It is hopeless, I think, muffling my anger in this hauntingly familiar environment. I slip the spear back in its sling, where it belongs. I breathe in, the air smelling like sweat and cut wood. I look down and flex my hands, trying to steady myself in this strange dream. I turn around and look at the shed. The walls are unblemished, at least no more than they were before. No hole is present where the spear was, nor any sign of damage. The door is left ajar, with a fireplace surrounded by stacks of deep-brown palewood and midnight smears of coal—:

“I beseech you, Sunblighted!” It is the boy, the one that I dreamt … or the boy I was. “Sulumim,” the little girl called me.

“I am no Sunblighted!” My thoughts become smoke, my blood boils. I turn and grab Sulumim by the collar of his tunic and lift him off his feet, bringing his eyes to mine. His gaze does not waver, his jaw stays shut, but those wild eyes of his stare me down, showing my words register with meaning. His eyes start to water as he takes another breath:

“Your spear has the head of a sunforged vessel!” He lifts his arm; as weightless as a feather, and caresses the spearhead on my back. “These never leave the capital—”

—The howling rises above his voice, while just beyond the slope of the hill, I see a pack of erfls sprinting. But they are different from the ones that plague my country. They have less stature, are far less muscled and the fur covering the body is of a single shade of spectre gray. Why they take this look, I cannot—

No. I look Sulumin in the eye, seeing everything I once knew. Innocence, fear, shame and determination. I cannot dwell on every mystery. I lay Sulumin inside the shed as he weakly protests with kicks and punches. 

He is a mere child, and he cannot be in the way. I stab the blunt end of my spear into the ground and face the forest of howls. A shadow overtakes the trees. Blackness swallowing serenity.

I know him now, know him better than I wish, I think as I pull out my large sickle and knife, my hands tightly gripping their blood-soaked, cloth-wrapped hilts. Both have seen combat. 

He is weak-willed. He is on a path of self-hatred and remorse. I remember that feeling he felt, tracing the simple shapes of those wooden carvings. He needs to throw off his chains.

The creatures slow down at the base of the hill and spread out in a semicircle, with the largest of them in the center. They begin their approach, and I am at a disadvantage. I am fitted with weapons suited for slowing down larger beasts and hunting smaller creatures. And my spear is not meant for mere thigh-height beasties. 

It is meant for the Shades.

The crunch of fang grinding against fang is a sign of their ferocity, and for that I am grateful, as I will know when

—cshnK—

—I swipe away a gray mass launching into my right side with the flat side of my knife, leaving my left—

—cshNK—

—Two beasts dart and go to bite my left arm, but I slice at a face with the point of my sickle, piercing its jaw and knocking it into its partner in the attack—

—csHNK—

—I duck as the jaws of the leader snap before my eyes and I roll under its blurring body. I pivot on the dirt, crouching in front of the shed, while somehow the number of gray terrors have multiplied. Some have blood on their face. Others have—

—cSHNK—

I hear a rhythmic snap of stone coming from the shed.

—CSHNK—

I cross my arms, sickle and knife defending each side, as I slowly approach—:

—CSHNK—

I hear someone shout: “Sparks!” And the shed goes up in flames. 

Fire erupts from every plank, smoke bellowing from its windows, and the masses react with sheer and unbridled terror. They are afraid of fire—:

“No!” I drop my weapons and run to the greedy flames as the wolves run every which way, bashing the door in, scattering its splinters into the warding fire. In the center is Sulumin, smiling, hands black with coal.

“Why did you do this!” I shout. “Do you not wish to live?!” I go to grab his arm and drag him out of—:

“Don’t you dare stop me!” He slaps my hand away, green eyes clear in the smoky room, brow set and determined. Despite the billowing smoke, he breathes in:

“Take these flames, I have gifted them to you!” His smile returns; wider, but his lips quiver, mirth and sadness fighting for control. I’ve lived through these days before, I think. All Hell breaks loose the moment you wish it would all end. “Drive off the wolves, save my sister! Do what-t…t…t,” Unable to finish the sentence, at the end of it all, he is still prideful.

I admire that.

“Yes. I understand,” I say solemnly. Just as those words leave my mouth, the roof above me cracks. I turn around to run out of the fire and see the hills of grass starting to light aflame. It is as if the great light in the sky, the one I saw in my vision, has landed on the Earth from Heaven. 

I run toward the forest, grabbing my weapons. Hearing a crash of fire, timber, yelps and dreams, I refuse to look back. I refuse to turn away from the light.

I will save her.

End of Chapter 3