All was silent. The bronze nameplate felt heavy in his trembling outstretched hand. Around him the village square stood frozen. Chief Clarity’s face was a grim mask. Among the other elders and villagers he saw looks of shock and disbelief.

Feyna stood motionless, her hand on her chest and her eyes wide. She looked neither pleased nor disappointed, just stunned by the unexpected turn of events. The only person smiling was the Ascendant woman—that same terrible smile had returned. It made Aelric feel as if he had done something wrong.

Then he saw his mother collapse to her knees, sobs of relief behind her hands. His father went to hold her, tears in his eyes as well.

"It's im-impossible…" Brint was stuttering, his head downturned, his hand gripping the severed rope around his waist. Then his head shot upward, eyes flashing with deadly hatred.

He whispered something and his hand was suddenly raised back and within it a spear of bright orange began to form. But just before he could throw it at Aelric, someone had appeared in a flash of arcana and caught Brint's wrist.

"Do not disgrace yourself further," Brant declared, raising his son's arm high. "Take your defeat like a man. Not a boy."

Brint stared back at his father with dumbfounded eyes. He looked at the summoned orange spear in his hand and cursed under his breath. The spell collapsed into the air and Brint yanked his hand out of his father’s grip. He turned and walked away, his eyes far and his jaw clenched tight. The gathered villagers before him parted, all silent as he stepped past them, none daring to meet his eyes.

Chief Clarity sighed, shaking her head as she watched Brint go. Then he turned to Aelric and nodded.. "The village recognizes Aelric's victory."

That was all she said to Aelric. He could not read the woman’s thoughts, and Chief Clarity revealed nothing in her expression nor her voice. She began dispersing the crowds.

"The match is concluded. Time to go home."

People began to break from the carefully formed perimeter of the circle. Some began gathering their belongings from the festival. Others moved away from the ring, but gathered in small groups, engaged in quiet conversation.

Aelric scanned the circle and broke into a smile as he saw Feyna coming toward him. But then he saw her flushed face and the dark anger in her eyes.

"Fey—"

Her hand came fast and hard across his left cheek, turning his face fast and hard.

"How could you, Aelric?" she demanded. "How could you take this from me?"

"Feyna…" Aelric said dumbly, holding the left side of his face.

"Who are you to decide who I wed!"

"I didn't… I just… Brint—"

"He'll never marry now! You know that don't you?" Feyna shouted. Aelric had never seen her so angry.

"I…" Aelric began, but he knew not what to say.

"You pig-brained, thick-skulled, stupid giant monkey! I-I wish I never knew you!"

Green eyes bright with rage, she was breathing as hard as he was during the duel. Then without another word, she spun around and headed in the direction Brint had gone.

Aelric still held his face, watching her go. His mind was as numb as his cheek. Someone put a light hand on his shoulder. It was his father.

"Are you alright, son?"

"Pa…" Aelric said as he felt new tears gathering in his eyes. "I don't understand, Pa. I won. I won fair."

"You did well, son," his father said. His voice carried a complex mix of pride and something somber.

Aelric scanned the crowd. No congratulations came. No cheers. Just blank stares and hushed whispers.

"I don't understand," Aelric said to his father, his voice small and lost. "I won the duel. I beat Brint. I did everything right."

His father's hand squeezed his shoulder. "You did. It'll be alright. Come, let's go home."

"Tell me, Pa," Aelric said, not budging from where he stood. "Tell me why."

His father hesitated for a long moment before he spoke.

"Sometimes, son, winning the battle means losing the war."

✣ ✣ ✣

Sylvara’s luck finally seemed to be turning for the better. She always knew she would have to get her hands dirty, especially when Brint made his sudden and unexpected marriage proposal to that pretty village girl. But then Aelric had unwittingly made her task far easier.

She knew he had regained his memories by the way he had looked at her at the beginning of the festival, and at first, she thought the boy might go to his village superiors and leak their meeting. It would have been an easy enough thing to deny. And who were they to question an Ascendant?

The worse scenario was if he had somehow convinced a group of his fellow lackwits that she was some demon summoner which these simpletons would have surely only heard of in legends. That would have gotten especially messy.

Instead the boy had challenged Brint to a duel.

Boys can always be counted on to be boys, can’t they?

Don't worry that a stranger took your memories in the woods not two days ago. No, your first priority is the pretty little thing that another boy in the village is laying claim to. Now you must make a show of your manhood by challenging him to a duel.

Of course that was the logical thing to do, wasn't it?

Sylvara sighed at the stupidity of it.

She had gotten her hopes a little too high when it happened. She should not have been surprised that a "duel" among these dirthands meant nothing more than a supervised wrestling match.

She had been as certain as anyone else on the square that Aelric's tantrum would end in his complete and shameful defeat. In fact, she was more certain than anyone for she knew the extent of Brint's growing power.

But she, along with everyone else, had been wrong.

It was truly impressive what the big lad had done, although it was doubtful anyone else present, including the boy himself, understood the weight of it.

He had cast a yellow constriction, a wood cutting spell to be exact, which meant the spell could only affect wood. It was likely the very spell that he had admitted to owning that night they had met in the woods.

But hemp, which came from a stalk plant, was certainly not any variation of wood, which belonged only to trees.

She shook her head. Such excellent abstraction was wasted on a boy whose arcumen had peaked at two arcas.

Brint's display of power on the other hand had been telling. His affinity for magic was far too great for any ordinary villager. It was not only the mastery he had over the earth through his alteration spell. It was the way he had conjured that spear after he'd lost. She'd seen the look on his face. Anger boiling. Murderous rage. And yet, she was certain that was the first time he'd used the spell. When else would he have had the chance to practice it? She only gave it to him yesterday.

It was too bad the hunter had stopped his son from throwing that spear. It would have saved her a lot of trouble.

The crowds on the square were dispersing now. Brint had already left, and the prize that two boys were fighting over was now striding angrily toward the winner. She was not surprised at all when the girl slapped him.

She let out another bored sigh. Not moments earlier she had seen how this girl had beamed at the prospect of the two boys fighting over her love in front of her village. Sylvara noted the way her eyes flashed with pleasure as Aelric accepted Brint's terms of banishment.

Ah yes, the promise of great sacrifice and grand spectacle before the entire village's eyes and it was all for her. That must have felt nice for the farm girl.

But the loser boy had won, that wasn't according to plan was it? And now the farm girl had lost the other boy, the one with the ever-expanding arcana. One does not find a husband like that quite so often, do they?

Sylvara paused her string of thoughts and looked upward, realizing that girls could be expected to be girls too.

She wondered if she had ever been so stupid. That question answered itself immediately. Of course, she had.

Her eyes found Aelric again. He was still on the square, speaking with his father. Then his father said something that broke the boy.

Aelric left then, pushing his way out of the square, covering his eyes as he went. His mother wanted to follow, but his father held her back, telling her to let the boy go.

Yes, Sylvara thought. Let the boy go.

She followed after him, moving through the slowly dispersing crowd, soon leaving them behind. He had headed toward the woods. She watched him stumble and trip as he walked along the uneven path. His shoulders hook the whole way with barely contained sobs.

Once again, Sylvara felt that old feeling. Some existences just aren't worth living.

Maybe she'd be doing the boy a favor.

The sun had begun to set and the wind swept through the trees, bringing down red and orange leaves that added to the leaf-strewn path. Sylvara kept her feet light, and it was not until they had reached the old tree house where they had first met that she revealed herself to him.

"A coinicidence meeting you here again," she said lightly.

He spun around, eyes wide and red. "It's you… wh-what do you want?"

"That's no way to greet an old friend. I want to congratulate you on a fine performance. You surprised me, and that’s a rare thing. You did a good job."

She saw the boy’s eyes darting around, as if finding a path to escape. She decided to put an end to that notion right away.

"Terrabandha," she said, and flicked her finger at him. By her command, thick arcana-made roots sprouted from the ground around his feet and bound his legs together. The motion threw him off balance and he fell to the ground.

"What are you doing!?" the boy exclaimed, gripping and pulling at arcana-made roots of her spell. "Let me go!"

"Like I said, you did a good job. And now, I have one more job for you to do." She made a twirling motion with her command finger, drawing a small circle in the air. It was a motion that the boy recognized, his face stricken with fear.

"No, not again… don't steal my—"

"Demon Tongue, Dream." Once again the tentacle rose up out of the circle in Sylvara's hand. It's eyeless head arching down. But unlike before, this tentacle was not blood red, but darker, a purple black. Sylvara did not hear the word it whispered to Aelric, but it made the boy's eyes droop.

"… memories," he muttered quietly, already feeling the effects of the spell.

Surprisingly, the boy didn't fall backward. He just lulled there, mumbling at her. "What are… you doing to me…"

Sylvara glared at the tentacle still sprouted from the shining summoning circle of her open palm. "You failed.”

The tentacle began to speak to her then, but she could hear none of it. Her circle protected her from it.

"Yeah, good try," she said. "But this is a one way conversation. Do it again, he's still awake. I know you're not highborn, but don't tell me you can't even put a farm boy to sleep."

The jaw on the tentacle was opening and closing rapidly now. Perhaps it was shouting at her, she didn't know. But if it didn't act quick, she'd close him off and end their contract.

The tentacle seemed to sense her thoughts then and it turned back to the boy, speaking to him again.

This time Aelric's eyes fully closed and he fell backward to the ground unconscious.

Sylvara snapped the summoning shut, the tentacle yanked back into the circle before her fingers closed together. She was still in disbelief that the argha failed on the first try, but she had bigger things to worry about for now.

"That's one down," she said to herself.