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Fyra got back up, hurting all over. She could hear Epideks groaning to her left and Pol swearing to her right.

She looked at the tent… or what remained of it. Splintered beams under a messy dark drapery. Here and there something stuck out of it: an arm, a leg, the head of someone who had been inside when the tent collapsed and was crushed.

Fyra would have been deeply disturbed by that nightmarish sight, if her attention hadn’t been immediately caught by the beast standing on the rubble, the beast who had fallen from above and caused all that destruction.

Tall enough to reach her head, thick grayish fur, for powerful legs and bared sharp fangs.

A wolf. A real wolf, a creature that could be seen only in the north of the Principate. A fearsome beast, capable of pinning an adult man down with its paws and of breaking bones with its bite.

Fyra was paralyzed with fear, and she almost didn’t notice the three hooded figures who had hopped down from the wolf’s back.

Two of them quickly ran toward the center of the camp, the third man though just stood there, looking around, as if unsure on where to go.

«What are you doing still here!? Run!» a man shouted to her as he passed by her accompanied by a woman and two terrified children. They were running toward the city gates. It took Fyra a few moments to realize it had been Yugis and his family.

That shout seemed to awaken the hooded man. He turned his head toward the four people running and took a step in their direction.

Then he stopped again, and looked at her, Epideks lying on the ground and Pol getting back up.

He pointed an arm at them, and the yellow eyes of the wolf found them.

The beast started moving closer, with a deep growl, a vibration Fyra almost felt under her skin.

«No. No. No. NOOOO!» Still not fully back on his feet, Pol desperately darted in the opposite direction to the wolf, stumbling forward.

The hooded man took out a mikra from his cloak.

There was a crack, and then a gargled cry from Pol, who fell to the ground.

The man then seemed to have lost any interest in the remaining two people. He walked away, toward the neighboring tent.

The wolf however kept drawing closer, one slow silent step at a time, like a predator on the hunt.

«I can’t get up, child, but you must not stay here.» Epideks told her; though he was lying down, he seemed to be fully aware. «Run and get to safety!»

Fyra knew she would die unless she did something quickly.

But she also knew that neither running away nor fighting would be of any use. Wolves were faster than human beings, and her fighting style would just be an invitation for it to rip her limbs off.

What do I do?

The beast now was so close she could smell its breath. It reeked of blood.

That finally made Fyra decide what she was going to do.

If I’m going to be eaten anyway, I’ll at least make sure I give it a stomachache!

She sent an impulse through her control band and put on her sklerygron gloves.

The wolf lunged forward.

Yet, before it could reach her it was pushed away and fell ungraciously to the left of Fyra and Epideks.

«Don’t throw your life away like that.» sad the man who had just charged the wolf with his shoulder. He was tall, with a broad chest and long, gray hair and beard.

Fyra recognized him.

«You’re… that old man, in Elis.» The man who had put himself between them and the spathar.

«We’ll talk later.» he replied. «Now there must be people who need you. Go to them. I’ll take care of this one.»

Hearing that, it was as if the numbness she had been feeling ever since the tent had been destroyed had gone away.

Grandpa! Grandma!

She wanted to go look for them, but then she remembered Epideks beside her.

He grabbed him and helped him get up.

«Can you walk?»

«My arm hurts, but I can. I’m fine on my own from here on out. Just go.» His speed as he ran away proved he was telling the truth.

She started running as well, shouting: «Grandpa! Grandma! Where are you?» and praying that somebody answered.

Behind her, the old man materialized the large blunted sword that Fyra had already seen in Elis, and as the wolf rose back up with a snarl, he muttered: «You attack humans because you’ve been taught to, not because of your nature. You have my sympathy.»

---

«We’re under attack!» Klazon cried as he entered the tent. «There’s an enormous beast out there, that brought down an entire tent on its own! We have to run!»

That entrance, together with the terrifying noise they had heard a few moments earlier, caused a wave of terror to pass over the tent’s occupants.

Elef exchanged looks with his two companions in uniform and then immediately said: «Stay calm! We will keep you safe, do not panic!»

«If your intention is to keep us safe, why is there only three of you?» a shrill voice replied to him.

Elef had to suppress a groan. Now this is really not the time.

«We’ve seen you make your maneuvers and move away from the camp right before we were attacked!» said Semna Tritina, on whom suddenly all the gazes in the tent converged. Men, women, children, everyone stared at her.

«Why did you? Where is everyone going?»

Elef let his companions move outside to defend the tent. He was going to take care of the situation inside.

«Citizen, keep calm.» he tried to display all the calm authority he possessed.

But the woman’s peremptory «Answer my question!» still made him flinch.

«I am under no obligation to do so.» The truth was he didn’t know, he was just a simple watchman now, his commanders didn’t inform him about their plans, he was to follow their orders and nothing more. But saying that would only worsen the panic, he had to act confident.

However, Artor’s mother grinned as if he had said exactly what she wanted to hear.

She looked to all the people around her in a calculated gesture, like a speaker in front of an assembly.

«Now you see Exarch Helena’s watcher for what they really are. They’re not here to protect us citizens, but only to serve the interests of that girl! I had told you, I had told you we never mattered to her, she never cared about us. What more evidence do you need?»

The crowd listened to her, suddenly quiet. But here and there, Elef saw some people exchanging nods and making their way through the others, positioning themselves… around him.

And he understood he had underestimated the issue.

«You are under no obligation to answer us, young man?» Semna asked him, as a group of hostile-looking men and women gathered around her. «Fine. We are no longer under any obligation to…»

The rest of the sentence was lost in the sound of something ripping open, followed by the splintering of wood.

On the side of the tent opposite the door, there was suddenly a hole opening to the outside. The leather covering had been cut away by a thin blade, and the gap in the wooden net had been widened by hand.

From that opening, a hooded man had entered the tent.

For a moment, everyone was struck dumb, unable to process what had just happened.

Then the hooded man made a rapid motion with the sword he held in his hand, and the occupant closest to him grasped at his throat as blood started pouring down on his gilek.

At that point everyone started screaming and trying to get out of the tent, or at least move away. The hooded man kept slashing at anyone who was close enough, apparently with no particular target in mind. A man was skewered through his chest, another one fell on his knees as he tried to keep his guts from spilling out. A woman tried to protect herself with one arm, only for her hand to be almost cleaved in two with just a small strip of flesh keeping the two halves attached.

Elef avoided panicking, drew his mikra and took aim.

Now is the time to repay the Exarch and the citizens for the trust they placed in me.

For a single instant, the enemy was in his sights. And one instant was all he needed.

But in that same instant, he was reminded of the light-eyed face he had not thought about for almost a month.

A bald man, lying down, trying to breathe but unable to. Because Elef had shot him.

And the instant passed, before he could pull the trigger.

The crowd, in their desperate attempts to make for the door, ran him over, and Elef could no longer see anything.

For a few heartbeats, his one thought was to avoid being trampled, then those who could still walk got out of the tent, leaving behind those who no longer could.

Elef had fallen on his back. Hearing around him the wails of the wounded, he cautiously raised his head.

At a glance, he saw six of his tent-mates lying on the ground, ran over in the confusion like him. They were alive, but he couldn’t say much else on their condition. Five more were on the other side of the tent. They were alive too, but looking at the wounds the hooded man had inflicted to them they wouldn’t stay so for much longer. He knew them all, or at least knew their faces, but it was like a veil had been drawn on most of his emotions.

As for the hooded man himself, he was walking toward the door, almost leisurely. He stopped by one of the injured, who barely had the time to hoarsely scream «Help!» before he finished him with a fierce chop of his blade.

Elef felt his mind shatter in many small pieces, none of which worked together with the others.

One ordered him to get up and fight. But it was the smallest and weakest of them all.

Another one screamed at him to call for help, as he had done in Elis. He managed to suppress it: that was not going to happen again.

A third one begged him to close his eyes and pretend to be dead: maybe that way he would be spared. And that was the biggest and strongest piece.

However, its plea remained unheeded as well, because the time Elef could feign death had passed. The hooded man had turned his head and noticed he was looking at him.

He moved closer, as leisurely as before, and Elef managed to get a glimpse of the face under his dark hood: two eyes of different colors looked back at him, one was brown, the other a deep blue.

One more step and Elef would be in range of that sword.

«Artor! Artor, where are you? Help me!»

That anguished cry appeared to distract the hooded man, who changed direction, choosing as his new target the woman who was now crawling toward the tent’s door.

Semna Tritina realized she had drawn his attention and moved faster, even managing to stand up and stumble to the exit.

«ARTOR! DEUTAR! ANYBODY!»

The hooded man followed her outside. Even at the speed he was walking, he would reach the woman in no time.

That gave Elef the strength to get back up. As he did, he realized he was still holding his mikra. His instincts hadn’t failed him.

Outside the tent, he saw citizens running in every direction. Somewhere, a siren was echoing. At least one of the tents had caught fire, and in the chaos nobody was doing anything to put it out. Near the rubble of the fallen tent, a man who looked vaguely familiar was waving a huge sword at an enormous gray wolf.

«SOMEBODY HELP ME!»

Somebody answered Semna’s scream: «Mother? Mom!»

Elef focused back on the scene in front of him.

Semna was dragging one leg, her left arm lying limply down her side. She seemed to have no clear destination. Artor was rushing to her, as fast as he could.

But behind her, the hooded man had gotten close enough.

Elef saw him raise his sword.

He aimed his mikra, just like he had done earlier.

And just like earlier he saw the bald man, lying in a pool of his own blood, slowly suffocating to death.

His sight grew dim, he started to get dizzy. And his fingers began to shake.

He tried to force his body to listen to him. But before he could do anything, the sword fell down.

The world seemed to slow down.

A gash opened on Semna Tritina’s back, from her right shoulder down to her left hip.

The woman fell forward, into Artor’s arms, who was brought down on his knees. He held her, looking at her in shock while her blood soiled his clothes.

She said something to him, Elef couldn’t hear what.

And then all strength abandoned her.

Artor stood still for a few moments, his eyes dullened and unfocused, then he looked up to the hooded man, who was once again raising his sword.

This time Elef couldn’t even manage to take aim. His body was betraying him. Something inside of him refused to shoot.

He tried to at least draw the hooded man’s attention, but his body betrayed him a second time: that something prevented him from both moving and making a sound.

He could only watch, powerless, what was going to happen before his eyes.

From far away came a high-pitched whistle, rising above the cacophony.

The wolf perked up its ears.

The hooded man stopped as well, then he put the sword down, without attacking, and Elef had the impression a cruel smile had appeared under his hood.

The beast started running in the direction the whistle had come from, and so did the hooded man, moving fast for the first time and jumping onto the wolf’s back.

Artor kept looking at them, wordlessly, until they were gone.

Then the young man turned to look at Elef, but he knew he could not withstand that gaze.

So he lowered his head without even trying, and let the mikra fall to the ground.

It was still loaded.

---

Once they left the tavern, Kal, Ark and the Exarch had run to the gates, managing to get outside right before they were closed.

Before their eyes now there was a sight Kal wouldn’t have imagined even in his worst nightmares. It was like a massive storm had hit the camp. One tent had collapsed on itself, The covering of another had been ripped open, leaving a hole from which came cries and pained groans. Everywhere Kal turned, he saw refugees running away in a panic, and corpses. Some had clear cuts or stab wounds, but most of them looked like they had been trampled to death.

It was far worse than in Elis.

He told himself that even in these circumstances he had a duty to attend to, he was the Exarch’s escort, he couldn’t abandon his post.

Then he saw the rising column of smoke. Right about where his tent was.

He ran, forgetting everything else. He thought he heard a familiar voice cry for help, but he ignored it. With the corner of the eye he saw a large dark shape, but even that didn’t matter. He ran toward the smoke, and found himself praying the fire be somewhere else, praying that Death was making its horrifying visit to someone else, anyone else.

If someone has to die today, please let it not be my family! Kill whoever else you want, I don’t care, just leave them alone!

Almost before he could realize what he was thinking, he had a view of the flames.

His prayers had been answered: it wasn’t his tent. It was a different one, he knew no one who occupied it.

Was it relief he was feeling? He was disgusted with himself.

Still, that did not prevent him from crying: «Mom! Mom, where are you?»

A weak voice answered him: «Kal? Kal! I’m here!»

He found her at the entrance to their tent. He helped her get up.

«Kal, are you alright?» was the first thing she asked him. She was dazed, but didn’t seem to be hurt.

He had to stop himself from tearing up. «Yes.» he answered, «Yes, Mom, I’m fine. Don’t worry. How about you?»

«I… don’t remember. There was a loud noise, then everyone started running and screaming. I think I fell and hit my head. It still hurts a little. But now, please, help me get outside. It’s… it’s too dark in here, I can’t see anything.»

Kal was confused for a moment. They were already outside. He gently made her turn her head toward him and looked into her eyes. He saw no injuries. And yet those green eyes, a color he had inherited, were not seeing him.

«Kal, what are you doing?» his mother asked him, worriedly, as she put her own hands on his.

«I-It’s nothing, Mom. But for now it’s better you stay inside. Wait here and don’t move, alright?»

«Why? What’s going on? …Where is Agatha?»

There was a high-pitched whistle.

«Stay here, Mom, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.» Kal stood up and turned in the apparent direction of the sound.

From his position, he could clearly see the Exarch’s tent. The guards at the entrance laid on the ground, probably dead. The only person standing was a man covered in a dark cloak. He was tall and large, and judging from the hand he had close to his mouth he had been the source of the whistle.

Kal noticed that the hand was bizarrely pale, before the man put it back under the glove he had kept in the other hand, but he didn’t have the time to think about it much, because out of the tent came a second man, carrying over his shoulder…

«Agatha!»

He was already running toward her when a huge creature surpassed him: it was a wolf, and Kal had never seen one, but he had more important matters to worry about now.

The beast carried on its back a third man and stopped in front of the other two. The larger man hopped up behind the one who was already on the wolf. Agatha, unconscious, was hauled up and placed between the two of them, sideways, like a bag of flour.

«No!»

Kal drew his mikra, took aim and pulled the trigger.

The third man, who presently was getting on the wolf, screamed and fell backward. The larger man tried to grab him, but the one in the front made a furious gesture with his hand and the beast set off running, leaving their comrade on the ground.

Kal started chasing them. His common sense told him he’d never reach them, but he shut it down.

They’re taking away Agatha! They’re kidnapping my sister! That was his one single thought. He had to protect her, that had always been his duty. He had to save her.

«Kal!» a familiar voice.

Not now, he had to keep going, to chase that wolf even if it was already far away.

«KAL! Help me, please!»

Fyra.

He stopped.

On the left of his field of view, Fyra appeared.

«Kal, a fire has broken out. My grandparents went looking for more help, we need to put out the flames before they spread! We have to form a chain from here to the well! Kal, are you listening?»

He looked at her. Her face was black with soot, her hair dirty, but the worst injuries she had were a few cuts on her arms.

She’s fine. Agatha needs my help more. Said one part of him.

At the same time, though, the citizens he had sworn to protect were in danger.

But Agatha was his sister.

Still, she was just one person.

What was he going to do? Save one single person he loved, or many he didn’t even know?

«Kal? What’s wrong?» Fyra asked him, cautiously approaching him.

By now the wolf was disappearing in the distance.

Kal grit hit teeth.

Closed his fists.

And then he screamed all of his rage, his frustration and his pain, until he had no voice left.

---

After extinguishing the fire, helping quell the panic in the people and making sure his mother was safe, Kal returned to the Exarch’s tent.

The silence in the camp felt unreal. He imagined that was the feeling given off by a battlefield after the end of the fight.

Around the corpse of the dark-cloaked man, a small crowd had gathered.

«So’el!»

«Oh no…»

«The masters…»

«They’re back… Precious Earth, they’re back…»

Kal gave the body a short look, focusing on his head, now that his hood had fell (or had been pulled) off.

He saw his pale skin, so pale it was the color of chalk, or bone; his pointy ears; his hair of an unnaturally vivid red; the jagged triangular teeth in his mouth, opened wide in death.

He looked like a man, but he wasn’t. It would have been normal to be shocked.

But Kal right now was far from “normal”.

He entered the tent.

He saw Exarch Helena discussing with captain Astor. She was still wearing Agatha’s clothes.

He had intended to stop and listen to their conversation, to glean any information that could help him.

But at that moment the two of them noticed his presence and fell silent. And at the same time his gaze fell on something abandoned in a corner of the tent, without anyone caring.

Agatha’s bag.

He took it in his hands and opened it.

Inside he saw his uniform, free of tears, newly and carefully mended with a bit of green thread.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

«I’m sorry.» it was the Exarch’s attendant… Ergon, that was his name. His kamisa and gilek were bloody and there was a small hole in them, around the stomach area.

«I’m sorry.» he repeated. «I couldn’t do anything.»