Malin's heartbeats cantered at the same pace the dagrinis' hooves did. He would have chewed his nails to the beds had he not been focused on keeping the animals in line and gliding towards the Temple's back door. He had long dislodged the oversized boots along with the bricks stuck to their soles. Now, he sat with his bare feet for all to see. Let him figure out how to run across the cobblestones baked by the sun all day when he had to.

The shutter behind his head slid open once more and Ela's presence flitted against his ear. "Hey, are we there yet?"

He subtly shook his head. Merchants weren't known to be talking to their wares. Or their carts. Ela grunted and slammed the shutter again. The roads in the Nobility region were empty, as expected. The carriages pulled by different cart animals either contained high-ranking Civil Knights or some of the nobles who sold their souls to the Sovereign to keep their standing in the Cardinic high society.

The roads he painstakingly memorized on his first week in the Temple curved and winded, each one leading to estates unknown or those he wouldn't ever reach as a half-blood or as a Common. His stomach grumbled as the stress of the past few days gripped his guts and had no intention of letting go. Whatever. It's almost over. The Civil Guards from the border weren't looking for them, as far as Malin was concerned. Why would they leave their posts for something as trivial as an illusion casted on a versal? It would be more laughable—two grown men grappling with children to defend their greed.

Still, he never lost the habit of looking over his shoulder, past the cart's roof, to check for anyone or anything stalking after them. He would check the roofs of the estates, the spots of canopies from unkempt trees inside private gardens, and in the shadows flitting about from passing birds or bleeding from people, carts, and animals passing them by. Most of the ambushes he had lived through came from those. How could he ever forget the first time he was purged? And as if his mind wasn't done giving him painful reminders every now and then, Xanthy wouldn't be able to save him and his friends this time around.

Prophecy or no prophecy, she was only one person. It was clear from the start she couldn't save everyone even if she wanted to. Somewhere, somehow, Malin should be able to solve his own problems, live through his own path, and face his own enemies. No one should have to need to save anyone but themselves. That was, in an ideal world.

Cardina, and by extension, Umazure, was far from being one.

The Temple of Magic formed on the horizon. Since it's a few hours into the first two quarters of the day, the front lines were quiet. It was genius too. In broad daylight, no one from either side could send sabotage teams without risking being caught and killed. Which also proved hard against Malin and his companions too. Who would be able to sneak past an entire cohort of Civil Guards while the sun shone over everything it set its rays on?

But by the gods of Calaris, they would surely try. Ela and her unit were sent here by Ymbril to get supplies. It wasn't far-off to conclude the Masters have heard of the brewing tension between Synketros and the Temple. They just ran out of time, having assigned a retrieval mission on the day the thing they feared finally came true. And if they're considering stocks and supplies, it meant they expected to run low at some point in this siege.

In battles like this, it wasn't the strongest that was guaranteed to win. It's the one who had the most grit to keep standing up no matter how many times they were knocked down. Perseverance and ingenuity were the key to surviving. Threats and brilliant shows of light could only take one so far.

He could only hope the supplies he brought with him would be of some help, to keep the Temple of Magic standing a little bit longer.

A thought picked at the edges of Malin's mind. There was a big chance the Masters thought the children inside the Temple were another mouths to feed, another souls to protect, so they sent them out in order to get them away from the chaos as possible. Perhaps, Ela had been right—that it's better to stay away from the fight and try to survive without the Temple's help.

But they're all orphans—children abandoned by their parents in hopes of them having better lives than what they could provide them. Ela was certainly that way. Her parents left to pursue a business in Carleon, and until now, there was no word about them. Ela never showed it, but she looked to the heavens for a long time almost every night, asking whichever moon showed up about the state of her parents' business, about their health, or if they were still alive. And like everyone who stared up to the voiceless sky, she got used to the silence echoing back to her.

There's no way everyone would survive to adulthood without the Temple to help them. Especially not in this war. Even Malin. Despite how sturdy he thought of himself, there were nights he would think about his life if Xanthy hadn't made friends with the High Priestess, if he never got out of the smelly dungeon, if he had met Xanthy at all. Where would he end up if fate insisted on taking away his sister and his father?

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Focus on the job at hand. The Temple gave him things he would have never gotten had he stayed out of it. That should be enough reason to lug the rest of his friends and their friends back to the chaos and helping out however they could. Besides, Malin wasn't powerless. Not anymore.

His magic flared to the surface as an answer. The silver band around his finger pulsed in response. He raised his eyes to find the familiar grounds belonging to the Temple. They're here.

He rapped his knuckles against the wall. "Get ready," he said. "I will come to the back. Grab whatever you can and hold on to each other."

The reins snapped tight when he yanked at them. Hooves trampled the soft grass and upturned the earth. Soft huffs joined the chorus of scuffling inside the cart. Malin swung his legs to one side and jumped. His soles touched the grass, fighting to keep the tickles to himself. It was his choice to discard those cursed boots. He should pay for it.

He undid the mechanism keeping the cart's backdoor from falling open during the journey. His friends and Ela's unit tumbled into view. They had abandoned the empty kegs and crates, bringing only what they could carry. He flexed his fingers. "We are taking two trips," he said. "I will drop the young ones first, then I will come back to you."

They gave him an understanding nod and divided themselves into two. Nobody clambered to be the first. Most of them gave a wide berth to the youngest ones in the bunch. Malin extended his hand towards the first two—a boy and a girl with chubby cheeks and the same strands of black-blue hair—and smiled at them. "Ready?" he said. "Whatever happens, do not let go."

The twins—he could only guess they were—nodded at him. He counted the kegs they would be bringing, gauging the strain it would put to his magic. It'd be fine. Hopefully. "Come on," he said.

Small hands wrapped against his. The warmth his magic brought to his system flashed even to the twins' arms, traveling down to the last child in their first trip. Malin eyed the shadows burning at his feet. "Here we go."

He fell backwards to the inky blackness. The world shifted and melded around him. Soon, he stepped into the familiar supply closet of the Temple. He attempted to stalk forward, to open the door to let the children out from the inside, but his vision swam. If not for the quick steadying hand of one of the twins, he would have fallen to his face. Again.

His magic flickered underneath the surface, earning a hissed curse from him. Not yet. He couldn't puff out like this. There had to be more. His reserves had to be enough.

But who was he kidding? He was barely past his year of passage. Rudik's breeches, he hasn't been doing magic for longer than a month. Of course, he's going to suck at controlling his output and dividing his resources across different spells. Again, knowing how to do things wasn't the same thing as doing them.

He gave the twins a gentle pat in the back and jerked his chin towards the door. "Go on," he said. "Fetch the High Priestess and tell them we are coming."

The children bobbed their heads, various colors forming an artwork in the dim light of the stock room. Malin stepped back and called for his magic again. This time, the load was lighter when he emerged back to the cart. But this time, he hadn't come alone.

The distressed cries of his friends reached his ears. Blue-coated soldiers found their problem cart and were now dealing with the problem. Malin bared his teeth. Not on his watch. The shadows dropped him at a considerable distance, so none of the Civil Guards noticed his arrival. Better that way.

The remaining children crowded around at least four Civil Guards, each bearing rifles and enhanced batons, and they wouldn't hesitate to use those, even towards children. Ela squirmed against a Civil Guard's hold, her feet digging into the ground in an attempt to slow the arrival of her fate. The blue-coat didn't budge, even though she was hauling Pilqen with her other hand. Both couldn't sit still, the world be damned, and this woman handled them like an unswayable pillar.

But even then, pillars could be knocked over.

Malin crept to the side of the cart, waiting for a chance. He couldn't do this in a flashy way. He had to conserve his magic for another shadow-trip into the Temple. Therefore, his mind thought of another way. Something he read from the tomes. Another random tidbit of information he never thought would be useful in his life at all.

The moment the Civil Guard dragging Ela and Pilqen cleared the back of the cart, Malin struck. He wasn't the fastest nor the most sly, but his fingers found the exact mark on the Guard's neck. With enough force in his swing, the nerve underneath the skin snapped. The Guard's eyes rolled back into her head, and she dropped like a sack of fresda. Dull thud.

Ela was about to cheer and throw her arms around him but he put an urgent finger to his lips. He stalked towards the next guard. With him being barefoot against the grass, it was easier to minimize the sound of his footsteps. The next Guard bore at least three more whining children. Before any of them could notice Malin's approach, he struck. The same spot. The same dull thud.

"Go with Ela," he whispered to the freed children. The next targets were steps farther from the cart, and they're getting farther by the second. He could save the nearest one but he'd risk losing the other. It'd be too late to catch up to them should they reach the Temple's front lines.

Damn it. Malin's going to have to use magic. A spell flitted out of his lips, hitting the fastest Civil Guard on the back, sending him sprawling forward. The children in his grip delivered swift kicks to his nose and eyes before scampering away. Smart buds, the lot of them. The nearer Guard whirled around, spotted Malin, and whipped out a hand. Not this time.

Malin burst forward, meeting the blazing spell head on. He ducked at the last moment, zipping past the Guard's comfortable space. A hand arced in the air and hit the Guard's neck. He hit the ground with his face. He whirled to the children and his friends still loitering around the cart. "Grab what you can!" he yelled, his voice carrying through the shortening distance between them. They scrambled to get the rest of their plan in motion. Malin grabbed Ela and Pilqen's arms when he arrived on the scene. The commotion and the unexpected usage of magic from the back would no doubt get the attention of the front lines. They didn't have time. He had one last card up his sleeve.

"Do not let go," he warned Ela, Pilqen, and the rest of the children with him. At this point, he didn't even need to tell them, but it wouldn't hurt. More blue stormed into the scene just as the shadows stirred underneath him and his friends. As he sank, he tapped into the last of his reserves and sent it sailing out of the pool of shadows.

Fire Wand.

The spell streaked from the sky without his hands' direction. It slammed into the cart, ticking the final show he installed in it. The huge explosion forced him deeper into the shadows, and as the world flickered on and off, he focused on the image of the stock room.

He could only hope he brought them there and hadn't zapped them into oblivion. He could only hope...because the shadows seeped into his mind and poisoned everything in its path, including his consciousness.

When he woke up, he did it with a start. His head swirled with the shock brought about by his movement, black spots threatening to swallow every bit of his vision. He rubbed at his eyes and forced the blur to sharpen to a focus. The ceilings were high and the walls were much farther from each other. This wasn't the stock room.

He whirled around, eyes in frantic search for his friends. Did he—?

"Everyone is safe, thanks to you," a voice made his gaze settle on a woman sitting at the foot of his bed. Wait. A bed. He's in the infirmary? Ymbril, seemingly ignorant of his confusion, poised her fingers together. "Which brings me to the main point of this visit."

Malin opened his mouth to speak but winced when his throat reminded him how parched it was with a painful stab. He clutched at it, coughing like a plagued man. The blankets shifted around his legs as he attempted to contain it. A cup of water edged into his periphery. With shaking fingers, he took it and used it to wash even the bitter taste rising from his gut.

"What happened?" he croaked. His voice came out raw.

Ymbril's eyes hardened. The dark circles underneath them didn't slip Malin's notice. This was exactly what the Civil Guards were hoping for. The High Priestess was on the brink of breaking. "You provoked Synketros and the Civil Corps with your escapade," she said. "While I am impressed you and your friends pulled such a feat, I have a few words about it."

Malin was about to blurt his counterargument before the main point even landed, but Ymbril laid a hand in front of him, stopping him in place. "Let me finish," she said. "First—you should have not undermined my authority by charging through the barrier like some spooked vulkraine."

Did she just...compare him to a bird? "Second—you should have known better than to endanger the rest of your friends and Elazie's unit by proposing such a reckless plan on returning to the Temple," the High Priestess continued. "Third—you should have exercised caution in performing shadow-trips with the anti-magic barrier in place. Consider it a miracle you and your friends hadn't been fanned to pieces the moment you emerged in the stock room."

Wait, it's an anti-magic barrier? A word of protest almost finished forming on his tongue when Ymbril pushed on. "Fourth—you should have known better than to exhaust your magic by performing several spells with considerable strength one after the other," she said. "You are lucky to be alive, sane, and walking at this moment. Perhaps the gods have extended mercy upon you, if they exist."

And yet, she always swore by the name of Emeria, the goddess of magic and wisdom common to almost all of the pantheon in Umazure. "I would have wanted more caution and critical thinking from you, Malin," Ymbril finished. "While it is good to stay true to your ideals, it is often a danger to feed into them."

"May I speak now?" Malin asked.

Ymbril gave him a tight-lipped nod.

He took a deep breath and found his lungs hadn't gotten back to working properly. "I apologize for not exercising better thought on how I approached things," he said. "I only thought of how I would handle these issues without regard to the other threads they would touch. Have I wrecked something? Are we in more trouble? I would like to help in fixing them."

The High Priestess blew a quick gust of wind through her nose. "You have done more good than harm, my dear," she said. "And you have my gratitude and praise for that."

Malin knitted his eyebrows as a frown pulled the corners of his lips down. "So you are not angry?"

"Why would I be? You have brought the souls I regretted not being able to save when I closed the Temple off. You brought us enough supplies to keep us fed for the next few weeks," she rolled her shoulders. "You may have provoked the Civil Guards to action, but they cannot do anything—not while the barrier is in place and I am here to maintain it every night they pelt it with their paltry tricks."

The High Priestess smiled at him—a gentle grace in this cruel reality they shared. "Most importantly," she said. "I thank the heavens you are able to pull through."

His gaze followed the direction she was looking, and it landed on an ydinshin sitting on the table beside the bed. It was pure black, the normal splashes of color absent on its smooth, opalescent surface. "I pushed it too close, did I not?" he dared ask.

Ymbril drew close and laid a hand over his shoulder. "Do not do that again, please," she said. "Not for anything. Or anyone."

Malin nodded just to give the High Priestess a bit of assurance. But deep inside, he knew he couldn't swear on it, especially not with Daexis' name involved.