“Did you say…summon a demon?” Archer asked, a snarl of disgust ripping from his throat. The light of his palm flickered, like a candle guttering in a strong breeze. There was rage in his eyes as he stared at the paper, shaking his head in denial. “Mother and Father… They wouldn’t.”

Bren clamped his jaw shut tight, grinding his teeth together as he looked down at the paper, held carefully between his inky fingers. Though at first he wondered why it wasn’t encrypted like the rest of the journal, he realized that the style of writing was unfamiliar to him, and the paper itself felt different. “This was given to them,” Bren said, looking over it as if there could be some clue as to who would have instructed his parents to summon such a dangerous entity. Demons were unpredictable…and powerful. There was a reason that summoning them was a crime… An offense even graver than hiding an Umbra.  

Remembering his mother’s dying plea, Bren was quick to offer, “Mother told me to find Ryva… If we want to know anything about that Umbra or the vessel she sought, maybe the demon will have the answers.”

When Bren tore his gaze away from the paper to look at his brother, he flinched seeing Archer’s shock and outrage. He shook his head, his words bitter as he snapped, “Absolutely not. It’s way too risky. The prosecutors will definitely notice a spike in activity if we rip open a fucking dimensional rift! Hell, without Father’s protections around the estate, they may have even tracked us here.”

Archer was right, they couldn’t stay there. Opening up any kind of portal took more than enough energy for prosecutors to track…and summoning a demon would take more magic than he could bear without a vessel. 

Still, his mother’s desperate final words rang out in his mind. “Mother wanted us to do this. She wanted me to do this. To avenge her or find the vessel or just…get answers. Closure.” Bren swallowed, his voice filled with conviction as he stated, “Mother told me to find Ryva. So, that’s what I’m going to do… With or without your help.” 

Grunting, Bren pushed himself up from the ground where he’d been sitting, his shadow lengthening in the light of Archer’s magic. He brushed off his trousers, cursing the appearance of his hands. He was about to start walking toward the end of the tunnel—determined to get a better sense of their location before they were discovered—when he felt Archer catch the bottom of his coat. 

“Wait,” Archer muttered, sounding resigned. 

Bren turned slightly to look down at him, their eyes meeting. “Changing your mind?” Bren asked, a small, sore smile tugging at his mouth; it felt foreign to smile, especially in light of everything they’d been through. Somehow, knowing that Archer was still on his side—was still there with him—filled Bren with a sense of gratitude. 

Archer glared at his brother, sighing as he let go of Bren’s coat and stood alongside him. The glow of his hand underlit his face, creating deep shadows that distorted his handsome features. Bren’s heart quickened as he waited for Archer’s words, everything about his brother seeming tense and ominous. 

“You’re really going to do this?” Archer questioned, sounding incredulous, “With or without me? You’re actually going to go so far as summoning a demon?” 

“What’s the other choice here, Archer?” Bren asked, his brows furrowing anxiously. 

Archer huffed looking at the paper. “How do you know Ryva isn’t the one that gave them those summoning instructions? Maybe they wanted Mother and Father to summon this demon in some ploy… It could be a trap.”

Bren looked at the paper again, where the name ‘Ryva’ was written in scrolling letters at the very bottom of the page. “I doubt anyone would want their own name attached to something like this…” His eyes flicked to his brother, saying with an air of warning, “You need a demon’s name to summon it,” he pointed at the name, situated like the final step of the instructions, “and this is it.”

Archer looked reluctant to believe him, Bren snarling savagely. “We can’t stay here. We’re both wanted… If we’re caught, we’ll be arrested and exiled if we’re not killed first. You’re my accomplice!” Bren shook his head, guilt stabbing through him as he realized how much he’d taken from his family. He tried to shake away the notion, letting out a rush of agitated breath as he uttered, “If I’m wrong, and it doesn’t work, we have nothing to lose. But if it does…” Bren swallowed, pushing away the nagging thoughts of consequence, “It wouldn’t hurt to have a demon on our side if we’re banished to the Wastelands.”    

Brennon had never seen his brother’s face look so gaunt, the expression filling him with a sense of twisting fear. Archer looked down at his feet, his broad shoulders tense as he muttered, barely audible, “No one survives the Wastelands—”

“We will…if it comes to it.”

Archer blinked up at Bren, a brow raised in skepticism. “We will? You’re so sure?”

If Bren was honest, doubt edged closer at the back of his mind. Though they’d never dared to step past the barriers of Vitalos, he had heard the legends and rumors of what lurked beyond the borders of their safe city... Horrific creatures of nightmares, infused with the magic of the dark arcanis…and Umbris that had been consumed by their own dark powers. 

Swallowing hard, Bren nodded, trying to sound confident as he stated, “We have to.” 

The look on Archer’s face filled him with dread. It was as if his brother saw right through him. Archer’s jaw clenched as he nodded and sighed deeply. His eyes swept their surroundings, saying gruffly, “Alright. If this is the plan,” his eyes snapped to Bren as he said fiercely, “and I want you to understand that it is a stupid plan… We’re going to need to get you another vessel. There’s no way I can help you summon something like a demon, even if I wanted to, which I most certainly do not. Besides…” Archer glanced at Brennon’s hands, “Your body can’t take more corruption.” 

Bren swallowed, following his brother’s lead as he looked down at his hands as well. They looked charred, just as his coin had been when the corruption consumed it…destroyed it. Archer hadn’t needed to follow him through the Shadow Gate, nor did he have to help him. He was a Manos; the first born son of a prominent family and heir to the Endrith estate… He’d given up his whole life, his whole future, for an Umbra like Bren. 

“Thank you Archer,” Bren murmured sincerely, looking up at Archer as his eyes stung. He wanted to say more, to tell his brother how glad he was not to be alone, but his pride got in the way. He couldn’t say the words aloud.

Archer’s face crumpled into anguish as he stepped forward, closing the space between them. Awkwardly, Archer stretched out his arms and pulled Bren into a forceful embrace, holding him in a vice that was painfully tight. 

Bren endured it, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his brother in return, pressing his forehead to Archer’s strong shoulder. 

They stayed there for only a brief moment before Archer pulled back, clearing his throat as if he were embarrassed to show such affection. When he looked at Bren again, his face was stern, voice hard and harsh as he stated, “Alright, enough of this. Let’s head out and find you that vessel.” 

Leaving the relative safety below the bridge, Bren suddenly felt exposed as he tucked the journal back into his breast pocket. They were in what looked like a field, the dark grass long and unkept. On the horizon he could see the wash of dazzling light from the city core, on the other side of the bridge…the outskirts. Bren shivered, realizing the Shadow Gate had dropped them halfway between the manor and the black market, a cracked, stone road running straight in either direction.

Bren’s gaze was magnetized as he turned instantly toward the city core. His heart swelled as he looked once more at the glass and gilded buildings, shining like treasure against the dark sky. Everything was awash with the golden glow of the city’s lights; the same warmth that was held in the Manos’ magic. He wanted to burn the image in his mind, knowing this was the last time he’d ever set his eyes on such a place. 

Vitalos had claimed to be the city of safety…and yet his parents were dead. 

Swallowing, Bren turned his back on the city. There was nothing left for him there… Nothing he wanted to think about. “Come on,” Bren muttered, tugging at Archer’s arm to signal he should follow. “The market is this way. Let’s be quick and stay low, prosecutors could be anywhere.” 

His heart was suddenly pounding as they cautiously followed the road until they reached the cover of dilapidated buildings, stopping to pause for breath in an alcove between structures. Bren wished he had his cloak, feeling unbearably exposed without it. He turned toward Archer, thinking of how the Manos could use magic to alter not only their appearances but their clothing as well. “Archer, can you conjure me a cloak?” He didn’t bother asking for Archer to change his appearance, he knew his brother wasn’t skilled enough for that. 

Archer raised a brow, looking over what Bren was wearing. “I can maybe alter your coat… I can try.” Archer’s hands were alight with his soft magic, running his glowing fingers over the fine fabric. Archer grunted, practically holding his breath as the coat lengthened and a large hood was shaped into existence from the collar. 

Archer did the same to his own clothing, darkening the fabric as well to blend in more with the night and dark passages. With his magic dying down, Archer panted out a breath, bending over as he braced his hands against his knees. He’d already used so much energy helping Bren stave off the corruption, such a small task had left him shaking. 

Bren pulled up the hood, instantly feeling relieved at the small source of anonymity. “Archer, thank you,” Bren murmured, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I won’t ask you to use your magic again.”

Archer sucked in a deep breath, pushing his hair back as he straightened. “Don’t worry about it. Though I’ll need time to replenish.” He jerked his chin forward, pulse visible in his strong throat. “Let’s keep going.”

It was darker in the outskirts, run down with little light covering the maze-like alleyways. Though some buildings were deserted or boarded up with broken windows and crumbling walls, many were inhabited…and not by the friendliest sort. 

The people in the outskirts had little in the means of living. They were granted safety by the Manos, but most were humans with little or no power, leaving them vulnerable—forced to scavenge or get by through any means necessary.

In the distance he could hear an alarm sounding, the automated voice sounding out that there had been another Umbra sighting…another attack. Their pictures would be blasted all over Vitalos soon, prosecutors would flood the streets if they hadn’t already. They didn’t have much time before news spread and everyone was looking for them. 

He wasn’t just an Umbra trying to stay under the radar…he was wanted. There would be a reward. A price anyone in the outskirts would be eager for.  

Though Bren had never gone such a direct route into the outskirts, it wasn’t long before he found markers he was familiar with. There were alleyways he had been down a hundred times over the years and buildings that he had often used for shelter. 

He could feel Archer crouched close behind him, practically breathing down his neck as they narrowed in on the black market. In the labyrinth of twisting passages, the entrance was well hidden; patrons taking no chances of being discovered by the authorities. 

Ducking down a side street, Bren stopped, feeling his heart hammering against his bones. He looked at the stone ground, dried blood caked through the cracks…the same blood that had stained his boots. There was no corpse, but he could see the charred marks on the wall, remnants of bullets formed from lightning. 

He’d been half-expecting the street to be roped off or for prosecutors to be scouring the area…but it was deserted. No doubt all forces had been called to the city core after the massacre that had happened at the manor. 

 Bren turned away from the scene, trying to ignore the haunting thoughts of what had transpired there only yesterday… How he’d been attacked and killed a man trying to survive. How far would he go now that he was wanted? 

He didn’t say anything to Archer, he didn’t want his brother to know. Instead, Bren walked up to a weathered and beaten cellar door made of wood, situated at the side of the narrow alley. It was surrounded by litter and choked with empty crates, unassuming to any passersby. 

Looking down either direction of the backstreet, Bren sucked in a deep breath as he bent down and gripped the handles, glancing up at Archer. “Stay close to me,” Bren murmured, nerves twisting in his stomach like a snake. 

He knew the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of the outskirts, but this was the only way they stood a chance at survival… At finding answers.