I peer around a corner just as a loud explosion erupts, and amid the smoke, a faint orange glow pokes out from over the rooftops, painting the sky purple. I climb up a building and run along the roof to get a better view, and I see no less than an army’s worth of people around the tavern.

When I spot a cart full of hay nearby, I get an idea. I summon my Auryn, and I toss the ember at that cart. The hay instantly burns, and a harmony of confused and pained groans come from the mob. I’m surrounded by trees and other liveries, so I toss more flames at everything that can burn. With all this fire, the Shadowhearts start grabbing their chests and screaming in pain from all the light around them. 

Using this opportunity, I call upon my sword and jump down to the streets. Slicing through the scoundrels with ease, I make my way closer to the tavern. But I have an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, seeing the people gush the same crimson blood that courses through my own veins. Maybe these were once good people. Only they were lost to darkness. I leave behind plenty of corpses, but I cannot bring myself to look over his shoulder.

A horde of people run away from the tavern coated in orange flames and flailing about. Duncan had made his way onto the roof with a bottle in his hand, a burning rag hanging out of its neck. Tossing the bottle, it explodes loudly and burns even more of the Shadowhearts. Some of them begin climbing the roof, but Duncan pierces one of the attackers in the gullet with his longsword. Another cretin stabs him in the side, nearly dropping him to the ground. With one mighty leap, I’m able to reach up to the roof and join the fight. Duncan at my back, we fend off the Shadowhearts one by one, some falling off the roof and some being left as withered husks.

When we catch a moment of peace, Duncan gives a friendly nod.

“No doubt,” Duncan smirked. “You’re the Flamekeeper, alright.”

“And you must be Duncan. I see you like to play with fire.”

“It’s the only thing that kills these bastards. We gotta get outta here!”

We sprint over the rooftops as Duncan reaches for his Echo Stone.

“Charlotte! We’re okay! Where are you?”

We tumble down off the roof, and we sprint for the exit. The tenacious Shadowhearts chase after us, but none of them can slow us down. 

Then, there was a deafening low growl, loud enough to make me and Duncan stop in our tracks. Every Shadowheart around us freezes, even those still giving chase. They each drop to the ground, puffs of smoke leaving their mouths. What once was an army of dark foes has been reduced to a cesspit of bodies, and one man stands before one of the burning buildings, his fingers splayed and his palm engulfed in black power. The Fiends contained within the civilians are being absorbed into his hand. Then, with a wicked smile on his face, the man unleashes a dark greatsword out of nothing but his own shadow. 

“Son of a-,” Duncan said as he bolted towards the exit. “Run! That’s one of Bishop’s knights!”

Before I can run, the Shadowheart slashes his sword upwards, and from the ground, a wave of darkness races toward me. I roll away just in time, but not before glimpsing at the wave and seeing dozens of little red dots lost in the dark. Before long, the Shadowheart rises next to me out of his shadow, and with his dark sword, he slices me in the shoulder. The pain makes me drop to the ground, and the cretin towers over me.

Accursed Flamekeeper! I shall send you back to the sky where you belong!

But before he can end me, a burst of light shines in the Shadowheart’s face, causing him to drop his guard. I see a worn carriage with Duncan in the doorway and Charlotte in the driver’s seat. Duncan tosses another burning bottle at the marauder again, and it bursts on impact, showering the Shadowheart with fire and making him scream again. Duncan holds the door for me, and Charlotte snaps the reins as soon as I step foot inside the carriage. 

But the carriage is halted just after the horses start running, and all three of us are jerked forward. That same Shadowheart has formed two massive hands that clutch the back of the carriage. Several long dark claws pierce the cabin’s walls. Duncan tries to stab one of the fingers, but his blade whiffs through the dark and into the wood. With no other solution, I climb up to the roof of the carriage to challenge the smiling bastard. Just as those massive hands raised high to grab him, I let out the loudest scream I can make.

I haven’t felt this way since my rebirth. It’s like a hidden command that my Auryn can understand without me having to think. I slash at the air with incredible force, and from out of nowhere, a blue wave launches from my sword!

IMPERIUS!

The wave directly strikes the Shadowheart, who finally releases the carriage. Launching into the air, with my sword ready for vengeance, I give him one last cut. The Shadowheart yells one last time and suddenly splits in half. The two halves of his body are swiftly engulfed in darkness, but unlike the others, his body simply melts away. No corpse remains.

Exhausted and in pain, I slink back inside the cabin as Charlotte snaps the reins again. Ameline sits at my side, Duncan at my front. The now burning village of Edolpha can be seen out the window, most of it reduced to floating cinders. 

I look around the carriage, noticing the seats are a calm velvet red. They’re comfortable seats for being so old. A small end table rests against one of the walls with a glowing crystal on top, and when Duncan flicks it with his fingers, the jewel starts to hum a soft tune, like it was a woman singing a gentle aria.

“Are you okay? I saw you get hurt,” Ameline asks me.

“I should be asking you that. But yeah, I’ll be fine,” I say while trying to mask my pain.

Duncan awkwardly clears his throat before adjusting his hair. A fraction of his long black mane droops over the left half of his face.

“That was certainly an ordeal,” Duncan says. “But at least we’re all okay.”

“You were impressive back there. A bit violent, but you have some skills in sword-fighting,” I tell him.

“You’re not bad either, but I guess that’s what makes you the king,” Duncan says, then he puts on a much more friendly face to Ameline. “And who’s this? Your princess?”

“Princess?” Ameline coos.

“No, she’s not my daughter. I’m just taking care of her.”

“Ah, that’s awfully kind of you. What’s your name, love?”

“Ameline.”

“Nice name. Cute.”

Then, Duncan reaches down to an open knapsack and he pulls out a bottle filled with pink liquid. Duncan smacks his lips and quickly pops off the cork.

“I needed some of this.”

“What’s that stuff?” Ameline asks with her eyes budding open.

“It’s Jule. Doesn’t satisfy as much as a good ale, but it sure is tasty.” He hands me the bottle. “Go on, your highness, have a swig.”

“Please. Just call me Triton. I’d feel more comfortable that way.”

When I pour a little Jule into his mouth, the taste immediately makes me feel giddy. Its comforting flavor reminds me of simpler times, like when I climbed my first tree. Or when I first laid eyes on the full moon.

“Can I have some?” Ameline says, reaching up to the bottle.

After just one taste, her face springs to life, and she starts pouring more and more of the drink down her gullet. She gave the carriage a bright smile when she was done, and she’s barely left any for the rest of us.

“That was the best drink I’ve ever had!”

After a while, Ameline curls up into a ball and soon nods off, a long piece of her blue hair hanging off the edge of the seat. Seeing her asleep gives me ample time to talk to my new comrade. There’s something I’d like to know.

“That man. You said he was one of Bishop’s men. Who is this Bishop?” 

“You don’t know?”

“I’m afraid the name isn’t familiar, no.”

Duncan gives a nasty glare before he looks out the window, his feelings about that name alone plastered on his slender face.

“Bishop the Bleak, the current Blightlord. He’s taken over this part of Cinedime and sends his men out to different towns to conquer and grow his territory. I’ve seen the man himself. Never have I seen someone look so tyrannical. I’m used to seeing red eyes on Fiends, but Bishop’s eyes were so dark I could see my reflection in them. But, we shouldn’t stress ourselves over that old codger,” he says while pulling out a map. “I’m starving. Ooh, perfect, there’s a hunting range not too far from here. Northwest, dear!” 

Charlotte lets out a brief call before Duncan makes himself comfortable. “Oh, and feel free to shut off that music if you want. I’ve heard that tune so many times, I hear it in my dreams.”

Now alone with just the soft music in my ears, I look out the window at the afternoon sky. With my head resting against the wall, nothing is on his mind except whoever this Bishop the Bleak looks like. When I try to picture the man, no image comes to me that makes me feel any better. Just how powerful of a Fiend does a man host to be declared the Blightlord?

“Bishop the Bleak…”