Writing Project: "The Osera Saga" (Patreon)

Index | Wizard Tournament Sequel (nonspoiler version) | Getting a Head | Outmatched | Moonfall 

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          **Here is the next proposal for my next writing project, and it is by far the most ambitious. The story I have planned for this will span a minimum of five novels (and knowing me, they will be rather long). If I start on this project I expect it will take a number of years before I'd be able to move onto something new. This story will have a rotating cast of three main characters (one of which will be the central focus of the saga's complete arc). It will be a High Fantasy/Epic with plenty of Action, Adventure, and Suspense sprinkled in throughout. Some of the rural areas of the world feel more like a Western, while the larger cities should have some Steam Punk vibes.

          **I have spent by far the most time developing the story and background for this world compared to other projects. I have already written well over 100,000 words in historical documentation, plot outlines and world building. The main magic system centers around an "evil" power that seeks to corrupt those that use it, though there are others. There are actually four primary magic systems in this world that follow different rules, are passed on differently, and come from different sources. Believe it or not, I have also designed a complete (and working!) constructed language for one of the races of people in this world (I did it as part of a final project for a Linguistics class at university... yes, I have had this story bumbling around in my mind for almost a decade now)

          **The reason I chose to start writing Wizard Tournament instead of The Osera Saga was because I was frankly intimidated by it and felt I did not yet have the requisite skill to do the story justice. I am still not sure if I do, but if it gathers the most votes I will try my best.

          **I have prepared below a short story, End of the Road, which is set in this world. I have shared this story with some people before (though I don't believe anyone's seen this version, with more polishing). End of the Road is not from the main plot; it only gives background on one of the more minor supporting characters as well as one of the three perspective characters from the main plot. The events that play out below happen about a decade before the start of Chapter One and though they don't spoil anything major, they don't become relevant to the plot until very far into the story. Before I share it, I will give the pitch for the series and show you a basic cover I will use for the first book until I hire a professional to do something better.

          Welcome to the magical world of Osera where two superpowers are stuck in a cold war. To the North the nation of Wingardian is ruled over by an immortal emperor and to the South a handful of smaller nations have banded together to form the Malcendian Republic. Only an empty desert and an inhospitable mountain range keep them apart but skirmishes still happen; it is only a matter of time before open conflict breaks out.

          Three people are living separate lives in a bustling border town between the two superpowers. Vel is working odd jobs and trying to move out of the slums while keeping the local gangs from sinking their hooks into him. Something easier said than done. Triss is moving on from her adolescent fling with Vel and ready to enlist in Wingardia's most elite cavalry unit to finally make her father proud. Meanwhile, Talon has just landed in the same city working for an independent religious order that tracks down magical criminals on both sides of the border. She learns of an order of elite assassins known as the Black Valkiries rumored to be based out of the city, but is warned against trying to investigate them as anyone that has done so before ends up dead.

          Each of these three is after something different, but how will they manage as tensions between the two nations heighten?

          Book one will be titled Shadow of the Valkyries and I threw together a basic cover for it, which you will find below.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now onto the short story:

End of the Road

          Boden entered the small town of Broadleaf at a lazy canter: slumped in his saddle like a sad sack of suet. A second horse trailed behind his chestnut mare. It was empty. Like all members of his order, he wore brightly polished and gilded armor, but beneath that armor was a man that could easily be mistaken for a brigand. His short-cropped copper hair was a greasy mess, his clothes were disheveled and he sported the tangled beard of someone who hadn’t bothered with hygiene in many days.

          An old farmer passed him by, pushing a cart of turnips. When the man glanced up, his eyes darted to the emblem Boden still wore on his chest. He took his hat off and swept the hair out of his eyes so Boden could see them clearly.

          “Seeker, sir,” he said by way of greeting.

          Boden nodded politely and continued on his way. He didn’t actually care about the man’s eyes but he made sure to look at them because he knew it would be expected of him. The townsfolk he passed each made a similar gesture before scattering—each giving him a good look at their eyes as he passed. Boden was used to their fearful reactions, knowing that a Seeker’s presence in a quiet town like this one was often punctuated with violence despite the best of intentions.

          The eyes of each townsfolk he examined had the same muted browns or blues of a non-Channeler, so he let them be. One young man, though, instead ran off rather than present himself. Boden didn’t stop him. His last partner would have insisted they report suspicious activity like that to the local sheriff, but without her around to pressure him he didn’t bother anymore. Seekers were only meant to go after a very specific kind of crime—the type of crime that had brought him calling to Broadleaf today—magical crime.

          When he reached the local sheriff’s station, Boden didn’t get down from his horse right away. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. When he finally pulled himself from his saddle he managed to make the effort look monumental. He took a minute to stretch before tying up both horses and trudging inside to talk with the town sheriff.

          Inside a slightly pudgy man with curly black hair that was just starting to show speckles of grey around the ears was sitting behind a desk. Leaning against the wall behind him was a dusty sword and a well-worn crossbow. He was busy writing and had one hand resting on a sleeping tabby cat when Boden came in. He heard Boden’s boots but didn’t look up from his writing right away. “A minute,” he said in an annoyed tone.

          Boden was somewhat amused at the response, but waited patiently. After another minute of quiet scribbling—and purring on the part of the cat—his amusement somewhat waned and he loudly cleared his throat.

          Sheriff James set his quill down loudly and gave a sigh. “What do you—Bo, what a delightful surprise! Why didn’t you say anything?”

          “You seemed busy.”

          The sheriff stood up and walked around his desk, reaching out one hand to shake while using the other to absentmindedly brush cat hair off his uniform. “I wasn’t expecting you until next week!” They shook hands, and then the sheriff looked around Boden’s shoulder as if he was expecting someone else. “Where’s Elaine?” he asked.

          Boden froze for a moment, doing his best to hide the gut-punch of surprise he felt at hearing that name. On their last visit to Broadleaf—when Elaine had been alive—she and Boden had been welcomed with open arms. Boden had only been too happy to step back and let Elaine chatter with the aging sheriff like he was family, admiring—as he always did—how effortlessly she dominated conversations.

          “If she’s been reassigned or something…” Sheriff James continued before trailing off. He saw the awkward expression on Boden’s face. “You okay?” he asked.

          Boden didn’t know what to say. She’d really liked Broadleaf’s sheriff. “I’m fine,” he told the man. “Elaine’s… she didn’t come. She’s been reassigned.”

          “Huh!” James harrumphed. “Not so much as a letter! I thought she was more considerate than that. Did she get a promotion or something then?” This time it felt too much like he was digging himself a hole. Rather than answer, Boden opted to not respond to the question, instead letting a silence build between them until the pressure of it forced a change of topic. “Right well,” James continued, “Seeker business. I get it. Are you going to be able to handle this case on your own?”

          “Depends what you’ve got.”

          James turned back to his desk and lifted a very indignant cat up to get at a folder it was sleeping on. The cat gave a meow of protest. “Oh hush, you,” James said. “New Channeler’s moved into town,” he explained, handing over the file. “He made it clear he’s not interested in doing anything I say, so I’ve given up trying.”

          Boden took the folder, briefly noting its warmth, and opened it to scan the report inside:

Garvin Plodsdale.

Gohr channeler.

Wanted for extortion, theft, assault… the list went on.

          Men like this did whatever they wanted; they thought a little magic made them above the law. Gohr Channelers could manipulate physical forces and were too much for a simple sheriff to control. The file included a sketch of the man’s face, and Boden took note of the crooked nose.

          “He’s been harassing us for weeks,” James explained while Boden read, “and he’s even built up a crew.”

          “The picture’s a nice touch,” Boden commented. “We don’t usually get those.”

          James gave a slight smirk. “My daughter’s handiwork,” he explained. “You know her late husband…” He halted what Boden assumed had been a match-making speech and gave Boden a critical eye, pausing meaningfully at his scruffy beard and mud-caked boots. “You don’t look so great,” he said. He sniffed the air. “Or smell so great.”

          “Fresh from the road is all,” Boden insisted, pulling some fingers through his beard.

          “Right.”

          In the awkward silence that followed Boden looked back at the file. “Gohr’s pretty common,” he told the sheriff. “As far as Channelers go, anyway.” He patted the pouch with his Zuhl crystals to make sure they were still in easy reach. “Fought his type before,” he explained.

          Boden turned to leave, but the sheriff tugged the hem of his sleeve. “Hey, while you’re in town, do you think you could take care of the Lanker girl? I know your letter said she wasn’t ready last season, but hers eyes changed color a few months back.”

          “They did? What color?”

          “Green,” James said, “brightest green I’ve ever seen.”

          “Why didn’t you tell me you had a Vohr Channeler!” Boden snapped. Something approaching real passion found its way into his voice.

          The sheriff scoffed. “It’s just healing magic, I didn’t think…” At Boden’s intense stare his excuse died in his throat. “Well you’re here now.”

          It showed how little the sheriff understood channeling that he thought a healer wasn’t dangerous. Vohr Channelers had the power to manipulate life energy, and could kill as easily as heal. They were especially dangerous if left untrained. Boden didn’t mention this, not wanting to address his failure to collect her last season while he’d still been dealing with Elaine’s death. Instead he just said, “I’ll take care of Garvin first,” while quietly cursing the necessity of the extra job.

          Seekers got their name from their ability to find people with their Zuhl Channeling, a power Boden planned to use now. He walked just outside the sheriff’s office and sat down on the front steps to concentrate.

          With a little effort he reached out and grasped the darkness deep within himself. His magic swirled out of the depths and filled him with its sickly power. His stomach turned unpleasantly, but he’d been prepared. He knew better than to eat anything on a day he’d need to Channel.

          As he pulled in more power from the source a yellow light started to waft off his skin like mist. His already preternaturally yellow eyes glowed with the power. Once he’d gathered enough, he closed his eyes and focused: expanding his senses. He could feel the quivering aura of Sheriff James who always got nervous in front of displays of magic, the bored aura of the old farmer still trudging along with his turnips, the excited one of a little girl across the street who just saw a Seeker using magic for the first time, and on and on. His world grew until it encompassed the whole town. Most Seekers insisted it was too overwhelming to sort through so many auras and used more conventional means of tracking in populated areas. What they didn’t realize was that out in the countryside, where Channelers were rare, it would work just fine. He shifted his attention randomly, searching for magic—even the faintest whiff of it would pull in his focus like a lodestone.

          It only took a moment to find his mark. The man was channeling magic that very moment. He could feel the Gohr aura on the far side of town, only a short jaunt by horse. It felt excited to him though, bordering on violent.

          “Found him,” Boden announced. He snapped out of his trance and quickly returned to his saddle.

          “Wait! I’ll go with you,” James pleaded, “just let me grab my crossbow.”

          “No time. He’s in a fight right now. Stay here till I get back.” Boden kicked his heels into his courser’s side. He left Elaine’s old horse tied up. “And get your deputies!” he shouted over his shoulder. He focused on the signal he’d located and spurred his horse to speed, leaving a trail of yellow light wafting in his wake that turned heads as he passed.

          He pulled up to a stop on the far side of town in front of a ring of spectators, the yellow light steaming off his skin a warned those who saw it of danger. People scattered as he pushed through, making a clear path to the center of the action without the need to even raise his voice.

          At the center of the ring was Garvin Plodsdale, the criminal in question. He was a bearded, muscle-bound thug and his crooked nose matched the illustration in his file. He was fighting a girl half his size. Garvin allowed the girl to pummel him while he absorbed the force of the blows with puffs of orange light; then, before Boden could intervene, he unleashed that energy into a kick with enough force to break bones and sent the girl flying through the air.

          Boden was forced to watch helplessly as the girl’s broken body slammed into the ground a dozen yards away. He was too disgusted to inspect the corpse he knew he’d find there. The magically-enhanced kick Garvin had just delivered could have taken down a horse.

          “Maybe the bitch’ll stay down this time,” Garvin complained, spitting in disgust.

          Though he’d been trained to control the darkness that fed his power with apathy, Boden couldn’t stop a little anger from stirring in him at witnessing Garvin’s murder. He stomped out from the crowd trailing a popping, furious yellow light.

          “Garvin Plodsdale!” he bellowed with all the authority of his station.

          Garvin looked up and laughed. “Me boy warned you was comin’,” he said.

          “By the authority of the Seeker Order,” Boden bellowed, “I place you under arrest for unlawful use of magic and murder!” Boden retrieved a pair of magic-suppressing shackles from his belt.

          Garvin put both his hands up. “I’s innocent,” he said with a look of false astonishment. “Damn sheriff’s got it out for me’z all.”

          Since it looked like Garvin was going to make this harder than it had to be, Boden reached into the sickly pit in his stomach for more power. He allowed some excess to leak out and brighten the yellow aura of light that his Zuhl Channeling produced. “You can come with me willingly or unwillingly,” Boden warned, “but you will come.”

          Garvin didn’t run when he heard the name of the Seeker Order like most criminals. Instead he matched Boden’s yellow aura with an orange one of his own. As Garvin increased the power of his Gohr Channeling his eyes began to glow orange as well. Boden was about to find out if his desire to fight was due to arrogance or ignorance.

          Garvin’s fat wormy lips split to reveal brown teeth. “About time they sent one’a yous,” he said, “but if yer a real Seeker how come theys only one‘v ya?”

          Boden’s aura flickered. Elaine. Now was not the time. He steeled himself. “The question you should be asking yourself is how powerful a Seeker needs to be before they don’t need a partner.”

          “So yer really alone then?” Garvin asked. His slimy smile widened.

          Boden knew the answer would make him more reckless, so he gave him the truth. “Yes,” he answered simply.

          Garvin let out a sharp whistle. A dozen thugs with cudgels stepped out from the growing crowd of on-lookers. “Hear that, boys? It’s just tha’ one. Make sure not ta dent up ‘is armor too badly. I think I’d like a nice suit o’ Seeker plate.”

          The gang started advancing on Boden. They probably thought they were smart for surrounding him, and he noticed he couldn’t feel the familiar tingle of metal anywhere on their persons as they each drew wooden clubs. No doubt a thug like Garvin believed this would make his men immune to the lightning powers of a Seeker. It was a persistent rumor among criminals, and the order only encouraged it. The more crucial mistake, of course, had been that they’d allowed Boden the time to fill himself with magic before getting close.

          Boden focused the magic already inside himself into his hands and began to reach out. Out and out. Out and out. Into the air and the sky. He could feel the energy of lightning like wisps of spider silk passing between his fingers. He grabbed onto it and pulled.

          The magic that Channelers wielded did not create, it only manipulated. For any great feat one needed a great source of power. For Zuhl Channelers, that power could be pulled right out of the air on a hot day like this.

          He unleashed his attack just as the first thug stepped close enough to threaten him. In an instant a crack of lightning shot from his hands and arced through the crowd. With the practiced control of a master, it struck out at only his intended targets. There was an explosion of light and sound, and then suddenly Garvin and all of his flunkies were twitching in the dirt.

          While the shocked crowd finally began to scatter at the noise, Boden made a bee-line for Garvin Plodsdale. He grabbed the thug by his shirt collar and hoisted him up to eye level. Garvin was still dazed and struggling to control the muscles in his face. He looked like a drunk, trailing drool from the corner of his mouth. An unnatural thrill ran through Boden as he held the man off the ground. “You have got to be the dumbest, most depraved criminal I’ve ever met!” Boden screamed in his face. “You killed a child!” He sent jolts of lightning down his hands and into the man’s skin while he screamed at him, adding extra emphasis to his words. It was an illegal technique designed specifically for inflicting pain, but the rage coursing through him was making concepts like rules feel distant.

          Garvin convulsed and cried out, but Boden was just getting started. Kill him, the darkness inside him whispered. “You killed a child,” Boden repeated. He deserves to die. “Why should I arrest you?” You should kill him right now. “I should kill you right now.”

          The yellow light of Boden’s magic swirled around him, flowing around his skin and reaching out with a will of its own. It was the yellow of pus and festering maggots. Boden could no longer feel the sickness in the pit of his stomach—it was on the surface now. His hands were already starting to crush the man’s windpipe before he made a conscious decision to move them. Garvin’s eyes started bulging.

          Instead of Garvin’s though, Boden suddenly saw the bulging eyes of a dead silk merchant as they’d been on that day when he’d calmed Elaine’s demon. He reached down and closed the dead man’s eyes while Elaine sobbed behind him. “I killed them, I killed them all!” she wailed again as Boden hoisted yet another body to join the pile he was burning.

          “Of course not,” he told her, “it was the demon. You didn’t have any control over yourself.”

          “I did!” she said, and punched an already bloody fist into the ground.

          Boden dropped the merchant’s body and sank to a knee to cup her hand protectively in his own. “Stop that,” he told her, “blaming yourself for this isn’t going to help.”

          She’d looked up at him then through tear-filled eyes. “Don’t you see?” she’d asked. “I wanted to do it! It made me want to do it!”

          Kill him! The voice in Boden’s head demanded, snapping him back to the present. Garvin’s throat was in his hands and his bulging eyes were losing focus. Boden didn’t obey. Instead he forced the darkness back down into the pit of his stomach and held it there. It had grown strong, feeding on his emotions. It was almost too much for him to hold. A wave of queasiness crashed over him and he was forced to drop Garvin as he collapsed to his knees and started dry heaving on the ground.

          That was a close one, he mused.

          He’d never let the darkness gain so much control before. Head swirling, he rolled over and saw the magic-suppressing shackles he’d dropped lying in the dirt between him and Garvin. The thug opened one eye and took in the scene. They both realized at the same time their fight wasn’t over and flopped around ineffectually in the dirt, trying to grab at the shackles.

          “Arrest these men!” he heard a familiar voice shout. They both looked up, one with hope, one with fear. Sheriff James had just arrived with a handful of deputies and was putting them to work rounding up Garvin’s men.

          “James!” Boden yelped from the ground.

          The older man looked his way and saw what was happening. He jogged their way at a pace that looked both strenuous and pitifully slow. Garvin took his last chance to wrestle the shackles from Boden’s grasp—and succeeded—but before he could do anything with them a crossbow bolt sprung from his thigh.

          “Agh!” he shouted. “Me fuckin’ leg!”

          Boden seized the initiative to grab the shackles and snap them around Garvin’s wrists while the man clutched at the wound in his thigh. When he looked up he saw that Sheriff James had pulled up short, panting and leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

          “To be honest,” James said, patting the sword at his hip, “I barely use this thing anymore.” He pulled back the lever on his crossbow and dropped another bolt in. “This thing, on the other hand…” he said, giving the crossbow an affectionate stroke.

          Boden laughed in relief and heaved Garvin to his feet. “Not so rough, ya bastard!” the man complained.

          “So James,” Boden asked, in genuinely good spirits, “you give that crossbow a name?”

          James opened his mouth to respond but instead he paused and his eyes went wide. He collapsed.

          “James?” Boden got no answer.

          Garvin also went limp in his hands and dropped to the ground.

          There was an ominous energy buzzing in the air. Something was wrong. He’d felt this evil before. He thought back to the day Elaine’s darkness had gotten out of her control. It had started with the same eerie quiet. The calm before the storm.

          Boden looked around desperately for the source. Deputies were dropping to the ground all over. He found the source in an unexpected place. Instead of a corpse where the young girl had landed there was a swirling mass of black-green light. Rising up from the center of this light was gangly young girl whose body was twisted into weird angles.

          As he watched, her broken body repaired the damage of her trauma; arms and legs twisted back to their rightful place; her chest filled in where it had collapsed. The girl was Channeling Vohr. She had to be the girl James had mentioned before. In order to heal the damage to her body, she was draining all the available life around her, Boden’s Zuhl aura was the only thing protecting him.

          This was bad—far more dangerous than Garvin. Boden crouched down and stripped the shackles off the now-unconscious Garvin and approached the girl as slowly and non-threateningly as he could. His hands padded the air in front of him. “Miss, if you don’t cut that out, you’re going to kill someone,” he told her in his calmest voice.

          Her eyes turned towards him. They were pits of blackest green—the color of black mold and gangrenous flesh. “I want to kill someone!” she shouted back in a fevered voice.

          It was already too late for words, the darkness was in control.

          Boden knew the sky would be all tapped out of lightning now, but he still had the pouch at his hip with some Zuhl crystals in them. He casually stuck a finger in said pouch and started drawing the lightning out with his magic while he kept talking. “Miss... Lanker isn’t it?” Boden asked, knowing that using its host’s name often infuriated the darkness.

          “Miss Lanker is gone,” it responded in a deeper voice than before. It was no longer the high soprano of a little girl, but the deep rumbling bass of a demon. “I am the one called Nidh—“

          Boden—very impolitely—interrupted with a blast of lightning. He knew he’d only get one chance to disable the creature. He threw everything he’d pulled from his crystals at the demon’s shoulder in one devastating blast. His bolt of energy ripped through the air, releasing a deafening crack of thunder. In a flash a smoking hole appeared in the creature’s shoulder and charred skin emanated from the point of impact in an intricate web.

          The demon-girl faltered and fell to its knees, gripping the now missing shoulder, but before it fully collapsed a green fire erupted and started burning over the length of its body, knitting flesh back together. Boden felt a wave of weariness wash over him as the creature pulled in more life energy from its surroundings.

          It wouldn’t take long for it to heal; he had to move fast. He ran forward with the magic-suppressing shackles and attempted to get them around its wrists. He got one shackle clamped on with no resistance. He twisted around; trying to get the other one on, but the creature started struggling. He didn’t have time to be sensitive, so he gave it a swift punch to the gut. He was able to then twist the demon’s other arm behind its back. While it reeled from his punch he closed the other shackle around its remaining wrist.

          It was done. The shackles would cut it off from the source.

          A wave of relief spread over the entire square and men started waking up. Boden dropped his whole body on the creature, pinning it as much as he could and keeping a hand on the shackles.

          “Bo?” Sheriff James was just coming to.

          “Sheriff! Grab Garvin and get the hell out of here!”

          Instead of asking stupid questions, James just gave a curt nod and started shouting out orders to his men. He knew better than to offer to help Boden. When he approached the now extremely-groggy Garvin, he simply picked up a wooden club one of the thugs had dropped and gave him a crack to the skull.

          Beneath Boden the demon-girl was still struggling, so when he saw James struggling to drag the much larger man away he shouted, “Leave him!” Their gaze met, and James frowned, understanding the severity of the situation. He didn’t even bother to pick up his crossbow as he fled, shouting to his men to drop their charges and head back to the station.

          The demon-girl had managed to gather a lot of power before he’d shackled it, and it was buckling like mad trying to get the shackles off. Boden couldn’t help remembering how he’d done the same thing with Elaine when he’d finally stopped her. It had taken hours before she’d worn herself out while he’d held her down.

          *pop*

          He felt some sort of crack in the creature’s fingers and before he could stop it, it managed to slip one hand out of the shackles. He grabbed its wrist, but where his hand touched it a line of black-green fire wound its way up his arm, choking out his yellow aura. A wave of intense weariness that he couldn’t shake off crashed over him.

          He knew he had to stop the demon, but more than anything he suddenly just wanted to sleep.

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~

          When Boden awoke, the sun had moved. He pulled himself to a sitting position and waited for his head to stop spinning. He felt a weariness that went down to his bones. He couldn’t compel his legs to move, so he looked around with his eyes instead. There were bodies in the street. That renegade Gohr Channeler, Garvin, looked so shriveled and desiccated Boden would have assumed he’d died years ago if he hadn’t seen him alive earlier that day. He couldn’t tell if the people in the street were asleep or dead, but he knew how to find out.

          For the third time that day Boden reached down inside himself for the power that dwelled there. As he dredged it up, he had to fight to force down the darkness that came with it into its prison in his stomach. He welcomed the queasiness that resulted, and felt his body become more alert in response to it. The yellow light that flowed over his skin seemed brighter than normal. He put it to use right away. He focused on expanding his senses, reaching out to feel the auras of lightning that surrounded all living creatures, as he had done to track Garvin earlier.

          Nothing. There was nothing.

          A cold dread washed over Boden, but he pushed it down. He expanded his world farther until he found something; the unmistakable feeling of Vohr magic overflowing from the aura of a small person a few thousand yards to the west. It was her. He also felt the weak aura of another person near her. As he lay there, the second aura winked out. Another life lost.

          This was a nightmare! It was Elaine all over again. He reached into his satchel with clumsy fingers and emptied his crystals onto the dirt in front of him. They were mostly empty, but one still had a glimmer of yellow light within. He sucked it up.

          Boden rose on unsteady feet and started limping in the direction of the demon-girl. He came across Sheriff James’ abandoned crossbow on his way and stopped to grab it. The loaded bolt was still in it. As he hobbled along toward the demon he reached out with his power and drew more tendrils from the air. There wasn’t much left, certainly not enough for another bolt of lightning.

          Should have killed it when I had the chance, he thought to himself.

          The words echoed in him. He thought back to the last time he’d spoken with Elaine.

          “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” she’d said. She’d said it so quiet, in the dark of night. He’d been awake but he hadn’t known what to say, so he’d pretended to be asleep. If he’d known what she was going off to do when she’d walked off to the forest that night he would have said something. He still didn’t know what, but he could have tried.

          All the bodies he walked past in what was left of Broadleaf lay still—as still as Elaine’s had been when he’d found her in the morning.

          When Boden finally caught up with the demon-girl it was standing over the body of Sheriff James. There was a sword in his dead grasp, his brow clenched tight in a rictus of pain. All around the sheriff’s station lay the bodies of the other deputies. Why they’d chosen to die here rather than run was a mystery though.

          “So, you’re still alive, little K’chekna,” the demonic voice rumbled from the girl’s mouth when it saw him approach. “Have you come back to die?”

          You should have killed me when you had the chance.

          “Yes, death,” Boden replied, seeing the truth of it for the first time. “I’ve returned for death. For both of our deaths.”

          The demon’s mouth opened in confusion, as though trying to decipher a hidden meaning behind his words. Boden didn’t give it a chance to figure them out. He focused every measly ounce of power he had managed to gather into Sheriff James’ crossbow, until it was alight with a brilliant yellow fire. Then he pulled back the trigger. The steel bolt that launched out flew so fast it let out a thunderclap. It barely slowed down as it pierced the demon’s heart.

          The light went out of the girl’s eyes before she even hit the ground.

          “It wasn’t your fault,” Boden whispered.

          Nobody was there to hear him. He wondered if that even mattered. He had told Elaine the same thing so many times before—she hadn’t believed him. The guilt of what she’d done had killed her, had eaten her from the inside until there was nothing left. In a lot of ways, the little girl was lucky she would never have to feel the burden of all those lives. It was more than anyone should have to bear.

          Boden dropped the crossbow and started limping towards the Sheriff’s station. Maybe there were survivors inside. He had to believe Sheriff James had died protecting something.

          As he passed the girl’s body, she let out a ragged breath. It should have been impossible. With no weapon on him he dived for the sword in Sheriff James’ hand.

          “How did I get here?” the girl asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The demon was gone.

          Boden lay where he’d landed, feeling foolish with the sword in his hand.

          The girl let out a terrified shriek at the sight of the shriveled, desiccated corpses all around her. “W-what’s g-going on!” she wailed. Her voice was cracking and her eyes were wide with terror.

          “Miss Lanker, right?” Boden called out in what he hoped was a soothing tone as he levered himself to his feet again.

          “What? I mean yes. W-who are you?” the girl started stammering. “Are they d-dead?”

          “I’m Seeker Forrester,” Boden introduced himself, “and yes, that’s very likely.”

          Just then someone poked their head cautiously out of the front door of the sheriff’s station: a middle-aged woman holding a tabby cat in her arms. “I didn’t see...” she trailed off, taking in the scene outside her hiding spot. “Father!” she screamed, running out to fall on Sheriff James’ body.

          As she cried in despair more survivors emerged from the sheriff’s station. There were dozens of them. “Who did this?” James’ daughter wailed, and a number of townsfolk echoed her request. They looked to the Seeker for an answer.

          Boden opened his mouth to speak but then stopped himself. There were only three Channelers in town and one of them had died a mile away in the very same manner as every other victim of this attack. He looked at the girl and thought of Elaine.

          “I’m sorry… I... I lost control,” he told the people. “I killed them.”

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