It was cold in the mountains, especially at night. What would have been a pleasantly chilly early spring night in lower elevations was a crisp, frigid one in the pine forest they trekked through. Winter's brittle, jealous fingers, unwilling to relent their cruel grip on the land just yet, clawed their way up though the frozen soil and seized Dark, icy fingers slicing right through his body. Freezing spears stabbed through him, sending chills racing up his back, the back of his neck, his arms, everywhere.

A violent shudder wracked his body. With his free hand, the one not holding up Hugh, he pulled his coat tighter around his body, but its thin fabric was useless against the cutting wind that sliced through the valley. Wispy tendrils of his breath drifted in front of him, ghostly and ethereal in the silvery moonlight. Each puff was smaller than the last; each breath he took grew shallower and shallower. He couldn't draw in enough cold air, no matter how deeply he gasped. If he didn't know the effects of high elevation, he would've thought winter was stealing the air from his lungs.

Hugh, with his arm slung around Dark's shoulder, leaning almost entirely on him, was faring far worse. He was practically hyperventilating and, at this point, Dark was more or less dragging him along. Dark had offered multiple times along their journey to stop and rest early, but Hugh simply glowered at him and insisted on continuing.

Hugh stumbled over something on the dirt path and let out a pathetic wheeze, almost falling to the ground. He proceeded at a mere shuffle, feet barely leaving the ground.

"That's it," said Dark for maybe the fifth time. "We're stopping." He halted and let Hugh take a few unsteady shuffles before stopping as well, leaning more onto Dark.

"No," hissed Hugh.

"It's not because of you." Dark was sure to keep his tone curt, businesslike. "It's been hours since sunset. We're all exhausted. We don't know how much farther we can go--"

"I can see the village," said Jax, from just behind and to the left.

Dark squinted, struggling to make out any sort of coherent shape from the mess of shadows that was the valley. All he could see was the mottled shades of black that made up the landscape, and, beyond, the faint figures of mountains cutting triangles of pitch black out of the deep blue fabric of the sky. "I don't see anything."

"You're looking too far." Jax stepped forward, his shadowy figure sliding into Dark's peripheral vision. "Just down there." He pointed.

Dark followed Jax's finger, pointing just down the hill to a large swath of relatively flat land nestled in the valley. And, distant, faint, a flickering amber light. No, multiple lights, a small smattering wavering as if they would snuff out any moment. Indeed, just as Dark had the thought, one vanished from existence, leaving only an afterimage on his vision. The village was going to sleep.

"Do you see the lights?" asked Jax.

"Yes, I do."

Hugh scowled, squinting downward. "I don't see anything."

"They're definitely there." Dark made up his mind in a moment. "That settles it, then. We'll stop here, and make the trip to the village come morning. Then we'll be well-rested--ready to face a threat, if it turns out to be an angel.

Hugh was silent for a moment. Then, begrudgingly, "Fine."

He allowed Dark to lead him off the dusty path and into the pine trees, where they went to work setting up camp. They traveled light, only possessing a few blankets to lie on--most of their bags were dedicated to food, water, and medicine.

Hugh, once settled down, dozed off almost immediately. Jax scoffed in disdain at his sleeping figure, but said nothing, lying down and pulling a blanket up to his chin.

Dark did not settle; he sat down, leaned against the trunk of a tree, and gathered his magic. "I'll take first watch."

Jax sat up. A bright ray of moonlight fell on his face, allowing Dark to see his raised eyebrow. "There's...nobody to guard against." His words were slow and clumsy, weighed down by exhaustion. His eyelids drooped.

Dark titled his head toward Jax. "The angel?"

Jax shrugged. "We don't even know if it's an angel. Just..." He yawned. "Just go to sleep. Aren't you tired, Master Dark?" A touch of concern laced his muddled words.

Dark smiled in affection. "I'll be fine, Jax. I don't know what else it could be, though...in all my years of angel-hunting, I've never found a human with magic."

"You."

"Ah, that's true, I suppose. But..." Dark trailed off, unable to put his sense of foreboding into words. "I'd just feel better watching."

Jax frowned. "Sure." He yawned again. "Whatever...makes you happy..." He dropped back into bed, eyes falling shut.

Silence.

It was dead silent. The cold was a blanket over the valley, muffling any and all sounds that dared to stir the frozen quiet. Now that he wasn't moving, the cold truly set in, settling all around him, seeping in and chilling him to the core. Dark shivered and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.

In an attempt to distract himself from the cold, Dark tilted his head up, studying the sky. Up here in the mountains the stars shone brightly, the night sky covered with billions of twinkling spots. A wide, waxing moon hung among them, casting silvery light over the valley.

How beautiful.

Dark's breath caught in his throat, and he wrenched his gaze from the sky, instead concentrating on the hilt of his sword. Alas, it was a false beauty--behind it hid treachery and cruelty. He couldn't let himself be swayed by its facade. To think he'd almost been tricked by the front--

Dark planted his palms on the ground, steadying himself. Pine needles pricked his palm. Almost, but not quite. He'd stopped himself. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He took a deep breath, struggling to slow his now racing heart; the brisk air smelled of pine.

Yes, wasn't this a nice forest? A lovely place, far from the large cities, removed from society, and, in the center, a quaint little village. The perfect place for an angel to hide. If whatever they were seeking was an angel.

He'd first heard it as a rumor: a child living in the mountains cursed with fire. He'd initially dismissed it as just that--a rumor. Nothing trustworthy, just whispers that changed with every new ear they entered. But then he'd heard it more and more, heard that a group of travelers had recently come down from the mountain was spouting this tale.

So he'd followed it. It wasn't as if he had any particular destination, and, after all, a rumor had lead him to Hugh. Jax was content to follow Dark wherever he went, so he had no complaints, and Hugh was simply glad to finally have some sort of goal.

If it was an angel, he'd kill it. And if it turned out to be someone like him, a human with magic, then he couldn't just leave that child be, could he? Fragments of the emotions he'd felt the day his parents died bubbled up, quickening his pulse once again. Echoes of the sobs he had let out, racked with both rage and grief, sounded in his ears, faint and far away but heartbreaking. Nobody would have to experience that--not if he could help it.

Set with resolve, Dark was ready for the next day. An electric thrill raced through him; he wanted to jump to his feet right that moment and dash down to the village, throwing open door after door until he found this rumored child. But the cold was numbing his senses, the silence becoming serene, and his exhaustion finally caught up to him, dragging his eyelids down. Some sleep wouldn't hurt. He could rest until morning and be ready for whatever they found.

A scream ripped through the night.

Dark and Jax were on their feet in an instant.

"It came from the village," said Dark.

Without a word, Jax strode across their makeshift camp, near breaking into a run by the time he reached the edge. Dark reached out and grabbed his arm; Jax's forward momentum almost pulled him off his feet.

"Where are you going?" Dark demanded. He'd expected Jax to freeze, gape, and stare at Dark expectantly, waiting for an order. Jax didn't just shoot off.

Jax wrenched his arm from Dark's grip, glaring at him with eyes full of fire. "Where do you think? The village. We've got to help."

Though Dark had fully intended to go to the village, he hadn't considered going there to "help." Perhaps he wanted to "investigate." But, yes, the scream had been a young one, wrought with fear and terror and other emotions that made Dark's skin crawl. If the situation called for it, he'd gladly help.

Another scream, raw and shrill, rocked the valley. Its echoes bounced off the mountainsides, over and over and over again, until it finally faded into silence. Chills rolled up Dark's spine.

The second scream electrified Jax, stretching his eyes wide and tensing his muscles. "We need to go!"

This time he grabbed Dark's wrist, desperately tugging him toward the path. Dark cast one last glance at Hugh—still sleeping soundly. They'd leave him. There was no way he could last a dash down the mountain, let alone face whatever was happening in the village.

"Leave him!" urged Jax, pulling harder. "We don't have time—come on, Dark!"

Dark let himself be pulled from the clearing.

They raced through the night, practically stumbling down the steep incline. Frigid air stung his face, but the fire inside him warded off winter's creeping fingers. A few low hanging branches smacked his face, but he didn't feel it, didn't care—all he could hear was that scream, echoing throughout the valley, echoing through his head. The dirt path joined the main road—still unpaved, covered in gravel—at harsh angle, and they both swerved to change directions. They sent a shower of loose pebbles fanning out from their feet.

After only thirty seconds of sprinting on the gravel road were they met by a wooden arch over the road, declaring the name of the village. At the sight of it, Jax let out a soft cry and increased his speed. Dark found himself trailing after. They shot into the village, humble cottages with dark windows passing by at a blur. The main road, now cobbled, lead straight to the source of the scream: an open plaza with a fountain in the center.

A large mob was clustered around the fountain, a few holding lanterns that cast a faint circle of light around them. They were all facing the fountain; none noticed Jax and Dark burst into the plaza. Dark stopped near the edge of the crowd, gasping for breath. His lungs burned, his face burned, his arms burned, everything burned; he no longer felt the biting cold.

Another scream, far weaker and more desperate, came from the center of the crowd: "No! Please—"

It was cut off.

Before Dark could even think, Jax plowed into the crowd—the men, not expecting an intruder, did not give much resistance. Jax's path through the crowd allowed Dark to see the center of attention: a man standing by the fountain, forcing a child's head underwater.

A second man stood nearby, hanging a lamp above the scene; golden light glinted off the ripples in the water, the shards of ice drifting around the writhing boy and his glossy black hair.

Jax charged at the man holding the child, drawing back his arm and slamming a punch into the man's face. The man let out a shout that shook the valley and stumbled back into the crowd; they caught him before he fell over. The child burst from the water, bracing his arms on the side of the fountain. His entire body heaved as he took in desperate breaths, loud enough for Dark to hear, several feet away. The child's black hair was sodden, masses of tangles obscuring his face; water dripped from the ends, rippling the water beneath him and sending the ice shards bobbing.

Jax ignored the shocked murmurs of the crowd and knelt by the child, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched but didn't look up, still leaning over the water. Jax murmured something low and inaudible from far away, but there was a comforting tone to it, quiet and soothing. The boy didn't react to Jax's presence, but his breathing evened out.

The man Jax had punched regained his footing, and, face red under the dim light, marched to Jax and loomed over him, glowering. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Jax's head snapped up. His voice was quiet. "Saving this boy. What do you think you're doing, drowning an innocent child?"

The man's eyes stretched wide, but more out of disbelief than fear. The brief moment of shock was quickly washed away, replaced by a lips-drawn back, mocking-eyed sneer. He scoffed. "Innocent. That little fiend is anything but innocent." He spat the word out like it was venom in his mouth, filled with all the contempt in the world.

A dim spark of realization kindled in the back of Dark's mind.

Jax didn't falter. "I refuse to believe that this boy could be evil enough to justify being murdered in cold blood." He stood up, placing himself as a barrier between the child and the man. A large section of the crowd on the other side of the child could have easily reached the child, but an invisible barrier held them back, all too entranced by the confrontation to even consider moving. The boy, still leaning on the fountain, did not turn to watch; he had grown terribly still, as if he feared moving would break the spell holding the mob in place.

"Oh you'd be surprised." The man tilted his head back and let out a harsh, bitter crackle. "He's done nothing but terrorize this village from the day he was born--he's cursed, I tell you, cursed! He's brought nothing but suffering to all of us, and we should've done away from him long ago. Step aside, interloper. You couldn't understand the misery he's put us through."

Dark would have given anything to see the expression on Jax's face, but, even just watching his back, there was much to be gleaned. Jax's shoulders tensed, and he seemed to grow several inches, a formidable barrier protecting the child from the spiteful man before him.

"I think only an interloper could have a clear enough mind to see what's truly happening here," said Jax. His voice was flat, unyielding, with a razor edge of coldness. A chill crept up Dark's arms; never before had he heard such a tone from Jax. "And do you know what I see? I see a cruel, unjustified murder. What right do you have to decide if he lives or dies?"

"This is for the greater good," snapped the man, cracking his knuckles. "And it's hardly unjustified. Just yesterday, that fiend almost burned my wife to death!" At this, the mob murmured, a slight ripple passing through them as the words reignited the spark of blind fury within them. The loose circle around the fountain shrank.

Curse. Burned. The puzzle pieces clicked into place, and the scene before Dark shifted, seen in a new light. If Jax understood that the boy he was defending was their quarry, he gave no sign. For a brief moment, Dark considering ordering Jax to stop--if this child was an angel, then the mob would do the job for them--but the words caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the boy. He was truly pathetic, keeled over the fountain, absolutely petrified, pale and battered and unkempt. And, even so, there were other possibilities. It'd be best to diffuse the situation first.

"I won't let you touch this boy." Jax's words were as solid as the earth beneath him.

The man merely snarled and took another step forward. The crowd leaned in.

It was time to step in.

Dark strode forward, shouldering his way through the crowd. Not expecting another intruder, they gave way easily, tumbling at a light push. He made his way to the center and positioned himself next to Jax. Jax spared but a glance at Dark, a touch of excitement in his gaze, then resumed scanning the crowd and intermittently glaring at their leader.

"Who the hell are you?" spat the man. "Get out of the way."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," said Dark, voice smooth and calm. He doubted he could win them over with pretty words, but it was worth a try, "We'll deal with this child. You can go home." Perhaps that wasn't as eloquent as he'd intended.

The man's eyes went wide and he stiffened in rage, as if he couldn't believe Dark's impudence. "Are you kidding me? I said leave."

Dark let his false pleasantness fall away, speaking in a flat tone. "I won't let you hurt him."

There was a soft, relieved sigh from Jax. Then, "Neither will I."

When Jax spoke, the man uttered a growl not unlike a cornered animal and stalked toward him, fists clenched. Jax glared him down, every muscle in his body seizing up--he looked ready to launch into a fight.

Dark stepped in front of Jax. "Wait. Wait, please."

"Why the hell should I wait?" snarled the man. "Either you move or I beat you to a pulp!"

"I'd like to resolve this without conflict," said Dark, cooly as he could manage. A simmering anger was building up inside him, but he shoved it down. The last thing he wanted to do was terrify the child by instantaneously knocking out a mob fifty strong.

"Not possible." The man took another step forward.

"Just let us take care of it," urged Dark. "I promise you won't see him again."

At this, a brief flash of consideration flitted across the man's face, but it was swallowed by red-faced rage. "I'm not giving up the satisfaction of ending him with my own two hands."

"I don't recommend taking that route," said Dark. "I'll fight you if you want, but I guarantee I alone could take all of you out--" he swung his arm in a wide genture at the mob "--without even using this." He let his hand drop to the hilt of his sword, and he ran his fingers over it.

The man's eyes dropped to the hilt and his face drained of color, as if he'd just realized its implications. But the brief moment of fear was swept away by anger once again, and he let out a cry and charged at Dark, pulling back his right arm for a fearsome blow.

Dark ducked under the punch and landed a swift blow to the man's stomach; at the moment his fist made contact, he seized the man's energy and clamped down on it as hard as he could. The man fell from his fist, limp, onto the ground. He didn't move. The crowd close enough to see let out gasps and murmurs, backing away from the man's body as if he was poisonous, while those unable to see pushed and clamored to see over each others' heads.

"There you have it," announced Dark, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. "Now leave, or else you all will suffer much worse consequences."

The crowd stirred, murmurs drifting through the cool air. They cast wary glances at Dark, then at each other, to Jax, each other, to Dark's sword, and over and over again in a confused cycle. Snippets of their conversations reached Dark's ears.

"...did you see..."
"...we can't..."

"...only two..."

"...but what if..."

"...maybe we..."

Without their ringleader stoking the flames, the rage had simmered out, and most looked like dejected children that had been told off by their parents. Even so, a few turned to Dark with hardened eyes, clenches fists, and squared shoulders, taking a few cautious steps in his direction.

No good, no good. I must end this quickly. He reached to his side and drew his sword, admiring the way the blade gleamed in the moonlight. He turned it in a few directions, watching the light play of the metal, before scanning the crowd to make sure he'd captured the crowd's attention. Dozens and dozens of eyes locked upon the blade, following its movement as Dark waved it above their heads.

"I'd like to resolve this peacefully," he repeated. "You understand what will happen if not."

A pause.

A man broke away from the main body, taking a few steps back. Another followed, and then another.

The crowd disbanded. Men walked off in all directions, muttering amongst themselves and shooting resentful glares at Dark, Jax, and the child. Somebody called, "You'd better have gotten rid of him by morning."

Dark turned to speak to Jax, only to find him already kneeling by the boy, murmuring low words in a comforting tone. The boy finally removed his palms from the fountain, straightening up and facing Jax. He spoke a few quiet words, brushing sodden strands of hair from his face.

Dark knelt beside Jax and studied the boy's face. He was pale, but his skin was marred by several dark bruises and scratches. A particularly large gash ran just above his eyebrow, blood sleeping from the cut. The boy pulled his sleeve over his hand and pressed it to the wound, wincing.

And his eyes--pale red. A slight shiver raced through Dark at the sight of them--those weren't human eyes.

Those eyes regarded Dark with no small measure of wariness--he'd no doubt heard Dark's threats.

"...we're here to help." Dark caught the end of Jax's assurance.

The boy took a step back.

"I swear we won't hurt you." Jax, eyes brimming with earnest, couldn't have been less threatening.

The boy's gaze shifted from Jax to something behind him; Dark and Jax turned and saw the man Dark had just knocked unconscious, splayed out on the pavement. A few of the men loomed a few feet away, eyeing Dark warily. They appeared too cautious to move forward and help their friend.

The boy looked back at Dark, eyes stretched wide. "Did...did you..." He lifted a trembling hand to point at the unconscious man. "...did you kill him?" As if the implications of his words hit him only after he spoke it, his eyes went even wider and he staggered back, regarding Dark with utter terror.

Dark laughed. He let the sound roll around the plaza, warm and hearty. It was a spontaneous reaction to a show of childish innocence (goodness, why would he ever want to kill a man?) and also served as an attempt to soothe the poor boy's nerves.

Beside him, Jax's smile thinned considerably, but he maintained a sunny expression for the boy, who, to Dark's satisfaction, eased up ever so slightly. His free hand was still held up in front of him in a vain attempt at defense, but the terror in his eyes had subsided.

"Goodness, no." Dark punctuated the sentence with a final chuckle, and completed it with a warm smile. "Don't you worry. He's just unconscious. I wouldn't kill a man."

Jax made an odd sound--some mix between a click and a sigh--and shifted, but Dark paid him no mind. "But what about you. Are you okay?"

The boy's shoulders dropped but his eyes remained guarded. "Fine." He took another step back. "Thank you for helping me. Bye." He turned around.

"Wait!"

Jax spoke the word with such ferocity that the boy jumped like he'd been shot. He whipped around, entire body tense, and stammered, "Wh-what?"

"Ah, sorry." Jax coughed and took a deep breath. "I don't mean to scare you. We'd just like to talk a little."

The boy glanced at Dark, then back to Jax. "N-no. Sorry. I need to go home." He stepped back.

"That's no problem," said Dark. "We'll walk with you."

"No thank you." The boy's voice wavered. "I need to go." Two steps back.

"Please, wait," appealed Jax, keeping his voice low and gentle. "I swear we just want to talk. We'd like to help you, if only you can let us."

The boy made a small dissenting sound and shook his head. Strands of black, wet hair flew about his head. He started to turn.

"Now, wait."

The boy froze in his tracks, captured by Dark's most commanding tone.

"Please, hear us out." Dark eased up his voice just a little, adding in a slight pleading tone. He didn't need to scare the child away, and he could already tell--goodness, this child needed help. "You see all those fellows waiting around the plaza?"

At Dark's gesture, the boy's eyes roamed the area, locking onto each and every one of the lingerers for a moment. With each one his visible tension grew, the boy seemingly growing smaller as he tensed up. A few of them returned his gaze with a poisonous glare. The boy withered under their stares.

Though the boy's pitiful fear was painful to watch and terrible to inflict, it had a purpose. "They're probably still mad at you, right? They wouldn't give up just because their ringleader took a hit. The only reason they're not moving in is because Jax and I are here. If you go home alone, you'll surely get attacked."

With every word, the boy cowered more, and with every word, another spear of guilt stabbed through Dark's heart. When had speaking the right words started to hurt? But he pushed on.

"Let us walk you home. We'll make sure nobody attacks you. I know I said some pretty bad things to that man, but I promise they were just lies to placate the audience. I promise we'll keep you safe. And you don't have to talk to us. Do you have a guardian we can speak with...?"

The boy mulled over Dark's words for several moments, but the fear was draining from his eyes. It was still present, without doubt, but it had lessened, hopefully enough to accept the offer.

He shifted and switched the hand pressed to his forehead. Taking a few steps to the side, he leaned against the fountain and dipped the bloodied sleeve into the water, then attempted to wring out the water with one hand. His words were almost lost under the swishing of the water. "Fine."

Dark leaned forward. "What?"

"Fine," muttered the boy. He avoided eye contact, directing his gaze sideways and down. "You can talk to my mom. But she might not want to..."

"Ah, thank you!" Jax's exclamation drowned out the end of the boy's words.

"How about your name?" Dark prompted.

The boy paused again, biting his lip. Once again, his words were barely a whisper. "Malias."

"A pleasure to meet you, Malias." Dark nodded and watched Jax stick out his hand, only to drop it as Malias ignored the gesture and turned around, setting off at a brisk pace. Dark shot Jax a sympathetic smile, Jax rose from his crouch, and they set after the boy. Some of remains of the mob lingered at the plaza's edge, their eyes following Malias like a predator tracking its prey, but none dared to move and risk Dark's anger. They did, however, shoot Dark plenty of glares.

After they had left the plaza, Malias curtly requested for Dark and Jax to walk in front of him. They complied, but Dark kept the child in the corner of his eye to make sure he didn't bolt. They continued like that for several minutes, the houses thinning and shrinking as time slid by. More cracks riddled the road, and tenacious weeds pushed themselves through. Not a soul stirred beyond lightless, clouded window panes, and the night slunk deeper into deep cold. Its bite cut through all three of them, but the poor boy felt the effects the strongest.

Unlike Dark and Jax, clothed in heavy coats, the boy only had his long-sleeved shirt, the fabric of which appeared thin. His damp hair was only just beginning to dry into stiff, icy strands, and he was shivering.

Jax asked, "Are you okay?"

Malias didn't answer.

They continued to walk, and the village continued to degrade. Malias spoke only once more, and that was to inform them of a sharp turn into an alleyway. In the alley the road wasn't paved; only hardened dust was beneath their feet. No facades faced this downtrodden street, only the mud-splattered sides of buildings and a handful of tenacious plants.

The alley turned into a path, which snaked out of the village and into the thinly forested area surrounding the town. A few cottages were sprinkled around the area like lone boulders on a slope, and all but one were quiet.

Malias raised his hand and pointed at the exception, a small, unremarkable house with smoke curling from the chimney. A spindly pine pushed its way from the ground in front of the house, obscuring half of its front, but the fragments of window visible through the branches glowed a faint orange.

"That's it."

He lead them to the front door--wood chipped and unpolished--and, after a moment of hesitation, gave it two short knocks. Someone wrenched open the door moments later, and a tall, spindly women wearing a nightgown appeared in the threshold. She took one look at Malias and her eyes widened.

She dropped into a crouch and grabbed both his shoulders, scanning his features. She yanked his hand away from his forehead, frowning in a mixture of concern and disgust as she saw the wound. Then her gaze shot up to Dark and Jax, and her face scrunched up in suspicion. With a sharp pull, she forced Malias into the house and behind her, then snapped, "And who're you?"

"My name is Dark, and this is Jax." Dark nodded to the woman. "We're travelers. We found Malias in a bit of trouble at the plaza and gave him a hand." He studied her. She looked to be his mother, but with straight brown hair and dark eyes, she didn't resemble him in the slightest. Her sharp, pointed features couldn't have been more unlike the wide-eyed child's behind her. "And you are...his mother?"

She curled her lip. "I know what you're thinking. I am his mother, and I couldn't be surer of that fact."

"Ah, I apologize. That wasn't what I was implying--"

"Forget it." The mother scoffed. "That look on your face tells me everything."

Dark opened his mouth to protest again, but Malias's mother shook her head and cut him off.

"I don't care." She turned and faced her son. "What exactly happened out there, Malias?" Her voice was harsh, almost accusatory, but it was laced with concern.

"I...Mr. Marson tried to...to drown me...in the fountain." Malias squirmed under her scrutiny and took several steps back. "But they...they helped me."

"He...what?"

Malias winced and receded further as his mother stiffened.

"Oh, goodness." The mother sighed. "Go wash yourself. I'll be there soon to help patch you up. You'll be okay." She patted him on the shoulder, then gave him a little push. "Go on. Take care of yourself."

Malias nodded and scurried into the depths of the house.

"So." Her gaze was back on Dark and Jax, and the brief kindness in her eyes had been obliterated. Only a harsh, business-like edge remained, and she remained physically tense. "Is what he says true? What happened?"

Dark stepped forward and offered the woman his most easygoing smile. "We heard your son's scream and ran to find the source. We found him in the plaza, being held underwater in the fountain. There was a mob surrounding him."

Alarm flashed in the mother's eyes, but her face remained stone cold. "And how, exactly, did you deal with that situation?"

"Fortunately, it was quite easy to defuse. I knocked out the man forcing Malias under the water, and the mob dispersed. We walked him here to make sure he wasn't attacked again."

"You..." She processed Dark's words for a moment. "...knocked him out." She shook her head. "Nevermind that. Thank you for helping my son. Have a nice night." She started to shut the door.

"Ma'am, please wait!" Jax pleaded. The mother paused, and he jumped on the chance. "If it wouldn't trouble you too much, ma'am, could we please have a short talk with you? We'd like to know a bit about this town, and Malias told us you might be able to help us. It wouldn't take very long, and we'd very much appreciate it."

He smiled his sunniest smile--goodness, he was positively radiant--and the reluctance melted right off the woman's face.

"Fine. Because you helped my son." Jax opened his mouth to thank her, but she held up a finger to silence him. "Hold on. I need to tend to my son's injuries first. Then we'll talk. Wait outside the door. I'll come get you when I've finished."

"We're very grateful, ma'am." Jack's nod turned into a bow. "But could we please have your name?"

"Maria Lamki." The door slammed shut.

She didn't keep them waiting for long. It had not been even ten minutes before the door opened again, letting out a plaintive creak, and Maria's scrawny figure stood in the doorway.

"I've sent Malias to bed," she said, "so don't think about interrogating him."

"Of course not, ma'am," murmured Dark as she lead them inside. The house opened into a small front room, lit by a dim lamp in the corner. Two couches faced a low table in the middle of the room. Maria sat in one of the couches, and gestured for Dark and Jax to sit in the other. The fabric was rough under Dark's fingers.

"So." Maria clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap. The low light, hitting only one side of her face, turned her sharp features even starker, deep shadows directly next to splashes on light. "I'm assuming you're less curious about the town and more curious about Malias."

Jax shifted slightly. "Um, yes."

Her features twitched, for a moment, into an expression of slight disdain. "Very well. That's what I'd expect, anyway. I'm sure you've heard rumors. What do you know?"

"All that we know," said Dark, "is that there was a child born in this village cursed with fire. I heard that, before his birth, his mother would disappear into the woods for several hours each day. I heard that his father was a strange man from a faraway country."
Maria clicked her tongue. "Is that so. Well, let me get this out of the way. Malias is not illegitimate. I could not be more certain that he is my own child. I carried him for nine months, after all. And once you see my husband, you won't have any doubts that he is the father. Malias took after him. He's out right now, looking for Malias, but hopefully he'll hear of the events at the plaza and return home. And, I assure you, the bizarre rumors that he is some otherworldly creature are false. He is a foreigner--just a normal man--not some supernatural being, and if you even so much as insinuate that, you will be out of this house in an instant."

"Of course, ma'am." Jax bowed his head. "We wouldn't think such things."
"You'd better not."

"So, ma'am..." Dark leaned forward. The boy, it seemed, was human, unless Maria was lying. But humans did not just walk around with magical power akin to an angel's. "Could you tell us about Malias's curse? Do you know where he got it?"

"Do I know...?" Maria sighed, her gaze focusing on some faraway memory. She blinked, and her eyes were on Dark once more. "I'll never know for sure, but I have an idea."
"Do those rumors about you disappearing have anything to do with it?" Jax asked softly.

Maria pursed her lips. "Yes." She shifted her position and once again placed her hands in her lap. "I liked to take walks in the woods just outside town. I'd make them quite frequently. But, of course, your little rumors twisted the facts. I've been leaving town ever since I was Malias's age. But I suppose they only care about them..." Her lip curled. "...when they have something to gossip about."

"Was it the woods, then, or something else?" said Dark.

"Something I found in the woods," said Maria. "It was not something I went out looking for. Indeed, he found me."

"He?"

"Yes. He was..." Her gaze sharpened, cutting into Dark and Jax. Her features shifted, became a bit more stiff, more guarded. "He was an angel."

Jax went rigid. Dark did not. Maria was watching them both, gauging their reactions, almost certainly waiting for one to proclaim her insanity. Dark obligingly lifted an eyebrow and echoed, "Angel?"

"I know what I saw. You need not offer any 'logical explanations.' I've heard them all."

"I wasn't planning to, ma'am. I only want to hear what you think happened."

"What I think happened is that I saw an angel descend from the sky, fire flying from his wings, and greet me. Mind you, I was already several months pregnant by that time. And, goodness, I was absolutely smitten." The faraway quality crept into her eyes again, some reminiscent youthful wonder softening her features. "Not smitten with him, exactly, but rather the adventure around him. The mystery. The thrill. I was bored out of my mind. Everybody telling me to stay at home, to rest, to take care of myself--so, of course, I couldn't resist when he offered to show me the wonders of his magic. There was only one condition: I needed to keep it a secret.

"Of course I did. So we began to meet regularly, hidden away in the forest, and he would show me wonderful shows with his magic. I was enchanted by the way he could make flame dance through the air, summon it and blend it to his will." The lamplight gleaming off her eye could have been the flames she saw, twisting and dancing in a bright show.

"He could control fire?" Dark said.

"Yes." Maria turned her head, and the light in her eyes extinguished. "Not like Malias, though. Malias is...touchy. He can't control it. It only appears when he gets angry or upset, and it jumps out of him with no warming. Sometimes he accidentally sets something on fire or burns someone. It's caused him a lot of trouble."

Jax and Dark solemnly nodded; they knew the "trouble" it could bring.

"If he could control it like the angel did..." Maria's mouth thinned. "He could be very powerful. The angel was a master in his displays, and it perfectly ensnared me in his trap. Our meetings started out pleasant. Though he asked me much about myself, he only ever told me two things: his name, Otho, and that he used to have a home very far away. Sometimes he would show his research notebooks--apparently, he fancied himself an intellectual--but I never truly understood them.

"Then things grew strange. As the months went on, he became increasingly fascinated in my pregnancy, incessantly questioning me. When did I think the baby would be born, how was I feeling, was anything strange happening."

"Those sound like normal questions," commented Jax.

"Perhaps, but I mean incessantly. Multiple times every meeting, over and over. 'How are you feeling now?' 'And now?' 'Is anything different?' And it was not as much the question itself that bothered me but the way he asked it. Not worried or concerned, but excitedly, and he always had the most wicked grin when I told him the child would be born soon. I began to fear that he had done something to me--my child--and he was simply thrilled to see the results."

"And you were right."
"...yes." Her response was but a whisper, almost lost in the murmurings of night. "Eventually, my fear grew enough that I finally told Otho I was done. No more meetings, I told him, no more magic. I didn't want to see him again. He seemed fairly unfazed until I told him he couldn't see my child."

Jax learned forward. "What did he do?"
"He grew very still. Very quiet. I thought he was going to kill me. But he merely said, in the coldest voice he'd ever used, that was a promise I couldn't keep. Then he left. His wings appeared and he flew away. For the next few weeks, I lived in constant fear, waiting for him to show up at the door and get his revenge. He never did. Malias was born. And that's when I realized what Otho had done. I took one look at Malias's eyes, and I knew."

Dark raised his eyebrow. "He was like that from birth?"

"Well, not entirely." Maria's gaze drifted to the shadowed hallway. "His eyes, yes. Red from birth. I was scared out of my mind, and I was forced to admit to my husband what I'd been doing. He's...skeptical about the angel, but, unlike some, he doesn't find the need to question my sanity. We had no idea what Malias's eyes meant, naturally, but I feared it was for the worse. I was always watching him for any signs of him being off, but he was normal...until he was about six. That's when the fire manifested--he threw a fit and burned my husband--and I became sure Otho had done it."

"But what happened to Otho?" asked Jax.

"For a few years, he lingered in this town." Maria's hands crept up her arms. Her shoulders stiffened. "Watching."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I say. Watching. Never coming close, never speaking, but I saw him. In crowds at the plaza, at the edge of the forest, peering out from behind bushes when we let Malias outside--just watching. For three years, he watched. Whenever we met eyes, he smirked. I was too scared to confront him. He'd disappear if my husband went after him. Eventually--after a year--we got sick of it. My husband got his rifle and shot Otho."

Jax blinked. "You--oh--!"

Maria scowled. "It didn't work. Or, at least, it didn't kill him. It looked like a direct hit, but we found no body. Even so, after that, he disappeared. We never saw him again. I don't know where he went." Her lip curled. "Hopefully we scared him away and he'll never be back, but...I get the feeling he wouldn't give up so easily."

"Hopefully he won't return," said Dark. Angels, he'd found, were highly resilient against mundane weapons, be it a knife or firearms. Enough force could damage them, but it was a waste of energy. A blade enchanted with just a touch of magic cut through an angel's skin just as easily as a human's. But with a normal rifle--that Otho was, most likely, still out and about and very much alive. There was a fair chance he'd eventually return to check up on his experiment. This family of innocent humans was in danger.

"When did the townspeople find out about Malias?" asked Jax. "Have...have they been doing this for long?"

"I couldn't keep it hidden for long," said Maria. "I tried to hide him, keep him away, stop anyone from seeing his eyes. But word travels, especially in a town as small as this, and I eventually had to own up, lest the rumours become worse than the truth. That was before the fire, obviously. He was maybe two or three at the time. People were already cautious of him, and suspicious of me. And then came the fire. There were...incidents. He'd burn things...mostly property, gardens, that sort of thing."

She glowered at them. "Don't you think he's some kind of vandal. Malias is the sweetest boy to ever grace this village. If those fools could look past their fear, maybe they could see that. But Malias is a little bit...sensitive. He upsets easily, and those people give him more than enough reasons to be upset. He comes home with bruises, scratches...they particularly like the fountain."

"Why is that happening?" demanded Jax. "Do you just let him wander outside alone?!"

"Calm down, Jax," murmured Dark.

Maria crossed her arms. "We don't. If we go out at all, it's always as a group. But he's restless, so we let him run around in the backyard at night. But, at that point, it was too late. There were too many incidents, and the townspeople were already convinced he was cursed and bent on destroying the village. Suddenly, people I've grown up with, people who have been my friends since childhood, people who helped raised me, were intent on murdering my son. They break in, hide in the woods, and drag him off to 'extinguish' him. It's disgusting."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Jax bowed his head. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"I don't care what you think--"

The front door swung open with a shrill creak, letting in a gust of frigid air. Maria's gaze shot up, and relief spread over her face, thawing her icy features. She jumped up and darted to the man, then sidestepped him to shut the door.

It seemed Malias had taken after his father. The man standing in the doorway, rubbing his arms as the last gusts of chilled air swirled around the room, resembled Malias to an almost uncanny degree--or, Dark supposed, Malias resembled him. His hair was black, ruffled, and cut in a similar fashion to Malias's. His rounded facial features were practically the same, simply a bit more worn by age. The only difference was the eyes; this man's eyes were as black as the night sky.

Maria's husband instantly locked onto Dark and Jax, glaring at them with cautious eyes. "Who are they?"
"They call themselves Dark and Jax," said Maria, bolting the door. She swept aside and drew the blinds. "They helped out Malias. I assume you heard what happened?"

"I did." His voice was cold. "I heard that that some fellows were 'just pushing around' Malias, and then strange men appeared. One of them knocked out Marson with a single punch."

Maria, finished with sealing the house, spun to fix Dark with a sharp glare. "Is that so?"

Dark laughed. "Oh, please. Rumors exaggerate. I don't have that sort of strength! No, I just, you could say, pushed him around a little, to scare off the crowd."

"I see. And you--" Maria spun to face her husband. "What took you so long? How did you not find Malias before they did? There was a mob in the plaza, for goodness' sakes! Not easy to miss, I'd assume."

"I knew where he was." He scowled. "They were waiting for me. I got intercepted before I could enter the plaza by a group of four or five of them. Waiting there so I couldn't interrupt. By the time I broke free, the crowd had already dispersed. I..." He let out a great sign, and his entire body deflated, hunching over. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I thought they'd killed him."

Maria stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. She murmured, "He's in his room."

Malias's father nodded and slunk away, disappearing into the shadowy hallway. Maria watched him go, waiting until a soft click of a door being closed sounded from the hall. She jerked her head to face them, a challenge in her features.

"Are you convinced that he is Malias's father?"

"Yes." Dark rose from the couch, followed by Jax. "Consider me convinced."

"Then, if that's all, you can be on your way." Maria's deft hands undid the bolt in seconds. She pulled open the door gingerly and silently. Frigid air seeped in, swirling around their feet. When Dark and Jax failed to move, she gestured at the open entryway. "Well? Out."

Dark bit his lip, eyeing the outside with reluctance. He had information, sure, but that was all. He needed more--

"Then we'll be going, ma'am." With a quick bow, Jax started forward.

His action broke Dark from his stupor. "Yes, we will." He stopped at the doorway to give Maria a nod. "Thank you for humoring us. I apologize for troubling you so late at night."

"We'll consider it even since you helped my son." Once Dark and Jax were completely outside, Maria stepped backward, into the house. With a wry, almost bitter smile, she added, "Hopefully we won't need to meet again."

She closed the door.

Dark lead the way down the path, though he wasn't concentrating on the route. His mind was on the boy, on Maria's stories, on the tale of an angel. Malias couldn't continue to live here, in perpetual fear for his life, hostile townspeople waiting at every turn to snuff him out, every tomorrow shrouded in uncertainty. Not even his parents knew what to do with him. And the possibility of angel involvement--

Dark's next actions were still unclear, but there was one thing he was sure of: he would not--could not--kill this child.