The sun beat down from overhead, and the cloudless sky stretched above as the group of dragoons trotted along the sandy road. While the ground was dry and hard, a northern wind had blown in large mounds of dust that piled up occasionally, sweeping sand across the ground. In some places, the road was completely covered, and the sound of horses' hooves were nearly silenced as the small grains absorbed the noise.

The travelers were uncomfortably quiet again. Their time in Fletz had been less awkward because of the plenteous distractions, but it seemed that they now had returned to their subtle ways of ignoring all possibilities of conversation. Shana still stalwartly avoided eye contact with Dart, and Rose had seemed oddly distant since their first night at Fester's. Dart's options for conversational partners had dwindled to Haschel and Albert, and both of them were also being surprisingly withholding. Albert seemed pensive while Haschel was putting off an irritated, almost melancholy air.

But one thing that brought them together was the oppressively high temperatures. Although Dart felt quite comfortable, he couldn't help but notice the beads of sweat glistening on the brows of the others. Occasionally, a breeze swept up from the south, pulling with it the smell of the distant ocean, and then it would falter as Albert's mind invariably moved on to more important focuses. Thankfully, the hidden strength in their dragoon spirits was enough to push them through.

Fester had also been kind enough to give them provisions that they'd need on their nine-day journey through the Tiberoan barrens, including multiple extra water skins, plenty of trail rations, and even several large jugs of water for the horses. He'd warned them that there was little in the way of game or even edible plants between Fletz and Donau and had also given them a map of the barrens marked with specific places to avoid. They hoped that they could make it safely through without encountering any bandit raiding parties, as a well-prepared group of travelers would be an easy target. Although they were all sure that their combined strength would be more than enough to deter any who thought them fair game, they all agreed that they'd prefer to avoid such a confrontation.

Unfortunately, Fester had also warned them on multiple occasions that the barrens' rocky nature made it full of places that bandits would find perfect for an ambush.

No matter the dangers, however, they knew that they needed to make the trek to Donau. There was too much at risk to let the threat of bandits hold them in place.

The first day of travel passed uneventfully as the landscape changed from rolling hills spotted with brush to rocky outcrops with only a few sparing trees or shrubs. The path began to wind this way and that, accommodating the broken terrain as the barrens took shape around them. Slowly but surely, as the hot sun began to make its way toward the horizon, they started glancing around more often, keeping their eyes on the rocks above them. Now, as worry of a bandit ambush grew, their silence shifted from simply avoiding conversation to making sure they stayed quiet and undetected.

Before long, they were weaving through tight canyons, forced to go in single file for hours at a time. While it felt like a great inconvenience, Dart couldn't help but marvel at the strange landform. He'd never seen such small canyons before, and more than once, he reached out his hand to touch the rough, sandy wall. Stripes of brown and orange entangled with each other, flowing back and forth in a wavy pattern like nothing he'd ever seen.

Eventually, the sun sank low enough that they decided to stop for the night. They traveled just far enough to find a wider bit of ground where they could spread out and set up camp. They set out some water for the horses, being sure to ration it carefully, and then proceeded to eat and drink in near silence. Periodically, Dart glanced at the rock walls surrounding them. He was grateful for the unspoken agreement to avoid a fire.

They set up a rotating watch between Albert, Haschel, and Dart, allowing Shana and Rose to get full sleep that night. However, their sleep was anything but restful.

Despite all their concerns, the morning came without any surprises. After a quick breakfast, they set out once more, thankful for their surefooted horses as the ground grew more perilous in spots.

The arid day passed much like the one before, although there was some chatter among the group. They held to their course, occasionally checking the map that Fester had given them whenever they came upon some notable landmark. Once or twice, they found themselves at a dead end and were forced to backtrack several minutes before they could find an alternate route.

Still, they grew more and more familiar with the ways of the barrens, and with that familiarity came a sense of peace and safety.

Their second night was just as uneventful as the first, and they began to wonder if their worry had been warranted. After a third and fourth day with no sign of bandits, they decided that it would be safe enough to light a fire that night; the others had remarked more than once at the cold that set in after the sun was hidden.

Dart agreed and lit a small fire for them, grateful for the firewood that Fester had been kind enough to provide, and settled in for first watch. For his time awake, he moved the flames away from the wood and fueled it with his own magic so that the fire would not burn out as quickly. After an hour or two, he leaned his head back on a rock and turned his eye to the sky and the moons that hovered over them.

His mind drifted back to the Black Monster as he observed the larger herald in the sky. He hadn't told anyone of his revelation that night in Fletz, mostly because he thought that saying his dragoon spirit showed him something would sound silly to the others. More than once, he'd considered bringing it up to Rose, but she was still distant, almost to the point that it felt like she was avoiding him. He supposed that it was just because of his tension with Shana. Shana and Rose had become close since their stay in Indels Castle, and he had surmised that he was the main reason. Whatever the reason for Rose's aloof attitude toward him, it worked well to keep him at bay.

As all these thoughts ran rampant through his mind, he absentmindedly untucked the leather pouch beneath his tunic and extracted his dragoon spirit. As before, it glowed a soft red, spreading warmth into his fingertips as he ran his thumb over the facets in its surface.

Propping his arms up on his knees, he felt a jolt of pain shoot into his left arm again. He winced slightly and looked at the bandage, close to needing to be redressed.

"What am I going to do about my arm?" he asked the dragoon spirit, which ignored him as it continued its red glow.

He sighed. What if they found Lloyd in Donau? Would Dart be able to fight like he needed to? He hadn't used his sword since before Rose had cut his arm, and he hesitated to discover what would happen when he did. His eyes wandered over to Shana, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the camp. It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd decided to put her bedroll so far from him. Right now, she faced the other way, her hair in an unkempt ponytail draped dramatically over the bedroll. The firelight glinted off it, giving her brown hair a ruddy color.

All at once, Dart longed to touch the soft waves. He wished that he were right next to her, not on the other side of the camp. A great sadness took hold of his heart as he recalled a time when she'd slept on his shoulder in a cave in the Serdian Mountains, mere days after he'd unlocked the power of his dragoon spirit. He longed for her to trust him like that again. Suddenly, his vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes, and he shut them tight, pushing the water out as it fell down his face. He wasn't sure that he could ever find that joy again. He wished that Lavitz were here to tell him what to do.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at the stars again as he continued fidgeting with the dragoon spirit. Part of him fancied that Lavitz was still with them, somewhere nearby, keeping watch. But it was a foolish thought. He knew that it was just his grief playing tricks with his mind and heart.

Haschel began to rustle as he rolled over, and Dart quickly wiped his face and pocketed his dragoon spirit. But Haschel didn't wake; instead, he began to snore. A small smile turned Dart's mouth.

Sighing heavily, Dart pushed his mind to friendlier things. He thought of Neet and the journey he would eventually take to get there. He remembered his time hunting the Black Monster in the eastern wilds, and he considered what it would be like for him to finally come to the place of his birth. Maybe the Black Monster would be waiting for him there? Did it know that he was the only survivor? Was it waiting to finish the job?

At long last, just as his eyes grew heavy and tired, the time of his watch passed. With droopy eyelids, he woke Rose, who didn't bother to look him in the eye, before he lay down and rushed off to sleep.

"Dart!"

A furious whisper, followed by a rap on his shoulder, roused him. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing but complete darkness and frantically sat up. Even the moons were obscured.

"Rose?" he whispered.

A moment later, the darkness receded, revealing Rose standing at attention and the fire still going in the center of camp.

"Put out the fire," she said sternly.

"Bandits?" he asked, calling the fire to him and absorbing its energy until it vanished, leaving them in darkness. Rose let the magic wane until they were illuminated by moonlight again.

"Possibly," she said, her eyes scanning the rocks around them. "Wake everyone up. Quietly."

Nodding, Dart roused the others as silently as he could, and within minutes, they stood ready to fight. Cursing under his breath, Dart saw his armor sitting in a pile by his bedroll; there was no time to don it now.

For several long moments, they stood at the ready, eyes peeled for any sign of movement, hoping that they hadn't been seen.

A rock fell to Dart's right, and they collectively spun to see nothing but sand and stone.

Then a horse let out a high-pitched bray, and they turned once more to see several short men attempting to sneak away with several packs.

"There!" cried Rose, shooting a pulse of dark energy at them. As it struck a bandit in the chest, he screamed in terror, dropped the pack, and ran away.

"Get them!" shouted a distant voice, and suddenly the night air filled with a cacophony of shouts and pounding footsteps. At least twenty bandits rushed at them from every direction, rounding on them with short swords.

The camp flew into a frenzy as each dragoon was forced into a defensive position. Dart found himself fighting six bandits at once, almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of sharp objects trying to imbed themselves into his skin. He parried and tried to strike forward, only to be forced to defend himself elsewhere. Twisting and shifting, he eventually backed himself against the rock wall, only passively noticing his friends in similar positions throughout the camp.

Dimly, he realized that his distance from the others could play to his benefit. Digging deep, he sensed the energy in the dragoon spirit and shot it out in every direction, cloaking himself and the bandits in bright red fire. As their hair and leather armor caught, they began screaming and panicking, giving Dart the opportunity he needed to dispatch half of them in a mere second. Apparently, he'd given others an idea as flashes of magic began to light up the camp, followed by bandit screams.

Just as he pierced the heart of the last bandit accosting him, he heard a shout coming from above and glanced up barely in time to see a large shadow inches from his face. He ducked as fast as he could, but a weight landed on his shoulders and forced him to the ground. Falling on both arms, the impact jolted through his wound and sent stars into his eyes at the pain. He only barely registered six-inch blades piercing the ground right next to his ear, sliding between grains of sand before being ripped out again. Desperately, Dart tried to right himself and turn around, and he managed to do so just in time to hold up his sword to block an attack.

An ugly man stood over him, eyes alight with some vengeful fire. His head was shaved except for a long ponytail sprouting out the top, his chest was bare and tanned from days in the sun, and his trousers were frayed and beaten leather. His hands were covered in gloves with blades attached to the knuckles, and those blades were making a quick journey toward Dart's throat. Using both hands, Dart lifted his sword just in time to catch them and knock them aside. However, it was not without consequence. As another searing pain found its way down his left forearm, Dart cried out, blinking away tears as the bandit's other hand closed around his throat.

Letting go of his sword altogether, Dart's hands flew to his neck, trying to peel away the fingers that were sucking the life out of him, but to no avail. His arm ached with such force that he could barely see the bright moons above him.

"What's this?" asked the bandit with a high-pitched, nasally voice. His bladed hand reached down and picked up the leather pouch that had fallen over Dart's shoulder in the commotion. He turned it upside down, and the dragoon spirit fell out, hitting the ground with a thump, still glowing a dull red, as if it didn't sense the imminent danger.

No matter his effort, Dart's lungs refused to take in any air as the bandit pressed a knee against his chest. His vision was beginning to swirl with black, but he forced out a sound, limply moving his left hand to reach for the dragoon spirit. Seeing him struggle, the bandit grinned, showing an array of yellow and brown teeth, before snatching the gem and squeezing harder on Dart's neck.

"Seems valuable, this," he sneered. "I think I'll just take it."

No… thought Dart. Desperately, he pulsed heat throughout his entire body, doing the only thing he could think of. But his vision blurred, and sound became muted as he struggled to breathe. That's my… father's…

"Ah!" yelped the bandit, wrenching his hand back, seared from the fire within Dart.

Coughing and gasping for air, Dart tried to sit up and push the bandit away from him, but before he could, the bandit leapt up and backed away, cradling his burned hand, the dragoon spirit still tight in his grip.

"No!" came a shout, and Dart turned to see Rose sprinting toward them. The bandit's head snapped up, his nose crinkling in anger as he saw her, and in a quick moment, he turned and artfully climbed up and over the rock. Dart struggled to get to his feet, his head spinning as life-giving air returned to his lungs, but no matter the effort, the bandit was out of sight before he could do so much as stand. Rose wildly shot another pulse of energy, this one so menacing that Dart shivered as it passed over him, but it was too late. The bandit was gone.

Holding his sore throat, he said, "No…" But his voice was barely more than a weak croaking noise. Uselessly, he reached toward the outcrop as the others rushed over to them. Rose stood tense and unmoving, glaring at the rock wall, as Shana knelt next to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, the worry apparent in her eyes. "Let me heal you." She raised her hand toward his neck.

"No," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll be okay."

"Dart—"

"I'll be fine, Shana."

Her brow furrowed, and her lips pursed as she stood and backed away from him.

"Let's at least get you out of the sand," said Haschel, stepping forward and offering a hand.

Taking it, Dart hoisted himself up, noticing the fatigue in his body as he did so.

"What happened?" asked Albert, concern emanating from him.

"They took the dragoon spirit," said Rose curtly, still turned away from them.

"What?" the three said in unison.

"It's gone," said Dart gruffly. It hurt to speak.

As the realization of what had just happened sunk into his soul, an overwhelming sense of loss came over him. He grimaced, tears springing in his eyes again. He turned away from his friends.

"What are we going to do?" asked Shana, panic evident in her voice.

"Go after them, of course!" said Haschel.

"I am not sure that that is prudent," the king said carefully.

There was a pause. Dart understood. How could they track the bandits in their own territory? They didn't know the barrens; the bandits surely did. Who could have known where in the barrens the bandits even hid? Certainly not a bunch of Serdians.

His hand dropped from his throat to the empty pouch dangling sadly from his neck. He could feel the absence of the dragoon spirit, the vacuum that it left behind. Suddenly, he shivered.

"It's cold," he croaked dismally.

"You shouldn't talk," muttered Rose.

The tears finally fell from his eyes, and he tried to summon heat to burn them away, but nothing came. He could feel the chill of the night, piercing him like a wound. It sunk into him until it settled into his bones, permeating his very essence.

"Dart?"

Shana's soothing voice.

"We should move," he replied. Turning, he walked past them, his feet stubbornly pushing through the thick layer of sand lining the floor of the canyon. Glancing around, he saw at least a dozen dead bandits, and for a grim moment, he took pleasure in the sight. They'd taken something dear to him, the last piece of his family – the thing that had given him his strength.

Reaching his bedroll, he knelt and started rolling it up, ignoring the stunts of pain in his left arm, even more acute than they'd been before the attack. Every touch of his arm or hands seemed to set it off, and he cursed himself for letting it happen. He cursed himself for hurting Shana in Bale and leading them to this moment. Had his arm not been so debilitating to him, he was sure that he could have fought off the ugly bandit before the dragoon spirit had been taken.

The slow footsteps of the others came close to him as they all began gathering their things. Despite being so early in the morning, none of them had a desire to sleep among dead bandits. Shana cast a dim light over the camp to help them, though Dart thought that the moonlight would have been enough. A few moments later, as his throat began to feel inexplicably better, Dart surmised that Shana had cast the light for his benefit.

"They took some of the water," announced Albert. "And one of our coin purses."

"Good thing we have more than one," mumbled Haschel.

Dart could feel their glances, but he didn't know what to say or how to feel. A piece of him had been ripped away, something that he'd come to rely on, something that had become as much of him as his own heartbeat.

An hour or so later, as the group set up a new camp – this one carefully devoid of fires – Dart set out his bedroll and lay down, not bothering to ask after who would keep watch. As he lay in the cool of the desert night, he began to shiver, drawing the sheer blanket over him as much as he could. His left arm stretched out beside him, the very air somehow making it ache, and the pain spread farther than it ever had before.

He tried to find something positive to focus on. If Lavitz had been here, Dart knew that he'd be finding a way to cheer him up, or at least trying to make him see the bright side of things. We didn't lose everything. We'll find the bandits and get it back, he'd say. But it didn't matter. He wasn't here.

Their mission was to find and stop Lloyd. And how could he possibly do that in this condition? With no magic or strength of a dragoon, Dart had become utterly useless to this group. He was now the only one who had no higher purpose. He existed only to slow them down.

Despite his fatigue, Dart slept very little that night. The cold was enough to keep him awake for hours at a time, and he began to wonder how the others could stand it, but they dared not light a fire. Slowly, the watches shifted from Rose to Haschel, and Dart was irritatingly aware of the world as the two exchanged places.

Beyond that, his arm throbbed terribly. He guessed that the absence of the dragoon spirit had left nothing to challenge the decay, and now it seemed that there was no reprieve from it. As the morning light finally began to creep its way into their camp, he sat up in defeat, head pounding in cadence with his arm. A glance down told him of his need to change the blackened bandage, and he squinted and grimaced his way over to the horses sleeping peacefully nearby, ignoring the fierce gaze of Haschel over his shoulder. Reaching into Luna's pack, he retrieved another bandage and sat on the sandy ground to change it. Carefully unwinding the wrap, he frowned as the wound was revealed, and the dark, black skin was still releasing some clear fluid that smelled of death. Then as gingerly as possible, he wrapped the fresh bandage around his forearm, trying not to hit it or apply too much pressure.

"Any better?" came Haschel's inevitable greeting.

Dart got the uncanny feeling that he was asking about more than his arm.

"It's fine," he muttered in return.

Shaking his head, Haschel sighed. "Dart, it's okay to be upset about things. Wasn't that the whole point of Bale?"

Taking a long breath, Dart closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "It's not the same."

"How?"

"Do we have to do this right now?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry," said Haschel sarcastically. "Is this too inconvenient for you?"

Gritting his teeth, Dart fought the rising anger within him. The sun was now peering at him with its powerful rays, exacerbating his headache. He'd forgotten how unpleasantly warm the sun could be.

He knew that Haschel was right; if left unchecked, his anger would eventually get the better of him. But it was different this time. He could no longer feel the fiery power of his dragoon spirit. He didn't feel like a threat to anyone.

A rustling alerted him to the others waking, and one by one, they sat up and began glancing around. As was his habit, Albert was the first to break the silence.

"Good morning, everyone," he said, as if it were some great accomplishment that they had all awoken. But then his eye landed on Dart, and his cheerful exterior faltered.

"How long until we get to Donau?" asked Haschel as they all began to stand and dig around for food. "I'd like a sand-free bed soon. I'm getting it in all the places sand should never be."

"Four or five days, I think," replied the king. "Or at least, I believe so. It is hard to tell in such a barren landscape."

"We're halfway there?" came Shana's quiet voice. Albert nodded.

"What are we going to do about the dragoon spirit?" asked Rose curtly.

All eyes turned to Dart, and he dropped his gaze. "We don't know where they went," he said. "We can't track them."

"So, we go to Donau and look for leads," concluded Haschel.

"That may be our only course of action," announced Albert.

"Then it's decided," said Dart stiffly, standing and grabbing Luna's bridle.

"What, are you leaving?" asked Haschel in an irritated tone. "They only just woke up."

"Just—" Dart caught himself and took a breath before turning to him. "Let me have a minute to myself. I need time to think."

Dart's calmness caught Haschel off guard, and he relaxed before nodding his approval.

"I'll be just up the road," said Dart as he swung himself onto Luna and trotted down the little canyon, ignoring the group's mutterings as he slowly fell out of earshot. He continued for some time until he could no longer hear the workings of the camp.

Finally alone with his thoughts, Dart sat for several minutes before dismounting and strolling along down the canyon. Luna followed him, plodding along in the sand and occasionally nuzzling his ear. Then, in the calm of his own mind, he tried to wrap his head around what had happened the night before.

His throat was still sore, although he was certain now that the worst of it had been healed by Shana's magic, and his arm ached from the repeated blows during the fight. The bandit's dark eyes sprang into his memory, and the gleeful light within them as he'd sucked the life from Dart's body. It was a wonder that he hadn't just stabbed him and been done with it; Dart got the uncanny feeling that this particular bandit enjoyed eliciting pain and suffering from his victims instead of merely ending their lives. Perhaps that was why he'd taken the dragoon spirit.

Dart chuckled to himself. Of course, that wasn't the case. He'd taken the dragoon spirit because it appeared to be a most valuable gem. If there was any chance that it had been a ruby or garnet of the same size, it would have been worth a pretty penny. But Dart knew that the dragoon spirit was priceless.

Glancing down, he held his hands out, eyeing his palms as if the power were still there, waiting for him. He reached out to it, but felt nothing but a cold, empty void.

What would happen if they came across another troupe of bandits? He would feel defenseless against them.

Turning around, he saw Luna only a few steps behind him. Fastened to the saddle, his sword glinted in the sunlight. Reaching out, he grasped the hilt and drew it from the sheath. While it felt familiar in his hands, it also felt heavier. He swung it around a couple times, noticing its movements, feeling it slice through the air. Holding it with both hands, he cut down, and then across. Down once more before spinning around and slashing the air in front of him. He thrust forward and pulled the sword up, cutting through his imagined foe before returning to a defensive stance.

"Of course, you still know how to fight," he mumbled to himself. "That's something you learned before you could use magic."

He felt a fool, but some part of him had long wondered if his skill with a sword was because of himself or the dragoon spirit that had been silently lending him strength all his life. He thought of Lavitz, who had always been so talented with every weapon and had struggled so little wielding the magic of his dragoon spirit. Since the first day he had it, he'd been able to use it with ease. Dart recalled Lavitz's impressive display at the Hellena Prison barricade and how he'd been able to push more than one guard off the tower without being transformed.

But then the image of his blood attacked Dart's mind, and he recoiled. Leaning against the canyon wall, he took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Lloyd, he thought suddenly. What if we find him in Donau?

If they encountered Lloyd, Dart knew beyond any doubt that he would never be able to face him without a dragoon spirit. Even with one, he'd been hilariously outmatched at the Hero Competition.

A feeling of hopelessness settled over his heart, a weight that pulled him down to the ground as his sword fell next to him. Putting his head in his hands, he wished over and over that Lavitz were there to talk to him and give him advice.

"I wish you were here," he whispered as tears sprang into his eyes. Then after a pause, "But I know what you would say." Lifting his head, he sniffed and grinned as he glanced at the emptiness around him. "You would tell me that it's not my fault. You would say, 'Dart, you were great way before you ever had a dragoon's power.' And… you'd probably assure me that we'd get it back before we really needed it." His eyes fell again as he eyed a small pebble hidden in the sand. "That's what you would say," he whispered.

He reached down and picked up the pebble, feeling again for the fiery power that was nowhere to be found. "It just… feels wrong," he continued. "I didn't know how attached I'd gotten. Like… like it was a part of me, you know?"

He rubbed a thumb over the pebble, feeling its smooth surface, long sanded over by the hard grains surrounding it. Now that he was paying attention, he could see tiny holes breaking the surface, evidence of its long history before it had come to this very spot. How far had this pebble traveled to get here? What had it gone through to become its current smooth, ovular self? How much abrasion had it had to face to reach such a texture?

"I feel like a friend was taken away from me."

A tear fell down his cheek, and he reached up to wipe it away. Sniffing again, he watched the moisture on the back of his hand. There was no irritation there, no feeling that it would seep into his soul and snuff it out. It was just… water. He couldn't decide whether he liked this better.

"I guess I should go back," he told himself. Then he grabbed his sword, put it back in its sheath, and patted Luna on the nose. She nudged his shoulder, and he smiled. "We've both come a long way," he said to her. "But we still have a long way to go."