Once, a traveler from Baridi, one of Thaloria's five holdings, had told Devvyn that, in the final moments before death, a person's entire life flashes before their eyes. So Devvyn waited, hoping for some lost blurry piece of his childhood to return: a memory of his parents, or a time when Maelis wasn't so unyielding, a time when she was just the woman who played hide and seek with him in the Black Market.
But nothing came.
No forgotten memories, or flickering images.
"I'm going to die." Devvyn thought. "I'm really going to die."
Maybe the traveler lied, or maybe Devvyn hadn't done anything with his life worth remembering, but the only thing flashing before him was the Unbound woman's eyes, dark and wicked—the same woman who detonated the rune bomb. The gun's barrel pulsed against Devvyn's skin, buzzing faintly with charged mana. His breath caught in his throat. He didn't blink. Didn't move.
"You give your life for a man who wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire," she sneered, stepping back from Devvyn. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Then, without warning, her body convulsed. A violent tremor seized her frame—arms jerking, knees buckling. Her eyes fluttered wildly, unfocused, like something inside her had short-circuited. The gun slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground just as the shot rang out, the bullet veering harmlessly into the air before lodging itself with a sharp ping into a nearby pole.
Devvyn scrambled backward, chest heaving, heart hammering in his ears. What in the…
The Unbound woman clawed desperately at her neck, her nails gouging skin and taking away flesh. Agony flooded her eyes as her skin began to hiss and bubble, a sight that reminded Devvyn of the butcher pouring hot oil over pig skin. Smelled like it too.
"Please," she croaked, crawling toward Devvyn with trembling hands outstretched, forcing him back against the wall.
"I'm not… I'm not doing anything," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Make it stop, plea—" She froze mid-crawl, her body shuddered once as an arrow embedded itself through the back of her head into her mouth, cutting her plea in half. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She jerked forward, released a strangled gasp, then collapsed, hands still outstretched, her face inches from Devvyn's boot. Blood pooled out beneath her. Devvyn saw her fingers twitch. She was still alive.
The world seemed to lose all detail for him, edges blurred together, and time slowed down into crawling seconds. The Unbound woman's blood spread to his leg, and he felt it—hot and viscous, seeping through his overalls. Then, all at once, time snapped into place as boots crunched over gravel, slow and unhurried. Devvyn forced his eyes away from the blistered, charred body.
A tall figure stepped forward, straightening with a languid stretch. He was clad head to toe in a black garb that left only his face open. Giving the burns that littered the Unbound woman's body, Devvyn guessed the man was bonded with a fire Echo. He had shockingly blue eyes that pierced through Devvyn's, forcing him to look down. That was when he noticed the steel crossbow fitted to the man's right hand, glinting even without sunlight, and a leather quiver hung loosely from his shoulder, still full of arrows.
He reloaded the crossbow, and Devvyn's muscles tightened, but the man only flicked his eyes to the Unbound woman with mild disappointment. "Hmm. I missed. Was aiming for the heart." He said and lost the arrow. The arrow lodged true this time, ending her agony.
Devvyn's breath snagged in his throat. His eyes darted to the sigil etched in the arrow, a coiling serpent encircling a sword. Impossible. His mind raced, clawing through numerous tales from the old archives and finally settling on one—a story he'd never truly believed. A Valorian. No. The Valorian. The man before him was more myth than human, part of ancient warriors forged after The Sundering to keep Thaloria safe.
"You're the Wanderer," Devvyn said. The other Valorians were somewhere in a temple, encased in crystals, hibernating, except The Wanderer. Even Ialthea's stories could not say why he alone was free to roam Thaloria.
"At your service." The Wanderer answered drily. "Get me those, will you?" He said, gesturing to the arrows stuck in the dead woman.
Devvyn's head ached, and his hands were trembling. All he had wanted from today was to win the competition. So why was victory in Isadora's hands, why was there blood from a dead body spreading to his feet, why was there a myth standing before him asking him to fetch an arrow? It felt like someone was playing a sick joke on him.
He wanted to curl into himself and let out the tears building up in him. But he sensed that The Wanderer's request was a test of some sort, so Devvyn crawled to the Unbound woman, reached into her open mouth, and pulled the arrow free. It came out easier than he expected. He took out the one in her heart, too, and handed them to The Wanderer.
"Thank you." The Wanderer said. "She was right, you know. Jumping in to save Calder Pyrethorn?" He laughed, "Fool thing to do."
"I...I wasn't thinking."
"Hmm." He considered Devvyn for a long moment before he spoke again. "I should go help other people. Be safe, Devvyn. And be careful. You're important…"
"In what way?" He asked, but The Wanderer was already gone, a flash of black threading through all the bodies in the Square. Devvyn's hands were still shaking. He clenched his fists tightly to stop the tremors. He barely blinked before a scream split the air and a burned body thudded to the ground, clutching an arrow.
He glanced around and saw Calder Pyrethorn leaning on a wall while The Commander shielded him. The High Lord's face was contorted in pain, and he favored his right side. Lucky for him, the Unbound were more focused on The Wanderer so they left them alone. Devvyn ran over.
"Was that?..." The Commander immediately asked.
"Yes," Devvyn said.
The Commander whistled.
Calder Pyrethorn groaned and shifted.
"You're hurt badly," Devvyn said.
The High Lord gave him a wilting look as though Devvyn was a stray dog barking at him. "Clearly. Get me to safety, Commander."
Devvyn almost laughed. Isadora Pyrethorn was her father's daughter for sure, and he really should have used his energy for better things, like finding Jelric.
"Finally! They're here." The Commander piped in.
Bloodbound soldiers flooded the square, shields gleaming, their crimson armor catching the light like splashes of fresh blood. They moved with ruthless efficiency, cutting through the Unbound with brutal precision. Devvyn watched, half-stunned, as formations broke off, flanking the fleeing Unbound rebels. Between them and The Wanderer, the fight was quickly reduced to nothing more than dying gasps and the wet drip of blood pooling between cobblestones. Only five Unbound remained alive.
One of Bloodbound Captain's captains strode past them. Dain Kestros. He was a towering figure with a clean-shaven head, dark skin, and a muscular build. His heavy armor bore the crimson and gold sigil of House Pyrethorn with a heavy halberd to match. He cut a striking figure, and Devvyn could see why Lyndel Kestros had the level of confidence she did.
Dain Kestros bowed to Calder Pyrethorn, then locked his gaze on the Commander's crest. His lips curled with distaste. "Commander?"
"Yes, Captain!" The Commander saluted.
"Organize your men. Take those rebels in for questioning. Search for survivors and the wounded. I want this mess cleared before sundown. And somebody clear out all this smoke!"
"Yes, Captain." He saluted again. "You stay here, kid. Black curly hair, five foot seven, and a birthmark around the eye, right?" The Commander repeated the description of Jelric that Devvyn had given him at some point during their run.
"Yeah," Devvyn said.
"I'll be back with your friend."
The Bloodbound and the city guards worked together, finding people stuck under debris or just hiding. They found a healer who immediately got to work helping the injured. The Wanderer was still around; he helped, too. Devvyn wasn't sure what to do, so he remained with Calder Pyrethorn, who eventually grew exhausted and used Devvyn as a crutch.
The Commander came back minutes later with another guard in tow, both of them half-dragging, half-supporting a limp figure between them. Dust and ash caked his hair, and his left leg was bent at an angle that made Devvyn's stomach twist. But even through the grime and blood, he recognized him.
"Jelric!" Devvyn rushed forward, nearly stumbling over the shattered cobblestones. "What happened?"
Jelric's eyes cracked open, a weak grin stretching across his bruised face. "Was looking for you. I saw you get thrown back, and then something hit." He coughed, wincing as the Commander propped him against a broken column.
"Found him half stuck under a crate full of gravel. His leg's busted up beyond what the healer can do. He'll need to set the bone." The Commander folded his arms and nodded briskly. "Your friend's lucky. Most of the others around him weren't."
People were dead. That guard. The Unbound woman. And all the other bodies littering the square. Devvyn willed himself to detach from everything.
"Where's Aela?" Jelric asked
"Safe. Over at one of the warehouses."
"Good," Jelric said.
At the same time, the Commander cursed. "Shit. Forgot about the warehouse. And why's Lord Pyrethorn glaring at you?"
Devvyn forgot the man had been leaning on him. He shrugged innocently and went to sit beside Jelric. Aela was safe, and Jelric was injured but fine. He was good too. That was all that mattered.
"Not exactly how I thought today would go," Jelric muttered, wincing, as he adjusted his position. His face was pale, sweat beading along his brow, but the healers had done quick work of binding his leg.
Devvyn snorted. "You and me both."
It was exactly sundown when the last of the bodies were cleared from the square. Devvyn, Aela, and Jelric huddled together against the broken column, shaking. The cold evening wind was drifting across the square, and their overalls were too light.
"When do you think they'll let us go?" Aela's teeth clattered. She burrowed deeper into Devvyn.
"Soon, I guess," Devvyn said.
Everything was a broken, battered mess, including the civilians who were waiting for the Bloodbound to confirm that it was safe to leave. They packed together in groups now, highborn with highborn, middle class with middle class, bonded with bonded—the collective festival spirit had slinked away, reminding everyone of where they belonged.
Bloodbound captains gave clipped orders, soldiers and guards responded with sharp salutes before vanishing into the streets.
The Wanderer had left at some point, but he came back now, causing an eerie hush to fall over the square. People cleared a path for him as he walked. Whispers danced around. The Wanderer. Wanderer. Valorian. By the Primordials… He ignored their awe and scanned the grounds, searching. "Ah." He exclaimed when he found Devvyn. He started to make his way to Devvyn when Calder Pyrethorn accosted him, Isadora trailing behind him.
"I must thank you for saving my life, and I must repay you. Honor me with a visit to my home and let me serve you the finest of wines.." He bowed to the Wanderer. Even Thaloria's highborns had a deep respect for the Valorians. Calder Pyrethorn was a mere man before him.
"Don't thank me." The Wanderer said, then pointed at Devvyn, "he's the one who saved you. I believe you were there when it happened. Invite him to your home." His tone was mildly irritated.
Conversations stilled. The clang of armor and scrape of boots faded into the background. One by one, heads turned, eyes locking onto Devvyn as if drawn by some invisible thread. Faces—some familiar, most not—stared at him with expressions that ranged from curiosity to something that looked an awful lot like respect. Captain Dain Kestros paused mid-order, his gaze flickering to Devvyn before narrowing with scrutiny.
"Well, I.." Calder Pyrethorn stuttered. He turned on Devvyn with heat in his eyes. "Yes, the boy saved me," he gritted out. He might as well have called Devvyn a slur with the way he said 'the boy.' "What's your name, boy?"
"D..D..Devvyn. Sir…Lord." Devvyn scrambled to his feet.
"Well, Devvyn, I thank you for your duty to Sinai and to House Pyrethorn—"
Duty?
"—and I invite you to my estate for…a meal. You will be welcomed the day after tomorrow." Calder Pyrethorn smiled thinly. "Your presence will also be greatly appreciated, Wanderer." He added, but The Wanderer had vanished again. Calder Pyrethorn took in a deep breath and maintained his smile. Beside him, Isadora looked like she wanted to vomit. She eyed Devvyn with the disdain her father struggled to hide.
Devvyn grinned at her. He stood there feeling the weight of all those eyes and basked in it. Tomorrow, he would be poor-no-Echo-lower city Devvyn Arkwright, but today he was the Devvyn who saved Calder Pyrethorn.
The Commander came over. His expression was hard but respectful. "You did good, kid." He said gruffly, before moving on without another word.
Jelric limped up beside him, with Aela. "Okay. What did we miss?" Aela asked as Captain Dain Kestros announced that people could leave.
"Let's get home first." Devvyn sighed. He was suddenly feeling exhausted. He braced Jelric's shoulders. "Can you manage?"
"Sure," Jelric said, even though he was getting paler by the second.
"Aela, help me with the satchel."
The satchel was still tied around his waist. Aela loosened the knot, taking it from Devvyn and hanging it around her shoulders. The sound of iron pieces jostling together followed.
Devvyn went rigid. "Aela, what was that sound?"
Aela hurriedly opened the satchel and dipped her hand in it. She came away with shattered gemstones and twisted metal.
