Valen surfaced from dreams he couldn't remember. The room spun, then steadied. Pain in his shoulder anchored him to the present. His body felt wrung out, muscles leaden. He tried to sit up. The agony drove him back against the pillow, a sharp hiss escaping through clenched teeth.
The smell of herbs. The cool press of fresh bandages. She'd been busy while he slept.
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a slow breath. Blood magic always demanded its price.
"I overdid it." The words scraped from his throat. He shifted, squinting at the light through the shutters—brighter now, shadows retreated to the corners. "Mona?"
Her eyes snapped open. She'd dozed off in the chair beside him, curled into herself. "Valen." Her hand found his, gripping. She looked him over. "You're awake."
"Are they safe?"
She nodded. "Yes. I took them to the village." Her eyes dropped to his injury. "But you're hurt. Let me get you something."
He managed a smile, patted her head. "I'll be okay. Nothing I'm not used to." He sat up slowly, hissing as he pulled his shirt over his head. His torso told its own history—scars crossing old scars, a map of moments that had failed to kill him. But when he examined his arm, the smile died. The discoloration from the dark magic had spread. A tendril of shadow reached further than he'd ever seen.
Mona's eyes went wide. She stared at shifting tones in his skin, tracing every line as they grew darker. "Valen." Her voice dropped. "What's happening to you? You say it costs you, but this... this is different. Isn't it?"
He sighed. The sound carried a weight she hadn't heard before. "It needs fuel." He wouldn't meet her eyes, staring instead at the whip coiled on the table. "My blood. The jewel in the core ignites the mana within. Turns it into fire, lightning. The more power I need, the more it takes. The pain isn't a side effect. It's the cost." He finally looked at her. "And if my focus wavers, the magic fizzles out. The only way to regain control is to give it more of myself." A pause. "It's hungry. And I'm running out of things to feed it."
Mona's grip on his hand tightened. The seriousness in his tone was new. It scared her in a way fighting never had. "Is... is there anything I can do?"
His smile turned sad. "No. This is my issue to handle." He leaned back against the pillow. "Years ago, I was dying. A rescue had gone horribly wrong. I got too–" He stopped himself. "Doesn't matter. One of my adventuring crew saved me. An elven mage. She poured her own life force into me, binding this magic to me." He gestured at the whip. "Desperate gamble. The power was meant for a race that lives centuries—their bodies have more than enough life to spare. But a human body?" A shaky breath. "Every spark I summon devours weeks of my life. She gave me a second chance, but this curse is determined to make it a short one."
Shock rippled across her features. "But you can't keep doing this." She leaned closer, eyes pleading. "We'll find another way. A healer. Something to reverse it." Her claws tightened around his hand. His skin was warm, a world of difference compared to the chill of his words. "You're not alone anymore."
He chuckled weakly, patting her head again. "You're too kind, Mona. But I've searched for over a decade. There's just no 'fixing' this. The magic that saved me is the same one that'll eventually kill me." His hand fell away. "It was a sacrifice she made willingly. It forced her into an early grave, and will do the same for me. I won't waste it. I'll use it protect those who can't protect themselves."
He pushed himself up, muscles screaming. "Mona." His voice firmed. "We need to go to Fioré." A weary smile crept across his face. "I could use your sharp eyes. And you want to visit Luna, right?" He paused, hand hovering over the bandage. "I need to explain what happened. She's well-connected. She might know more about the shadows in this city."
Despite her fear, a spark ignited. "Yes, let's go." She grabbed her bow, eyes never leaving him for long.
***
In the Royal Guard barracks, Captain Cassian slammed his fists on the desk. "What do you mean, 'escaped'?"
The guard before him trembled through his explanation. "Knocked me out cold. We woke up and the shipment was gone." Cassian's eyes narrowed. This was no coincidence. A traitor's whisper was growing into a shout.
He stalked to the makeshift cell, stared at the bruised mercenaries. "Tell me who orchestrated this."
Their leader glanced up through swollen eyes. "A man. And someone else from the rooftops. The man had a whip.Iit was coated with magic. Flames and lightning."
"What else?"
The mercenary winced. "Masks. But the one with the whip–his eyes glowed purple. Like embers."
Cassian spoke to himself, cataloguing the details. Magic. But what kind? And who? He leaned close to the mercenary's subordinate. "Find them. Alive. I have questions."
He turned to his second-in-command. "The mage's registry. Now." He scanned the list. Healers. Entertainers. A fire dancer, a water juggler. None matched. A mage who could wield multiple elements in combat was unheard of in Elysia. Even Registrar Veyne from the Elysian Assembly of Mages has no such record in existence. Parlor tricks were one thing. This was something else. Something forbidden.
He scanned again. No matches. His mind settled on the only possibility left.
Depredation Sorcery.
He recalled the Assembly's notes on this illicit practice:
Depredation Sorcery: Proscribed. Caster depletion inevitable. External devastation unpredictable, likely immeasurable. All practitioners to be reported to the Assembly immediately.
"This is bigger than I thought." The thought of it festering in his city was an affront he could feel in his teeth.
***
Valen and Mona moved through Calamor's crowded streets with new urgency. Whispers of the rescue swirled around them, mixing with usual smells of the market square. His ears caught fragments—embellished tales, fearful predictions. They'd done something important. Something that would have consequences.
As they approached the Crescent Moon, Valen's mind raced. So fixated on the growing whispers, he didn't see the nobleman until they collided. He staggered back, breath catching.
Lord Aldric. The man's stern gaze pinned him. Guards leveled weapons to Valen's chest.
Valen dropped to one knee, hand flying to his chest. "My apologies, your highness. I wasn't paying attention." He kept his eyes down. Mona, startled, mimicked him.
Aldric raised a hand, feigned surprise on his face. "No harm done. No need for such formalities." His guards relaxed. "Please, rise." As they did, his gaze lingered on Valen's whip. He stepped closer, offering a hand. "My apologies for the collision. I was lost in thought." His hand remained on Valen's wrist, thumb brushing the darkened skin. "Tell me, young man, your name? And what brings you and your... charming companion here today?" His eyes flicked to Mona, then back. His grip tightened. Just a little.
Valen took a steadying breath. The man looked more scholar than ruler—spectacles, gentle face—but his eyes were sharp as daggers. "Valen. Just our weekly shopping. The market had fine-looking fish today." He felt Mona tense beside him, ready to bolt.
Aldric's laugh was warm. "Ah, the local catch. A true delight." His grip released. "Well, enjoy your shopping. May the sun always shine upon your path." With a nod, he turned away.
As he left, a knot tightened in Valen's throat
***.
Once in his quarters, Aldric paced. He'd felt the traces of magic at the scene—raw, undisciplined. But the power Valen commanded was different. Ancient. Forbidden. The door creaked open. Captain Cassian entered.
"My lord. The mercenaries speak of a man with glowing eyes and a whip capable of brandishing multiple elements. Likely a rogue mage. Perhaps with a vendetta."
"A whip, you say?" Aldric turned slowly. He knew of only one person who matched that description. This Valen. The power he'd felt in the market wasn't legal, practiced magic. He couldn't reveal himself to Cassian, but a plan sparked.
"Ah, Captain." Aldric's smile was cool. "I encountered a young man today. With a whip, as fate would have it. An intriguing and concerning air about him." He steepled his fingers. "Should our adversary elude us, we could turn public attention to him. Make an example of him. A warning to this rogue."
Cassian's face tightened. "Framing an innocent, my lord?" His hand rested on his sword. "It would stain the city's honor. Without evidence, it breeds distrust."
"You believe I desire this, Cassian?" Aldric's voice shifted now. "You remember the chaos of the uprising. The bodies in the streets. That peace was bought with hard choices. Choices some will never understand. This Valen isn't an innocent. He will douse the spark. If we do not control the fire, we will have another inferno on our hands." He motioned to the balcony behind him. Calamor spread out below them. "Sometimes, protecting the flock means sacrificing one stray lamb to the wolves. It is a distasteful truth. But a truth nonetheless."
Cassian studied his lord, jaw clenched. The peace was vital. The specter of another uprising haunted him. He had spent years building his honor, brick by brick. Now, with a single nod, he placed the first crack in the foundation. "As you command, my lord. For the sake of Calamor." The gravity of the sin etched in his face.
Aldric spotted the brief twitch in the Captain's eyes, and watched him depart. Cassian had been named The Hero of Calamor for his valor in the uprising. A title Aldric knew was just that: A title. He was willing to play the villain to save the city. To keep Calamor prosperous and protect the citizens from the claws and fangs just outside the walls. The question was, would Cassian do the same?
***
"Let's make a quick detour. To celebrate." Valen dragged Mona toward the tavern. He pushed his unease about Aldric aside as they stepped into the warm, wooden interior. The scent of roasting meat and ale made his stomach rumble. They found a corner table. Good spot to watch the door.
The tavern was lively. A burly, bearded man held court, his tale growing with each tipping of his mug. "And the mage—they say his eyes were like the fires of the underworld! He took down a dozen guards with a flick of his wrist! A new Hero of Calamor, he is!" The crowd roared.
Dissenters spoke up: "Yeah, and who's gonna pay when the Guard doubles down on the docks?"
Another joined: "More trouble. These saviors always bring the law down on the rest of us eventually."
Valen allowed himself a smug smile, ignoring the detractors.
Mona giggled, her hood shifting as she leaned in. "That's not how it happened. You didn't take down that many."
"Of course I did." He flashed a cheeky smirk. "You just missed the grand spectacle. Typical lazy cat."
She swatted his arm. "Lazy? Me? I did all the sneaking and distracting." She took a sip, turning her head to their unknown evangelist. "But it's fun to hear. Makes us sound like fancy heroes." Valen caught the faintest hint of a grin.
"Indeed it does." Valen's gaze went distant. The firelight danced in his eyes. For the first time in years, he felt the thrill of it. The piece of himself he thought was lost. He took a deep breath. Savored it. The adrenaline, the scent of victory—he felt alive.
Mona's touch on his bandage brought him back. "How are you feeling?"
He winced. "Pained, but it'll heal. Just can't push it." He took a swig of ale. "That little bump with Aldric sent a jolt through it, though."
As their mugs emptied, he stood with a stretch. "Ready to go check on Luna?"
"Come on, 'Hero of Calamor'." She bumped his side, eyes sparkling. "Let's go."
His heart swelled. Despite everything, lightness filled his step as they stepped out into the night.