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Stormholden watched as Gideon withdrew, releasing a breath as he eased his shoulders into their normal positions. Tension sluiced off him in chunks. Having no stakes in this world, and nothing further to lose in his own, he had no reason to fear the repercussions of stoking Gideon's anger. The worst he could do was kill him, and he'd done the equivalent of that already.

Yet, it took both of the captain's hands to mop the sweat pouring down his face and over his neck. His tunic stuck to his back, a perpetual tremor harassing his fingers.

What was he afraid of? Not of the madness Gideon could unleash upon himself, surely. Something else. Something that had to do with the others.

He shuddered as he recalled the faces of all those in attendance at the Song, their expressions grim and pleading. As Gideon's darkness embraced them, the last flickers of their hope had been doused. They'd given in to Gideon's power until they'd been defeated, much the way the captain had.

But the people enthralled by the siren's song of this infernal noise, who wailed and howled like otherworldly creatures, who writhed as though offering themselves to Bacchus, drunkenly and completely, hadn't lost everything. Yet. And that terror, that knowledge of what was to come, gripped the captain's heart tighter than a noose.

"Do not show compassion," he whispered. "Do not get involved. Remain static, unmoving, even if pushed. Relent to the way of things and resign."

As the captain leaned back, hands tucked behind his head, sounds reminiscent of those that had marched through the streets of Prisdiam filled his ears. He was quick to obliterate these impressions as what was the point longing for a place that was, in Gideon's words, "a bland recreation of an unimaginative medieval setting?"

Stormholden was a tale and those places were window dressing, some more interesting than others, but all with the same purpose - to further the narrative. To foster relationships that would end in tragedy, to provide a sense of setting, ground readers in the story while adding depth and making the fantasy feel real. The punchline to it all being, of course, that none of it was real.

Fiction. Every wisp of breeze, every salt-laden inhale, blade of grass or cobblestone crunched under the captain's boot heels. Every dab of sweat, or stolen kiss. A forgery. A cruelty of paper and ink, nothing more.

Do not show compassion. Be unaffected. Let the boy's actions wash over you. Weather his storm, do not get swept up in it.

The captain inhaled, breathing deep the soiled air of what Gideon referred to as a 'metropolis.' The acrid scent, pregnant with the fumes of smoke and coal, grease, and sun-baked body odor, burned his lungs. Manic howls of metallic juggernauts Gideon referred to as "eighteen-wheelers" cut through the thrum of music and delighted squeals of Gideon's companions. Beastly screeches, with a hollow, steely tone rose from the crowded streets below, accompanied by shrill angry voices protesting over things called, "parking spots."

A more vile place Stormholden couldn't fathom and that included both his imprisonment on the mermaid cove and his stint in Lucifer's Reach. He'd even brave the frontlines of the war again, where men had been put down by enemy gunfire in droves, where both the living and dead left the battlefield as ghosts than continue to exist here.

He'd hoped the privacy of this abandoned tent would afford him the opportunity to brave this new world alone, but he'd been deceived. The stank wormed its way inside him, permeated his clothes. The sounds ravaged his ears, drowning out his thoughts. Like a beast with its teeth sunk into the captain's flesh, this metropolis had made Stormholden a part of itself.

Stormholden stared off into the distance, the sky the only thing he found unchanging from his journey between worlds. The swath of black, studded with strand upon strand of starlight, glinting like the pearls of a maiden's necklace, the same as on those clear nights at sea, when Neptune was good-natured and the waters were kind, and he'd found himself laying on the deck of his ship, finding slumber under the stars' watch.

He brought both hands to his eye, cupped it, and envisioned holding a spyglass and glimpsing the horizon. For a passing second, his new, hellish reality faded.

He could feel the gentle rocking of his ship undertow. Hear the creaking planks, and lashing waves, make out the thud of the mop as One-eye swabbed the last of the previous night's spilled ale. The clank of dice as they fell from the mug. The gleeful braying of Chemi, the ship's cook, alongside the miserable moaning of Ivers Magnison, the dice game's loser and lockpick extraordinaire. Ocean air tickled his nose, teased his hair, and flushed his cheeks. He felt the warmth of the sun beat down his back, the skin of his neck blistering under its gaze. An island drifted through the pure turquoise seas ahead. He imagined the yell of "Land Ho," the calls to man the sails, to drop anchor. The lowering of the dingy, the feeling of the rough, wooden oars in his palms as he rowed ashore.

He imagined exploring among its bleached beaches and overgrown jungles, sleeping under a nest of stars, sustaining himself on land and sea alone. Living a fulfilled life, dying contentedly. His corpse nourishing the gulls and jungle cats, his spirit living on in the world around him, his journey complete. No more monsters he couldn't vanquish. No more deaths he couldn't prevent. No more pain or misery or castles made of steel reaching up into the heavens with metallic turrets and threatening to split the sky asunder. A place where Stormholden could let go, instead of being forced to hold on with nothing to keep him afloat aside from his own legs treading water despite his exhaust.

"Oh, good captain," a voice sang out.

Stormholden flinched. He hadn't expected Gideon's return to be so swift, nor for his voice to sound so honeyed. Lowering his hands, he turned to face the boy of nightmares. Gideon stood a few handspans back from the tent, holding a boy and girl's hands.

Instinctively, the captain went for his sword. He half-expected to feel the cool, smooth metal on his fingertips. To wrap his fingers around it and hear the blade scrape against the leather as he released it from its scabbard. To watch the lights dance off its reflective surface as he drove it through Gideon's chest. His fingers relaxed, his posture, as he placed both hands on his thighs. He needed to rid himself of those compulsions if he was to truly stand idle. He studied the children. No more than eight, with matching blue eyes that spoke of calm, early mornings, ruddy faces, and tear-stained cheeks. The girl's lower lip trembled, while the boy munched on a chocolate bar, dark brown smeared across his lips and the front of a short-sleeved tunic.

"Now, Cap," Gideon inched forward, his darkness spreading above the children's heads. Stormholden inhaled sharply. His fingers curled, nails driving into his legs. "Levi and his sister here, Lennie," Gideon raised their arms. Levi dropped his chocolate and appeared on the verge of tears as another fell freely down his sister's cheek. "Have graciously volunteered to help me out." The little boy pursed his lips as he shuffled from one foot to the other. The girl grabbed the hem of her frilly top and pulled. Both kept eyes glued to the ground, heads bowed. Gideon let go of the children's hands and knelt beside the girl. With his gloved hand, he stroked her cheek. She whimpered. Stormholden stiffened.

When Gideon turned back to face him again, his eyes had turned black.

The captain shot to his feet, fingers extended, gooseflesh breaking out over his forearms.

Gideon seemed to sense the captain's action, as his lips peeled back into a smile. "Ah, so despite all your protests otherwise, you do still care. I can read your aura, Cap. The blots of alarm spreading through it much resemble the blight that stole so many of your loved ones."

Stormholden stumbled back as if hit with a tsunami. How had Gideon known of the Blight? No, he shook the thought away. The boy's trying to rouse you, let it pass. Let his storm pass. "What is it you want, devil?" the captain asked.

Gideon took a strand of the girl's hair and ran it between his fingers. "What I want?" He scratched his chin and hummed. "Such a simple question, yet its answer is beyond complicated. For now--" He gripped Levi's arm and Levi, too absorbed in his chocolate to notice Gideon's movements jumped back. He whimpered as he tried to wriggle free of Gideon's grasp, but Gideon just watched the boy flail, his smile wide and cruel. "--I'll say this. I read you, Cap. When I inhabited your body, I read all of you. You made for a quick, relatively digestible read, though some parts could have been trimmed of the excess." He flicked the boy's forehead and the boy stilled.

Stormholden took a shaky step forward. Why though? What could he do? What could be done? Gideon had all manner of trick and devilry at his disposal and he had - what? Conviction? Resolve? Right, truth, and justice on his side? None of those could feed a starving mouse, let alone overtake a demon. He could do nothing. He was useless. Stormholden gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists. Wasn't that what he desired? To do nothing? Why then, was it nagging at him so?

"There was one story," Gideon continued. He swayed in the night breeze, hair trembling down his back. "That held my particular interest - you were at a public lashing." Stormholden gulped. "You watched countless criminals flogged within inches of their lives. You saw the buckets of water it took to wash away the blood between punishments. You remember vividly, how red the water became as it snaked into the drains. But most importantly, you remember a young boy and girl." Gideon thrust the children forward. "No older than eight, am I right?" The captain tensed as disgust rose up his throat.

"No need to respond, Cap, your aura betrays your thoughts." Gideon glanced at the children, "The crime of those two innocent waifs had been stealing food to feed their ailing mother, yes?" He snarled. Lennie fell to her feet, sobs wrenching free from her mouth. Levi's knees knocked together, as a urine stain blossomed over his crotch. Gideon sniffed and rolled his eyes. "I know you remember. You thought the punishment didn't fit the crime. You thought it too harsh, that mercy ought to have been shown. They were only kids, after all, acting out of desperation and affection for their mother. You wanted to stop it." Gideon grabbed the girl's shoulders and shook her. "Shut up, shut up, shut your damned mouth." She recoiled, snot bubbling under her nose, eyes bloodshot. The stench of urine doubled.

Do nothing, Stormholden thought. Do nothing. Simply do nothing.

Gideon brushed off his trousers and turned to the boy. Levi scooted away, as Gideon lunged and snapped his jaws. He cackled as the boy erupted into tears, his body shaking worse than a ship's sails caught in a gale.

Do nothing, Stormholden thought. Do nothing. Simply do nothing. He glimpsed the blubbering, wet faces of the children. When had doing nothing gotten so hard?

"You did nothing, Cap." Stormholden bristled. "Remember?" Gideon jumped to his feet and skipped. "Remember how you stood stock-still, too afraid in your own skin to propel your legs forward? Remember how the little girl screamed?" He grabbed a fistful of Lennie's hair and yanked. More tears streamed down her face. "Remember as the leather tore into her back? How the boy took his punishment in silent agony and how you praised him for having endurance, for taking it as a man should? Nothing, Cap. You did nothing. All that bravado, all that inflated sense of pride and ego and you let children suffer. You, the story's hero, admiring a child as he was lashed over and over again, deciding your life was worth preserving over theirs."

Gideon cackled. "I imagine your reaction will be much the same now as it was then, so let's recreate that memory, shall we?" His nails extended into talons that dug into the children's flesh. Blood trickled down their forearms as they whimpered and cowered, clutching knees into bellies and rocking back and forth. Gideon's darkness dripped onto their heads.

Stormholden stepped forward. Took another and another until he emerged from the darkness. Moonlight washed over him, settling in the hollows of his cheeks and at the base of his neck. He radiated as he stood on solid feet, shoulders back, arms at his sides.

"Finally," Gideon clapped his hands together, "I get to see your face." He threw his head back and yowled. "And so animated too," he added, narrowing his gaze. "You desire a better view in which to stand by and do nothing, yes?"

"Stop this madness." The captain's gaze hardened as he eyed the devil before him, a wretched thing, twisted and unloved, hair sprawled out over the ground like a flayed carcass.

Gideon shook his head. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm quite determined to bring such a cherished memory to life."

The captain stiffened. "You're—"

"—a monster?" Gideon finished. "A fiend? The devil? A plague? A specter?" He shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no, Cap. I'm much, much worse." Another cackle escaped him, his grip tightening on the children.

Suddenly, that familiar spark ignited inside the captain. The desire to protect, to save, to put himself in harm's way if needed. To destroy any who threatened the innocent. The call to be a hero resounded in his soul, and the captain heard.

His feet moved of their own accord, each step ricocheting off the ground. Being a hero had brought him hardship after hardship. He'd lost everything, courted death more times than he could count. He'd seen his share of casualties of war, lands ravaged by the blight. He'd mourned the loss of his beloved Matilda which left him so scarred, he couldn't sleep without her face haunting his dreams, turning them into nightmares he couldn't outrun. Peril after peril. Misery after misery. Saddled with one regret after another. Burdened by a growing list of failures and yet--

Stormholden never gave up. He fought with everything he had, even when he had nothing left, he mustered something from inside himself, something in his core that persisted despite everything else that gave him the strength to carry on, to move forward.

He'd be damned if he remained still any longer. He pushed himself harder, his legs a blur, his speed unparalleled as he hurled himself at Gideon. As soon as he was close enough to spy a bead of sweat dripping down the boy's cheek, he threw all his weight behind his shoulder and rammed into Gideon, knocking him flat on his back.

"Run!" Stormholden yelled at the children. "Go now!" The boy gathered himself up, lugged his sister to her feet, and sped off toward the main bulk of the party before Stormholden could take a breath. He returned his attention to Gideon. "I have had enough of you, damned demon!" He hefted a fist and slammed it into the side of Gideon's face, the boy's head smacking off the ground. Black began to ooze and puddle around Gideon's unmoving mass, his lips no longer forming that accursed smirk.

Vision blurry, lungs burning, Stormholden heaved himself off Gideon's body and got to his feet. He stood at his full height, no more slouching, no more trying to hide in plain sight, and even though his hand throbbed like the bloody dickens, he had never felt better in all his life.

Staring down at Gideon, whose arms twitched like the legs of a dying cockroach, the captain's fist imprinted on his cheek, Stormholden said, "I never thought hitting the devil could feel so liberating."

A breeze blew sating the heat Stormholden felt lancing his lungs. Carried on the wind's back, whisperings of a vindictive voice, not of the boy's but of something ancient, restrained, composed, said, "You'll pay for this."

Stormholden shrugged. Perhaps he would pay for this, perhaps in his near future, Gideon would deliver the death blow he'd been promising. Perhaps the captain's punishment would be enacted through smaller acts of cruelty. But none of that mattered now. Stormholden had done what only a story's hero could do and it'd felt glorious. His thoughts didn't barrel towards a future unknown or linger in a past he could not change; they stayed in the present. His present, where his success abounded. He felt his ability to smile renewed, and did so, flashing a blinding, bright grin, one capable of making the devil hide from its brilliance.

A hero's smile shining on what was unmistakably a hero's victory.