The candlelight danced in a fluid flicker before Joshua’s eyes. Reaching up with its orange tongue, it lapped hungrily at the air, searching ever for more, wanting to grow greater and greater. Ever, fire wanted more.

  Joshua could relate.

  With a single hand, he ran his fingers across his bald head. He could still feel the scars from the branding, even after five years. He dearly missed the long golden hair he had when he was a boy. The Tower required sacrifice. Conformity to the whole was the path power.

  He looked at the blackened runes that covered his hands, leading down his arms and underneath the loose red sleeves of his robes. They formed a looping spiral over his whole body, ending in four lines of characters splayed across the back of his head.

  “Joshua,” his master said, taking him away from his thoughts. “I need that light now.”

  Joshua came out of his reverie, readjusting to the hallway around him. He started again up the stone stairs, ascending the tower toward where his master was. The quiet of the tower returned as his thoughts fled, reminding him of the problem ahead.

  He entered the room in silence, stepping over the small splatters of blood that lined it. His master kneeled over the crumpled robes that marked the remains of one of their brethren. This was the fifth they had found this season, and the same bitter taste of magic tainted the air around the body.

  “Did you find anything yet?” Joshua leaned over his master, bringing the candle in to illuminate the fallen mage.

  “She was crushed the same as the others,” Richard said, rubbing his short white beard with his rune covered hands. “The same smell as well, bitter.”

  “No runes, no marks of conjuration, no indentation from words of power either,” Joshua said, summing up what they knew already from every other incident. “Unless she kept an ogre in here, there isn’t anything that we know that could do this.”

  “You’re not helping,” Richard said, looking across the carnage of the room. “What we need is someone who survived, someone who saw more than a shadow fleeing the act.”

  “It doesn’t seem to like being watched,” Joshua said. “There are two watchmen outside with their heads crushed.”

  “I didn’t see them when we came in.” Richard raised an eyebrow.

  “They were hidden by the night. I only found them when the moon cleared the clouds,” Joshua said. “Whatever is doing this is wary of being found out.”

  “That’s new,” Richard said, running a hand across his bald head.

  “Evelyn apparently heard the news and hired them.” Joshua knelt down, examining the floor. “It didn’t do her any good.”

  “We’ll have to wait for the next one then,” Richard said.

  “Maybe not.” Joshua saw a black blot in the faint candlelight. “Do you have a vial?”

  “One moment.” Richard reached to where he had laid his bag, rifling through the contents carefully.

  He retrieved a brown leather case from inside, quickly unfurling the straps and producing a single vial from within. Richard handed it to Joshua, standing over his shoulder and watching as Joshua carefully brought the vial close to the spot.

  A cold stone dropped to Joshua’s stomach, his skin prickling as if from an invisible touch. For a moment, it was almost as if the darkness had reached out and touched him. However, the feeling faded just as quickly.

  The darkness reacted to the touch of the vial, flinching away and scurrying across the floor a short distance. Once it was safely away, it returned to its prone state. Joshua again moved to catch it, and it again moved out of his reach.

  “Interesting,” Richard said.

  “Hand me a stirring rod.” Joshua frowned.

  Richard handed a rod to him from the bag, watching as Joshua came at two angles with both the rod and the vial. Again, the black spot reacted, shrinking from both sides into itself. With one quick motion, Joshua forced the spot into the vial, giving a resounding cry of success.

  “Got it.” Joshua placed a cork into the vial, sealing the spot within.

  “That doesn’t answer what it is,” Richard said, watching as Joshua held the vial between them, letting the candlelight bathe it in its golden glow.

  It moved, even within the vial to Joshua’s eyes. Spots of light sparkled in the black, fading in and out in a fleeting moment. It reminded Joshua of a clear night sky, the infinite darkness of the Veil stretching out to the unknown.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Richard spoke up, interrupting Joshua’s thoughts.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Joshua said, handing the vial to Richard.

  “You or anyone else,” Richard said, taking the vial gently in his hands. “I might need to talk to Olson.”

  “Any reason to leave here,” Joshua said, starting to gather their supplies.

  “Not before we pay our respects.” Richard cuffed Joshua on the back of his head with a free hand. “She was one of us; never forget that we are all brothers and sisters of the Tower.”

  “I know,” Joshua said. “So help me write the runes so that we can send our sister to rest.”

  Richard nodded, taking a jar of ink from his bags and starting to work. Together, they covered the room with runes, laying the groundwork for a powerful spell. Reducing a stone tower to ash would take much more power than either could muster, but creative minds had a solution.

  By marking the tower with runes, it turned into a conduit and acted a focal point for the elemental energy that flowed through the ley lines. In essence, it turned the tower into a mage. However, the tower had no will, so it could not control the flow of magic.

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  Unrestrained power would reduce it to ash.

  Joshua always enjoyed watching that, even under these morbid circumstances. It was a chance to see the power that mages merely touched in their spells working at full force. It was a chance to see what he might achieve one day if he could grasp the power without burning his soul.

  “I think we’re done,” Richard said as they reached the bottom of the tower. “We only need to set off the spark.”

  “I’ll do it,” Joshua said.

  He touched the final rune, a circle with a triangle inscribed inside its border. It marked the anchor for the spell. By merely imbuing it with a little magic of any element, it would open the entire length of runes to the ley lines.

  Joshua reached with his will, his skin tingling. He grasped hold of a strand of magic. It burned with anger at his touch. It was his favorite element, the fire that forged the world in the hands of Dionmus.

  His soul shook, as he pulled that strand. Fire coursed through his veins and fueled his desire. This was but a taste of power, a sip of a strong wine, yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  He brushed the thought from his mind. Fire was a dangerous element, one that wanted to jump out of control with the slightest release of pressure. If he let his desires control him, the fire would burn him from the inside.

  Joshua acted quickly, drawing the strand and lashing it to the circle. A deep red glow spread across the runes in response to the magic, filling itself and starting the spell. From the circle, it spread down the runes. The glow climbed up the staircase until it was out of sight.

  A void opened within him as the magic faded, creating an empty hole that cried in hunger.

  That was the cost of the magic. With it, you felt you could do anything, could mold the world to your will. Once its power filled you, it hurt to give it up again. You needed to reach out and get more to fill that void.

  Mages spent their entire lives fighting for equilibrium, struggling to maintain control of the hunger. Joshua had seen that hunger consume countless mages before him. People who sought too much power stained the history of the Tower.

  Joshua paused for a moment, watching as the spell ran rampant through the tower. It flowed like a wildfire, up and up the tower. Only the hand of his master on his shoulder drew him from the majesty of the magic.

  “It’s time to leave,” Richard said, helping Joshua rise. “Unless you want to burn with the tower.”

  “I’m not fond of the idea,” Joshua said, following his master out.

  Behind them, flames engulfed the stone walls of the tower, racing back and forth across its surface. In mere moments, the stone began to crumble, torn asunder by the might of the fire that raged inside.

  As the sun rose, the last remnants turned to ash, leaving only a black spot to mar the land.

  “Back to Narn then,” Richard said, holding the darkness filled vial in his hands. “At least we might gain some knowledge of this thing from our sister’s death.”

  “Yes, master,” Joshua said, his eyes reluctantly releasing the ruins from their gaze.

  Narn was a small town, on the border between the kingdom of Tyra and the untamed Moav Plains. Joshua could not fathom why a mage would choose to take up residence there, but it had a few of the amenities of civilization. Its place on the old trade routes allowed at least that much.

  Joshua mused on that as he looked into his empty glass. All around him, the patrons talked at their tables in hushed whispers, sharing information and gossip with only the crackle of the roaring fireplace to mute their voices. The whispers were for him, he could see it in their eyes.

  His master was in their shared room, contacting the Archmage to relay their news. It was the first breakthrough since they had begun investigating the deaths in the winter prior. Now, winter had come again, the cold wind carrying them to new knowledge.

  Joshua couldn’t help but think of the vial of darkness. Something in it hooked into his mind, holding it captive. He had felt something almost alive within. The thought of that chilled him.

  “Much is on your mind today.” Richard interrupted his thoughts, returning from his conversation with the Archmage. “Would you care to share it with me?”

  “I’m only thinking of where we should go from here,” Joshua said.

  “Nethas,” Richard said. “We’re going to Nethas next.”

  “Why?” Joshua asked.

  “There’s been another death,” Richard said, searching the room. “Vernon, our ambassador to King Leopold was killed within the castle’s walls.”

  “Were there any witnesses this time?” Joshua leaned forward.

  “A creature cloaked in the night sky,” Richard said. “Larger than a man, but possessing the same shape. One of the servants caught a glimpse of it before it crushed Vernon’s skull.”

  “We have a piece of it then,” Joshua whispered, thinking of the vial.

  “Indeed,” Richard said. “There was something else as well. The servant said that Vernon tried to stop the creature. He said that fire, ice, and even lightning flew across the room. But, the creature was unharmed by it.”

  “That’s impossible,” Joshua said. “Even if the creature had wards carved in its skin, it wouldn’t be invulnerable to it.”

  “There are some forms of magic that are different from ours,” Richard said. “There are dark creatures that live on other planes of existence, some above and some below our own. There are things even in Nelim’s own past that might resist the magic.”

  “You know I never studied the histories,” Joshua said.

  “You know of the sylvestrians and the nalde at least?” Richard asked. “Those should at least be common knowledge from the archives.”

  “I somewhat remember them,” Joshua said, averting his eyes.

  “No you don’t,” Richard said, rubbing his nose. “Suffice to say that magic was much more powerful back then. Even the elements were just child’s play. There were spells that could even create life.”

  “But they were dangerous, I guess,” Joshua said, rubbing his hands together.

  “Dangerous enough to create a monster immune to magic that can crush a man’s head between its fingers,” Richard said, nodding.

  “Do you think that’s what this is?” Joshua asked.

  “I don’t know,” Richard said, pulling the vial out of his red robes. “But I think we have a way to find out.”

  Elise stalked the streets, her boots hammering down as she led her knights to the gallows. Their captive sputtered and cried as her knights carried him limply by his arms. Lowborn work, that’s what it was. She deserved more than just following orders. She wanted to give them.

  “I don’t want to go to the gallows,” the wizard said. “I know my rights. I am a man under the crown. Only the city guard can hold me.”

  Elise ignored him. Peasants truly didn’t know their rights, especially when they were magic users. All the study in dusty old tomes made them forget who held the power. It made them arrogant.

  They started down the stone stairs and the man screamed. Elise cuffed him hard across the ears with her gauntlet. He returned to his quiet whimper and her knights opened the wooden doors.

  If she were in charge, the streets would be clear of riffraff. The peasants only needed to know their true place, at the bottom. Wizards belonged behind bars and only merchants and nobles should walk the streets.

  That was the natural order.

  This did little to explain how a woman born from nothing could order Elise around. She bristled, remembering days long past when she and her sisters stood against the sarpans. That day made all the difference, if only she could go back and change it.

  The stink of sarpan breath still hung around her, even so many years after. The walls were breached so easily then, even if the sarpans hadn’t done it again since. She had taken command of a few, and led them to the temple to hold the line.

  Elaine was there already, fighting waves of sarpans with her own knights. The sarpans would have overrun them if Elise hadn’t brought her knights at the perfect moment. It was because of Elise, not Elaine that they won the day.

  Yet, Nathaniel gave the glory to Elaine and promoted her to captain on the blood-soaked grounds.

  The bitter taste still tainted her mouth, but it was enough to bring her back out of her memories. She spat as the screams of the tortured shuddered through her. She never liked the gallows, but she never stayed long.

  As her knights led their captive to one of the many rooms beneath the gallows and locked him inside, Elise promised herself she would make that change. She had no power over the past, but the future lay ahead.

  She would see Elaine behind those bars.