Aldeheid picked through the wooden structure, holding the flame in his palm out to illuminate his surroundings. Weeds and vines had taken it over, clinging to it with their roots and sucking nourishment from the wood. In the east corner several holes were in the floor, and when Aldeheid shined his flame inside, he found an empty pit.

This was the third such building he'd wandered into.The north section of the backlands were riddled with such ruins, shrouded in the dense forest that surrounded them. He and Kitaya had left the town at dusk and wondered for hours on end in search of Mellidius.

They'd found no lades so far, and he suspected Kitaya would want them to turn back soon. She'd opted to stay on his shoulders after her feet got too tired.

"Why are there so many of these buildings around?" His voice reverberated off the walls, and he flinched, expecting the whole thing to collapse on him.

"There was a point in time when the backlands were very... unstable. The towns used to war over land and resources. Some of themwere completely wiped out. Hence. Only recently has the fighting stopped. I suppose the towns came to some kind of truce."

"I see." Aldeheid stepped further into the structure, his foot hitting something solid. A statue of some sort. It was too caked in dirt and weather worn to make out what it once represented. "Why have none of the towns moved in to claim this land?"

"The backland people are quite superstitious and believe that blood-soaked land stays cursed for one millennium, unless a servant of the gods cleanses it. I wonder what possessed Mellidius to creep around such a forgotten place."

Aldeheid was wondering the same. He hoped that once they found Mellidius, he'd be willing to explain his absence. Losing Shara all those years ago may have left him distraught, but he had family and friends who cared about him. And if he'd found a new cape, it meant he was done grieving.

Aldeheid moved on from the building, walking down what assumed was once a path, but was now overgrown with weeds and foliage. His foot connected with hard stone and he groaned in agony as the pain in his toes redoubled.

"The night is not kind to you, angel eyes. Let's check one more building then head back."

He nodded and held his flame to the offending object. Only then did he notice the symbols etched on its stone surface – a spell. He barely got his cape in front of him before heat and light engulfed him. The blast sent him arching head over heels through the air, and the wind was punched from his lungs as he landed on his back in a thick bush.

Branches and twigs jabbed at him and tangled in his hair. And the night got even less kind. A flash lit up his vision.

"Aldeheid, talk to me. Are you alright?" Kitaya stood over him, Behemoth in hand.

He groaned and blinked his vision clear before pushing to his feet. "I think so." Pain stabbed at his back, and his ears still rung from the blast. He teetered to one side before catching himself on a tree.

Dozens of thumps echoed through the night as the masked freaks materialized from the darkness. There were so many of them, on the ground in the trees, macabre masks glowing in the moonlight like an army of vengeful spirits.

Aldeheid put his back to Kitaya's and drew his blade. There wasn't a chance of them being able to fight all of them alone.

"We carve a path and escape," Kitaya said.

"Can you distract them? I'll try to conjure something up." Aldeheid centered his mind on Kitaya and recited the spell. The draft from her attacks wafted over him, the screech of metal on metal grating on his ears. He angled his sword forward as magic ignited into fire, the tendrils of heat creeping down the blade.

With one arching sweep, a wall of fire roared to life between them and the masked freaks, its heat making the air waver.

"Come on," He took Kitaya's hand and she flashed into cape form. The fabric snapped in the wind as he charged through the trees, going as fast as he could pump his legs. He leapt over boulders and ducked around crumbling structures.

But those masked freaks were hot on his heels, like a swarm of angry bees. The rattling of their chains and their pounding footfalls filled his head, an incessant buzz that drowned out all other sound.

There was no chance of surviving a fight, leaving flight as their only option. But to what end? Aldeheid wondered. How far or for how long would they be pursued? With them being so grossly outnumbered, the masked people could wear them down. Using a teleportation spell was out of the question since he had to be still to do it. And even if he could, they were too far out from the village to get directly there. The masked people could use his residual magic to track them down.

They had to hide. Aldeheid doubled back to the southern side of the ruins. "Kitten, I'm going to use a big spell. Cut me off if it's too much for you."

Kitaya snorted. "I'm sure I can handle it."

With half his mind on the path ahead, he recited the spell. Frost clouded the surrounding air, climbing over his arms and leaving icy tracks in his wake. He pumped all the magic he could into the spell before releasing it.

Cracks reverberated through the trees as frozen spires shot up behind him. As the ice chased his heel, Aldeheid leapt into the hole he'd stumbled upon earlier. He ducked down, curling in on himself like a frightened child. The footfalls of their adversaries sounded overhead like war drums. They shouted in a language he couldn't understand, something harsh and haunted like a call from beyond the grave. He clamped his hands over his ears to drown out the sound. What now?

"Now is not the time to let your nerves get the better of you, angel eyes," Kitaya said. "We need to think of a plan."

Aldeheid racked his brain for an idea, any idea that would get them to safety. They could only hide in the hole for so long, and as persistent as those masked people were, he doubted they'd give up and leave them. He had but one idea left. It wouldn't be possible for both of them to escape, but one of them could.

"I know what we can do," Aldeheid said. He touched the clasp on his left shoulder and begged the gods' forgiveness for the blasphemy he was about to commit. The entamora left his lips in a soft, breathy rush and a blast of warmth fell over his shoulders.

"Aldeheid..." Kitaya's voice was small, and an octave higher than usual. "Was that...? What are you doing?"

I'm so sorry. He unclasped the fabric from around his shoulders, took his sword from his belt and wrapped it up. He needed to get Kitaya out of here, away from these masked freaks.

"Aldeheid, think about what you're doing. You can't face them on your own. They'll kill you."

Then so be it. So long as she was safe. That was all that mattered to him. Death had always been right over his shoulder, and he couldn't run from her forever. If she wanted to take him tonight, then so be it. She could have him, but she wouldn't have Kitaya.

Aldeheid clutched the fabric-wrapped sword in both hands, and recited the one invocation he knew, keeping his voice soft but sure. A low hum rippled through his body, tingling up from his toes and settling in his chest. His hair danced as a warm breeze filled the small dusty hole.

The spirit materialized before him, floating upon cloud-like wings. It's long black body was bespeckled with glowing flecks, giving it the appearance of a starry night sky. It tilted its round head, antennae twitching as it awaited his instructions.

He sucked in a breath and held out Kitaya and the sword.

"Aldeheid, wait! Please. Just listen to me for a second." Her laments filled his head, and tugged at his heart, but didn't deter him.

"Please," he said to the spirit. "Take her back to Eriani."

Kitaya fell silent, but her emotions poured into his mind. Sadness mixed with worry and disappointment in an intoxicating cocktail that made his head swim.

The spirit nodded and took the bundled sword, hugging it close to its chest. Its gold eyes lit up with determination as its airy whispers filled the small space. Warm air swirled beneath it its feet gathering in a small maelstrom. The spirit gave him one last look and shot through the opening and into the night sky.

A rumbling of footfalls sounded overhead, coupled with more of that guttural language. They'd spotted the spirit but from his vantage point it had flown to fast and far for them to pursue it.

Aldeheid took a breath to shake his frazzled nerves. Ether stones sat in the pouch on his belt, enough for a few spells to stave of those people. He recited another spell one that laced his body with lightning. If he was dying tonight, he was going down kicking and screaming.

He leapt from the hole and came face to face with at least three score of those masked freaks. They all turned on him, hands on their chains, bodies angled forward, ready to pounce like a pack of hungry hyenas. Fire and ice surrounded them, the battleground that would be his grave.

Aldeheid spared the sky a glance and saw that the spirit was but a speck against the stars. Be safe. He cut his eyes back to his adversaries, holding his lightning-laced fingers in front of him. Several masked assailants pounced at once and he shot a thick bolt of lightning at their feet. A mighty cloud of dust rose up and several of them went flying.

He leapt back and shot several more bolts in rapid succession. Trees crisscrossed in the paths of his adversaries, and he routed the rest of the spell to his feet, speeding down the overgrown path and ducking behind a dilapidated structure.

As the lightning fizzled out, he brewed up another. But he was so caught up in the cadence of the words that he didn't see the chain flying in from his left until it was upon him. It captured his throat, stifling his speech. He sucked in a wheezing breath, his lungs screaming for air as he was lamed backwards and dragged over the bumpy path.

With what little breath he had left, he kept forcing out the words of the spell – little by little, syllable by syllable.

Magic bloomed, warm and heavy in the air like a cloud of steam. Aldeheid clutched the chain and yanked on it to relieve some pressure from his throat. The last words of the spell escaped and heat and light eclipsed his vision as ferocious and unforgiving as a hundred suns.

A fiery maelstrom engulfed the ruins, roaring into the night and devouring everything in its path like a ravenous predator. Tress flew up and underbrush singed to ash. The shouts and screams of the masked people faded in the din.

Aldeheid could only lie there as the darkness pulsated in his vision. Ashes rained over him but he couldn't budge. His body was numb and useless and his throat raw from the bite of the chain. It wasn't until the roar of the fire died down to a crackle that his faculties.

He coughed and yanked the chain from around his neck, pushing to his feet and limping on his bad leg. His head swam and his vision blurred. Small patches of flames still burned the underbrush and smoke clouded the air, reducing visibility. He stumbled through not knowing or caring which way he was going.

A rattle sounded in his wake and he picked up his pace as much as his injury would allow. But he wasn't fast enough.

The chain caught his bad leg, and he fell face first into the ashes. The guttural language reached his ears and something hard collided with his back, robbing him of breath. Still he struggled, flailing and squirming in a desperate attempt to get away.

His hands were yanked behind him and tight enough to cut off his circulation. "You cowards," he rasped. A boot flashed into his line of sight and knocked him into oblivion.