The King Trials 2: Beyond.

We breach the village.

One grip on the reins and the other is clutching my bow.

As a foreign force we penetrate the smoke-engulfed village, storms of fire consume both dwellings and public infrastructure as they collapse in on themselves, roofs caving in, succumbing to the fury of the flames. Frenzied screams shatter the atmosphere, a flurry of panic as people scramble for safety, running, screaming, crying.

Beyond, I can see uniformed members of a terror faction. They bear the same war paint inscribed on their faces in a daunting pattern, the same rioters from the time Primus Kelan and I briefly attended the light festival. Despite that theirs are crimson and black, not the blue, white and orange I saw before. Three horizontal claw-like marks that line their temples with a set to match on their chins.

I reel the horse to a halt, and we all assemble.

“We need to divide and conquer,” Vince orders, saying it to both us purebloods and the advancing Avangard squadron. “A team to aid putting out of the fire, and the other to snuff out the life from these philistines.”

Treyton hops off his horse, wielding his mace, spinning the spiked balls threateningly. “We shall follow your lead.”

All of us dismount from our horses. Our weapons ready in our grips.

Vince pioneers ahead and we all group ourselves behind him as we approach the hordes of brutes terrorizing the villagers, plundering them of their possessions. Our advent demands notice and immediately the pack of assailants gather themselves menacingly, striding towards us with conceited certitude.

Many of their thick, ragged clothing are splattered multi-coloured blood, belonging to different beings. They form a long barrier between us and the throngs of people that wail for aid behind them.

Vince unsheathes his Sorcian blade and uses it to point at them all. “If you value your lives, I suggest you all vacate this village. Do so now, while I’m still feeling merciful.” he says in Arkian. “You have wreaked enough destruction, would you not say?”

One among them shoves his way to the front. He has the most elaborate paint that dominates his face, more black than red, with two wet swords in his grip and a feral look in his eyes.

Swiftly, I slide out an arrow in preparation.

“I disagree, I think we’re only getting started.” He shoots his head back and launches a glob of saliva.

Vince gives me a purposeful off shoulder look and signals at him with a flick of a hand.

In a span of a heartbeat, I notched an arrow and let it fly. It buries itself in his arm. He howls in pain; he releases his sword and nearly drops to one knee. Instead, his head lifts to glare at me with a look of raw hatred.

“Kill them.” His volume reaches an apex. “Kill them all!”

On command, they all charge at us and we meet them midway. Dodging swinging swords, I dive into a somersault; I jerk the bow from side to side, slicing through flesh. I lunge for the fallen sword, their leader forays down an overhead strike and I block it with a one-hand grip.

His elbow retracts to ram the blade at me, I deftly sidestep, my hair whipping around as I spin to stand behind their leader and I prod the point of the blade into his back. Not enough to even pierce his heavy clothing, but enough to send a clear warning.

“Surrender, and you and your faction will live.”

He outstretches his arms, lifting them to be near his shoulders.

“I think you should worry about your own life.”

He ducks to the ground and a jet of red light rushes at me in an inescapable speed. The ominous force propels me off my feet, sending me flying. I crash into a pile of crates, the staunch impact causes all of them to topple over, a few of them falling to secrete me under them. Pain slams through me, light splintering my vision, it echoes through every inch of my body. I clutch my stomach, smothering my groans, muscles taut with agony.

Alright. Now I’m furious.

I burst through the tomb of crates; my fingers still latched around the sword. My hearing bombarded by the sounds of battle, the pathways consumed with fighting, trades of ferocious slashes, explosions of blood.

Most of the Avangard have dispersed amidst the village, out of sight. I locate Primus Kelan blazing through swarms of attacks. Stunned by the graceful stroke of his blade, the superfluid movement of his body, every limb of him is a weapon, not just his sword. He surges through them with an expert flourish, lashing powerful wide arcs with his sword.

My eyes sweep over to a wild-eyed Vince who slams his boot into an assailant’s stomach, he swipes his axe with one deft motion—he hurls his own sword up into the air—grips the axe with both hands and spins to cleave the axe into his chest. His one hand snaps up to catch the sword mid-air, and he tears his blade through his throat—blood streaking across his face. A grin carves itself on his face.

A special group of the attackers have some kind fist cannons that envelop their entire forearm, crimson veins bursting through their skin. They are medeises. They are channelling their magic through the cannons, somehow concentrating it into pure energy.

I plummet into the fray and aim for one of them. I swing a broad arc, nearly decapitating him, but he evades timely but not swift enough to evade my death strike as I plunge the blade into his heart. I rip it out. He gurgles and collapses to the ground.

Bolts of crimson thunderbolts assail me, I evade narrowly, running. I leap and spiral through the air like a cyclone, bolts of crimson energy rocketing past me harmlessly. I land in a crouched position, lunging forward, moving agilely but striking fiercely.

We spread through the town like antibodies defeating an illness, a venom that has this town plagued. The Avangard discovered the water wells in the village and use it to put out the fire. We try to detain the attackers at first and allow them to face communal justice, but it is clear they choose death rather than to yield.

And we oblige.

It is not long after. The terror faction members lay sprawled on the ground, defeated, the dirt pathways stained with the dampness of blood. Many of the buildings are scorched, the fires are extinguished but charred structures exhale breaths of black.

On my own, I do a round of the town to make sure all is well.

The injured are being tended to by their own, the fires are out, and the threats have been neutralized. Realizing that I am at the same crossroad as before, I nod contently to myself.

Seconds from returning to the hub of the town, I am halted into a jarring standstill.

“Help me! Some-one, please!”

A feminine cry wails for help, summoning my aid. I chuck myself down the left path and sprint into the direction of the pleading screams that grow in both desperation and volume. I dissolve into a wall of vapour. Smoke fills my airways, triggering a fit of coughs.

“Please. Please let me go!”

The crying pleads lend me speed, pushing my legs to go faster, flouting the burn. I slip through a vennel and emerge on the other side to a miniature plaza of complex dwellings clustered together in a square form. One of the doors are smashed in and a nerve-racking shriek bellows from the exposed frame. I race inside.

Inside the humble dwelling, all the fixtures are destroyed, furniture turned over with a girl huddled in a corner, back pressed against the wall with three bulky assailants towering over her. Two of them have swords, and the other has a crossbow in his grip.

“Who wants to go first?” one of them asks in Torin, his voice gruesome and hoarse, I can hear the sickly smirk in his tenor.

“Why not try me instead?”

All three of them whip around. Their hostile faces at first seething, giving me animalistic snarls, but once they absorb my general appearance, their postures slacken and they exchange smug looks.

“Oh, we will,” the one on the left says. His devoid gazes rakes me up and down, his serpent tongue moistens his lower lip ravenously. “I will.”

I poise myself for a fight, brandishing my sword.

The one with the crossbow levels it at my chest and fires off two shots. With the same speed, I knock both of the arrows out of the path of their intended trajectory and they each embed themselves into the opposite walls.

I make mock scolding sounds, clicking my tongue against the palate.

The one unsheathes his sword with a shrilly ring and storms at me. I parry his strike without looking and create a new rift in his neck. He seizes his throat, bloods spurting between his fingers, warm beads speckle on my cheek. He crumbles to his knees and flops over.

The second one lets out a roar and rushes at me. He unleashes a series of sporadic attacks, trying to force me rearwards, but I prevail. I drive my blade through his chest, ripping it out, a scatter of blood spatters on the ground.

The third looks back at me distraughtly, his eyes imploded. Slowly, he lowers himself to both knees and places his crossbow beside him. He lifts trembling hands to align with his shoulders, palms exposed to me.

“Mercy, Lady.” Shameless. “I beg of you, mercy.”

I make my way over to him, carefully stepping over the deceased. I stand before him and I use the bloody tip of the sword to lift his chin and force him to look into my eyes.

I glance at the girl still cowering in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest, her doe-eyes gawking at him and I both.

I turn my gaze back to him. I lightly tap the sword beneath his chin. “If I had not intervened. You would have ravaged this child? Tore her innocence away from her.”

“No—Lady. We were just—”

“Do not lie to me!” I roar, infernal rage bellowing, amplifying every word. I do not even recognise my own voice.

I lunge at him and I grab a fistful of his hair from the back to hold his head steady. With my other hand, I move to aim the blade of the longsword at his throat, my entire body quaking with profound fury. Impossible rage that I cannot believe is my own, I can feel it corrupting me, blinding me.

Aurora. Do not succumb.

“Please, Lady. Please, show mercy! Allow me to face the courts of justice.”

“Why should I heed to your cries?” I whisper harshly, teeth clamped. “You ignored the girl’s pleads without a hint of remorse. Tell me the truth and I will spare you. If I had not intervened, would you have heeded to her pleads, and shown her mercy?”

He looks into my eyes soberly. After a long moment, he finally shakes his head with a quiver.

Suddenly his breathing hitches and his eyes strike wide, choking on blood. I drag my gaze down to find the blade punctured through his throat. I look up at his rounded eyes; they replicate my shock. I did not even comprehend; I did not even see myself make the move.

I never gave myself the consent to kill him!

I slide out the sword slowly.

“It is just as I said.”

I flinch, shudders wrack my frame.

I spin around to see Rimnick’s figure in the doorframe. The light of day shines from behind him and casts his entire stature in darkness. His face tilted towards the blood-splattered floor, wisps of his bristle hair blowing to one side, shielding his eyes.

“You are like me, but so much more. A darkness within.”

I shoot a glance at the girl. But this time all the dread that paralysed her is transferred to me. She stares at me with such terror, like I would do her harm.

A white-hot spoke of agony sears through my temple like a branding iron. I drop the sword and it lands with a loud clatter. I clutch my head, face contorted, I look back at the doorway to see nothing, no-one is there.

The phantom pains silently ebb into nonexistence. I stumble out of the dwelling like a drunkard, fingertips hard-pressed into my temples.

What is happening to me?