The next morning, Dart woke early and roamed the near-empty streets of Lohan. While he'd grown accustomed to the clustered buildings after so long here, he still didn't enjoy them; he longed for open prairie or dense forest. As he meandered, he found himself on the main strip of town that was still shadowed by the dimness of early morning. The open gate was just down the road, and he absentmindedly turned toward it.

As soon as he was outside, the world seemed calmer and simpler to him. He was surprised to see no one on the road coming or going. He walked across the dirt road into the open world and turned left, leaving the path. As his boots split the stalks of grass, he could see the giant tent housing the tournament jutting out from the north side of the city, arrayed in splendor even on the outside. A great banner hung there reading 231st Annual Hero Competition in decorative gold and black letters. He kept walking until it was far behind him.

With Lohan only a hill on the horizon, Dart finally stopped. He stood in the middle of the tranquility, watching the sun beginning to peek over the Western Mountains. Even though the earth was damp from the morning dew, he sat and watched the sunrise.

He stayed there for many minutes, breathing in his solitude. For the first time in several days, he was away from the bustle of the city, surrounded instead by swaying grass and kind breezes. The sun rose higher and higher into the sky, bringing a comforting warmth across the plains. As he watched the blue canvas, he noted several billowing clouds cast high above him, watching over the restful earth.

It had been quite a few days since the last rain, and he began to wonder when the next storm would roll through. A glance to the south said that it would not be today, but he hoped that they would be able to spend at least one night listening to the thunder, of course in the dry and comfortable inn.

As the sun beat down on his face, Dart's mind wandered to the match he was to fight later that day. Lloyd was a fearsome warrior, to be sure, but was he better than a dragoon? He thought that he might be able to match him – just maybe – if he was wholly focused. No more distractions. He flexed his right arm, testing it out, and flinched when his hidden wound ached. He knew that the muscle would take time to heal, but he was frustrated that his dragoon abilities had not healed it overnight.

From a long distance behind him, Dart was barely able to make out the creaking sound of a wagon, and he turned to see one traveling south toward Lohan along the road. Realizing the time of day, he reluctantly stood and began the walk back to town, letting his fingers flow over the heads of grass as he went.

His inner peace all but vanished as he walked through the gate. Already, people were milling about, rushing around to trade and sell. All the vendors were setting up their stalls in hopes of attracting customers as they filed in, anticipating the afternoon event of the final match of the Hero Competition. He supposed that many people who could not afford a week-long vacation would be arriving today, making it one of Lohan's busiest days of the year. He prayed that no one would recognize him and stop him for a conversation.

Ducking his head whenever possible, he made his way back to the One-Eyed Crow, eager to be off the streets as soon as possible. When he arrived, he was greeted by the scent of fresh bread and butter. He almost skipped past the dining hall to the stairs, but his stomach cried out fiercely, and he changed his mind and sat down at a table.

He ate his food heartily, happily alone for a time, until he was interrupted by two young men who sat down opposite him and tried to strike up a conversation about the tournament. Not even trying to hide his irritation, Dart scowled at them, although they didn't seem to notice.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

"What drives you in battle?"

"Have you ever been in a real battle?"

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

After only the first couple questions, Dart lost all his appetite and tried to escape. Eventually, he remarked that he'd forgotten something important upstairs, left the plate for the innkeeper to clean, and scampered away toward his room, ignoring – or maybe pleased with – their offended expressions.

When he opened the door of his room, he was puzzled to find it empty. Just then, a door opened behind him, and he whirled to see Shana standing across the hall, watching him.

"Dart," she greeted.

"H-hey," he managed to say. He'd been startled and left breathless. Her hair was loose and slightly haphazard from her sleep, draping over her collarbone in soft waves. Sunlight from a nearby window streamed across her face, lighting her eyes. Get yourself together, he scolded. He straightened and cleared his throat.

"You... How'd you sleep?" he asked, trying to sound only distantly concerned.

"Well enough," she returned before walking toward him and pulling his sleeve up his arm. Her fingers were soft. "How's your arm?"

"Better, but not completely healed," he said.

She was close to him again. He watched her run her fingers over the skin where the arrow had pierced him, still a little bruised, but unbroken.

"Does that hurt?"

"No."

In truth, he hadn't paid enough attention to notice. Instead, he watched her, becoming ever more aware of her proximity.

He drew in a sharp breath and backed away before walking into his room.

"I should probably keep it bound for the fight, though," he said conversationally. "Don't want people to wonder how I healed overnight. I bet half the town is talking about what happened." He chuckled.

She approached the doorway, and he grabbed a bandage given to him at the tournament and began wrapping it around his bicep. His one-handed actions were clumsy, but he didn't want Shana that close to him anymore. He willed her to leave, but instead she approached when his finger slipped, and the bandage fell to the floor.

"You really should let me do that," she said as she picked it up. "At least make it look more believable."

Act normal, he thought as she wrapped her hands around his arm. "Fine," he said, summoning a harsh tone and then regretting it when she frowned. He held out his arm and looked away until she was done.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"No problem." She avoided his gaze and left, shutting the door behind her.

He sat down on his bed and sighed. He couldn't admit to himself what he was feeling. It gnawed at him every day, circling his heart and waiting for its chance to strike. He knew what it was, but he couldn't voice it. He couldn't even think it, because then things would change.

The doorknob turned, and his heart skipped a beat as it opened. But in walked Lavitz, not Shana, somber and serious.

"Oh, hey, Dart," he said. "You're back."

"Yeah, I went out to the fields. Needed some time to myself."

"Outside the city?"

Dart nodded.

"I wouldn't mind leaving myself sometime soon," he said, and something in his voice sounded irritated.

"Nothing from Bale?"

Sinking onto his mattress, Lavitz shook his head. "Nothing. I try not to worry, but... I can't help it. I feel like I should have gotten something by now."

Dart nodded. It was strange that Basil would have kept their best soldier in the dark for so long, especially when he'd delivered news of the dragon's death.

"I'm sure that a letter is on its way here right now," he said.

Lavitz gave him a half-hearted smile.

As the match drew nearer, Dart grew antsy and found himself pacing in his room. He'd wanted to go outside and spend time in the city, maybe even sample the activities around the arena, but his earlier encounter with his new fans had kept him firmly in place.

The day wore on slowly, and Lavitz brought him some food around noon, though he could barely bring himself to eat it. Every so often, he tested his sore arm and always winced at the pain.

At last, the time came to make his way to the arena to arrive a half hour before the start. His friends followed as he traversed the crowded streets, joining the streamlining of people toward the arena's tent. Steady wind had begun to howl over the city, and Dart was surprised to see several puffy clouds in the sky above him; perhaps it would rain after all.

Upon arrival, they split up as Rose, Lavitz, and Shana headed for their seats and Dart toward the contestant's waiting room.

As he stepped toward the doorway, he heard someone call his name from behind him. He turned reluctantly, afraid to see another stranger preparing to pummel him with questions but was relieved when Haschel came jogging toward him.

"Hey, I just wanted to wish you luck!" he panted, stopping and reaching out his hand.

Dart shook it and grinned, saying, "Thanks. I have to say, though, I was really hoping I would be fighting you today."

"Ah, well... What are you gonna do?" He let out a forced chuckle. Then he grew serious and said, "Just beat him for me, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

After a second, Haschel added, "And don't die on us!" Then he turned and left for the stands.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Dart called after him before heading down the stairs.

Ginger awaited him with a beaming smile. He humored her as she asked about his arm, assuring that he was alright and carefully avoiding any prying hands that may want to examine the wound, and she finally moved on to explain the procedures of the final match. After a while, he grew distracted, watching the arena instead of Ginger and hearing nothing but his own heartbeat.

Could he really win? What would Shana think of him if he did? What if he lost?

Such thoughts plagued him as the time slid by slowly. Several men checked over his armor and his sword, testing for any stray items or other illegal advantages. Then five minutes before the match was to start, the announcer appeared in the middle of the arena, and Dart stepped out of the waiting room.

His heartbeat was erratic, echoing the sounds of the stands above him as he placed one foot forward, and then the other. He tried to remember who he was and the strength he held within him. As if to calm his nerves, the dragoon spirit shot out a wave of heat that rushed through his body, giving him the slightest bit of confidence. Looking ahead, he saw Lloyd, still wearing black, hair still that bright silver, face still expressionless as he approached. Dart wondered if he was the least bit nervous. Perhaps he was like Rose and had just become adept at hiding his emotions, and he was stifling his anxiety now. Or maybe, he really was as fearless as he appeared.

They met in the center, only a couple feet from the announcer as he cried out their names for the spectators. How anybody could hear anything over the screams and shouts of the audience was beyond Dart. Glancing around, he saw more people watching them than he thought could fit in the entire city.

As previously instructed, Dart reached forward and extended a hand to Lloyd, who took it firmly. As they shook hands, Lloyd's eyes connected with his, and a shiver went down Dart's spine.

"Good luck. Let's give them a show," Dart managed to say.

"Indeed," returned Lloyd. His voice was icy and dry, piercing Dart's body like rain. "Dart Feld, I dedicate this match to what fate has in store for us."

Dart froze.

"How do you know my name?" he sputtered.

A single smirk traced its way across Lloyd's face before he turned and came to stand at the far edge of the painted circle. The announcer cleared his throat, forcing Dart to his senses and indicating that he needed to move. Mind still spinning, Dart drew his sword and took his place, doing his best to cast the wild thoughts out of his mind.

Focus. No more distractions.

He shook his head.

How could he have known my name?

The announcer left the arena, leaving the two competitors watching each other carefully. Dart's heart raced, and he tried to breathe.

Before he was ready, the gong sounded, but Lloyd did not move. He did not even assume a defensive stance but stood watching Dart. Dart's dragoon senses focused on the fight, tuning out the surrounding noise, muscles drawing tight in anticipation. He took a step to the right; Lloyd mirrored him. He dared another, and Lloyd followed. A slow step forward – returned by Lloyd. Then he attacked.

Dart struck at Lloyd's exposed shoulder, bringing his sword down as fast as possible. There was no metal clang, no resistance whatsoever, but rather a clean swipe through the air. Dart blinked. Lloyd was no longer in front of him.

"You missed."

Dart whirled to his right, where Lloyd stood only a couple feet from him, a repulsive sneer decorating his face. Without wasting time on processing what had just happened, Dart attacked once again, this time jabbing forward toward his chest, but once again, his sword made no contact. This time, Lloyd had taken a step back, so fast that Dart had barely seen the movement, stopping mere inches from where he had been.

"That's impossible," said Dart.

"Clearly, it's not," said Lloyd in his slick voice, full of disdain. "Try again." He then dropped his hands, letting his lean sword dangle and graze the dirt by his foot.

Bewildered, Dart waited for a moment to see what Lloyd would do, but he merely stood there, guard down, waiting for an attack. Dart stepped forward and swung his sword from the left this time, but Lloyd brought his sword up in a split second, and the sharp sound of steel on steel reverberated throughout the arena. Dart did not step back, but pressed down, both hands gripping his sword hilt, bearing his weight down on Lloyd.

But there was no progress. No matter how much force Dart put on his sword, Lloyd did not budge, and he was only using one hand. Dart pushed off and backed away several paces, utterly confused. The tension was rising; once again, he felt the call of the dragoon, but he forced it away. Heat licked at his fingertips, and he readjusted his grip on his sword, willing the fire to remain hidden.

"Come on, Dart. You can do better than that!" called Lloyd before raising his sword and stepping forward.

Dart was barely able to raise his sword in time to block Lloyd's attack, and his arms shuddered as the shock of impact raced through them. He cringed slightly when the wave hit his wound, but he was forced to recover quickly as Lloyd came at him once again. From left to right, fast to slow, Lloyd did little more than toy with him. Dart was barely able to keep up, and he readied himself for the pain of steel connecting with flesh, but it did not come. Then Lloyd flicked his wrist, and Dart's sword flew from his hand to land several feet away.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Dart recalled the violent way Lloyd had forced Haschel to yield the match and hoped that Lloyd wouldn't feel it necessary to strike him. Just as he was about to forfeit, Lloyd turned his back to him, walked over to Dart's fallen sword, and snatched it up. His movements were oddly graceful. Then he turned and tossed the sword back to Dart.

Reaching up, Dart caught the blade by the hilt.

"You can't beat me," said Lloyd, almost sounding disappointed. "Surrender the battle."

Rage flashed through Dart as he realized Lloyd's plan. He had returned the sword so that Dart would surrender while still armed, to humiliate him even further. I'm not playing that game, he thought as he readied his weapon.

"Very well." Lloyd sounded mildly irritated as he waited. "Come."

And Dart did. He dashed forward, closing the distance between them, and called upon his dragoon spirit. He knew that it was dangerous, that he might accidentally transform if he wasn't careful, but he was confident that he could contain the power if he focused. The fuel inside him lit, and he felt superior strength and speed lend itself to him.

He struck hard and fast and was supremely pleased when Lloyd showed the slightest bit of incredulity. But it wasn't enough. Lloyd parried every blow, returning them with vigor, and a minute later, he had Dart's sword pinned to the ground. Dart struggled to pull it out from under Lloyd's thick boots, but then cold steel was pressed against his throat, and he ceased his attempts. His anger flared as he released his hold on the sword, and for one split second, he saw a tiny tongue of flame on his fingers.

Rising slowly, Dart looked up at Lloyd, breathing heavily in his rage.

"Careful now," Lloyd said smoothly. "Wouldn't want to burn the place down."

Dart's breath caught. Had he seen? Surely not. Dart had hardly seen it himself. But if Lloyd had seen the fire, would he be suspicious? Would he report them and get them arrested? Dart's stomach squirmed; he just wanted to be done. He held up his hand and surrendered the match.

His heart sank as Lloyd lowered his sword, a look of pleased judgment on his face while the crowds roared. Dart cursed as he reached down to retrieve his sword and slid it back into its sheath.

The announcer ran out into the arena once again, trailed by Haschel, Atlow, and two attendants. Dart avoided Haschel's gaze.

"And that is it, ladies and gentlemen," boomed out the announcer. "The two-hundred thirty-first Hero Competition has officially come to a close. Let's give it up for the winner! The strongest warrior in the whole of Endiness... Lloyd!" He hoisted Lloyd's arm into the air as the stands echoed deafening shouts. "Your prize, sir," he added as one of the attendants handed Lloyd a sizeable sack filled with coins.

"And in second place, Dart!" As the applause sounded, Dart forced on a smile as he waved. A moment later, someone handed him a sack as well, albeit much smaller than Lloyd's, and he bounced it in his hand to hear the jingle of coin on coin.

After announcing Haschel and Atlow as the two third-place winners of the competition, they handed them each a small bag, and then, it was over. They trudged back, and Dart stood in the waiting room with Haschel, frowning at the sack of gold.

"Hey, let's go," said Haschel, patting him on the back. "Everyone's waiting for you."

"Right..." He hesitated.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied. "Let's go." He turned toward the exit, but Haschel stopped him.

"You did your best. That's all you can do. And you did a great job, even if you lost."

Dart looked down at his hands.

"Come on," Haschel gently prompted before walking away.

Dart followed, and at the top of the stairs, he was greeted by at least fifty people all trying to force their way into a conversation with him. He was grateful when Haschel powered through them, leaving him a small trail to follow on the way to the tent's entrance. When he saw the others standing nearby as countless people filed past them, he felt a mixture of joy and shame.

When he locked eyes with Shana, she began waving at him through the crowd. They made their way over, and she was the first to speak, somehow beaming with pride instead of disappointment. He still avoided her gaze.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed Shana and Lavitz together.

"Second place!" added Lavitz.

"Thanks, but... it's not first."

"Don't say that," chastised Shana. "You did your best!"

He gave a small smile.

"She's right, though," said Lavitz. "You really did a great job. Lloyd was just a weird fluke of some kind. If he hadn't entered, you would have won."

"Hey, now," inserted Haschel.

"Thanks," replied Dart with a grin. Then, holding out the sack of coins, he added, "Oh, and here's me paying you back for everything. Four hundred gold."

"You don't actually have to pay me back, you know."

"I know. But I want to."

Shaking his head, Lavitz took the sack of coins and weighed it in his hands. "Four hundred gold? That's just excessive. I should give you some back."

"How about I just take a loan later when I need it?"

"Fair enough," laughed Lavitz.

The group talked for several more minutes, with even a few remarks from Rose occasionally, until a familiar man walked by them on his way out of the arena. There was no mistaking that platinum hair as Lloyd sauntered past, and Lavitz stepped forward and stopped him. Dart hadn't noticed until now, but Lloyd was taller than Lavitz, though not quite so muscular. He turned a sour eye across the group, eyes lingering on Shana before looking back at the man before them. At this, Dart stepped between Lloyd and Shana.

"Hey, I just wanted to say that you're very talented," said Lavitz. "I'd be honored to have a duel with you one day, if you're up for it."

Lloyd cast a critical eye over Lavitz before saying, "You're no match for me."

Dart couldn't mistake the twinge of hurt pride in Lavitz's face, but he managed to recover.

"Ah, it must be true," he said, smiling. "But maybe one day."

After hesitating, Lloyd said, "I'll think about it," before turning to Dart. "Maybe you should do some training, too. I expected more."

The rage flared instantly, but a soft prod from Shana kept him from erupting. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said, "Good match. See you next year."

And with that, Lloyd nodded curtly and walked away.

"I don't think I like him," muttered Shana.

"Me, either," said Haschel. "What a thing to say!"

"So, what do we do now?" asked Dart, eager for distraction. "I haven't seen any of the attractions around the arena yet. Anybody want to go check those out?"

Haschel opened his mouth to answer, but Lavitz interrupted him. "That sounds like a great idea, but I really should be getting back to the inn to see if any letters have arrived. How about you and Shana go walk around, and Haschel, Rose, and I will head back?"

"You need three people to pick up a letter?" asked Rose scornfully.

"Well, no... But I figured that you would want to be alone anyway, and I was really hoping to talk to Master Haschel about some of his techniques." Dart crossed his arms and glared at Lavitz, who fought a smile.

"That sounds like a great idea!" said Haschel. "I would love to tell you all about the Rouge art."

"You know what, Haschel," interrupted Dart. "You haven't told me very much about it. How about you come with us?"

Glancing between Dart and Shana, Haschel said, "No, I think I like Lavitz more than you, anyway."

Shana laughed, and Dart frowned.

"This isn't funny," he complained.

"I, for one, think it's hilarious," said Haschel. "I'm going with Lavitz. Bye!"

And with that, the three of them left the tent.

Dart turned awkwardly to Shana.

"They're trying to… You know…" he blubbered.

"What's the problem, Dart?" she asked pointedly. "We used to hang out all the time when we were kids. What's so different now?"

Her pointed gaze had him looking away.

"Right," he said through gritted teeth.

An hour or so later, they meandered back through the darkening streets of Lohan. Countless people milled about, eager for some late-night entertainment, high off the adrenaline of the Hero Competition. Dart and Shana walked with distance between them, as if some unnerving aura pushed them away from each other.

Their time in the arena had been strained. There had been little more than uneasy conversation and many failed attempts at an obstacle course. While they were able to act normally around the others, the absence of any intermediary had resulted in a blanket of unspoken words that hung around their necks like prison weights.

Now, as they walked through the door, they were met by a chorus of men and women discussing the tournament over roast chicken and turnip greens. Several people cheered for Dart as he entered, and he ducked his head and rushed over to Lavitz and Haschel hiding in the corner.

"How'd it go?" asked Lavitz, eyes darting back and forth between them.

"Fine," said Dart before abruptly changing the subject. "Did you get a letter?"

Lavitz shook his head, eyes heavy, and said, "No. I'm starting to worry."

"Starting?" asked Shana.

He forced a smile. "I'm sure everything is fine."

"Enough about that!" said Haschel. "How did your date go?"

Dart's cheeks flushed red. "It wasn't a date," he said forcefully. "And I said it was fine. Can we move on?"

Haschel began giggling gleefully, and Dart glared at him.

He avoided Shana's gaze for the rest of the evening. Once he was safely ensconced in his stranger-free room, Dart hastily removed his armor and the useless bandage on his arm before flopping onto the bed. He was exhausted from the day's events and couldn't wait to sleep. But a funny feeling in his gut told him that Lavitz wouldn't let him yet.

"Dart," said Lavitz as he sat on his bed. "Did you do anything with Shana?" His voice sounded almost accusatory.

"Yeah, we played some of the carnival games," Dart deflected.

"You know I don't mean carnival games. Did you do anything?"

"What is there to do?" Dart refused to meet his gaze.

"You didn't even take her hand?"

After a pause, Dart said, "She's not a child. It's not like she's going to run off on me and get lost."

"Dart." This time he was forceful with the word, and Dart cringed slightly. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't you?"

"... I guess."

"You can't keep letting her go on like this forever, you know. It's not healthy for either of you. Things need to be said, one way or the other."

"I just...," began Dart angrily, and he sat up and looked at Lavitz. "You can't force yourself to feel something that isn't there."

"That isn't there? Seriously?"

Dart hesitated.

"I know you're scared to lose people," continued Lavitz. "But you can't just keep worrying about a future that might not even happen. And what if Shana does die somehow? Will avoiding a relationship change that? Or will you just regret that you didn't do more while she was here? Shana is here, now, waiting for you to figure out whatever it is you're feeling. You're using your past as an excuse to avoid what's in front of you."

"I... can't..."

"You can't what?"

"I can't… lose her."

Leaning forward, Lavitz placed his hands together and said, "You're going to if you don't change anything. At the very least, you have to tell her if you don't want to be together. It's a cruel fate to be dragged along by false hope."

"I…" stammered Dart.

He huffed and paused while Lavitz waited for him to collect his thoughts.

"Being with me is dangerous," he finally said. "I can't just let go of the Black Monster, not without at least finding out what it is. I can't take her with me when I do that. What am I supposed to do? Confess and then leave again? It was wrong enough the first time I left."

"Let her make her own decisions. Tell her how you feel about this, and then let her decide if she wants to follow you into that danger."

"I can't," Dart repeated.

Lavitz shook his head. "At some point, you have to choose. If you don't, Shana will decide for you, and I don't think she's going to do what you want her to. Take some time and think about it: Shana or the Black Monster? Which do you want more? Which will leave you feeling satisfied at the end of your life?"

Dart rolled his eyes.

"Listen to me," snapped Lavitz. "Revenge is enticing. Something about it is addicting. You get so caught up in that anger and frustration, and you want to destroy whatever it is that took something from you. I know what that feels like. I was almost swallowed up by it once before, and then again in the dragon's nest."

Hanging his head, Dart rubbed his face.

"No, pay attention." Lavitz clapped once, and Dart jerked his head up. "I got my revenge. After seventeen years. Do you know what that feels like? To finally reach your goal, even after you stopped trying? I thought I'd won. I thought, 'After this, I'm going to be whole again.' But I was wrong. My father is still dead." Lavitz's voice cracked and then wavered as he continued. "And if you spend your whole life chasing after the Black Monster instead of paying attention to what's right in front of you, you're going to end up alone and empty. Nothing can bring your parents back. Nothing. Killing the Black Monster won't change that."

For a long moment, Lavitz watched him. He wiped his face and sniffed, and then watched him some more. A lump had formed in Dart's throat, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Lavitz. Instead, his mind relived the moment that he'd pulled away from Shana. What was he so afraid of?

Lavitz sighed, and his demeanor changed as he said, "No need to thank me. After this war is over, just buy me a few drinks, and we'll call it even."

"Didn't I just give you four hundred gold?" grinned Dart.

"That was for food and lodging. Advice from the great Lavitz Slambert is something else altogether." He smiled. "I know this really great place in Bale. You can take me there."

Dart chuckled and shook his head.

"I suppose that I was just named the second strongest warrior in all Endiness," remarked Dart. "Maybe I can get those drinks for free. I might be more famous in Bale than you."

"Not a chance," laughed Lavitz.

As he thought of his final match, Dart sighed. How could someone have been faster than a dragoon? Shaking his head, he lay down as Lavitz moved to remove his tunic. Then he recalled Lloyd's greeting from before.

"Wait," he said, sitting again.

"What is it?" asked Lavitz, letting his shirt fall back into place as he turned to Dart.

"That guy... Lloyd." Dart frowned as he looked at Lavitz. "He knew my name. My real name, my family name."

Concern flashed over Lavitz's face. "How? You haven't even told me your family name."

"I don't know. I've never told anybody. Not even Shana knows it. But Lloyd said it, right before the match started."

"That explains your reaction to him... But how is that possible?"

Dart opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by some kind of commotion downstairs. Someone was shouting. Dart couldn't quite make out the words, and curiosity got the best of him as he went to open the door. With no barrier between them and the stairs, the words rang loud and clear: someone was shouting Lavitz's name.

"Sir Lavitz!" the voice bellowed as great thumping sounds began on the stairs. Shana opened the door across the hall and peeked out at Dart, Rose just visible behind her. "Sir Lavitz!"

Lavitz shot up quickly and bolted through the door and down the stairs. Dart, Shana, and Rose followed swiftly behind. As they reached the first flight of stairs, they stopped short when they saw a body at the base. A man drenched in blood lay splayed over the stairs, an arrow protruding out of his back – a man in Basil blue.

Lavitz rushed to the soldier, turning him over as gently as he could. He was still breathing, but the breaths came through weak and shallow. As his eyes lifted to Lavitz's face, recognition crossed them, and he smiled weakly.

"Sir Lavitz," he said. "I won't die in vain."

"What are you talking about? What happened to you?"

"Sir. Bale. It's... been captured."

"What?" Fury and worry flashed over Lavitz's face.

"Sandora surprised us. A siege... The king... King Albert gave himself up. For the people."

"When did this happen?"

He tried to reply, but his eyes flitted closed, and Lavitz shook him slightly.

"No, no, stay with me, just a little longer," muttered Lavitz.

Shana rushed forward, but Rose grabbed her arm and held her in place. "I can heal him," she said, voice shaking.

"You can't," whispered Rose, indicating the many eyes watching them. Besides, he's lost too much blood. Even if you did, he won't make it through the night."

Lavitz placed his hand on the soldier's face. "Where is the king?" he asked. "Where is King Albert?"

The soldier struggled to form the right words, and with one more ragged breath, he said, "Hellena..." Then the light faded from his eyes.

Lavitz stood, staring in disbelief at the corpse before him. His breaths grew heavy, and he looked up at Dart. "We have to go," he said, voice rising as the realization took hold of him. "We have to go!" He started up the stairs, trying to push past Dart, but Dart pushed back.

"Lavitz, calm down!" said Dart, trying to shake him into his senses.

"There's no time, Dart!" shouted Lavitz. "We have to go now! We have to save him!"

"Pull yourself together! We can't just rush out like this!"

"I don't care! We have to leave!"

Dart struggled to hold Lavitz, to get him to see reason. He was only faintly aware of the many eyes trained on them, and the innkeeper who sent out a courier. He only barely heard the door open as the courier left and someone else burst inside and rushed over to them.

"Lavitz, stop!" Dart cried.

A thump sounded, and Lavitz grunted before crumpling to the ground. Haschel stood behind him, bewildered and baring his fist.