"Let's get into Greta's house." Tristan was looking at me. "We'll be safer there." I looked around the square. Unlike the previous night, none of the four houses surrounding the village square had lights visible in any window. And, aside from a soft breeze, there were no sounds in the forest around us. If the guy wasn't much stronger than us, I had no idea how he was doing what he was doing. He wasn't even here yet. "I don't want to leave these people to die."

She shook her head. "I don't think he'll hurt them. Not yet, at least. If what the map's telling us is true, I think it's safe to say he's been pretending to be his brother."

"Why?"

"I imagine for safety. Until today, the others were all here. It was probably easier to hide in plain sight. But now that they're gone, I imagine he's probably coming to get his stuff. Hopefully, we grabbed whatever it is he's coming for."

"Yeah." I thought I could see something moving far up the trail.

Tristan pulled on my arm. "We need to get inside. Now." Her grip tightened. "I feel something out here. Something's off."

I looked at her. Her eyes were glowing in the pale moonlight. "Okay."

She half-guided, half-dragged me toward Greta's house. When I reached for the door, it swung open before I could touch it. After Tristan and I shared a quick look, we quickly stepped into the house. The moment we entered, the door swung shut, and every light went out.

Not used to all the magicy stuff, I asked, "Are you sure we're safe here?"

She nodded. "It's Greta. She's the Good Witch. Unless you're evil, you're safe with her."

"So what happens if you're bad? Are you screwed?"

"Utterly and completely."

Shrugging, I stepped to the front window and looked outside. For a few minutes, I didn't see anything. Just an empty square surrounded by darkened cottages. The whole scene had a terribly lonely vibe. Then I heard footsteps. A person came into view. As the person walked closer, their form became clearer.

It was Jorn. Or, at least, he looked like Jorn.

"What's Jorn doing out here?" Tristan whispered.

As he got closer, the hairs on my neck stood up. "That's not Jorn." Even had I not seen the map earlier, I could tell it wasn't Jorn. I could feel it in my bones.

The man was strolling casually up the road like he didn't have a care in the world, but something about his demeanor gave me the chills. Like earlier, he was walking with a thick cane, but I could tell he didn't need it to move. Instead of leaning into it with every step like Jorn had, he swung it casually. Besides his gait, his face was off. He had an odd, too-wide grin on his face.

I backed away from the window as the man approached Greta's house. When he was about to pass by, he stopped and looked directly at us. His eyes narrowed. Sharp eye movements told me he was searching for something, but it was like he couldn't see us. Could the house be hiding us?

The man frowned. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled what looked like a small stone out. Lifting it toward us, he whispered a few words under his breath, and the stone started glowing. He held it toward us, his eyes narrowing further, but he didn't move. Eventually, he shrugged and continued toward the chief's house. Toward his house.

When he got to the door, he stamped his feet on the thick woven mat, ran his fingers through his thinning hair, and pulled on the end of the cane. A long, thin blade pulled free of it. Turning the blade upward, the man who looked like Jorn pushed it between the door and the jam, and with a slight tug of his wrist, the door shuddered open. His grin grew as he stepped into the house and shut the door behind him.

Tristan whispered beside me, "What happened to Jorn? To the others?"

"I don't know." My mind raced. Were Jorn and the other Templars?... Fire erupted inside of me. I took a step toward the door, but Tristan grabbed my arm.

"I feel the same way, but now's not the time."

Looking her in the eye, a wave of emotions washed over me, but they all centered around one main thought: I failed. "I should have protected them. I should have been there. I should have..." I felt crushing guilt. My sister's face flashed through my mind. I was too late. Again.

She shook her head. "There wasn't anything we could've done. We couldn't have known." Her eyes were swimming.

I didn't have the words, so the two of us stayed silent in the darkness. After a few moments, I saw him enter our bedroom through the room's window. His cane blade reflected the light of the glowstone in his hand. Stepping toward the bed, his grin grew with each step until he was standing over where we would have been sleeping. Holding his blade up high, I watched his lips curl upward.

Then, with as much murderous intent as I'd ever seen, he stabbed downward with his entire body weight. Heaving with all his strength, he pulled the blade back, then he stabbed again, and again. Over and over, his shoulders rising and falling as he speared the bed.

My stomach churned. That could've been us...

All at once, he stopped. His smile faded, replaced with a snarl of pure rage. Ripping the sheet back, he dropped to the bed and swept his hands across the mattress. Then, he picked up the entire bedframe, screamed, and threw it upward. The bed frame shattered, and feathers filled the room. Pulling himself from the debris, he stomped back through the door and into the office beyond. A moment later, a scream of pure rage filled the night.

"He might be stronger than us..." Tristan's voice wavered.

I didn't care.

Fuck this guy.

I dropped my pack to the ground. I was going to kill him. But if I didn't make it, I didn't want him getting his shit back. "I'm going out there."

Tristan grabbed my arm. "No, you are not."

I tore my arm away from her. "Yes. I am."

She put herself between me and the door. "And what exactly is your plan?"

I shrugged. "Fuck him up. For Jorn." I didn't know if Jorn was gone, but I had a feeling.

Something crossed her face, and she looked at the ground. She stayed like that for a few moments before looking back up at me. "Then we're doing it together." Her sapphire eyes were shimmering.

"No, you're staying—"

She thrust her finger into my breastplate. "You're not leaving me behind. Not when I finally found my..." Her words caught in her throat. "Not now, not ever."

As pissed as I was, her words meant everything to me. "Together."

Without another word, she dropped her pack to the floor, and we walked to the door. Again, it swung open before we could touch it, and we stepped into the cool night air. The man's screams were much, much louder outside. A series of crashes indicated that he was tearing the entire house apart.

Reaching into my belt pouch, I pulled out two of the [Greater Health Potions]. "Take them."

She nodded, took both, then whispered some familiar words.

[Bless]

I watched as warm light appeared around us. When it sank into my skin, every inch of me felt invigorated. "I'm taking point. Back me up. If I get hurt or go down, jump in."

"Got it."

I unslung my shield and drew my sword. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Greta's house was barely visible, like it was little more than an outline. So he really couldn't see us, then. With a deep breath, I turned forward, prepared myself mentally, and walked toward the chief's house. When I stepped onto the porch, something else crashed inside, and I heard the man spitting out an endless string of curses.

"Hey, fuck face. Come on out and get some."

The crashing and swearing stopped. A few seconds later, the door swung open, and "Jorn" took a step onto the porch. His sword was held low but ready. Before he could take another step, I held my sword out. He stopped in his tracks. "Hey, kid. What are you doing out so late?" Jorn's familiar grin appeared on his face. Well, it was close. Very close. But it didn't reach his eyes.

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"Oh, you know. Taking a walk, getting some air. Looking to blow off some steam."

"Jorn's" hand gripped the hilt of his saber tightly. "Shouldn't you two be enjoying that bed inside? That's what I'd be doing if I were you." His grin widened, but it made him look less like himself.

"How do you know how Jorn thinks?" Tristan asked from behind me.

"What do you mean? I am Jorn. The one and only." The man tried to step forward, but I kept him at bay with my sword. Arden's ring felt like it was going to snap my finger off. "Why are you out? I thought Maven told you not to take any risks? That I'd keep you safe?"

I felt my blood boil. How did the fucker know what Maven and I talked about? "Drop it, Uralt. We know who you are. And we know what you've done."

His eyes narrowed, and his smile tightened. "What are you talking about?" He looked past me, toward Tristan. "Tris. You know me. Talk to this crazy asshole."

"Stop using his face."

He sighed. "I thought you were the sensible one between the two of you. Guess I was wrong." He took a single small step forward. His cane-sword stayed low, but I could tell it was a trap. He could flick it up in an instant. Fool's guard. Renard taught me that.

Tristan simply spat at him. "Don't use his words. Don't use his face."

Uralt grinned. "Oh? Does it make you mad that I look like him? Does it upset you? Or are you afraid that poor, hopeless old Jorn is..." His face shifted, blurred. His hair, his eyes, even his body twisted. Then, when it stabilized, we were looking at Maven. Maven with cruel eyes.

"Maybe you'd prefer someone a little prettier, hmm?" The voice was identical to Maven's, but the way he spoke was different. More cutting. "Maven" looked at Tristan. "It's a shame you didn't pursue me more. I would have caved eventually if you'd only tried harder. Oh, the things I'd have shown you had you been my mirán instead of his."

"Don't..." Tristan took a step back. "Don't you dare."

"Maven's" face shifted, and then she was Ro. "What about me? Old reliable, or so you think." The shapeshifting bastard took another step forward, forcing me back. As open as he seemed, every ounce of him was ready to strike. If I tried to attack, I'd be dead. "Did I ever tell you how your cousin isn't enough for me?" He licked her lips. "I want to taste you from head to toe?" He took another step forward. "I already have one of your kind. Why not finish the set? Even if you're a mongrel, you'll be fun for a while."

"Ro would never talk like that!" Tristan's voice was shaking.

"You don't know what's in his heart. I do." The man grinned. "Or do I?" He took two quick steps forward and slashed at my leg. I just barely got out of the way.

That was enough. I thrust my shield forward, trying to force him to overcommit to a defense, but he danced around my feint. Shifting, he slashed diagonally at my neck. I raised my shield just in time to block the strike. Two more slashes came in fast, striking low, then high. Only raw instinct and Renard's training kept me intact. When none of the strikes landed, he bounced backward and reset.

The bastard was grinning ear-to-ear. "That was good. You're better than I thought." He spun the saber cane around his wrist like it weighed nothing. "It won't save you, though." He slashed again, this time with twice the speed. The slash impacted the side of my shield hard, lopping off the top edge like it was butter.

Slashing downward, I just barely missed his head. He countered, nearly cutting open my face, but Tristan's mace deflected his sword before he could hit me.

"Thanks."

"Of course." Tristan stood next to me. "I don't think you can handle him alone."

"I can't."

"Together?"

"Together."

He backpedaled, and as he did, his face twisted. Then, we were staring at a perfect rendition of Na-Ya. "You two couldn't possibly hurt me, right?" He mimicked her serene smile perfectly, but his eyes remained unchanged and unsettling. Like they belonged more to a predator than to a human.

I took several steps backward, getting myself off the porch, and Tristan followed. Our weapons were longer. We could cover one another's gaps. We needed the open space. Otherwise, we were dead.

"Please. I love you both. Why are you trying to hurt me?"

I needed to get him out of our heads. "Did you murder your brother?"

For the first time since he'd faced us, his smile faded, if only a little. His face shifted back to his own. "Of course not." He tapped his temple. "He's alive and well up here. His memories, his thoughts, everything is locked safely inside my head."

I shuddered. "The body we found. The one that was all mixed up. Half animal. It was him, right?"

He nodded. "He was always weak. In body, and in spirit. He was found to be unworthy." He pointed the saber cane at the ground. "Now, his soul is in the abyss, with them." His grin turned feral. "They'll tear him apart until there's nothing left. Then, when he's nothing but scraps, he'll be sent back. Empty, and pure."

"Worthy?"

"Of their blessing. Of becoming more. A weapon for their return."

"Whose return?"

His grin grew wider. "The masters."

I wasn't going to get any more. "You're sick."

"You cannot judge me. None can."

Tristan spoke behind me. "The Goddess shall—"

Uralt's head jerked toward Tristan. "Why should I care about her? Her words... Her edicts... He dreams... None of it matters!" His eyes shifted from predatory to manic. "She won't be needed soon enough. This world will be theirs!" He thrust the saber at me with lightning speed. The blow glanced off my shield. A heartbeat later, he dashed past my shield, kicked me to the side, then dashed at her. "Time to die, Goddess's whor—"

The outline that was Greta's house pulsed, and the front door behind us swung open. Something inside clanged, and an instant later, a frying pan flew out of the house.

It nearly struck him in the head, but Uralt blocked the cast-iron cookware at the last possible second. The sound it made rang through the clearing like a gong.

Seeing the opening, I didn't hesitate. Darting forward, I cut in a wide arc, forcing him to backpedal. Tristan followed the attack with a swing of her mace. She nearly connected with his knee.

"Weaklings! Begone!" Uralt slashed at me, but he was off balance. His cane sword bounced off my shield harmlessly.

In the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Chancing a quick glance, I saw that the frying pan was circling around like a boomerang.

"Rookie mistake." Uralt's blade flashed. "Die."

I was too slow. The metal bit into my bracer, then cut deeper. I felt the sting of his blade as it dug into my forearm. Before I could do anything else, his knee was buried in my chest. I tumbled backward.

As soon as I hit the ground, Uralt was standing over me, blade pointing down at my throat.

Tristan screamed. Her mace glinted in the moonlight and caught him in the shoulder.

"Agh!" He was thrown to the side, but it wasn't enough. With a mighty heave, he thrust down. I pulled my shield over my chest, praying that would be enough, but before his blade struck true, a long gong sound filled the air, and his head jerked. The assassin's body teetered for a moment before the sword hit the ground beside me. With a groan, his body fell forward, collapsing like a marionette whose strings were cut.

I lay still, my shield still pressed over my chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.

Instead, words appeared in my head:

You completed the Fighter (★) task [A Good Fight].

You reach level 3.

You gain +1 Resilience.

Tristan rushed to my side. "Goddess, Alex! Are you okay?"

I sat up, slowly. "Y...yeah. Never better."

With shaking hands, she carefully pulled off my bracer and checked where Uralt had struck my arm. It was bleeding, but the blade hadn't bitten too deeply into my skin. The bracer was toast, though.

"Don't worry about me. Finish him off."

She frowned. "No. I can't."

I wobbled onto my feet. "Then I'll do it." Stepping forward, I scooped up my sword, unslung my shield, and gripped the hilt of my sword with my off hand.

Tristan held her hands up. "I'm not saying no because I don't want him dead. I do. But the village should decide what to do with him." Glancing at Greta's house, she added, "Stay here." Darting into the house, she quickly returned with rope. "Let's tie him up. Then, they can charge him tomorrow. Plus, we might be able to learn more from him, too."

"You do it. I need to heal." If I tied him up, I'd end up killing him.

I reached for the remaining potion, but she stopped me. "I'll use my magic in a minute. Don't waste the potion."

I nodded, and she got to work. Walking over to him, she rolled him onto his stomach and tied his wrists together tightly behind his back. She looped the rope up into a knot between his elbows, which would tighten if he struggled, then she used the last of her rope to tie his ankles together. When she was done, she rolled him over.

His eyes were just starting to flutter. He was coming to.

"Ugh..." Uralt groaned.

"Think we should gag him?" She went to go back into the house, but I grabbed her arm.

"Nah. Let him talk. He's stuck now." Holding my injured arm up, I added, "Mind touching me up?"

She smiled. "Not at all."

[Healing Light]

Warm magic flowed from her hands into my arm, knitting the wound shut and sealing my skin. By the time she was done healing me, his eyes had fully opened, and that eerie grin was back on his face. He started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

He cackled. "You."

Tristan frowned. "Why is he so hilarious?"

The man smirked. "Because you think you've won. You think you've done something here. But I'm nothing. No one. If you kill me, they won't even notice my loss. I'll simply be proven unworthy. But you? They know you exist now. They know what you look like."

A bird called high up in the trees above us. Then, there was the flapping of wings. A small black bird landed on Uralt's chest. Then it transformed. Instead of a bird, it looked like a small, black snake. The snake considered us for a moment, then hissed.

"Sooner or later, they'll come for you." Uralt closed his eyes. "Then you'll be forced to prove yourselves. But I won't be there when it happens..." His face softened. "I'm ready to go. I grew tired of this world long, long ago."

The little serpent on his chest struck at him like lightning. The snake bit into his jugular once, twice, three times. Then, in a puff of black mist, it crumbled away into dust. A small wind blew the ashes away. When the last of the ash vanished, the glowstones in the villagers' homes sprang to life. A baby began to cry in one home, and someone sneezed in another.

His veins bulging and blackened, Uralt's grin grew. Something horrible glinted in his eyes. "One... last... gift... for you... traveler..." He started laughing. It was a horrible, guttural sound that made my skin crawl. As he laughed, his voice grew higher-pitched, almost shrill. His teeth grew straight, his hair turned light brown, his face became round and small, and his body shrank.

When it was done, he looked up at me and smiled.

My heart clenched. "S... Stella?"

He was wearing my sister's face.

"Bro... ther..."

My sword flashed.

She cried out. Tears welled in my sister's eyes, then her head rolled off her shoulders and struck the ground.

"What... the fuck..." Tristan sounded terrified.

Her body crumbled away into a pile of ash. When the last of it was gone, a system message appeared in my head:

You complete the quest [A Shadow in Goodfield]

You reach level 4.

+1 Strength, +1 Resilience, +1 Agility

You gain the quest [Dark Things in the Forest]

I stared down at my sister's ashes for a long time, completely unable to fully process the scene around me. I couldn't look away.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, wrapped their arms around my waist. Looking down, I saw Tristan's arms. "Tris..."

She squeezed me tight. "It's okay. I'm here."

Something wet and hot was on my face. Reaching up to wipe whatever it was away, I realized it was tears. My tears.

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