Det groaned as he rolled from his back, to his side, then to his hands and knees. Whatever trick his body had played to keep the pain at bay before was quickly fading, the agony in his left arm eliciting another groan. A deep breath to gather himself—that was all the time he could afford—and he flexed his stomach to pull himself up to his knees. His right hand went to his left shoulder, fingers instantly warm and wet from his own blood, then he was on his feet.

  A step toward the edge of the pillar, careful to make sure he had his balance, and Det moved his blood-soaked hand to the edge of the broken fence. One look to make sure it would support his weight, and he leaned carefully over the edge, eyes scanning for any hints of red. Nothing besides the swirling mists.

  With the momentum the goat hit… whatever that was with, it had sent them several feet beyond the straight cliff-face of the pillar. It would be falling for a long time. And hopefully not coming back. Another throb of pain in his shoulder made Det step back, and he staggered a pace as the wound on his leg almost made the limb buckle.

  ReSouled or not, he’d need to do something about this blood loss. Shoulder first.

  Damn, I actually liked this shirt… the thought came at the same time Det ripped the shredded, left sleeve clean off. He almost wished he hadn’t when he saw the garish tears through his flesh, and the absurd amount of blood coating his arm.

  Like with Kels, his magic couldn’t heal the damage done, but at least he could do something about the blood. Carefully lowering himself back to a seated position on the ground, his one good hand pulled out the ink bottle from his belt, and popped the top. Setting that on the grass carefully beside him, the smallest of his three brushes came next.

  A dip in the ink, and he began painting. Unlike normal ink, the lines of black didn’t run when they met the copious amounts of blood on his skin. No, the intent of his magic was to paint on his skin, so that’s where the ink went.

  It wasn’t his best work, but after thirty seconds, Det had thick bandages drawn around his arm and shoulder. A push of his magic ignited the lines, forging the black ink into three-dimensional constructs that immediately constricted and began absorbing the blood. From the looks of things, he’d managed to get around the back of his shoulder enough to cover the through-and-through, but he’d need to see the doc as much as Kels did.

  Shoulder covered, Det moved on to his slashed thigh. A repeat of the same process left him with one less pantleg, and bandages of black ink tightly wrapping his thigh. Storing what was left of his ink—barely a third of the bottle—and his brush again, he was as ready as he could be.

  “Really need to figure out how I can make them do something about the pain,” Det mumbled as he got to his feet. A few test steps showed his leg would support his weight, though sprinting was probably out of the question. “Hey!” he shouted. “Where are you and the girl?”

  The soft howl of a lone, ink-wolf came in reply, and Det half-jogged-half-stumbled in that direction. Thankfully—and probably part of the magic—the wolf’s howl didn’t get lost in the fog, and Det found it standing protectively next to Kels a moment later.

  “There’s a good boy,” Det said, patting the top of the wolf’s head, even though it probably wouldn’t care. The hair there was more bristly than a normal wolf’s would be, but the animal’s ears ducked to the side like any dog wanting ear scratchies would. Det obliged only for a few seconds before he moved over beside the still-unconscious girl.

  Getting her off the ground and up into position was significantly more difficult with only the one arm and one leg that worked like they were supposed to. A bit of help from the wolf shoving with its head got her into what was likely the best place, with her head resting against his shoulder. Even if his leg wasn’t injured, carrying Kels like that meant he couldn’t run anyway, so he started off at a quick walk.

  Eyes open for any more glowing orbs in the mist—there was nothing to say that monster was alone—Det found the colored rocks that would take him back to the village. Getting the pasture fence open was a bit of an adventure, but he was back on the path after that.

  Through the mist, his constant steps carried him, the distance feeling both short and endlessly long. Somewhere along the way, the ink-wolf at his side had faded, the magic powering it finally running out. Det was tempted to find a place to draw a new one, before the sounds of voices reached him from the distance. He almost sagged in relief when he heard them, but he wasn’t there yet. And, with how dark and late it was…

  “Det?” a woman said from off the side of the path. “It is you! Did you find…?”

  “Hey Vessa,” Det said, recognizing one of his older neighbours, and turned so she could see Kels cradled in his arm.

  “Oh heavens!” the woman said, coming up a side path with two men bearing short spears behind her. Each of the men also carried a lantern, though they kept the beams aimed at the ground. A search party? “Is she okay?”

  “Unconscious,” Det said. “Took a blow to the head as best I can figure. There’s… more.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “More?” Vessa asked. “She has more injuries, or…?” The woman’s eyes finally left the girl in Det’s arm as one of the two men behind her shone a lantern more carefully on Det. A hiss escaped her teeth. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I got my ass beat,” Det said.

  “What could do that to a ReSouled?” one of the men—Bets—asked under his breath.

  “Wish I could tell you,” Det said. “Whatever it was, I found it in the pasture. It killed at least a dozen sheep.”

  That statement drew a trio of gasps from the group, as well as more than one colorful curse.

  “And you left it there to kill more sheep?” the second man, Togil, said. He was about as fond of ReSouled as Bivac was.

  “Look at him, Togil,” Vessa said. “And the little girl in his arms.”

  Togil looked like he was about to say something else, but the glare from Vessa kept his mouth shut.

  “I didn’t leave it in the pasture,” Det said to Vessa. “I don’t know what it was, but I threw it off the side of the pillar.”

  “Was it a bear?” Togil said, staying silent for more than a few seconds an ability clearly beyond him. “Or a wolf?”

  “Pretty sure I just said I don’t know what it was,” Det pointed out.

  “Then how did you throw it off the pillar?” Togil badgered. “Get your story straight, ReSouled. Or was it you who did something to the sheep?”

  “Yeah, Togil, that has to be it. A sheep did this to me and Kels. Brilliant deduction.”

  “Speaking of Kels,” Vessa inserted herself back into the conversation by physically stepping between the two men. “We should get her to the doctor right away. And maybe you too.” The last words came almost under her breath, and the message was clear. It’s not worth arguing; there’s no changing some people’s minds.

  “You’re right,” Det said, turning and continuing down the road. With Togil behind him—eyes probably staring daggers into Det’s back—he forced himself not to limp. To stand up straight despite his injuries. He would not give the man the satisfaction of seeing him hurt.

  By the way the lantern light swept back and forth through the mist, before starting to bob at his sides, the others were following in step. The quickened sound of feet on the packed dirt of the path brought Vessa to his side.

  “Do you want one of us to carry her?” Vessa asked him quietly, half-jogging to keep up with Det’s pace.

  “I’ve carried her all the way from the pasture,” Det said, voice even. “I can take her the rest of the way.” A breath to remind himself Vessa was on his side, and he spoke again. “Thank you, though. And for stepping in back there. Togil…”

  “Had a crush on your mother, er, on Jezz, before she finally decided on Huck,” Vessa said, only stumbling slightly on the odd topic of Det’s ‘parents’. “You… could’ve been his kid.”

  “You mean he thinks I killed the one who could’ve been his kid,” Det corrected.

  “That too,” Vessa admitted. “Radiant hasn’t had a ReSouled in generations. You and Cali are almost like something stepping out of a legend, but there’s also a lot of… superstition around it. Jealousy, too.”

  That was a new one, and Det raised an eyebrow as he looked in Vessa’s direction.

  “From the moment you were born,” Vessa said, clearly seeing the look on his face. “We all knew you were going to leave. That the Mistguard would come and take you. You weren’t going to be a permanent part of the community.

  “Yes, part of it is people thinking you killed a future member of the town by being born in their body—I’m not one of those people, to be clear—and they hate you for it. They’re pretty vocal about that. What they don’t say is how much they envy you because you can leave.

  “None of us even have the choice. Not if we don’t want to die to the Taint.”

  “Ah,” Det said, seeing it all come together. He’d realized there was the difference, and he’d been looking forward to leaving for years now. If he was being honest with himself, he was so focused on leaving, he’d ignored the others who begrudged the fact he could go. Even if nobody threw it in his face, he should’ve figured it out.

  Not that I would’ve changed my mind about going. Bet most of them still would’ve been asses about it too.

  “Do you envy me?” Det asked Vessa. Like his ‘parents’, she was one of the few in the town who didn’t hold his birth against him.

  The barked laugh gave him his answer before she spoke. “Of course I envy you,” she said with a second laugh. “But I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to be born, none of us did. We take our lot in life and roll with it.

  “Yeah, you get to leave Radiant—and the mists that trap the rest of us here—but that doesn’t mean you’ll be free.” Her voice came out quieter after that. “The Mistguard isn’t a vacation, Det.”

  “I don’t expect it to be,” Det said. “It’s an army. Or a navy. An air force? I don’t even know what to call them.”

  “Just call them the military,” Vessa said. “And being a military means there’s something for them to fight. They protect our pillars from the Corelands around us.”

  Det looked at Vessa. “Do you know much about the Corelands?”

  “Probably less than you,” Vessa said. “Takes me near-on five minutes to read a single sentence. Compared to the way you devour books, I’m sure you know more about them than me.”

  “Not much on them in the few books in Radiant,” Det said. “And I barely had enough to trade for ink when the annual merchants came.”

  Vessa nodded at that. There weren’t many merchants that would brave the mists for a small town like Radiant. If they didn’t have the hanging-mine off the side of the pillar, they probably wouldn’t even get the one merchant who did visit.

  “All I know about the Corelands,” Vessa said. “Is that they’re dangerous.”

  “Why? What’s in them?” At the question, the memory of glowing red eyes in the mist sprung into his mind. Could that be what attacked me? But, we’re hundreds—thousands?—of miles from the Corelands…

  “No idea,” Vessa said. “It’s just… everybody knows they’re dangerous. That they’re the enemy.”

  She’s not going to have an answer. The Mistguard might, though. I can ask them when they come to pick me up. If it’s really something from the Corelands all the way out here, they’d want to know, wouldn’t they? And they’d do something about it. I hope.

  “Oh, look, we’re almost there,” Vessa said, lifting an arm to point to hanging green lights that marked the edge of the village. The tinted glass of the suspended lamps always made Det think of traffic lights when he was close. From this distance, though, they looked more like a halo of green about fifteen feet above the ground. “Huh, what’s that?”

  Vessa’s arm lifted higher above the green aura, and Det’s eyes followed her gesture to the much brighter light shining down on the village through the mist that became clear through a break in the trees.

  The walk back to the village had taken Det far longer than he would’ve liked, thanks to his injuries and carrying Kels, but not so long the suns would’ve been rising already. Which meant that wasn’t the suns, but instead…

  “The Mistguard ship is here,” he said.

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