“It’s not your duty to do anything. You don’t owe it to anyone to sacrifice your life. And becoming a Crusader…y-you could die.”
He stands even taller, his chest puffing with infuriating pride. “Then I would die fighting. It’s better than doing nothing and just letting the Primordial win. For too long our people have suffered. Those bastard mages retreated. The Magistrate, he’s focused on other matters on the coast. No one will protect us but ourselves. The Crusaders are all we have, and they need more men.” He pauses, his stony expression softening a little as he stares into my eyes and adds, unconvincingly, “And women.”
“I’m not joining the Crusade,” I snap.
“Why not?” When I open my mouth to recite my usual retort, he points a finger close to my face. “And don’t say it’s because of Tor. I know he died, but so have other brothers and sisters…so have mothers and fathers…”
Pain flurries behind his eyes, dimming the resolve that was once there. We both know the people he’s talking about aren’t nameless nobodies. My brother and his sister were slaughtered by demons during the same expedition into the Shadowthorn. His mother was lost in one before that, leaving just his father and him to take care of each other. But as the Blight crept closer, Qaeus’ fiends grew restless inside the boundaries of the Shadowthorn, as they always do. Any chance they had at beckoning unsuspecting victims closer to their borders, they took, and soon Dimitri lost his father as well, never to be seen again once he stepped across the dark boundary.
At least my family was fortunate enough to have Tor’s body retrieved and returned to us. Dimitri never so much as saw any of his family members again.
But Dimitri’s momentary visit with the dark memories of his past fade almost the moment they arrive.
Returning to the present, to me, he steels himself. “If everyone refuses to join their ranks, more will die. We owe it to the families who remain to fight for them.”
His conviction can be so exhausting, especially considering I bear none of it. What I wouldn’t give to feel so fervently about something the way he does about his duty to our country. But that’s not me. My life is mine, not the Magistrate’s, not Arcathain’s, not my mother’s and father’s to pawn off their dreary professions, but mine.
I just haven’t figured out yet how to spend it, and the fact that he has, drives me mad.
“Not all of us have nothing left to lose!” I yell, cheeks heating. “I can’t just abandon my parents like Kalli did. They need me.”
“Then do what you think is right—” He scoffs, watching me with contempt. “And let me do the same.”
After turning his back to me, Dimitri leaves me in the emptying street and approaches the table with the sign-up. He nods to the Crusader standing there like they are the oldest of friends, picks up the quill, and I swear the winter wind howls its distress the moment he writes his name down in ink.
Only, the more the snow flurries around me, I realize, it’s not just the wind I’m hearing.
A muffled cry hollers from down the street, frantic and severe. It draws the attention each person in the square one at a time as it draws nearer, the harsh sound clambering its way up the road until I can finally make out a woman panting just ahead.
“Demon scourge! Demon scourge!” she yells, warning us all.
Everyone bristles. Nervous eyes dart to the shadows between the buildings. Mothers reach for their children and pull them into their skirts. It takes them longer than I am comfortable with, but even the Crusaders ready themselves for the worst, drawing their shadowsteel and sheltering the people nearby the best they can.
“Demon scourge!” the woman continues to cry, until one of the Crusaders catches her in his arms.
“Where?” he demands. “Where is the breach?”
The homely woman extends a shaking hand to the east, down the road from which she fled, and with a flood of icy fear washing over me, I realize that’s the same road Dimitri and I took to get here.
Trembling, the woman answers. “The Wallows.”
Forever Gone
The Wallows, Gravenburg, Arcathain
My heart pounds in time with the pumping of my footsteps as I race and slide back down the streets of this doomed, dreary town. The snowflakes are like glass against my skin; the wind in my face sharp enough to cut right through me. But I still run. I run like I never have before, like I have the lean muscle of a gazelle who’s only purpose was this moment.
My parents. I have to reach my parents.
Most of the streets have emptied, the denizens of the city having retreated inside upon hearing of the demons that are pouring out from the Shadowthorn. Not that any of the people here have anything to worry about yet. Demons never wander far from their home. They cross over only to feast before retreating back into the safety of the black forest where no human, aside from a Crusader, would dare chase them.
I shove aside the few people still left in the streets who are unfortunate enough to cross my path as I sprint all the way back to the Wallows.
“Halira!” I hear Dimitri shouting behind me. “Wait up!”
But there is no time for waiting. I push myself harder, the screams of my neighbors filling the narrow streets and urging me on as I bluster into our derelict neighborhood.
The sight of my community being ravaged is worse than anything I’ve ever imagined. Doors are splintered to pieces. Black, hulking masses pounce across the streets, their poisonous claws digging into every person they encounter. They rip my neighbors limb from limb, tear out their hearts and guts, strewing them across the street.
I only falter for a moment when I see the tanner’s daughter being cornered by one of the snarling demons. Its hunched back is just as mangled as the rest of it, but regardless of its knobby legs, or the way its neck looks twisted—broken, even—nothing seems to hinder the speed with which it strikes. Its jagged, black nails pierce through the girl’s stomach before I can think to do anything. A burst of red spews from her lips. Her eyes meet mine, a silent plea sputtering from her mouth and an image I will never be able to erase from my mind, but although I want to help her, I know it’s too late. The demon sinks its fangs into her shoulder as I turn my back to her and dash toward my home.
As our cottage comes into view, all I can see is darkness. It’s like the sun has disappeared just for me. But the closer I race, the more I realize that it’s not just darkness I’m looking at, but shadows. Demons prowl in every corner of this block, some bulging, some small, some with misshapen heads and bodies, and some still that look almost human in form. They are all too oblivious to notice me though as each of them are busy mauling one of the dozens of refugees who’d been seeking shelter on the streets. My heart aches for them. They escaped the horrors of Ashenvale or perhaps Beyrn, only to meet the same fate they had outrun here.
But now’s not the time to dwell. My ears burn for the familiar sounds of my parents’ voices, even though I’m not sure I’ll be able to distinguish their agonizing cries from the others. We lived a peaceful, mundane existence. I never knew what terror sounded like, what death smelled like, what true fear felt like.
Tor’s shadowsteel dagger feels useless in the sheath I always carry on my hip. What good would this small blade do when I am entering a hive of vicious killers? If I am spotted by any of them, it will mean my death.