Back at the house, Errol and Francis finished packing much more quickly than the last time. Errol didn’t need Francis to tell him what to pack this time. He barely slept, worrying all night about what they would find in Blackridge, and worrying about traveling to Luna. Errol had grown up in a harbor town, but he had never been out on the water. Something about the idea made him nervous. Early in the morning, after a quick breakfast, he and Francis went down to the harbor and got on a ship leaving for Ipomoea, the main city and harbor for the country of Luna.

  Luna occupied the east half of the crescent shaped continent it shared with Ivra. It wasn’t far by sea from Arkose to Luna or Ivra, but it felt like months. For the day and night at sea, Errol lay on the bottom bunk in the cabin, wishing desperately the constant rocking, bobbing, and drifting would stop. Errol grabbed the bucket Francis had left beside him and heaved yet again. Eventually, he slipped into blissful oblivion, only to be shaken awake by Francis the next morning.

  Francis led him up to the deck. Only then did Errol realize they had finally reached the harbor city. He felt a little better on the solid docks, but not when he thought of the fact he would have to cross that stretch of sea again if he ever wanted to go home. Beneath the raw feeling in his stomach and the fog in his head, Errol still felt that strangeness he couldn’t put into words. At least the feeling hadn’t gotten any stronger, but it was definitely still there.

  “We’ll stay at the inn today and tonight,” Francis said, frowning at him. “You look terrible.”

  Errol barely saw the city on the way to the inn. Next he knew, he was waking up on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. The sun was rising. He lay there for a moment, enjoying how the room wasn’t moving. He felt much more himself that morning, especially after a bath. He and Francis left the city early, setting out into the forest. Ipomoea had no walls or gates, just surrounded by forest. Francis consulted a map briefly before walking into the forest.

  “The village is only a day’s walk,” Francis said.

  The air got colder the further they walked. From what Errol had read, the east end of the crescent was always colder, even in Bloom. It wasn’t cold enough they needed cloaks, and they wouldn’t be going to the far east end, where there might even be snow. The forest air was crisp and fresh, and birds chirped in the trees. Errol managed to enjoy the walk, even if he was dreading the destination. By sunset, the birdsong had gone silent, and there wasn’t even rustling in the underbrush. As though even the animals didn’t want to go near the village.

  The ruins of the village were in a small clearing, partly overgrown by the forest. After so long, all that was left of the village was a few crumbling stone walls. Not a single house remained fully standing. As soon as they set foot in the clearing, Errol stiffened. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. He looked at Francis, who simply looked curious.

  “The bad feeling is real…” Francis said quietly, then headed further into the village.

  Errol reluctantly followed. Was there really something in the village? Whatever caused the village’s demise couldn’t have survived this long, could it? Even if it wasn’t that, something else could have settled there after the village was abandoned. He wanted to do what his father had said he’d done and just go back to Ipomoea.

  “It’s getting late,” Errol said when they stopped next to the collapsed well. “We should make camp further in the forest.”

  Francis frowned. “Or right here.”

  “Could you sleep with this feeling?” Errol asked, barely keeping his voice from shaking.

  The sunlight dimmed further before vanishing entirely behind the trees. A shriek split the air, a sound unlike anything Errol had heard before. His ears throbbed and no part of him would move. The scream went on and on, an incessant wail. The rubble in front of them that had once been a house had formed a dark cave, in which something was stirring. A long, pale blue arm reached out of the cave, followed by another. Both were longer than those of a human, all skin and bone.

  Errol still couldn’t move, couldn’t even cover his ears against the terrible sound. A nightmarish face appeared next, mouth open further than a human mouth could, showing black teeth and a gray tongue. The face was gaunt, but similar to that of a human. The eyes were large and pale blue, the pupils dilated so far they almost blocked out the iris. The Wight dragged itself out of the cave, closer to Errol and Francis. Its clothes were rags that barely covered the torso, let alone the strangely long limbs. This one was clearly weak, but its scream would stop them from fighting back, would make them an easy meal regardless of how weak the Wight was.

  The creature inched toward them, still screaming. Francis moved suddenly, kicking a rock that struck the Wight in the side of the head. The gash didn’t bleed. The creature lunged, nails digging into Francis’s leg, just below his knee. He cried out as the Wight yanked him to the ground and leaped on top of him. Another moment and it would be too late, but Errol couldn’t move. The strange feeling inside of him stirred. Something gray was drifting through the air, like threads, then it was gone. What had that been?

  The Wight’s rags caught fire, the blaze coming out of nowhere and engulfing the creature as it jumped off of Francis, howling. The scream that had kept Errol bound to the spot was gone, but Francis was unconscious. Errol pulled his cousin’s arm over his shoulders, pulling him to his feet and stumbling toward the edge of the forest as fast as he could. If not for the all consuming fear the Wight was right behind him, he never would have been able to carry Francis. When the village was out of sight behind them and the Wight had fallen silent, Errol looked back. The creature hadn’t followed. Maybe it was too weak to follow.

  Errol lowered Francis to the forest floor, his every muscle protesting. Errol sat beside his still unconscious cousin, his mind a mess. The only thing he was certain of was that the Wight was not dead. It hadn’t burned, because the fire had only been an illusion. Errol’s hands shook as he pulled Francis’s right pant leg up. The scratches weren’t deep, but Errol cleaned them with water from a flask and covered them with a bandage. That didn’t take long. Francis had no other wounds.

  Now there was nothing to keep Errol from thinking about what had just happened. Illusion magic. His magic. The strange feeling inside of him, that had been there ever since he touched the water of the Wishing Lake, was magic. Maybe the lake had freed his magic somehow, but from what? How could Vedrix, the God of Magic, have been wrong? He had seen when Errol was a baby that he didn’t have magic. Errol shivered in the brisk night air. How could he have magic? He didn’t know what to make of this, or what would happen, but he didn’t want to tell anyone. Not yet.

  He stared at the trees in the direction of the village and waited. By morning, the Wight hadn’t come. The lower part of Errol’s left leg felt warmer than the rest of him. He pulled his boot off and raised his pant leg, dreading what he would find. Thick dark brown fur. There was just a small patch of it, but it was definitely there. Errol quickly covered it and put his boot back on as Francis stirred.

  Francis groaned as he sat up. “What happened?”

  “The Wight was weak, likely from hunger.” Errol’s voice shook. “Otherwise, I doubt we would have gotten away.”

  Francis shivered. “So that wasn’t just a nightmare, we really were attacked by a Wight.” He grimaced, touching his leg.

  “Does it hurt?” Errol asked. “I don’t know much about Wights…”

  “It stings, but it should be fine,” Francis said. “Their curse isn’t something they can pass on through a scratch.”

  “Curse?” Errol’s voice squeaked a little. “You mean Wights used to be human?”

  “Probably a very long time ago for that one,” Francis said. “It’s an ancient curse that was passed down through families. Most families with the potential to become Wights were wiped out. I haven’t heard of anyone encountering a Wight in the Age of Magic, or even in the Age of Reason for that matter.”

  For a long time in the Age of Reason, most people hadn’t believed magic was real. When witches came out of hiding and the world stopped denying magic was real, the Age of Magic had begun. The gods had also begun to return, but most people didn’t know that.

  “We should go back,” Francis said.

  Errol’s breath caught. He stared at his cousin. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “It’s daytime,” Francis said. “The Wight will be asleep. We might even be able to get a good look at it.”

  Errol was at a loss for words, but only for a moment before they all came rushing out. “We barely made it out alive! Why would you even consider going back?” He stumbled to his feet. “It was foolish to even go to the village, and now that you know how dangerous it is, you want to go back?”

  Francis got to his feet faster than Errol had. “Don’t be a coward, Errol. Wights sleep during the day. They can’t wake up during the day.” The way his lips were pursed and his scowl reminded Errol suddenly of Pearl. “There’s a line between caution and being a wimp. You’re always telling me it’s too dangerous, it’s not safe, what if something happens?” He took a step closer, seeming to tower over Errol more than usual. “What if something does happen? Do you want your life to be boring? Do you want nothing to ever happen?” His words echoed through the forest, leaving behind a deep silence.

  The two of them turned away from each other, Francis breathing hard, and Errol wishing he could find a hole to hide in.

  “Maybe I should have a healer take a look at those scratches…” Francis said, breaking the silence.

  The two walked back through the forest, avoiding the clearing where Blackridge village was. Neither of them spoke.

  “I put some of Mrs. Clement’s salve on the scratches,” Errol said quietly.

  Francis nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

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  They didn’t speak again before they reached Ipomoea. The two asked a shopkeeper at the market, who directed them to the healer’s. The healer was an older woman with a stern face. She took a look at the scratches and said they were fine, even if they had come from a Wight, which Errol had the feeling she didn’t believe. The two had just left the healer’s when Errol saw a familiar face in the crowd.

  Cory Lyle had seen him as well and hurried over. His short black hair was just long enough to tie back. His pale gray eyes looked worried. He was just a little taller than Errol, the shortest man Errol had ever met, though he was apparently not even going to be as tall as him. Cory was the same age as Tabitha, but much like her and Hector, he looked younger, since he didn’t age the same as humans. Soul mages weren’t like witches, and Cory was a corrupt soul mage, which Francis didn’t know.

  “What are the two of you doing in Ipomoea?” Cory asked. “You both look exhausted. What happened?” He looked only more worried by the moment.

  “We encountered a Wight in Blackridge village,” Francis said, his expression unreadable. “It was badly weakened, so we managed to escape.”

  Cory paled. “A Wight?” He groaned. “I’ll inform the king. We’ll have to take care of it, in case any travelers go through there.”

  “You know the king?” Francis asked.

  “He’s a friend of my parents,” Cory said. “The case I’m working on was a personal request from him.”

  Errol didn’t know much about King Tobias Rimmer, only that he had succeeded his mother at a young age, and had once been betrothed to Edith Silas, who was now Queen of Oenum. Her older brother had been murdered, leaving her the heir to the throne, which meant she and Tobias hadn’t been able to marry each other.

  “What were you doing in Blackridge?” Cory asked.

  Errol and Francis glanced at each other, looking away quickly.

  “Working on a guide to legends,” Francis said.

  Cory sighed. “It’s getting late. Let’s find you a room at an inn. In the morning, I’ll help you find a ship going back to Arkose.” It wasn’t a question, but he looked at both of them, waiting.

  The two nodded.

  “I don’t know what happened between you,” Cory said, “but going places like Blackridge is dangerous. Many legends are true, and they’re dangerous.” He looked at Francis when he said that, but Francis said nothing.

  Cory took them to an inn, making them promise not to leave before he came back in the morning. Errol and Francis didn’t say a word that night, or during breakfast in the morning. Cory came back, then went with them to the harbor, where he secured them passage on a ship returning to Arkose. Errol was less miserable on the ship this time, but maybe it was because he was so miserable already with what had happened in Blackridge. He and Francis sat together on the lower bunk, a heavy silence between them.

  “I’m sorry,” Francis said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  “You were right,” Errol said.

  Francis shook his head. “You’re not a coward. If you were, you wouldn’t have come with me.” He sighed deeply. “And I’m glad you did. At least one of us has a level head.” He looked at Errol uncertainly, which wasn’t a look Errol often saw from his cousin. “Please don’t give up on the guidebook yet. We’ll investigate something closer to home next. As you said, we’ll choose something not so dark.”

  Errol nodded, but only because he was worried what kind of trouble Francis would get into.

  Francis’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t want you to go along with this if you really don’t want to. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  How could he not worry about him? Even knowing there was a Wight in the village, Francis had wanted to go back.

  “I want to go,” Errol said, the words sounding false even to him.

  Francis frowned. “I’m sorry, about what I said.”

  “I know,” Errol said. “And you are right. I’ve tried so hard to be normal, I’ve become the most boring person around.”

  Francis laughed. “I assure you, being normal is overrated.”

  Errol thought of the rumors about him in Arkose, the years of Zinnia bullying him at school, and the patch of fur on his leg. Normal wasn’t overrated, it had just always been out of his reach. He and Francis said little else on the way back to Arkose, which left Errol alone with his seemingly endless worries, and with the rocking of the ship. By night, he was heaving in the bucket again, wishing only that the rocking would stop.

  -- --

  The rocking didn’t stop until he and Francis stepped onto the docks in Arkose the next morning. Errol was still dazed from being on the boat and walked into Francis when he stopped suddenly, not far from where the docks began. Pearl Welch was talking to another noble, the two standing at the harbor wall. Pearl went rigid when she saw Errol and Francis. The man with her hurried away as she stalked toward the two of them.

  “You’ve had enough time wandering around, shirking your duty as the duke’s son,” Pearl said, her voice dangerously calm. “You’re coming home.”

  Francis started to say something.

  “You’re coming home!” Pearl’s shrill voice cut through the chatter at the harbor, the crowd going silent. She drew herself up, her face turning red. She grabbed Francis’s hand and dragged him away.

  Francis let her take him. Really that was probably best with how angry she was, though Errol doubted Francis would talk to her properly at the Welch house either. Errol sighed, glancing at the bag Francis had left behind. Errol carried that and his own back to the house at the edge of the forest. He took a bath, feeling a little better with the dirt washed off, until he caught sight of the patch of fur on his leg again. It had spread.

  The idea of telling anyone still made his breath go shallow. He didn’t want to prove those rumors and whispers true, or the things Zinnia had said all those years at school. At the same time, he couldn’t help but think Francis was right. He was a coward. With all these conflicting thoughts, he didn’t know what to do, or how it was even possible that he had magic. All he did know, was that his magic was getting stronger.

  He dried off, dressed, and set to work unpacking his bag. He had just finished when there was a knock on the front door, the sound echoing up the stairs. Errol hurried down and opened the door. He couldn’t help but sigh when he saw Leila standing outside. After his time on the dreadful ship and what happened in Blackridge, he just wanted to sleep. Hopefully she wasn’t there to lecture. Leila frowned a little when he let her in.

  “There’s talk all over the market and the harbor,” Leila said. “Francis Welch got off a ship looking very unpresentable.” She raised a brow at him. “Are you ill?”

  “The sea didn’t agree with me,” Errol said, feeling queasy again just thinking about it.

  Her expression softened. “Is it true you went to Blackridge?”

  Errol nodded.

  “You and Francis need to talk,” Leila said. “Really talk. You’ve never had any interest in travel before.” She crossed her arms. “But I know you’re not uninterested in magic. Not really.”

  Errol fought to think of something to say.

  “I’m worried about the two of you,” Leila said. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but at least acknowledge your own feelings. I’m worried about Francis too, but that doesn’t mean I would let him drag me across the world, doing things I don’t want to do.” She hugged him suddenly, and he was surprised to find she was shaking. “You don’t always have to protect him. At some point, you need to protect yourself too.” She pulled away quickly and left the house, leaving Errol with even more doubts.

  Doubts he was too tired to think about properly. He went upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, closing his eyes tightly, wishing he would wake up and know what to do about any of this. When he woke up, he still didn’t know what to do, about the guide Francis wanted his help with, or about his magic. His magic. That was a strange and frightening thought. Had Vedrix lied? That was the only explanation Errol could think of. How could the God of Magic have been wrong about whether he had magic?

  The sound of the front door closing brought him back from his thoughts. A glance at the window told him it was around midday. Errol got up and went down to the main room, which was the entryway, kitchen, and dining room. Francis was sitting at the table, staring at the wood. He sat up straighter when he saw Errol. He hid it quickly, but Errol saw the lost look in his cousin’s eyes. Errol sat across from him, but he waited for Francis to talk.

  “My parents want me to attend tea with them tomorrow,” Francis said. “I don’t doubt they’ll try again to set me up with some pompous noble girl.” He stood suddenly. “I need a bath, then we’ll go to the library and decide where to go next.” He hurried up the stairs.

  Errol waited for his cousin to return, then the two went to the library. Francis chose a book right away and sat down. Maybe he already had a destination in mind. Errol thought of suggesting they make a list and choose one they both wanted, but he could tell Francis was still lost in his thoughts about his parents. Errol took his time among the shelves, almost longing for how easy things had been when he just cleaned the library all day. He had been bored and miserable, but was this any better? He jumped a little when Remy came around the corner.

  “Be careful,” Remy said, his voice low so it wouldn’t carry throughout the library. “Poking around legends is asking for trouble.”

  Errol didn’t know what to say, thinking again of the Wight. It’s scream, long limbs, gray tongue, and black teeth. He shuddered.

  Remy’s expression softened. “I knew your heart wasn’t in the work.”

  Errol looked at him.

  “As soon as you started working as my assistant, I knew this wasn’t what you wanted,” Remy said. “You love the library of course, but not in the same way I do. There is something else you would rather be doing. Something you deny to yourself.” He patted Errol’s shoulder on the way past.

  Errol stood there in the gloom for a long moment before returning to the table without a book. Francis was getting up already.

  “I’m too tired from the journey to decide on our next destination,” Francis said quietly. “Perhaps tomorrow morning.”

  The two of them walked home together in silence.