We stared in horror at the thirty, maybe forty riders. I pulled on my reins and waved to Sim to slow down.

"Spirits below…"

Castille pushed ahead, guiding her horse forward to face them.

The horse stopped at the edge of a fresh battlefield.

No, not a battlefield. A massacre.

The bodies of beasts and men littered the road. Severed horse legs lay next to their torsos. Some men were face up with their throats cut. Others were battered and bruised, their skulls crushed, and their limbs bent the wrong way. No matter how they died, they shared one thing in common: wide, terror-filled eyes.

"What did this?" Castille asked as I trotted to her side.

Not what… Who…

"I'll go around," Sim shouted from behind us.

He rode the wagon around the corpses like it was a field of flowers. As he passed, he gave me a knowing look.

My eyes darted to the sky.

Sin…

She was out there, somewhere, watching me.

A chill ran up my spine.

What did she want?!

"Castille, we need to go. There could be more reinforcements coming from behind."

I doubted it, but it was the first thing that came to my mind.

"Aye…"

Castille was shaken. Like me, she understood that these men weren't killed with magic.

They died to brutal, overwhelming skill.

# # #

We barreled past the livery stable where Castille bought our horses a few months ago, slowing to a crawl as we got closer to the Northern Gate. Black trails of smoke snaked through the sky, the acrid smell assaulting our noses.

Why was every disaster happening today?!

We reined in our horses in front of a row of lowered spears. The Northern Gate had four times as many guards as when we left the city.

"Halt!" A grizzled guard captain said.

His eyes narrowed, darting from me to Castille's ruined face to our wagon's broken driver bench.

I didn't blame him for being suspicious. I'd done my best to clean off the dried blood and entrails covering my body. Yet, I still looked like a spit-roasted animal left too long over the fire.

"The capital is under lockdown. No one does in or out by Royal decree," the guard captain said.

Bad news! He needed to get inside or Isla…

"What happened?!" Castille asked.

"A fire in the Upper District. Multiple businesses burned down. We're hunting for the suspects."

The rich side of the city? This was serious.

"We need to get in. My friend-"

"No one gets in or out until the suspects are found," the guard captain said in a booming voice.

There was a finality to his words that sent panic fluttering in my chest.

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I took a deep, calming breath… and decided to gamble.

"We already ran into the suspect!"

I turned in my saddle and pointed with my good arm at Miller's hill.

"A Dahlgeshi fire mage! He just attacked Rugar's camp. My friend was caught up in it. We need to get inside before she dies."

The guards muttered amongst themselves.

"A Dahlgeshi this far North?!"

"You saw the fire in the sky."

"Which fire started first? The one here or the one over there?"

"I don't know."

The guard captain's hard, black eyes followed my arm to the distant peak of Miller's hill.

He looked unconvinced.

"I need to save my friend!" I said. "If you think we might be suspects, then… then bring us into the city. If it's under lockdown, we won't be able to leave. You'll have us right where you want us."

The guards holding the line nodded in agreement. The guard captain was unmoved.

What was it going to take to convince this guy?

I furrowed my brows.

"Every second you waste on us, the real suspect gets away. Do you want to be the guy who let that happen or the guy who helped to bring them to justice?"

The guard captain stood as still as a statue, and then his mouth twisted into a frown, a crack in his armour.

"Open the gates! Let them pass and send a runner to the command post with the elf's message."

My chest swelled with hope.

"Thank you!"

The guard captain spat in the grass.

"You better not be lying."

I gave him an incredulous look.

"Me?! Never."

Iron chains creaked, raising the rusty portcullis gate. The line of spearmen broke off into two clusters on either side of the opening.

As we passed through the thick stone walls, Castille trotted her horse next to mine and whispered.

"That was some smooth talking, Jacob. You're getting better at lying."

I returned the compliment with a nervous smile, remembering Shay's words.

But it was more than that.

The threat of punishment… the promise of reward… the pressure of time running out to make the guard captain act. That was all Reed.

She had rubbed off on me.

Spirits know she tried.

I cleared my throat.

"Where to now? There's someone who can help, right?"

"Aye, the Sisters."

My eyes went wide.

The Sisters?! Of course.

The Sisters of Mercy were an order of noblewomen dedicated to the healing arts. Gren used to call them a group of women too bored of needlework and too scared of battle. The truth was somewhere in between. The Order was well respected… and expensive. They catered to the rich and middle class of the Upper District. Other branches served in the field hospitals at the Southern border.

Why hadn't I realized they were Landbound until now? They were like Dugan but better. Nobles with more land and, therefore, more magical potential.

"This could work!"

"It better…"

I paused to take in Castille. Most of her wounds were scabbed over, but her right eye still leaked pink blood down the labyrinth of her twisted face.

Isla wasn't the only person who needed healing.

"Lead the way."

# # #

We cut a path through the bustling crowds of the capital's Lower District.

Old memories assaulted me.

I remembered sleeping on these streets, running from Lord Severn's black dogs and Sin carrying me as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Each flash of memory was like picking at an old scab, the raw flesh burning in salty air.

I shook the thoughts out of my head and focused on Castille's back. She stared forward, ignoring the looks of disgust and annoyance from the locals. I wasn't spared either. I was a half-elf dressed like a noble and singed until I was well done. If anything, the fire helped me to fit in.

We crossed a bridge over the canal into the Upper District and rode into chaos.

The smoke was heavier here. Soot-covered men and women carried burn patients on makeshift stretchers. Small groups of guards guided the steady flow of foot traffic from the sides of the street.

"Where's the fire?!" Castille asked a passing woman with frazzled hair.

The woman's eyes went wide when she looked up at the warrior.

"There was an accident in the Row. Half of it burned down. It's terrible!"

The Row?

That was a nickname for a string of craftsmen shops that ran alongside the canal.

"Hmph," Sim said.

Something about him had changed since we passed the dead mercenaries on the road. He had a smug smile fixed on his face, but his eyes… his eyes looked haunted.

I twisted in my saddle to glare at him.

"What do you know?"

"Me? Nothing..."

I frowned.

Sim sighed, breaking eye contact.

"Let's just say when they figure out which shops were burned down, I bet money most of them belonged to Rugar."

I blinked, and then my eyes widened at the realization.

So, that's what happened!

Rugar lost his Landbound abilities because his blacksmith shops were destroyed! The character of his land changed into something unfamiliar to him.

I turned back to the steady stream of survivors filing past us. Fresh burns marred their skin, exposing bright pink flesh underneath. A broad man in a leather apron ran by us, carrying a boy with burns on his face and no eyelids.

My stomach sank.

"Is this my fault? Did she do all of this... for me?"

"Like I said. She's one scary woman," Sim said.

"Ignore him, Jacob. We don't know who did this," Castille said.

She was wrong. This was Sin. The mansion and now this, it had her fingerprints all over it.

But why?

I thought she wanted to kill me. Instead, she was burning down the Upper District to help me win a fight.

It didn't make sense.

I shook my head.

No, it did.

Utility.

This wasn't about me.

The death of Rugar. The slaughter of his mercenaries. The destruction of his businesses. It had to serve more than one purpose.

But what was it? What was I missing?!

A comment from Castille snapped me back to my senses.

"Lads! We have a problem."

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