Cutting through Bower territory on his way home, Siel found himself in one of their infamously countless taverns. He wasn’t one for drinking, but he did enjoy the bowl of food he was able to order: a delectable selection of freshly hunted meats all mixed in a creamy broth. The barman was a tall, rather stocky lizardfolk, and he kept eyeing Siel as he ate; of course a Lonist was out of place among the plentiful Bower patrons. He had a glove over his bone hand, so that wasn’t the reason he was being watched. After returning his bowl to the counter, Siel was too slow to ask the question he made standard.

  “What are you doing here?” The large lizardfolk asked first. “Not that I mind a customer, but you’re far from my regulars.”

  “I know,” Siel said, “I’m looking for someone. A Lonist by the name of Whilderon. He’s infamous among us, but I’m curious if word has spread to you guys?”

  “Actually,” the bartender thought for a moment, “It’s familiar. Maybe go and check the wanted board at the guild down the street. If he’s a criminal, you might find something over there.”

  “I appreciate it,” Siel said, “and thank you for the food, it was delicious.”

  Exactly as he said, the guildhall at the end of the street had a rather lengthy bulletin board. He passed a few different warriors taking or leaving papers as he made his way to the end. Most of it was quests for adventurers, some were announcing a nighttime arena, but, at the very end of the board, was a series of wanted posters. Most of them were Bower criminals, as expected, but there were a few faces of blue-robed individuals, as well as a pair of Sor runaways. The section of board was almost completely covered, and Siel had to lift up a few pages to see the face behind them. A small hint of a drawing of a green robe stuck out from behind another set, and Siel lifted up the three or four posters in front of it.

  The shock of seeing the face of his sister’s murderer caused him to rip the poster off the wall, not that it was secured too tightly. The page itself was old, its edges frayed and yellowed from a long age in the sun. The image showed a well-drawn, much younger version of Whilderon than Siel knew, too. He really had been a tyrant for a long time.

  Below the face, the poster had a few select words for anybody looking to hunt him down:

  “Whilderon [Last Name Unknown]

  CAUTION: abnormal strength.

  Magic: Unknown.

  Race: Human.

  Risk: High.

  Location: Unknown.”

  “Helpful,” Siel muttered. He looked around, then spotted a reception desk within the guildhall. He gripped the poster tighter than he would have expected and took it to the receptionist.

  She squawked when she saw it. “You aren’t going after him, are you? That poster’s been up longer than I’ve worked here. Everybody knows how dangerous he is. You should stop this right now.”

  “No,” Siel said. “I need to find him. I don’t care if I die. Is there anything else you know about him?”

  “Well,” she said. She took a deep breath. “He’s Lonist, so he doesn’t spend as much time here as he does over there, as I’m sure you know. The best report we got comes from an adventurer who tried tracking him down, but he quit before he actually found him. All he says is that no one should go looking for that man.”

  “Who is this adventurer?” Siel asked, “Can I speak with him?”

  “No,” she said, “Unfortunately, he’s been dead for a long time.”

  “Okay,” Siel said with steady breath, “Is there anything else?”

  “He said he searched everywhere he could. ‘Either that man is a ghost, or he lives somewhere nobody knows about, not even him.’ That’s what he said when he came back. I don’t have any more to offer you, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Siel said as he left his payment.

  Holding the wanted poster, he stepped into the bright Bower sun and took off his glove. All he did was clutch his bony hand around the parchment and it crumbled into dust. Drawing on Vot’s gift came easily, and it worked marvelously well. One word in her voice rang in his ear:

  Revenge.

  His saliva tasted bitter as he thought of just how possible such a goal might be now.

  …

  Siel stood outside his home. The sun was setting soon, and he could smell the meat, likely pork, that his father had started to bake. He wanted to open the door, but he stopped his hand from meeting with the knob.

  It wasn’t time. He couldn’t return. Not yet.

  Besides, he still had one lead left.

  …

  Though known for being the most dangerous part of Lonist territory, finding his way into the Cave of Salina was surprisingly difficult. It was both surprising and not how little he knew about the place, considering that everybody knew that it was here, but nobody knew much past ‘don’t go near it whatsoever.’ Coming from the city, it was almost impossible to see it until he was already above it. And looking down, only the most skilled of travelers could map a way to the floor.

  Siel stood on the sheer cliff that was the roof of the cave which led further under and behind him. Straight below him were enough rocky outcroppings and open-air stalagmites to keep his feet planted where he stood. Beyond the rocky cave’s entrance was a large grassy field, similar to what he had passed through to get here, and, beyond that, visible on the horizon, was a sparkling blue. He had never been to the ocean before.

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  What did he actually think he was doing here?

  A large crash followed by a cascade of falling rocks sounded from inside the great cave. Siel collapsed, going prone overlooking the edge of the cave’s maw. He thought he heard someone yell, like an angry beast snarling from its nest.

  If Whilderon would be anywhere, it was probably here.

  Siel eyed the grassy cliff he was on, following the edge to see where it met with the rockier ground down below: a point he never found. He wasn’t a rock climber, but he made his way to the lowest point on the cliff. Just jumping off was still too much of a fall to even consider, so he planted one foot on a sturdy looking rock just below the grass line. Gripping his hands in the dirt, he put down his other foot on the next solid-looking tiny outcrop within reach. As he moved his hands, his bony hand left a dead patch of dry, gray grass in its place.

  Making his way to the bottom was tiresome and lengthy, but possible. At this point, that was enough to be grateful for.

  Another large noise came from within the cave, sounding like boulders crashing together and then crumbling. Whatever it was, Siel didn’t have much of an option to run away right now.

  Looking into the cave, it was dark, but expansive. Long and sharp stalactites hung from the ceiling, and stalagmites sharper still grew from the ground, and they only got more menacing-looking as he went further in. A few bats flew over his head.

  He slowly made his way through the cave, careful to plant his feet and rest wherever possible, until a bluish glow came from around a corner up ahead. The smell of saltwater reminded Siel how his sister would regularly ask for fish or seaweed as a consistent part of their meals growing up.

  Sneaking to the corner’s edge, Siel peeked around and saw the man he’s been searching for: pacing around a beautifully glimmering underground lake, his green robes torn and damp at its bottom edge, Whilderon slammed his fist into a large stalagmite, splintering it into pieces and sprinkling the water. His face was angry, not that that was unusual, from what Siel knew.

  There were two other men, both Lonists as well, sitting around the pool. One was leaning against a large, spiked halberd, and the other crouched on the opposite side of a rocky ledge from where Siel was viewing from. The three of them were arguing about something– it seemed like they had been for a while.

  “–Don’t tell me that!” Whilderon shouted at the crouched one, “We needed to get the gem back!”

  “I don’t know what happened to it!” the crouched man said, still turned away from Siel’s view. “It must have been lost in transit or something! I don’t know!”

  “Well that was our only lead!” Whilderon shouted, his voice echoing through the whole chamber.

  “It’s your fault for killing her so quickly,” the standing one said plainly. His voice was simple, but his eyes were piercing.

  Whilderon stopped his pacing, turned his head and stared. “What did you just say to me?”

  “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had gotten her to tell us where it is. It’s that simple.”

  “No.” Whilderon got up in the man’s face. He was shorter, but he raised one fist and pressed it slowly into his gaze. “I do what I want. Don’t tell me–”

  He was cut off by the crouched man’s bloodcurdling scream.

  As the man thrashed below him, Siel gripped his head in his bony hand and lifted it for Whilderon to see. It was a horrible thing, really, but Siel wasn’t going to let the bitter taste stop him. Within moments, the man was dead, his face shriveled and melted. Siel let the body drop into a limp pile on the ground.

  The other man steadily raised his halberd, pointing it at Siel. Whilderon’s fists clenched as his shoulders noticeably tensed and his face distorted in rage.

  “What the–” Whilderon cut himself off by his own shouted war cry as he charged for Siel, fist raised.

  What was Siel thinking? He was not capable, and he was not a fighter. Against someone as strong as Whilderon, there was no chance he could win–

  Instinct carried him as he ducked out of the way, faster than he thought he could. Whilderon’s fist flew into the rocky ledge behind him, cracking it.

  The halberd’s point thrust at Siel. He didn’t dodge it, but he did block it: his Vot-given hand stopped the point in place. As he realized this, he grabbed the shaft of the weapon with his other hand. The nameless man was strong, and he would overcome Siel if this duel lasted any longer. In their wrestling, Whilderon sent another heavy punch at Siel, who pulled the halberd into its path. The wood shaft shattered, only barely deflecting the blow away from being deadly– it still landed strong into Siel’s chest and sent him flying into the crystal-clear pool. The taste of blood was not a pleasant one. Surely he’d broken a few ribs.

  He surfaced, standing feet ankle-deep in warm, clear water. Whilderon came up and wrapped his hand around Siel’s neck. His grip was tight and painful.

  “Who are you?” Whilderon asked through gritted teeth.

  Siel only now got a second to notice the flame growing in his chest, his heartbeat racing with fear and devotion.

  “You killed my sister,” Siel spat through the grip around his neck.

  “And?” Whilderon’s eyes were just as ferocious as they had been that day. “I’ll kill you, too.”

  Siel’s breathing was strained.

  “Do you want answers or something?” Whilderon said. He didn’t wait for a response. “Too bad. I’ve never been that generous.”

  Siel didn’t dare struggle as Whilderon walked further into the lake. Even if he tried using his bone-hand on him, Whilderon would snap his neck in an instant. After just a few steps, Siel was underwater. Drowning and asphyxiating left a worse taste than the blood.

  At this rate, he didn’t have a choice.

  He could barely feel his fingers, but he thought he managed to lift his hand and wrap it around Whilderon’s hold on him.

  The water started to boil around the spot where he touched him, and Siel could swear he heard the scream.

  …

  He woke up in so much pain. Coughing up the water in his lungs hurt his bruised neck, which hurt his cracked chest, which hurt his neck again. His limbs were heavy, even though his hands felt like they were floating.

  How did he survive?

  Sitting up brought pains he hadn’t expected. He coughed up more blood.

  Looking around, the one man’s body was still crumbled where Siel dropped him. His face was a bloody, melted mess.

  Siel threw up.

  The shattered halberd was laying across the ground. Whilderon and the other man were nowhere to be seen.

  Siel reached up to caress his neck. The bony fingers were cold to the touch, but he didn’t flinch back.

  …

  He still didn’t know how he was alive. Stood in front of his home, he had not been able to figure it out during his journey back. He didn’t know where Whilderon had gone, or even if he, like him, had survived. But, he didn’t care anymore. In those moments in the cave, he realized something: revenge was disgusting.

  He took a deep breath. He loved the taste of his aunt’s pastries.

  Aftertaste.

  End.