"Whoa! hold on!"
Sizzle jumped up, grabbing his shoulders. "Hold on! You're safe! You're in the camp!"
Norvin thrashed, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated. He didn't see the tent. He saw the forest. He saw the mud. He saw the dust of the man he loved.
"Remus!" Norvin howled, his voice raw and gravelly. "Where is he? Where is he?!"
He tried to swing his legs off the bed, but his body screamed in protest. The pain hit him like a hammer—a dull, throbbing ache in his chest, his back, his legs. He gasped, clutching his side, curling in on himself.
"Stop moving!" Sizzle commanded, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. She pushed him back down. "You have three broken ribs that just set. If you move, you'll puncture a lung again."
Norvin froze. He took jagged, shallow breaths.
He looked around. The canvas walls. The smell of medicine. The Serpent banner hanging in the corner.
'The Camp.'
He was back. He was back in hell.
Slowly, the reality of it sank in. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a cold, hollow crater in his soul.
Remus was dead.
The realization didn't make him cry. He had cried in the mud. He had cried in the sky. He had cried until there was no water left in his body.
Now, there was only silence.
Norvin looked at his hands. They were clean. Someone had washed the mud and blood off them.
"Where..." Norvin whispered, his voice sounding dead. "Where is the Old Man?"
Sizzle hesitated. She pulled her hands back, wringing them nervously. She knew who he meant. Everyone knew about the odd friendship between the slave and the Ice Cipher.
"Norvin..." she said softly. "You were found alone. At the edge of the marsh."
"Alone," Norvin repeated.
"Yes. The scouts... they didn't find anyone else."
Norvin closed his eyes.
'Dust', he thought. 'He turned into dust. There was nothing left to find.'
A darkness began to uncoil in Norvin's chest. It wasn't the hot, panic-filled fear he used to feel. It was something heavier. Something colder. It felt like the ice Remus had used, but sharp and jagged.
He thought of Cahir. The Titan who laughed as he killed. He thought of Dion. The traitor who whistled as he attacked. He thought of Thane. The man who sent him there.
"Are you in pain?" Sizzle asked gently. She reached for a cup of water. "Here. Drink."
Norvin opened his eyes. They were different.
Before, Norvin's eyes had been fearful, pleading, always looking for an escape. Now, they were flat. The light in them had been extinguished, replaced by a dull, matte finish that reflected nothing.
He slapped the cup away.
Clatter.
Water spilled across the stone floor.
Sizzle flinched, stepping back. "I... I was just trying to help."
"I don't want your water," Norvin said. His voice was steady. Terrifyingly steady.
Sizzle blinked. "Norvin, you can barely stand. You—"
"Where is Thane?" Norvin interrupted. 'He didn't ask Captain Thane. He didn't say Sir. He just said the name.'
"He... he asked to be informed when you woke up," Sizzle said, feeling a sudden chill. This wasn't the same boy she had seen running errands around the camp. This was something else.
"Get him," Norvin said. He lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Tell him, I am awake."
Ten minutes later, the tent flap opened again.
Thane entered alone this time. He had left Varic outside. He wanted to see the boy without an audience.
Thane pulled a chair over to the bedside. He sat down, crossing his legs, he studied Norvin.
Norvin stared back.
For the first time since they had met, Norvin didn't look away. He didn't tremble. He didn't shrink into the mattress. He met the Captain's gaze with a dead-eyed stare that would have unsettled a lesser man.
"You look terrible," Thane said conversationally.
"I feel terrible," Norvin replied.
Thane raised an eyebrow. The lack of 'Sir' was noted, but he didn't correct it. Not yet.
"Sizzle tells me you accessed Numen," Thane said. "She says you fought with the strength of a beast."
"I fought like a rat in a corner," Norvin corrected.
"And Remus?" Thane asked. "What became of our dear friend?"
Norvin's hand clenched under the sheet. He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, drawing blood. He wanted to scream. He wanted to leap across the gap and tear Thane's throat out with his teeth. He wanted to tell him that Remus was worth ten of him.
If he attacked Thane now, he died. If he died, Remus's sacrifice meant nothing.
"He's dead," Norvin said flatly.
"A pity," Thane said, though his tone suggested it was anything but. "How?"
"Cahir and Dion"
"And you?" Thane leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "How did a slave escape a Titan Anchor that killed a Fragment Cipher?"
"Remus distracted him," Norvin said.
Thane sat back, evaluating the story. It made sense. Remus was sentimental; he would die for a stray dog if he thought it was noble. And Norvin... Norvin was a survivor.
"Good," Thane said.
Norvin looked at him. "Good?"
"Remus was a crutch," Thane said coldly. "He protected you from the harshness of the world."
Thane stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. He leaned down, his face inches from Norvin's.
"But the world is harsh, Norvin. The world is cruel. You cannot survive it, even if you used a mountain as a shield. You can only survive it if you become a double-edged sword... one that holds the strength to cut down enemies."
Thane tapped Norvin's chest, right over his broken ribs. Norvin winced but didn't make a sound.
"Now the shield is gone," Thane whispered. "Now, you have nothing. No father. No mother. No Remus. You are empty."
Thane smiled. It was a terrifying, genuine smile.
"And an empty vessel is perfect. Because now, we can fill you with something useful."
"Hate," Norvin said.
Thane paused. He looked into Norvin's eyes and saw the abyss staring back. He saw the rage curling there, hot and pressurized.
"Yes," Thane agreed. "Hate. Ambition. Power."
Thane straightened up. "Rest, Norvin. Heal. Eat the food Sizzle brings you. Regain your strength."
He walked to the exit of the tent. Before he left, he turned back.
"Because soon, we march on the capital. And I will need a weapon, a weapon to destroy the world and build it up again."
Thane left.
Norvin was alone again. "A weapon to destroy the world and build it up again?" He murmured trying to make sense of Thane's words.
He lay in the silence. The pain in his body was a dull roar, but the pain in his heart was silent and absolute.
"I will not forget", Norvin swore to the darkness.
He closed his eyes, and a single tear escaped, hot and angry.
"I will get strong. And one day..."
"One day, I will kill them all."
The boy who wanted to eat ice cream died in the forest. The thing that lay in the bed was something new. Something forged in loss and tempered in hatred.
Norvin rolled over, facing the wall. He didn't sleep. He just waited.
The oil lamp on the desk flickered. Thane sat behind his desk, his fingers steeple against his lips. He wasn't reading the maps spread out before him. He was staring through them, his mind engaged on a different matter, one that only concerns him.
The tent flap rustled.
Mat stepped inside, clutching a leather folio. He looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of a man who hadn't slept, a man grieving the loss of a friend while trying to maintain the rigidity of a soldier.
Thane didn't move. He didn't blink. He was so deep in his mental labyrinth that Mat stood there for a full minute, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Lord Captain?" Mat finally whispered.
Thane's eyes snapped into focus. He lowered his hands slowly, turning his gaze toward his second-in-command.
"Mat," Thane said, his voice level. "You are here."
"The report, sir," Mat said, stepping forward and placing the folio on the desk. "The official account of Norvin's recovery. The autopsy of the battlefield. The testimony of the scouts."
"Go ahead," Thane commanded, leaning back in his chair.
Mat cleared his throat and spoke everything that Norvin had told him. "….and with that we confirms most of what we suspected."
Mat paused, his voice trembling slightly. "There were no other awen signatures found near the boy."
Thane's eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter. "Is that so?"
"Yes, Captain. The boy claims he ran. He claims Remus bought him time. It aligns with the physical evidence."
Thane remained silent for a long time. He drummed his fingers on the wooden armrest. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Leave it," Thane said softly. "Go, Mat."
Mat nodded, relieved to be dismissed. "Yes, sir."
Mat turned and left. The heavy canvas flap fell shut, sealing the Captain in his solitude once more.
Thane stood up. He walked to the map of the Obsidian Tower.
'No other magical signatures.'
Thane picked up a silver letter opener, toying with the blade.
'Liar.'
Thane knew something Mat didn't. He knew about the Red Ghost. He knew that the entity locked in the lowest floor of the Obsidian prison had taken an interest in the boy.
If Remus was dead, and the boy was cornered by a Titan, Norvin should be dead. Unless the Red Ghost intervened.
Thane replayed the conversation he'd had with Norvin earlier. The boy had spoken of Remus. He had spoken of Cahir. He had spoken of running.
But he had not whispered a single word about Her.
Thane walked back to his desk and stared at the empty chair.
'Why did you hide her, boy?'
Thane considered the possibilities.
'Perhaps the Red Ghost hadn't helped him? Unlikely. The boy was sent for her. Perhaps Norvin didn't know it was her? Impossible. The boy was perceptive.'
'No. The answer was far more interesting.'
'Norvin had chosen to omit her from his story.'
Thane smiled, a cold, sharp expression in the dim light.
If Norvin had told Thane about the Red Ghost, it would have been the act of a subordinate reporting to a superior. It would have been a plea for help. "Captain, a monster saved me."
But by hiding her, Norvin was hoarding information. He was protecting an asset. He was keeping a card up his sleeve.
"He is maturing," Thane whispered to the empty room.
Thane had been worried. If the Red Ghost's existence became public knowledge, if the High Command found out he was trying to help a prisoner, a traitor of the Roric Kingdom, Thane would have death warrant on his head for treason. He needed to keep her a secret.
And if the others, Mat or Varic got to knew about her, he would have come up with a good enough explanation why Mat and Varic had suddenly disappeared. Of course, he would kill them to keep it hidden, but he would also need to answer about the subordinates disappearing under his nose to the Royal Court of Roric Kingdom.
And unknowingly—or perhaps knowingly—the boy was keeping that secret for him.
Thane picked up the report Mat had left and dropped it into the trash without opening it.
"Very good, Norvin," Thane murmured. "You are learning that truth is just another blade. You keep it sheathed until you need to cut someone."
In Thane's mind, the image of the trembling slave boy vanished. It was replaced by something larger. A silhouette of a young wolf, learning to hunt in the dark.
The night was cold, the kind of biting chill that seeped through bandages and settled in the marrow.
Norvin sat by the campfire near the edge of the Serpent encampment. This was their spot. The log where Remus would sit, eating bread and meat, talking about various things while Norvin would isten.
Now, the log was empty.
Norvin stared into the flames. The fire popped and hissed, consuming the wood.
'Burn*',* Norvin thought. 'Everything burns.'
He wasn't crying. The tears had dried up in the forest. His face was a mask of bandages and bruises, but his eyes were clear. They reflected the fire, not with fear, but with a strange, dull dominance. It looked as if he wanted to reach into the pit and strangle the flames.
"Norvin."
The voice was heavy, authoritative, but laced with an awkward attempt at gentleness.
Norvin didn't turn. He knew the heavy tread of those boots.
Chief Varic stepped into the firelight. The big man looked uncomfortable. He was a warrior, used to shouting orders and cleaving skulls. Comforting a traumatized child was not in his skillset.
Varic sat on a stone opposite Norvin. He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the fire.
"You did well," Varic grunted. "Surviving that... it's no small feat. Most Knights would have died of fright before the Titan even swung his fist."
Norvin said nothing. He picked up a twig and snapped it in half.
Varic cleared his throat. "The Captain is pleased. In his own way. And... look, about Remus. He knew the risks. He was a soldier. Soldiers die."
Varic looked at the boy, trying to gauge a reaction. "We handle the rest now. The case of the Bronze Falchion, the demon Astarey, the Wanderers... the Serpents will handle it. You don't need to carry this weight. You've contributed enough. You should... move on. Find a way to live."
"Move on," Norvin repeated. His voice was raspy, like dry leaves skittering on pavement.
"Yes. You're young. You're strong." Varic stood up, patting Norvin awkwardly on the shoulder. "Rest up."
Varic lingered for a second, then turned and walked back toward the command tents.
Norvin watched him go.
'The Serpent's Maw will handle it.'
A bitter laugh bubbled in Norvin's throat, but it died before it reached his lips.
Varic spoke as if Norvin was one of them. As if they were a family.
'Lies.'
Norvin looked at his own hands. They were wrapped in Serpent bandages. He wore Serpent clothes. He ate Serpent food.
But he was not a Serpent.
'I am a slave', Norvin thought, the realization settling over him like a shroud.
He looked at the banner flapping in the night wind. The Coiled Snake of the Roric Kingdom.
'I don't belong to Roric.'
"If the river had washed me North, the Bronze Falchion would have enslaved me. Or killed me."
The truth was a cold knife in his gut. He was stateless. He was a human being with no tribe, no nation, no rights.
To Thane, he was a weapon. A sword doesn't have a nationality; it belongs to the hand that holds it. To the world, he was an insect. To Remus...
Norvin clutched his chest. Remus was the only one who had looked at him and seen a person. And because of that, Remus was dust.
'The Serpents let him go', Norvin realized. 'Thane knew. Varic knew. They knew Remus was going to his death to save me, and they let him. Because to them, trading a broken mage for a potential weapon was a calculation.'
Norvin threw the broken twig into the fire.
He didn't answer Varic because there was nothing to say. 'You don't talk to your owners about your feelings. You don't look for comfort in the hand that holds the leash.'
"I am alone", Norvin told the fire. "And that is good. Attachments are weaknesses. I will not be weak again. I will get stronger , I am not a slave anymore."
"First, I balance the ledger. I kill the bastards. Then... I vanish. I'll go where the mud doesn't stain. I'll earn gold, I'll build a life, just like my grandfather said. But I won't get soft. I will train. I will sharpen myself until I am not just a survivor, but a calamity. I will become a disaster they cannot afford. Only then, I will honour my family."
The Obsidian Tower stood like a black needle piercing the night sky. It was a fortress of nightmares, and tonight, the atmosphere inside was electric with tension.
On the upper floors, far above the damp dungeons, the decor changed from stone to plush velvet and dark wood.
Two men walked down the hallway.
These men were not ordinary guards. They wore the insignia of the Bronze Falchion, but their armour was distinct—sleek, blackened chrome with copper trimmings.
"Sir Corell, Sir Kine," a nervous Knight stammered, running to keep up with them. "Chief Riven is in his office. But please, understand... the damage..."
"We have eyes, Lieutenant Gareth," the man on the left, Sir Corell, drawled. He was lean, with pale skin and a smile that looked like it had been cut into his face with a razor. He gestured lazily at the scorched walls and the shattered windows. "It looks like a storm passed through indoors. Quite dramatic."
The man on the right, Sir Kine, said nothing. He was a mountain of a man, broader than Cahir, with a shaved head and eyes like flint. He radiated a heavy, suffocating pressure.
They reached the double doors of the Chief's office. Kine didn't knock. He simply pushed the doors open with one hand, snapping the lock.
Inside, Chief Riven—the Warden of the Obsidian Tower—was pacing. Dion with the rapier, was leaning against a wall, nursing a bandaged arm.
Riven spun around. "Who dares—"
He stopped when he saw the copper trim. His face paled.
"Sir Corell. Sir Kine." Riven swallowed. "The Primes."
These were the elites. The direct enforcers of the Bronze Falchion's Captain. If they were here, the situation was critical.
"Riven," Corell said, stepping over a pile of debris on the rug. "It's a disgrace, really. A single man? A single broken Cipher and a slave boy? And look at this place. It looks like a brothel after a riot."
"He's dead, isn't he? We killed him." Dion snapped, pushing off the wall.
"You didn't kill him," Kine's deep voice rumbled. It silenced the room. "He killed himself. You just provided the target practice."
Kine walked to the window, looking out at the dark Marsh Forest. "And the boy escaped. And Cahir? Dion couldn't even hold him back. The Captain is not pleased."
"We know where they are!" Riven interjected quickly, trying to save face. "We have tracked the Wanderers. We know their location. We are preparing a counter-offensive."
"The Wanderers," Corell laughed, a high, musical sound that lacked any mirth. "At least you managed one thing right. You found the Wind-Walker."
"How will you explain the tower's state to the Captain?" Kine asked.
"We won't," Dion said, turning back.
"We will bring him the enemy's head," Riven insisted, sweating now. "We will crush them."
Corell chuckled, shaking his head. He walked over to Riven's desk and picked up a report, tossing it back down dismissively.
"Oh, Riven. You are always so step behind."
"What do you mean?" Riven asked. "When do we attack?"
"That won't be needed," Kine said.
Dion frowned. "Why?"
Corell and Kine looked at each other. A synchronized, predatory grin appeared on both their faces.
"Because," Riven stammered, "if we don't attack..."
"They are coming here," Kine said.
Corell walked to the window, standing beside Kine. He pointed into the darkness, toward the distant tree line where shadows were moving—shadows that didn't look like trees.
"We don't need to go hunting, gentlemen," Corell whispered, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. "The prey is delivering itself to the dinner table. As we speak."
####
The camp was quieting down, but the smell of stew still lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of wet ale and pine.
Norvin hadn't moved from the fire. He sat like a stone gargoyle, his bandages stark white against the gloom. A wooden bowl of stew sat on the log next to him, cold and untouched.
Sizzle stood over him, her hands on her hips. She looked exhausted, her medic uniform stained with sweat and old blood, but her face was set in a frown of concern.
"Norvin," she said softly.
Norvin didn't look at the food. He looked at the flames, watching them dance.
"Ms. Sizzle," he whispered, his voice raspy. "What is a Broken Vessel?"
Sizzle froze. She pulled her hands back, her expression tightening. "Where did you hear that term?"
"Zephyr and Cahir called old man Remus that," Norvin said. He looked up, his eyes hollow. "And in the forest... Remus didn't just die. He shattered. He turned into ice and then he turned into dust. Why? Why didn't he leave a body?"
Sizzle sighed, a long, shaky exhale. She sat down on the log opposite him, pulling her knees to her chest. She looked at the fire, as if afraid to look at the boy.
"It's the price of the path he walked," she said quietly. "To use Awen—the magical energy of this world—you need a container. A vessel."
She tapped her own plump chest.
"When we are children, those of us with potential... we are put through hell. They starve us, beat us, push us to the brink of death. It's not cruelty for the sake of cruelty. It's to stretch the soul. To carve out a hollow space inside us where Awen can live."
She looked at her hands, generating faint wisps of vapour.
"That is why people choose the Cipher path. It offers immense power. You store the energy inside you. You become capable of using spells."
She picked up a twig and tossed it into the fire.
"But the vessel can run dry if not given time to replenish."
Norvin watched the twig burn. "Remus ran dry?"
"Worse," Sizzle whispered. "If you use all your Awen, down to the absolute zero... the vessel cracks. It breaks. It can never be filled again. It becomes a leaking cup. That is a Broken Vessel."
She looked at Norvin, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"But Remus...When a Broken Vessel keeps fighting, when they are no longer favoured by Awen and hence run dry completely, they make a choice. They start burning their Life Force."
Norvin felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. "Life Force?"
"It's the fuel of your existence. Your blood, your flesh, your memories. When you burn that... the Awen takes over completely. It takes back from the person instead of giving. The element consumes the human."
Sizzle continued. "Remus had an affinity for Ice. So, as he burned his life away, the ice replaced his blood, his skin. It replaced his heart. He became a mindless elemental. A monster made of frost."
"He wasn't a monster," Norvin snapped, defensive.
"No," Sizzle corrected herself gently. "He wasn't. But he wasn't human anymore, Norvin. He sacrificed his humanity to buy you time."
Silence stretched between them. Norvin stared at his hands. 'He erased himself.'
"This is also one of the reasons most recruits choose to walk the path of the Nexus or the Anchor, rather than the Cipher. The risk is simply too high. Not everyone has the potential to become a Phantom Cipher; most just break before they ever get close."
"I was lucky," Sizzle murmured, almost to herself. She rubbed her arms. "I went through the training too. "
She let out a bitter, wet laugh.
"I knew I wasn't meant to be a Knight. I didn't have the killer instinct. When my affinity manifested as a healing nature, my Vapours... I was so relieved. It meant I could heal. It meant I could stay in the back. I didn't have to go the battlefield and fight."
She looked at Norvin with profound pity.
"Remus was a great Cipher. But he was a Broken Vessel for a long time. He lived on the edge of that cliff every day. And for you... he finally jumped."
Norvin didn't say anything. The weight of the sacrifice was crushing him.
Sizzle wiped her eyes and stood up, regaining her composure. She pointed at the bowl.
"Eat," she said.
Norvin didn't look up. "I'm not hungry."
"You are a child," Sizzle snapped, her voice cracking slightly. "You are half my age. Your body is stitching itself together with my spell and your hope. You need fuel. If you don't eat, the bones won't harden."
"Thank you, Ms. Sizzle," Norvin said, his voice polite but distant. The vulnerability from a moment ago was gone, replaced by a cold wall. "You don't need to do anything more for me. I will take care of my own. I have matters to settle. I need to train."
Sizzle stared at him, incredulous. "Train? Did you hear a word I said? You are in no position to train. You need rest."
She took a step closer, desperate to make him understand. "Look, Norvin. I'm a Medic. You are my patient. That makes you my responsibility. Direct orders from the Captain. I can't disobey him, and neither can you."
Norvin finally looked up.
His eyes stopped her cold.
"Your Captain," Norvin said slowly. "I don't take orders from anyone anymore."
"Norvin, don't be stupid—"
"I am free," Norvin stated.
It was a lie, a delusion, and a promise all wrapped into one.
"I listen to myself only."
Sizzle opened her mouth to argue. But something in his expression made the words die in her throat.
"Fine," she whispered. She placed a fresh bowl of soup on the log next to the cold stew. "Starve if you want."
She turned and walked away.
Norvin stared back at the fire.