“Can’t do it,” Quartermaster Gareth insisted, crossing his rough arms over his jutting belly. Behind him stretched the supply room, a long chamber lined with wooden boxes and metal cages. “The rest o’ this lot are already accounted for.”

Adrian strained to keep his voice level—no easy feat after his earlier run-in with Seymour. “I was supposed to receive fifteen bondstones from the latest shipment.”

The quartermaster shrugged. “Sorry. You’ll have to handle the strays with what you’ve got.”

“What I’ve got is a single bondstone to last me a month! How am I supposed to capture daemons that have lost their masters without bondstones to suppress them?”

Another infuriating shrug. “Just beat ‘em until they’re too weak to resist. Bondsick daemons can barely walk straight, let alone fight. Shouldn’t be too bad, even for…”

Gareth trailed off, clearing his throat. Even for you, he’d been about to say. The beginning of a headache throbbed in the back of Adrian’s skull.

“Come on Gareth,” he tried again. “Can’t you cut me a little slack?”

The quartermaster shrugged. Adrian wanted to scream.

“Don’t know if I can,” Gareth said. “New orders came in this morning. The whole lot’s been reserved for the Watcher Division.”

As if most of Serenity Corp’s bondstone shipments didn’t already go to the spirit-cursed Watchers. Could Seymour be behind this? It seemed like exactly the sort of petty gesture he might make to get back at Adrian for his earlier defiance.

“Please,” Adrian said, hating how desperate he must sound. “Surely, the Watcher Division won’t miss a couple? I just spoke with Arbiter Janice, and she made it clear my duties were one of her top priorities.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, though he felt a twinge of guilt nonetheless at the exaggeration.

Quartermaster Gareth quirked an eyebrow. “Did she now? Well, I suppose so long as you’re willing to take any heat for this, we might be able to work something out…”

After a bit of haggling, Adrian left the supply room with a considerably lighter coin purse and a half-dozen new bondstones safely ensconced in his satchel. It was still less than half what he’d been promised, but he didn’t have it in him to argue for more.

At least, he should have enough bondstones now for this business at Crastley’s cottage. While he’d love nothing more than to crawl into his comfiest chair at home with a cup of tea, he owed it to the Arbiter to prove her faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

He spared a parting glance at the cages scattered throughout the chamber. Most contained a daemon, their myriad bodies alight with blue aether broken only by the bondstones that pulsed within them like beating black hearts. The creatures huddled listlessly on the floors of their cells, waiting for the Keeper Division to either ship them elsewhere in the League or sell them right here in Hillvale to daemon masters looking for new servants to bond.

Seeing the poor beasts like that elicited a swell of sympathy. He knew what it was like to have control of your own fate stripped away. To feel trapped and helpless and utterly alone.

Get a grip, he chided himself as he exited the Serene Hall and tramped down its wide steps. Those daemons might look pitiable now, but without their bondstones to pacify them, they’d have ripped his frail body to shreds and devoured his aether. Better they remain safely detained until a daemon master could properly tame them.

He navigated across the town square past merchants still setting up their stalls for the day’s business and turned down the first street heading east. Hillvale might be small by the League’s standards—or so he’d been told—but he’d always appreciated its orderliness. Everything from the compact brick buildings to the cobblestone streets formed a neat grid, with the Serene Hall at its center. Here and there, a daemon cleaned windows, mended broken bricks, or performed other minor duties at the behest of its master. Most people, however, kept their daemons melded like him for convenience. No one wanted to navigate streets choked with azure monsters.

As he walked, he hunched his shoulders against the occasional stares of passing townsfolk. Though they were generally content to ignore him, their eyes flicking right past as if he didn’t exist, a few gazes always lingered. It certainly wasn’t his unremarkable appearance that drew their attention—not with his too-scrawny body, plain face, and muddy brown hair and eyes. Nor was it genuine concern. No, it was something far worse: pity.

Oh look, there goes Bennett and Lucile’s boy. Shame about his parents, spirits guide their souls. Perhaps it was the grief that stunted his growth?

His gaze caught on a poster plastered along an otherwise bare wall. It depicted two figures, one male and one female, facing off across an open arena full of cheering fans. Both blazed with aether while their daemons—a hulking bear for him and an armored crab for her—clashed. Bold text across the top read “THE DIAMOND CUP: A TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS!” Smaller text beneath outlined the details, including the start date a few weeks from today.

He turned away, his stomach churning as he pictured Arbiter Janice’s sympathetic smile. Seymour’s bullying condescension stung, but in a way, he preferred it. For all her kindness, even the Arbiter had treated him like a wounded animal in need of protection.

One day, he’d show them all he could take care of himself. He’d overcome his stunted aether and become a legendary daemon master capable of winning any spirit-cursed tournament he wanted!

If only you actually believed that…

Lost to his brooding, he barely noticed as he passed the edge of town and entered the surrounding hills that gave the town its name. Crastley’s cabin lay to the east, so he set a course in that direction across rolling meadows where wildflowers bloomed in bright splashes of color.

Adrian couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Crastley. He’d arrived in Hillvale some six years ago, not long after Adrian’s parents had fallen in the line of duty. Since then, the old recluse had rarely ventured into town, preferring his solitude. With the soft breeze ruffling his hair and the sweet scent of flowers permeating the air, Adrian understood the impulse.

Eventually, he crested a rise and spotted Crastley’s cabin perched atop a knoll beyond a winding river. A single bridge offered a way across. Eyeing the vista, he supposed he should summon his daemon before he approached any closer in case he encountered a stray.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on drawing out the extra aether melded with his flesh. Several long seconds later, his daemon materialized. Trailseeker was all sleek muscle, shaped like an azure hound with a stub for a tail and a narrow snout bristling with fangs.

Its crackling blue eyes regarded him blankly. The sight conjured a familiar stab of discomfort. This is the only way to combat the daemon threat, he reminded himself as he cut a path down the slope toward the river. Trailseeker followed, obeying his unspoken command to remain alert. If we hadn’t learned to harness their power, they’d have exterminated us.

He knew the history of the Daemon Wars and the ceaseless conflict that raged along the Bulwark protecting the League’s eastern border better than anyone. Yet, turning any creature into a mindless puppet still felt wrong, even if he’d done so himself out of necessity.

When they reached the bridge, he studied it skeptically. Cracked planks formed a precarious walkway held aloft by half-rotten beams that had begun to sag and warp. Worse, the river itself surged so high it threatened to churn over its banks, rendering it impassable on foot.

This is how I die, he thought with a resigned sigh. Not heroically fighting daemons like my parents but drowning in a spirit-cursed stream.

He silently ordered Trailseeker forward. Though guilt tightened his chest at putting the daemon in danger, he knew the worst it faced was its aether returning to his body to recover. So long as its daemon master lived, a bonded daemon was essentially immortal.

Still, he let out a relieved breath when Trailseeker reached the other side of the bridge unharmed. It wasn’t a perfect stress test since the daemon’s aetheric body weighed considerably less than his own, but it would have to do.

Marshaling his resolve, he took a tentative step onto the bridge. The wood trembled, and he readied himself to leap back. When nothing else happened, he took a second step, then another. Soon, he’d passed the halfway point, placing him directly over the raging rapids. He glanced down and swallowed at the jagged rocks beneath the waves. His stunted aether would offer his flesh some protection if he fell…but probably not enough.

Only a few steps from the edge, a weakened plank buckled beneath his foot. He cried for help as he toppled to his belly, his legs slipping into the broken hole. Trailseeker obeyed at once, propelling itself forward on legs strengthened by its Bolster Body technique. It reached Adrian an instant later and snapped its jaws around his forearm.

Adrian hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain. For the thousandth time, he cursed his weakness. The aether reinforcing his skin partially blunted Trailseeker’s attack but not enough to stop its fangs from drawing blood.

The bridge shuddered, and for a terrifying moment, he feared the whole thing was about to collapse beneath them. Then, he felt the welcome brush of grass against his back.

Trailseeker had dragged him free.

Ordering his daemon to release him, he cradled his wounded arm to his chest. What a glorious day this has been so far. Torn between laughter and tears, he settled for glaring at the creaking death-trap he’d just vacated.

When it was clear the bridge would survive another day, he shakily regained his feet, his limited reserve of aether attempting to mend his punctured arm. Seymour likely could’ve managed the feat in minutes, but it would take Adrian closer to an hour to fully heal.

He fixed Trailseeker with a stern look. “You didn’t have to bite me that hard.”

The daemon didn’t react, and Adrian sighed, wishing Trailseeker would show some interest in what happened around it. All he’d ever felt through their bond was a hollow emptiness. He doubted even death would make the daemon express a hint of concern.

If an actual trail led from the bridge to Crastley’s cabin, Adrian couldn’t spot it. He charted a path through the swaths of flowers, commanding Trailseeker to redirect the enhancement from Bolster Body to its senses so it could watch for hidden daemons.

Sure enough, Trailseeker perked up a few hundred paces from the cottage. Adrian froze, peering about warily. Perhaps, Crastley had left behind a stray or two after all.

When he quested out with his aethersense, however, nothing pinged beyond the faint traces of ambient aether. That meant their target must either be too weak to register or clever enough to shroud its aura and disguise it from view. Adrian had never picked up the trick of shrouding his aura himself. Thankfully, his pathetic lack of aether left little enough to bother hiding.

Instructing his daemon to follow the scent, he waited while it padded through the meadow, pausing every few steps to sniff the air. At first, Trailseeker moved toward Crastley’s cabin. Then, the daemon veered left toward the line of trees marking the edge of Overlin Forest.

Adrian eyed the thick woods with a ripple of unease. Overlin Forest stretched for days in all directions, a patch of untamed wild on the border of civilization. While the Watcher Division should’ve eliminated anything too dangerous nearby, countless strays had hidden there over the years. If that’s where the trail led, this chase was a lost cause.

He was about to call Trailseeker back when another daemon emerged from the forest. Its body was sleeker than Trailseeker’s, with a shorter snout, longer legs, and a whip-like tail. Focusing his aethersense on the newly revealed creature, Adrian hissed in a breath. A faint instinct whispered its name as Shadowlash, but that’s not what sent fear spiking through him.

The creature’s aura burned brighter than any he’d ever seen. More importantly, its aether appeared hale and healthy. This was no mere stray left confused by Crastley’s death, nor some pest hiding nearby. Whatever a daemon this strong was doing out here, it was far beyond his capacity as a catcher to handle.

Baring rows of glistening cobalt fangs, Shadowlash prowled forward.

Adrian fought to tamp down his panic. Running would be impossible. Even if he made it across the bridge without it collapsing, the daemon would overtake him in moments. Yet, fighting was even more laughable. His flawed aether left him useless in a brawl, and Trailseeker was no match for a monster like this.

Shadowlash paused twenty paces away, muscles bunching as it settled onto its haunches. Its azure eyes flicked between Trailseeker and him. Adrian frowned, unsure what to make of the daemon’s strange behavior. Why didn’t it just attack?

Well, no sense waiting for it to make the first move. If he couldn’t run and he couldn’t fight, he’d have to try a mixture of both.

At his mental command, Trailseeker charged forward, using Bolster Body to enhance its speed. It reached Shadowlash and lunged for the other daemon’s neck. Before Trailseeker’s fangs could connect, Shadowlash blurred into a mass of writhing shadow. Trailseeker’s jaws slammed closed on nothing but air.

More tendrils erupted along Shadowlash’s back, forming tentacles of solid darkness. Trailseeker tried to leap aside, but a shadowy tentacle heaved it to the ground like a sack of grain. Before Trailseeker could rise, a second tentacle slammed into its back and drove it into the dirt with crushing strength.

Adrian winced. He’d been taught that daemons didn’t register pain the same way humans did, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed watching his daemon get pummeled.

While Trailseeker scrambled up amid the meadow, Adrian took the opportunity to retreat to the bridge. He stepped gingerly onto the creaking planks as he ordered his daemon to focus on dodging Shadowlash’s strikes. It didn’t need to defeat the enemy, just keep it distracted long enough for him to escape.

Maybe if I scream loudly enough, someone will save me before I get eaten. Shame blossomed in his chest. A true daemon master would face his foes head on, not run like a coward while his daemon fought and died in his stead.

He’d barely taken a few steps when he sensed a change in the aether behind him. Glancing back, he found Trailseeker sprawled in the trampled grass. Shadowlash stood over the fallen daemon, its eyes fixed once more upon Adrian.

It regarded him for a long moment, like a statue carved from living shadows. Then, without a backward glance, it bounded into the forest and vanished from view.