Our family send our deepest condolences for all lives that were lost in Laneby, especially those close to your heart. Such a blessing the Virtues were guarding your nephew's young soul.

So far Sundale had been largely underwhelming. Sure, the capital had streets longer than all of the streets in Laneby combined, with real shops that sold hundreds of books ready to be devoured, but Captain Jonathan had decided that the best place for Nick to remain while he found out about Abby's whereabouts was the enormous stable.

He wasn't mad per se, but it all seemed to take long. Too long. He had walked back and forth through six out of the seven corridors of the stable but still hadn't found Billy.

He barely wanted to think about the possibility that Seb had failed, so he stood on his tiptoes and peeked into yet another fourteen-by-fourteen foot box: a flea-bitten stallion with a pointy snout snorted, his ears all flat.

Nick immediately took a step back. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you."

A happy neigh came out of the opposite box. Through the bars peeped a buckskin mare with mischievous eyes.

"Do you know if my horse is here, somewhere?" Nick stroked her forehead. "He's all white with a long fluffy tail, and he's a bit weird. Too smart for his own good, but people say that about me too."

The mare neighed, sniffing his hand.

"Oh, who am I kidding? You're just a horse looking for food. You can't help me either."

"I know whe'e ya beastie is, al'ight." A male voice with a thick accent proclaimed. Its owner was a shabby looking man with greasy grey hair that fell on his shoulders. Four flies swarmed around him, with a fifth landing on his head. "One of the Se'jeants b'ought em in the day befo'e yeste'day—told em to put em all the way in the back, close to meh shed. Didn't like it one bit when I locked the door so I kept it open."

"Gods bless you." That did sound like something Billy would do. Nick ran through the corridor, towards the light of the meadow outside. And if Billy was here, then Seb and Abby had made it to Sundale as well.

A skinny boy in brown overalls came out of a log-wooden building, carrying an iron bucket full of carrots. If that was the shed, then one of these boxes had to be Billy's.

Nick jumped up—the pitch black mare who was munching on straw definitely wasn't Billy—then rushed to the other side, finding a cross-eyed stallion pushing out fresh balls of manure.

"Ow... Carry on. Don't look at me."

He dashed to the box next to the pooping horse. Instantly, a strange kind of feeling crept over him. There he was, his favourite stallion: just as white and with that characteristic fluffy tail of his. But he wasn't the same Billy that had left Laneby. There was something about him; a certain sadness.

"I'm here, boy." Nick opened the door and went in, almost trampling a bunch of half-eaten apple peels. "Did you miss me?"

The horse whimpered as Nick ran his hand through his mane, his droopy face staring at the ground.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Nick patted his neck, but Billy shrugged in reply; not violently, but with enough power to push him to the wall. The horse turned around. Suddenly the heap of hay in the corner of his box seemed more important than him.

Nick gulped down the thick lump that had formed in his throat. Never before had Billy refused him, and the rejection struck him right in the heart. What had Seb done to him?

"Ain't ya fault, kiddo." The shabby-looking man now stood right behind him, leaning on his pitchfork. "Haven't seen many Sco'ian halfb'eeds suffe'ing f'om the blues, but that's one fo' ya. The Se'jeant told me he came f'om the Plains."

"The Plains?" Nick's voiced screeched. So Seb had been desperate enough to try his luck. "Is he sick? He'll get better, won't he?"

"Ain't gonna lie, kiddo. He's no young foal." He shrugged with compassion. "If he doesn't, I'll relieve em from his mise'y. No beastie should suffe' like that."

"Please don't. Billy was my father's. He's the most reliable, patient, and the friendliest horse you'll ever meet. Me, my friends, and my siblings have all learnt to ride on him." Nick's throat tightened more as he spoke. He put his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. "Laneby is gone. Don't make me lose my horse too."

"Can't make no p'omises, kiddo." The man's rough hand patted him on the back. "But I'll do meh best. Ya can visit em whene'er ya like."

Billy now laid down on the straw, his legs underneath his belly. There was nothing. No neigh, no toss of his head; just a vacant stare into nothingness. "I will visit him every day. He has to get better, and if not I will do it myself. My father was the one who pulled him out of his mother. I'll finish it if I need to. He wouldn't want it any other way."

"Ya have a wise head on ya shoulde's, Young Maste'..."

"... Nicolas, but everyone calls me Nick." He brought his hands out of his pockets to shake hands.

The man returned the favour with a firm grip which squeezed most of the blood out of Nick's hand. At least it wasn't shaking anymore, not in that sense anyway. "Pleased to meet ya, Nick. People a'ound he'e know me as Ol' Dicky. Only His Majesty and meh mothe' call me 'ichard. I'm the Stable Maste'"

"His Majesty?" Nick arched a brow. Now that was something he found hard to believe. "The King comes here, personally?"

A loud, almost hysterical, laughter filled the stable, killing one fly as it dared to come close to the man's rotten teeth. "Of cou'se he comes he'e. His Majesty can't go without his weekly t'ips—says he g'ows 'estless if he don't go out once in a while. Wanna see his fabulous beastie? She's quite the cha'acte', as a Sco'ian should be."

"Nick!" Alex's loud voice disturbed him as he opened his mouth, ready to say 'yes'. "You have to come now. Captain Jonathan is back."

"I'm sorry." He gestured towards Alex shouting his name again. "It sounds amazing, but there's something I need to do first. It's very important, more important than a royal horse."

"Aye, if it matte's that much, then ya must go." Ol' Dicky opened the door, scratching the crust on his jaw. "But, ya know, kiddo, ya look like ya can sepe'ate the f'ont and the back of a ho'se. If ya want, Ol' Dicky could always use an ext'a pai' of hands."

"And I would use them to look after Billy." Nick glanced over his shoulder. The white stallion hadn't moved an inch. This was anything but normal. Had something happened to Abby? "I'm gonna have to decline. I'm sorry."

"Shame. If ya change ya mind, ya know whe'e to find me."

"I will. I'll be here anyway."

"Nick! Are you deaf?" Alex yelled.

"I am now." He poked his head around the corner of Billy's box, dabbing his finger into his ear. "And all of the horses too. Stop shouting."

"I wouldn't be shouting if you had answered the first time."

The chestnut stallion that had brought her to Sundale brushed his manes against Alex, begging to get petted. That would shut her up. He was about the only friend she had made since the patrol had picked them up. The capital wasn't going to treat her well if she continued defying orders and showing off her archery skills.

"You know my friend over there." Nick pointed at Alex, who was now sharing a kiss with the horse. "She's really good with animals as well, if she doesn't shoot them for dinner. Why don't you ask her?"

"Oh no, no, no." Ol' Dicky's long sticky hair swayed furiously as he shook his head. "The only women in meh stable a'e the ma'es. No offence, kiddo, but a ya f'iend wo'king he'e would mean meh boys go chasing er instead of the beasties."

"It's okay. I understand." A lie, but a convenient one. The Stable Master seemed like someone that should be in his good books, in case he needed something for Billy.

And his first priority was Abby anyway.

He headed back to the front of the stable, where the Captain was scolding a boy not much older than Nick. "Gods be damned, Cadet Victor, what are you even doing here? You should be at the academy!"

The Cadet whimpered. "But Jasper said that I—"

"I don't care what Serjeant Jasper wanted this time around. You have been warned already. If your grades keep slipping, we see no other option but to let you go. Now move!" He slapped his leather riding gloves against the boy's mop of light blonde hair. "Let me never catch you in the stables again at this hour."

The boy let out a yelp and fled, his feet scarcely touching the mix of sand and hay on the floor. Nick frowned. What a coward.

"Ah, here you are, Nicolas." The Captain readjusted one of the medals on his uniform. "I will take you and Miss Alexandra to my house—give you two the chance to freshen up first."

Nick's hands sought shelter on his back. This was not what the Captain had agreed on when they had ridden through Sundale's main gate. He would contact his supervisor about Abby and then take him there. "Not to mean any disrespect, Captain, but I'd rather see my sister before doing anything else. I haven't washed in five days. Really, I'll survive one hour more in these dirty clothes."

"I insist." There wasn't any trace of emotion in the Captain's voice and all of his wrinkles remained in the same spot on his face. He didn't even blink. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"But why? You did find her, didn't you?" Nick narrowed his eyes. "My horse is here so my sister should be too."

"I did. She's here." The Captain's facade broke slightly as he paused, allowing the silence to dominate for just too long. "But first you're coming to my house to wash and put on fresh clothes."

Someone repeating the same message never meant anything good. Nick balled his hands into fists, his breathing growing fast. "Captain, why aren't you taking me to her? What are you hiding?"

The Captain grabbed him by the arm, and whispered, "Look, I don't want to make a scene here, Young Master Nicolas. You will go to my place. We're going to do some talking, away from nosy stable ears, and if you still want to see your sister after that, I won't stop you."

"Still! What do you mean, still?" Nick tore loose from the Captain's grip, the God of Wrath now speaking through his mouth. "Say what you have to say! She's dead, isn't she? That's why I have to go to your house—to bathe before the funeral."

With a short jerk on his shirt collar, the Captain pulled him closer again. "I'm afraid that's the truth. And for that I am sorry. But keep your voice low and withstand His temptations, Nicolas. Giving in will only lead to actions you will come to regret."

"Nick, what's going on? Is Abby..." Alex's voice came at the precise moment that the bitter truth had reached his heart, shattering it into a million pieces.

Abby hadn't made it.

Seb had failed.

Blinded by fury, he jammed his elbow into the Captain's stomach and turned around to spit more venom. "See. I knew Seb wouldn't be fast enough. You have always been the best rider, Alex. You should have taken her. You're responsible. Seb's responsible. Even Fox, that bloody idiot. I wish I would have never gotten on that stupid hunting trip with you."

"You don't mean that. You're just upset." Alex didn't sound so sure anymore, like she had finally gotten rid of the God of Pride controlling her mind. "You would be dead if you hadn't joined us."

She tried to wrap an arm around him, but it was the Captain who snatched him away, his arms locked around his throat and chest. "Stop making this worse than it already is. Everybody's staring."

"I don't care! Let me go!" Nick slammed his foot down on the Captain's boots, his ankle meeting its metal tip. Tears sprung out of his eyes as the pain soared through his entire body. His mind still clouded with the all-consuming power of Wrath. "I demand to see my sister! You told me she's here in the city. You can't keep her from me!"

"Do you really think I will take you into the city when you're in this state?" The Captain smacked Nick against a surprisingly strong wall of straw, their wisps scratching his cheeks so quickly he could taste the iron of his own blood. "Be a real man and defy Him."

"Nick, you have to calm down," Alex urged. "We can go and see Abby together. I will be there for you."

"I don't need you! I don't need anything from you!" The words scoured his throat but hurt not nearly as much as the grief overwhelming him, allowing the God to continue raging on. "It's because of you that she's dead. You killed her, Alex. You and Seb!"

He closed his eyes, banging his head against the straw for what seemed like minutes on end. There was some truth in what he had been yelling, but he hadn't meant it like that. The magician was the real reason that his little sister was no longer alive. That cruel man and his equally cruel King were the only ones to blame.

But Alex would have been faster. She might have made it. In an attempt to stop his body from shuddering, he slumped against the wall. Wrath was slowly releasing His grip on him, normalising his breath to a steady cadence. He licked his lips, finding a mixture of salt and iron.

The stable master had joined the scene too. "Come with Ol' Dicky, Missy. I've hea'd ya fond of the beasties. I'm about to feed His Majesty's ma're. She's such a magnificent beastie. Fie'ce, not unlike yourself."

"Alright." Alex yelped. She was crying. He had made her cry.

"Thanks, Dicky. Could you bring her to Mary afterwards?" The Captain grabbed his shoulder, softly squeezing him. "I'll deal with this one."

The stable master saluted him. "Aye, Captain. I will."

Nick stayed standing against the wall, even when Captain Jonathan patted him on the back. "Now there, soldier. That wasn't so hard, was it? I think it's time we visit the dungeons—get you to say your goodbyes."

"And my bath?"

"It's no funeral yet. That won't happen until later. Unless you insist."

"No, I wanna see her now." He turned around, finding no Alex. She had really left with the Stable Master. Part of him wished that she hadn't; that she would be there to come with him after all.

Back outside, the bright sunlight stung his tear-streaked face. Everything about the city was so colourful and happy. The shops painted in bright red, yellow, or green; each more beautifully decorated with flowers and leaves.

The Sundalers appeared to be celebrating as they hustled and bustled through the streets, carrying heavy bags full of vegetables and bread on one arm, and a string of children on the other.

He cast his gaze to the cobblestones that paved the road to Sunstone Castle. Any other day, he would have stopped to stare at the thousands of figurines that guarded their own arch, but he couldn't. Too painful to get reminded of that archer girl that he hurt, or the happy blonde girl that he hadn't protected.

The Captain led him through a back alley, stopping at possibly the only sombre door in the entire city. He grabbed a key from his belt and put it into the lock. "Be careful, it's dark and the stairs can be slippery."

The opening door revealed a hole, only lit by a pair of torches burning at the bottom of the cragged stairs. Nick went in, after the Captain, but found out that the steps were nothing compared to the roads of Laneby after heavy rainfall. The Sundalers were definitely spoiled.

Goosebumps appeared on his skin. The difference between the dungeon and the late summer day that burnt outside could not be bigger. Shadows reigned in this place that reeked of death and decay. Nobody in their right mind would come here unless they really had to.

"You shouldn't blame your friends." The Captain picked up one of the torches. "One of the court Healers examined her body. There was nothing they could have done for her. The damage to her lungs was simply too big."

"I'm sorry. I'm not usually like that." Nick brought his hand to his face and rubbed off the mix of blood and tears. Even though Abby couldn't see him—not anymore—that didn't give him the excuse to look like he had been beaten up.

"You fight for what you hold dear. It's a great asset if you can control the blind rage of Wrath." Captain Jonathan entered a small room and placed the torch into the holder. "That God always wins if you let him."

"I know."

The stones were covered in an abundance of white scratches that resembled markings of some sort. This was an old prison cell. Right in the middle stood a low stone table; a white sheet draped over a small body.

It could only be Abby.

Nick's throat dried up as the Captain held up the sheet. The blonde girl was his sister, yet nothing about her was the same anymore. Her cracked cheeks were too grey, her skin too crinkled, and that smile too crooked. Seb had even closed her eyes so there was no way for him to stare into her innocent brown eyes one last time. "It's her. It's Abby."

"I'll leave you alone with her."

"Thank you, Captain." He sat down on his knees, his head resting against the stone, as if that would somehow stop the quivering of his lips. "Hey, little girl."

He paused, a foolish part of him hoping that she would rise up and jump into his arms, yelling, "Peekaboo!"

Nothing. No twitch of her eyebrow or a stiffened giggle. Oh, how he wished she would stick out her tongue and shower him with spit.

He could not bear the silence. Not this time. "You know, they were the first words I ever said to you when you were born. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. An icy cold north wind was howling through Laneby and water poured down from the heavens at such a speed that everyone feared the rising river would flood the entire village. It didn't stop you, Abby. For you, it was the perfect day to come into this world.

"George and I both wanted a brother, but when Father barricaded the door to their bedroom so we wouldn't come in, we stayed on the other side and waited. We were a little disappointed when you turned out to be a girl, but that was all gone when you grabbed my pinky finger with that small hand of yours."

Drops of brotherly tears fell down on his lap as he tugged at the sheet to touch her hand. Cold and lifeless. Had he really expected anything else?

"I made a vow that day, Abby. I promised that I would be a better big brother than George." He ran his finger around her ear, like he always did to teasingly wake her up after a nap. This time she would not flinch and open her eyes in shock. "I don't know if I was. I'm not very good at keeping promises. Like how I said I would read Ician fairytales with you, and joined Alex, Seb, and Fox instead.

"It was a lousy hunting trip." He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his sweat-filled shirt. "Why don't I tell you one of the stories now? There's one that I think would have been your favourite. It's called the Fairies of Blackwald. And it goes like this."

He scratched his throat. "Once upon a time, in a land far-far-far up North lived a little girl in the town of Blackwald. Her name was Dancer, and she loved dancing—just like you. Every day, after she had helped her mother at home, she danced her way into the forest. Legends claimed that it was home to a tribe of fairies, but that only those in greatest need could see them.

"One day, little Dancer was dancing alongside the river, when suddenly—out of nowhere—a strong wind caught her dress and swung her in the rapid bubbling water of the river. A couple of boys that were playing nearly heard her screaming, and they still tried to reach her hand as she passed by, but the current was moving too fast.

"She was nearly going under when five fairies appeared by the stream. Fluttering their wings they flew after Dancer and tried to get her out. They called out five more, and then another five, until a whole swarm of fairies managed to pull Dancer out. It was already too late. She didn't move or breathe anymore. Her heart had stopped. The only way to save her was to turn her into one of their kind, and so they did. Nobody ever believed the tales of those boys—who saw her transform into a tiny fairy with wings larger than that of a butterfly—but if you're ever in Blackwald, and listen carefully to the wind whispering through the leaves, you can hear little Dancer laughing and dancing with her new fairy friends."

Nick stood up, his feet not all that stable on the ground, and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Time to sleep now, little girl. The fairies are waiting for you. They need someone new to teach them how to dance."