Erador rolled on his side to get comfortable on the ground, but his body was sweaty under the blanket. With a tired arm, he pushed it off and rubbed moisture from his forehead. He drifted back to sleep.

  A presence lingered near, startling him awake. He searched the small clearing in the woods, and relaxed when he found Dethil, poking a stick at the flaming logs. Aminria slept next to him. Erador pushed himself up on his elbows. Sweat drenched his body like it was a summer day, despite how moisture perspired from his lips without a ceiling of leaves to shelter them. He must’ve had a nightmare. Despite being able to understand Plum, his fears of lurkers hadn’t left him. He wasn’t sure she would accept him the next time he went to the realm.

  Erador got up from the snowy ground. He sat on the log next to Dethil. It had been a few months since his father died. They had traveled to smaller towns nearby but never stayed long. Erador lifted his sleeve and touched the green moth; one of the few things left of his father’s legacy.

  Erador wasn’t sure how to take it. He felt numb, and the cold that made him shiver didn’t help him process his emotions. Shade also felt it, as he was still, even with the blazing fire. Erador was afraid Haven’s life had already been taken, but he wished she was free and back with her people. He couldn’t save her from that kingdom. It was too hard for him to accept that she could be gone.

  Dethil laid his head on Erador’s shoulder and shut his eyes. What Judgment told him about Medina stayed with him. She was honest to Erador but he didn’t want to see her. He was tired of secrets, tired of hearing about his father, and seeing people who reminded Erador of him. Erador thought getting away from the manor would clear his head and help him decide what to do, but it wasn’t helping, not when his anger for Hawth and Taurin were strong.

  Erador got up, startling Dethil awake.

  “What are you doing?” he mumbled.

  Erador stared into the flame. “I should talk to Medina.”

  Dethil rubbed his eyes. “That witch?”

  Erador nodded. “My father told me I should go to her.”

  “What good will it do?”

  Erador had constant anxiety that if he returned to Lucrethia, he would find everyone dead. Maybe seeing Medina could answer more of his questions, but he still doubted she could help his situation. As he rubbed his shivering body, for once he wished he could be in her sweltering cottage out of the cold.

  “I want Hawth to pay,” Erador said, clenching a fist on his leg. “Taurin too. I can’t run away.”

  Dethil pulled his legs to his chest. “That won’t bring them back.”

  “I know that,” Erador snapped, but his eyesbrows drew in when Dethil flinched at his raised voice. “I’m sorry.” He sighed and faced the trees. “I don’t think Hawth is gone and Taurin… he has other motives.”

  As much as his father wasn’t the most ethical leader, Taurin would be worse. He would allow public torture and other forms of punishment to get his followers to cooperate.

  “He had no problem killing. The Para…” Erador paused, realizing that word had no meaning twenty years ago. They weren’t soldiers anymore, only guards and caregivers, but now what were they? “He will murder every one in Lucrethia who won’t follow him.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Dethil’s eyes widened as he got up. “We should go back.”

  Crunching footfalls, raised the hairs on Erador’s neck and slowed his breathing as he turned toward the dark forest where a silhouette lingered. Dethil shook Aminria awake. In a panic, Shade zipped around, but couldn’t identify the presence. A man stepped just close enough that light only reached to his bare stomach. On his light forearm was a raven tattoo. Seeing him a second time didn’t make Erador trust him anymore.

  “What do you want?” Dethil said a lot firmer than Erador thought he would.

  “Where’s Judgment?” the Raven said. “I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s dead,” Erador said.

  The Raven shifted back a step. “Dead?”

  Erador wasn’t sure how to take his response. He hated to admit how he related to the Raven feeling lost at the idea of Judgment’s death.

  “Where is he?” The Raven said.

  “He was…” Erador looked to Dethil. “Thrown in the pit.”

  “Can you take me to him?”

  Erador blinked in confusion. He said it as if this was a casual visit with a relative. After fifty years in a dungeon, Erador wasn’t sure if the Raven was stable. It didn't matter if he felt a little sorry for him before. He appeared more than capable of harming them.

  “Go yourself,” Dethil said. “You know where it is.”

  The Raven didn’t move. “Haven’t you felt him?”

  Erador’s blood went cold. The last several nights, he woke hot and drenched in sweat. He thought he had a fever, but he hadn’t been sick in months. It reminded him of what Haven told him about the demon. Was Judgment’s geisa watching him?

  “No,” Erador said.

  “I have,” the Raven went to take a step but Dethil flicked flames in the air from the campfire, warning him to stay back. “He’s not dead.”

  Erador furrowed his brow. “Yes, he is.”

  “He’s trying to tell us he’s alive.”

  “Alive?” Aminria said, shifting closer to Erador. “He can’t be after all this time.”

  “This is bullshit!" Dethil swung his arm. “Get out of here!”

  “He’s waiting to be saved,” the Raven said.

  Erador gave a mocking laugh. “You want him saved after what he did to you?”

  The Raven rubbed his hands. “I need his help.”

  Aminria took a step toward him. “Why? What is happening?”

  “Why do you care?” Dethil said.

  “He’s been out of that cage for months,” Aminria snapped. “Something happened.”

  “He’s not mentally well,” Erador said. “Judgment couldn’t help him, even if he were alive.”

  Aminria crossed her arms. “It’s not like you would know his mental state.”

  “And you do?”

  “Stop it,” Dethil said. “The Raven. Is. Here.”

  Erador sighed. “Find Judgment yourself. Maybe you can give him a better burial than he deserved.”

  After a moment, the Raven backed into the shadows. Erador stood on guard with Dethil even as his footsteps faded. Erador didn’t need to be bothered about his father. How could he move on? He sat on the log and reached his cold tingling hands toward the fire. As the sensation returned, warmth seemed to spread through him, bubbling into anxiousness that he couldn’t process. He realized why Judgment wasn’t scared at the pit, and how he said he’ll only accept death if he does what he must. He wasn't going to die. His geisa was keeping him alive like it had the last twenty years.