Erador checked over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed him and Fedra into the forest. He led her to the one place he never wanted to return. She kept a good distance, searching her surroundings as if she were suspicious. He couldn’t blame her when he accused her of murder and led her into the middle of nowhere. It was the only place he thought he could find Gillian.

  A raven cawed in the trees as they came to the clearing of clovers. Fedra hugged her shivering body and stood at a distance. As he approached the opening, footsteps sounded in the trees and he turned around. He squinted for a good moment at the short figure in the distant trees and recognized Gillian from her pale face.

  Erador hesitated to rush over and yell at Gillian for abandoning them. His gaze searched the forest even as he approached. Fedra waited. He tried to raise his shoulders, to not look around so uneasily as if he was being watched, but Gillian might not have been innocent. Might not have been as much as victim as he tried to see.

  Gillian jumped as he approached. “Erador. What are you doing here?”

  He hoped to find food in her hands for the prisoner, to believe that she was only here to visit him, but she had nothing.

  He cocked his head. “Where have you been?”

  He moved closer to try and distinguish her expression in the darkening forest. Gillian stumbled over her words, and couldn’t come up with an excuse.

  Feet rustled in the forest at a fast pace toward them. Before Erador could react, a fist punched his face and he stumbled into a tree. A dark figure threw him down, lingered over him and drew back a fist. Erador shielded his face.

  “Stop!” Gillian snatched the figure’s arm. “Don’t hurt him.”

  The figure hesitated before he backed further into the darkness. Erador rose cautiously as he examined what appeared to be a slender man in black. His skin was lighter but features not distinguishable. As he moved back further, a sliver of light caught in his scarlet eyes that were like his father’s.

  “Who is this?” Erador said.

  Fedra moved to Erador. She uttered a whimper as she took a step back. “No… Gillian. How could you?”

  Erador studied what little he could see of the man other than the eyes, strands of dark hair covered parts of his forehead and thick eyebrows.

  Erador cursed as he put Fedra’s reaction and the description together. The followers’ accounts were right. The warrior of New Akthelia was in Lucrethia.

  “You’re working with New Akthelia?” Erador spat.

  “No! It’s not him.” Gillian moved toward the man. “Show them.”

  The man rolled up his sleeve and lifted his arm into the light. A glimmering tattoo of a raven with a sunflower behind its head was on his youthful skin. Erador gripped his chest as his lungs tightened and he couldn’t breathe.

  Fedra grabbed Erador’s arm and hid behind him. “What do we do?”

  Erador stayed despite wanting to run. He couldn’t call on Shade to help. He couldn’t ask his father to save him. His childhood nightmares of the Raven had come to fruition. He was out. Free. He would take his revenge.

  Erador couldn’t hide under his bed or flee to the Shadow Realm. He had to face it. He shifted his footing to stand firm. The Raven was only a man after all, a man that could only shift not regenerate, and he wasn’t as fearful as a lurker.

  “You need to leave,” Erador said. “Now!”

  “He’s not going to hurt you.” Gillian moved closer to the Raven.

  “Tell that to my face,” Erador said, pointing at the bruise on his lip. “Why did you let him out?”

  “I didn’t!”

  “And he’s Lorien.” Fedra gestured to the Raven. “Lorien of all people! You were trying to shift the blame to New Akthelia.”

  It was clever. The blame would be placed on New Akthelia and Lorien, not the Raven. It was a tactic he’d used in the past--his terrible acts were blamed by Judgment and Lucrethia.

  “That’s not true,” Gillian said. “I can explain.”

  “I’ll tell them.”

  The Raven stepped forward, startling Fedra back behind Erador whose heart jumped. His voice was young, but not too deep or light. Lacking a bit of confidence. Fitting for a teenager. The true Lorien wasn’t yet near middle-age but Erador couldn’t imagine he sounded weak. Erador didn’t let it falter his stance.

  “So long as you let us go,” The Raven finished, this time deeper and with a touch of threat.

  “I’m not promising anything,” Erador said.

  The Raven crossed his arms. “Fine. Gillian didn’t let me out. It was another woman. Not much smaller than Gillian, short brownish hair, with a yellow bow. I think you know who that is.”

  Erador tensed his jaw. “What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to kill Judgment for my freedom. I said no.”

  “Did she give a reason?”

  “She wanted revenge. Judgment killed her father,” The Raven scoffed. “So she claims.”

  Miraline’s parents were dead so she lived with her grandmother in a small village. Maybe she was trying to get close to Erador to get to his father. Everyone was skeptical when she had asked to become a follower. They hadn’t recruited any for decades. When Judgment heard her predicament, he agreed to let her stay. She’d been pleasant and hard working and was eager to learn about the religion. Miraline hated her father. Now, Erador wondered who she lying to about her past.

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  “You don’t think Judgment did it?” Erador said.

  The Raven shook his head. “He can’t kill anyone, but his Geisa could have to protect him.”

  It not only hurt Judgment if he committed horrible acts, it protected him from harm. That meant his father never killed anyone. No wonder it was such a burden for a man that was meant to invoke fear.

  “Miraline would still see it as his doing,” Fedra whispered. “But why would she kill us?”

  They were in the way. No…

  Erador stared at the Raven “He’s lying.”

  “No.” Gillian raised her hands. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You think it was all Miraline?” Erador said. “She had help.”

  “Then it was someone else,” Gillian said. “You already think Yuni’s involved.”

  “He has a prefect opportunity to get revenge on my father and he doesn’t take it? What was with all those messages in your cage?”

  “What messages?” the Raven asked.

  “Death to the Paradins and Judgment.” Erador laughed when he didn’t respond. “What? Did you lose your motivation after fifty years?”

  The Raven lowered his head. Erador wasn’t proud of his mockery when he thought about what Haven said and how they never asked his side of the story. He had been locked up for five decades.

  “I understand why you don’t believe us but he’s been helping me,” Gillian said. “We’re trying to get the princess’s blood.”

  Erador looked to Fedra unable to hold back a laugh. “You’re willing to help Judgment after what he did to you?”

  “It’s for Gillian,” The Raven said. “Then I’m gone.”

  Erador couldn’t believe it. He glimpsed at the dungeon through the trees and back at Gillian, remembering how she had no food for the prisoner.

  “What are you doing with the prisoner, Gillian?” he asked.

  Fedra moved out from behind Erador. “You told him?”

  Gillian lowered her head. “He found out.”

  “You’re not letting him free.” Erador moved closer to Gillian but stopped when the Raven advanced.

  “We are.” The Raven held out his hand. “Give us the key.”

  “No.”

  “That prisoner is going to inform Odinaty,” Fedra cried as she pointed at the dungeon. “You’re jeopardizing all of us while you get away again! You know some of us can’t leave so easily.”

  “I’m not trying to… I just…” Gillian looked to the Raven.

  Erador realized what was going on. Gillian never thought for herself. She always looked to others for answers, to guide her. From Judgment to Aminria and now their enemy. Lucrethia was falling. She was doing what was best for her.

  “You’ve hurt us enough.” Erador stepped forward. “This time, you’re not getting away.”

  The Raven pulled Gillian behind him. Erador stopped. The forest had darkened, he could hardly see him now. The Raven was about the same height but leaner. Erador wasn’t sure he could take him. He was the most feared Lucrethian, but those were just tales. Like with Judgment, the Raven had help, followers behind his name. He wasn’t as strong alone.

  Erador raised his fists. The Raven pulled out a small bottle of spirits from his pocket and undid the cap. He took out a twig and slipped it in the bottle, still holding onto the end. Erador snickered at his weapon of choice, but his mocking feelings faded when Fedra backed away and the Raven’s hand glowed reddish orange, igniting the end of the twig.

  The fire flickered on the Raven’s face. Erador didn’t get a good glimpse of his features before he threw the bottle on a rock and it shattered. Fire exploded. Erador’s eyes stung and were forced closed from the light.

  The Raven moved his hands, manipulating the fire and directing it toward Erador. He dodged as the heat from the flames brushed the side of his face. His heart felt like it jumped into his throat. As more flames were shot his way, he ran and they missed. Fedra was already ahead of him by several trees. He hid behind a trunk and held his breath.

  Footsteps approached. The light drew closer. Erador searched around. Fedra was gone. He didn’t expect her to help him. He inched his fingers around the bark until they touched the light. Shade awoke in a panic but Erador mentally told him to be calm. The shadow settled as Erador relayed his plans with a quick thought.

  Erador counted to three and sprinted into the light toward the neighboring tree where Shade waited. The Raven shot another blast, but the fire missed Erador as he dove, instead hitting Shade who absorbed it, smothering it to nothing.

  Erador scrambled behind a tree.

  “I can just make more,” the Raven said. “There’s plenty to burn.”

  One more time, Erador told Shade who was scared. He consoled him, trying to raise his confidence but it was hard to do that, to lie to the shadow when he was barely holding on.

  In the distance, Fedra and Gillian were wrestling in the clovers.

  He couldn’t just leave Fedra, but he wasn’t sure how to stop the Raven.

  Shadows flickered in the woods. Erador closed his eyes and listened to the footsteps that sounded closer now. Shade was gone. His heart raced as he gripped the bark. It went silent. He looked around. The shadows grew and moved rapidly as the sound of whipping fire closer. It swooped around the tree, and Erador barely dodged, heat brushing his head. He didn't run. He waited behind that tree, hoping the Raven wouldn't find him. Fire swooshed in the distance and Erador let out a relieving breath.

  “If you care about your father, then you’ll give up that key,” The Raven said.

  Erador pressed himself closer to the tree as footsteps approached. The Raven inched into view. Erador dove, tackling him to the ground. The fire dissipated into embers on the ground, it was too dim to see but a silhouette of the Raven. Erador drew back a fist and punched his the face. The Raven blocked another punch. Erador did it again, hitting his cheek and jaw.

  “This has nothing to do with Judgment,” Erador hit him again.

  The Raven spit blood. “It has everything to do with him! Judgment won’t be getting his hands on any blood, if Iviel’s not free.”

  Erador furrowed his brow. “You bargained with Odinaty?”

  He was unaware of the Raven coaxing the embers together with his other hand until they grew into a small fire. With one swipe, the Raven sent the flames up. Erador yelped and stumbled off as the fire kissed his cheek.

  Before Erador could regather himself, the Raven ran. It was quiet. His neck tingled as he felt a presence. Before he could turn, a knife was pressed to his throat.

  “Don’t you try anything!” A man spoke, his voice was scratchy as if it lacked moisture.

  “Who are—”

  “Shut up and move!”

  The man forced Erador to the clearing of clovers where Fedra and Gillian were. He smelled like earth and pond. Erador could tell he was small by how the knife was held up to his throat. The blade was too close, just a slip and it could cut him open.

  Fedra had pinned Gillian to the ground in the clovers. Horror marked her features when she saw the man and she stepped away from Gillian.

  The man pointed at Gillian. “Get the key from him and free my son!”

  Now, Erador knew who it was and was pissed at Gillian and the Raven. As she approached, he wanted to hit her, but the knife kept him doing so. Without meeting his gaze, she took the chain from his shirt and ripped it from his neck. She grabbed the lantern by the wall, lit it with a match, and went inside the dungeon. Erador shut his eyes, trying not to breathe to hard, afraid he would move closer to the blade.

  This was the end for Lucrethia. Odinaty would come. From Fedra’s distressed stare, she was thinking it too.

  “If Odinaty finds out what he's done, they’ll incarcerate him,” Erador said.

  Saldrine laughed. “My son has done nothing.”

  “He has,” Erador said. “He worked with us, to let us in to the castle.”

  Saldrine pushed the knife deeper, drawing warm blood that streaked down Erador’s neck.

  “Stop!” Fedra cried. “Just let him go.”

  “Shut up!”

  Footsteps echoed from the opening as light stretched on the walls. Iviel emerged with Gillian. His hair was gnatted and beard past his neck. He took in the scene with a heavy gaze, but didn't speak a word. Erador didn't expect him to care, especially when no one cared about Iviel. They had abandoned him in that dungeon and while Erador tried to make his situation better, it was like he had done nothing. He was part of their crime.

  Saldrine let go of Erador and backed away holding up the knife. He appeared as disheveled as his son with long wavy hair and a beard as if he had spent days searching for his son. He coaxed Iviel toward the trees. Gillian followed.

  “Don’t you follow us,” Saldrine said, shaking the knife before he disappeared with them.

  Fedra checked the area before approaching Erador. “How... are you?”

  Erador touched his neck, feeling the small amount of warm blood. It didn't phase him. He just stared at the blood on his fingers, even when Fedra tried to console him, to tell him that Lucrethia made it this far, that they were still here even after what New Akthelia had done. They just had to hide, to warn the others. His hands trembled at the thought of history repeating itself. Erador knew whose blood he wanted.