.

"You can't." He shook his head vigorously. "We can fetch someone else."

"There isn't time." She broke out into a jog, the street disappearing too quickly under her strides. Any second, she would reach that treeline, enter the beast's domain.

What if it was out there right now? What if it came for her?

Her legs seized up just as she reaches the end of the path. She clenched her teeth, turning on Tyler. "You get someone if you want. I have to do this."

If the beast was out there, there was every chance it would find Oswin. And she couldn't let that happen.

They both hesitated in sync, then made their choice together. Tyler slipped his hand into hers. "I'm not letting you go in alone."

"Okay." She started taking a deep breath, then gave up on the attempt at calm. She would never be calm. She resumed her stride.

The canopy closed in above them, blocking out the sky.

Her boots crunched on dry leaves as she crept forward, pace swift, eyes strained. In the dappled sunlight squeezing through the dense leaves, she made out Oswin's dark form, and dashed for him. Tyler's grip shifted as he hurried to follow.

"Oswin," she hissed.

No answer. The shape disappeared into the shadows. Another few steps forward, and she caught a glimpse of his blade's glint.

"Oswin!" she said again, louder. The footsteps paused. Tensing, she pounced, snatching the air in front of her. Her fingers brushed the edge of his shirt, and she grasped again, this time locking a hold in the material.

Tyler pulled her back just in time to dodge his sword's swipe.

"It's me, maniac!" she snapped.

The sword dropped. "Edita?"

"Yes, your poor sister, having to chase you into a cursed forest." She grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her. "What in the devil's name do you think you're doing?"

A streak of light made out the glare of his eyes. He squirmed in her grip. "I'm being brave."

"No, you're being stupid." Her nails dug into his skin. He yelped, jerking away.

"I'm going to be a hero. You either come with me or not. You can't stop me."

With that, he raced away into the trees. Growling, Edita pushed herself to run after him, dropping Tyler's hand as he lagged behind.

The forest whizzed by in a haze of twisted boughs hung with dark greens. The further they travelled, the more Edita's chest tightened, her breaths escaping in short pants and her heart threatening to break open her ribcage for the way it hammered. This place radiated evil. Every shadow looked like a predator stalking them, every tree a disfigured monster, every sound the scrape of claws on bark.

She didn't even know what it looked like. No-one did. Anyone who came close enough to see never returned.

"Oswin!" she shrieked, her anger fizzling into desperation. Her throat constricted, painfully aware of how far away Katamen was now. There was no-one to help them out here. Tyler's tone was more measured as he joined her call, but she still felt his tremble as they slowed.

Oswin had finally halted ahead, his sword still and straight out before him. Stumbling over fallen twigs, she grabbed for him, not caring for how tight her grip was. "You absolute--"

Her voice died when she saw the way his eyes widened, the haunted darkness coiled up within them. He didn't flinch, not even at the pinch of her nails. Beneath her fingers, his skin was cold and prickled with goosebumps. Without letting go of him, Edita whipped around, her heart beating away her breaths.

There, in the shaded circle of trees before them, was Dunstan.

His armour wasn't white anymore, but his face was. Pale and drained of warmth, life snatched, the shell of a ghost left behind. His mouth hung open soundlessly. At his feet, his sword lay discarded, still sparkling the same way it had in the square. But none of that was what froze Edita.

Deep black chasms cut into his fingers, his arms, his neck. No smoke oozed from them, yet their presence seemed to choke the very air and steal the weakened rays of light. The cracks. The darkness. The mark of the monster.

It seemed the beast was to slay this traveller instead.

"We need to go." Tyler's voice, somehow calm, the terror eating at the edges of his words not crumbling his resolve.

She nodded absently.

Pain spiked in her cheek, jolting her from her daze. Tyler's dark eyes met hers. She didn't need any more prompting. Her legs gave way, and then she was running, the world blurring. She was barely conscious of the ache in her arm as she dragged Oswin behind her.

The image burned relentlessly into her mind. The cracks, the darkness, paired with one unexpected detail.

The hand curled around Dunstan's neck had been human.