He was the Rinx who once brought Carnel to its knees.

  Brilliant beyond comprehension, his power surpassed even the angels and demons who both sought to destroy him during his first lifetime. Commander of unsurpassed flames, thief of the Drifting Queen’s own Foresight, and the older brother of the Lord of Seas – never had Carnel produced his match. Modern histories portrayed him as a moderately heroic figure, but Vash knew better. As an expert researcher, he was aware of the true story of his past.

  Osiris of Orion was a villain.

  Seeking to destroy the world and fill it with demons and chaos, it took the two Heroes of the Final Word in a battle of ages to bring him down. He died, and was buried, and seven hundred years passed. A stretch of time long enough to nearly eradicate the truth. Over the centuries, the standing of Osiris transformed from Rinx Lord to criminal, from criminal to scoundrel, until finally he was simply deemed by historians as a misunderstood hero, driven to his actions by the loss of his murdered father. And perhaps there was some truth to that, for it is agreed by most that he was capable of love, even when he died. His own last words suggested this.

  Even so, as Vash looked upon the revenant, he knew without a doubt that everything they really knew about him… was wrong.

  Osiris looked out over the expanse of Arcadia’s ruins, seated on the ledge of a wide window and leaning back against the thick stone frame. His eyes were ever-searching, inquisitive as they scanned the city he once knew. The old capital of North Carnel had once been a thriving metropolis, full of complex architecture, beautiful sightlines, and a magniloquent people. A haven for philosophers, theologians, and warriors. Now, it was but an empty reminder of war, destroyed in the Artifax Battle some two hundred years before.

  He didn’t seem sad, but neither did his expression register complacence or disregard. Whether he cared or not, Vash simply could not tell. His hand, resting on a knee, clenched a fist over and over as he sat in silence. His capes fluttered with the cold, misty wind, lending credence to the solemn bearing in his presence.

  What could he be thinking? Vash thought. How would this feel if I were in his place? To be told everything I knew was now hundreds of years in the past. Realizing that everyone I thought to be living was now dead and seeing cities I once visited had long been driven to dust. Essentially starting over in every single way.

  A small part of himself felt pity for him, but Vash had neither the inclination nor the courage to voice it to such a person. Osiris was a means to an end, and that was all. Remembering this, he turned back to his work.

  Vash’s chambers drew in the bitter cold of the waterfall’s mists, saturated with its chill but none of its moisture. The circular hall was vast, at least a few hundred feet in diameter, with a high slanted ceiling as it was the top room in the eastern tower. Long rows of tables occupied half of the space, littered with his experiments. Beakers and alembics over steady flames bubbled various-colored liquids; crystals arranged and constructed within differently shaped staves; animal specimens, dissected and not. And books. Books everywhere, open, stacked, ripped apart, and filled with messy notes. Pages in the open books turned themselves at the direction of the ever-present breeze, filling the room with their swishing sounds. Shelves of even more books lined the rounded walls.

  The other half of the tower was his study. A wide oak desk sat at one end with twelve different-colored crystal quills lined up on one side and a stack of tomes twenty high on the other. Two comfortable, high-back chairs faced each other on an oval rug, and a small bed was situated by an empty fireplace that hadn’t been used since his arrival in Arcadia. The entire place was lit by dozens of lanterns suspended from the ceiling and extending all the way down by thick chains to hover above the tables and direct their light over his projects. The low-hanging light created a deep darkness above ten feet.

  Vash stood at one of the long tables, attending to one his experiments. He adjusted his glasses as he focused on his notebook, writing down his thoughts. A potted plant with several orange flowers was situated before him. A half dozen long Element Stones stuck up out of the dirt. He measured out two powdered ingredients on a sheet of paper before pouring them into a clear liquid inside a nearby beaker. Stirring the concoction briefly, he then poured it over the dirt in the pot.

  “What are you doing?”

  Vash jumped, startled. Osiris stood right beside him. He hadn’t even heard him move from the ledge. The Rinx Lord’s tall, muscular frame seemed to tower over him.

  Recovering after a few deep breaths, Vash adjusted his glasses again. “A continuation of my research in chemical amalgams to improve and perhaps one day replace the Cenial Formula.”

  “Your Element Stone formation is all wrong,” he said, pointing to the crystals sticking out of the dirt in the pot.

  “Formation?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you arrange them in that pattern?”

  “I just inserted them. There’s no pattern.”

  Osiris shook his head. “You disregard the complex and precise nature of Element Stones.” He took one out, making Vash frown. “And they’re poorly cut. You’re probably not even using five percent of these stones’ potential output. Gransaiga would have been ashamed.”

  Vash took back the crystal, replacing it in the dirt. “Your brother is dead. While I can understand you might have trouble fully grasping this without the time to do so, please try to realize how much magic knowledge has been lost since your time. Seven hundred years of peace can do that.”

  The Rinx Lord sniffed, his lips forming a cold smirk. “It’s been a long time since someone spoke to me so obstinately.”

  “I’m not being obstinate, my Lord.” Vash turned back to the plant, picking up his quill. “But I pride myself on my research. How I do things is the best way according to current accumulated knowledge. If you know how to better do what I am doing, then you are the only one. I’d already considered asking for your help, of course, but I know you would never comply under the circumstances.” He took a swig from his flask while making more notes on the night’s experiment.

  “Drinking won’t sharpen your mind,” Osiris said.

  “This isn’t liquor. It’s a potion that is keeping me alive.”

  He caught a sound he had been expecting and turned to one of the widows, where a large, brown eagle flew down to settle on the ledge. Rushing up to it, Vash took a letter from a bag tied around the bird’s neck. The eagle flew off again while he ripped the message open. As he read, he wandered over to one of the large chairs and sank into it.

  “Good,” he said to himself after finishing. “Kalem has found them. They’re headed for the Twin Cities. But why? It makes no sense. Are they even trying to escape Carnel? Does Champlain have contacts there?”

  Osiris sat in the chair opposite his. “Why do you want this girl? Are the Moon Eyes so powerful?”

  Vash smiled in half-amusement, setting fire to the letter with a crystal and watching it burn to ash. “What makes you think I want them? The King is the one who ordered her to be detained. She is his prize. My duty is simply to retrieve what he lost.”

  Osiris’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me.”

  Vash’s smile washed away as a cold feeling seeped into his chest. He cleared his throat. “You seem familiar with the Moon Eyes.”

  “One of my masters, a peerless Avalon named Kyba of Canis, mentioned the ‘Moon Eye Child’ countless times. He is a true immortal, granted eternal life from Valhalla by way of Foresight in order to become the guardian of the Desolate Tower. According to him, this chosen child was to destroy the tower and mark the end of an age.”

  Vash sat up straight, intrigued. “I’ve heard the name Kyba of Canis before. He’s a harmless old hermit secluded in the Mosaic Mountains. I guarantee he’s no immortal.”

  “And yet somehow, even seven hundred years later, I know who he is. Try using your head for once. You speak without thinking far too often for a man who says he values knowledge.”

  Vash shrugged off the insult. “An immortal! I can’t believe it. How is such a thing possible?”

  Osiris propped his elbow on the armrest, resting his head on a fist. Then, his left eye exploded with purple light, casting the brilliance of it over his whole face. “I know something about Foresight. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  Vash’s jaw dropped. “Is it true what the histories tell us? Did you really steal the Full Moon from Queen Aurora?”

  “More like borrowed. And she took my power as well.”

  “But it’s hers. And she possessed the strongest Foresight ever known.”

  “Did she attain Level Three?”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  Osiris paused, eyes narrowing again. “Your brash, baseless arrogance is testing my patience.”

  Vash sighed. “Forgive me, my Lord.” He leaned back in his chair again, taking another drink from his flask. “No. She did not attain a third level of Foresight.”

  “Then hers was not the strongest. Kyba’s is. He possessed the third level long before Aurora’s birth.”

  “So, you’re telling me this old mountain hermit is at least seven hundred years old, possesses Foresight stronger than the Drifting Queen’s, and knows everything about the Moon Eyes?” He put a hand to his face. “I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I should just find Kyba and let Goodsteel come to me.”

  “Only if you want to die in quick fashion.”

  “I could send you to fight him for me. That is the reason I resurrected you.”

  “I see now I’m constantly going to need to repeat myself around you,” Osiris scoffed. “He’s immortal. He was my master. A Rinx Lord with a thousand years of knowledge and wisdom. He could destroy me on a whim. If he weren’t bound to that mountain, he could conquer the planet. You truly have no measure of what he is capable of.”

  Vash blanched. “I don’t understand. How could a man that powerful be bound to anything? And what is this ‘Desolate Tower’ you speak of? I’ve never even heard of such a thing.”

  “Atop the Mountain of the Wolf, there is a place established long before the foundations of Carnel were set: a wall. A wall so high, only those with ultimate resolve could climb it. My brother once conquered the Desolate Tower, and he told me it is a place where men and angels meet and even form bonds. Kyba of Canis is the keeper of this tower, and he was told his death would not come until he met the Moon Eye Child, who was to end the current age and usher in a new one.”

  Vash stood up, pacing back and forth. “You must realize how ludicrous this should sound. You speak of angels and demons so casually when we haven’t seen signs of them in hundreds of years. Most people regard their appearances in lore as myth or mistaken witness.”

  Osiris sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s not surprising. Humans have trouble believing what they can’t see, but that doesn’t change the truth. I have seen devils and angels with my own eyes, talked with them…” He opened his eyes again. “…and I have surpassed them.”

  A deep chill flooded Vash’s body, full of warning. The deadly magenta glare hurled in his direction warned of consequences for ill-spoken words. I probably shouldn’t challenge what he says anymore… at least not out loud.

  “Then, I am back to square one,” Vash said, clearing his throat after it broke. “Until recently, we were in possession of Charlotte Goodsteel, the girl born with the Moon Eyes, but she escaped, set free by one of our own who was assigned to guard her. Now they are on the run, and I have a tracker after them, but that won’t guarantee anything.”

  “So you just need to find this Champlain person you spoke of.”

  “Easier said than done,” he replied, sitting back down bitterly. He took another long drink from his flask. “The one who broke her from her chains, Micah sinChamplain, is a Black Son, an elite warrior trained as an assassin from childhood. Few people know this, but Black Sons are actually slaves. While still very young, a seal is placed on their hearts, bending their wills to that of the king and his governors. It was supposed to be impossible for them to disobey orders. Yet, for the first time since this practice began three hundred years ago, the impossible became reality. He shrugged off the governor’s command, took Goodsteel, and fled. I still don’t know how it happened. I’ve pondered it endlessly, but come to no conclusions. Now, not only have we lost the Moon Eyes, but Champlain is rogue.”

  “No one can disappear. Just hunt him down and be done with it.”

  “You don’t understand. We’re not just dealing with any assassin. Micah Champlain has the power of all three ancient tribes, a true Vilox. Since your day, the number of Vilex has dwindled significantly. Maybe one a year is born, if that. And he’s incredibly strong, among the handful of upper echelon warriors unbeatable in one-on-one combat, excluding you and the king.” Osiris gave him a look, and Vash gulped. “And Kyba of course. The point is he’s a true genius and knows how to hide. This is partially why I brought you back. Our plans were devastated by this turn of events. Who could foresee Champlain turning against us? It is imperative we retrieve the Moon Eyes, but so few can challenge him!”

  Osiris shook his head. “So many answers have been right in front of your nose, but you fail to see them, even now.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He frowned. “Explain.”

  Osiris lifted one hand. “Let’s say you were to put a dog and a cat inside a cage and leave it for the night. The next morning, you find the cat dead. What do you suppose happened to it?”

  “The dog must have killed it.”

  “What about poison? What if a man came in the night and killed it? What if it died of old age?”

  Vash laughed. “Highly unlikely.”

  “So it is. Let’s try another. If you put a girl with special abilities inside a prison cell and assign to guard her a boy with a seal on his heart that is supposed to control him, and he sets her free and they escape, what do you suppose happened?”

  Vash’s amused smile washed away into a deep grimace. “You’re saying she might have done something to break the seal?”

  “I’m telling you that’s exactly what she did. Champlain isn’t rogue. He’s free. You call yourself a man of research, yet you can’t see the big picture when it’s so obvious.”

  Vash slumped in his chair, his frown contorting with confusion and disbelief. “You mock me, but you seemed to have forgotten it was I who discovered your true name, resurrected you from the dead, and bound you to my will with magic not even you can break. I suppose, however, it is for that very reason you have the right to despise and deride me.”

  For a long moment, Osiris stared at him. A look Vash knew he would never get used to. Considering, yet dangerous. Vash could almost see the careful and complicated thoughts churning behind his eyes. “I believe it’s now my turn to ask questions,” the Rinx Lord said. “Perhaps you can regain the credibility you’ve lost tonight. First, how did you obtain my name?”

  Vash sat up, eager for the opportunity. “You refer to the New Name Rite. The details of that particular magic, as luck would have it, have been well documented and preserved. We know that Rinx Lords receive possession of their own name once they obtain the title. And that anyone to whom the Rinx tells his name could utter it and bring him back from the dead a single time. Lord Mobius and Lord Gransaiga, your brothers, were already resurrected using the New Name Rite, but you and your youngest brother, Lord Zethos, were not. It was simply a matter of obtaining the names.”

  Osiris scowled. “The New Name Rite isn’t ‘simple’ in any respect. It had many requirements. One was that only another Rinx could receive the name, and a second was that the name could only be received, never taken. Otherwise it would be wiped out instantly, even from one’s own memory. I only gave my name to Zethos, and he said he never told anyone. How then, did you overcome those obstacles?”

  Vash organized his thoughts, debating whether he should bring certain delicate topics to light. He decided to enter into the discussion carefully. “Did you know there are no more Rinx left?” he asked.

  “What does that have to do with this?”

  “Everything, if you are willing to listen.”

  Osiris propped a fist against his temple again. “Proceed.”

  He paused for a moment. “Rinx are granted their abilities from Heaven, a power that must be earned. Sort of a ‘promotion’ from Vilex. For several hundred years, the Vilex in our lands have begun to diminish in number, and the last known Rinx died a hundred years ago. There hasn’t been one since. Many take this to be a sign, and I believe it as well. You said Kyba foreshadowed the Moon Eye Child would bring about the end of an age. The Age of Vilex and Rinx might very well be what he was referring to.

  “But Rinx Lords are a different matter. Since the days of the Four Swords, not a single Lord has been seen in Carnel.” He held up a finger. “Not… one. It took me a while to realize why. Indeed, people have pondered the question for centuries. Why were you and your brothers, aside from Kyba, the only Rinx Lords in recorded history?”

  Osiris smirked. “Because we made a deal with the devil.”

  “Exactly. The title of Rinx Lord is an unnatural power, never meant to be granted to human beings. You gained your power from the demon Mahro. And if I correctly follow the information you’ve given me about Kyba, I can surmise the same about him. He was granted it through unique means.”

  “Your supposition is accurate.”

  Vash held out a hand. “In your day, people obtained power. They trained against stronger foes, learned from more powerful masters, used more potent magic. You had access to the five crystals! And both Heaven and Hell granted you other-worldly power. The reason Rinx no longer exist is because those days are gone. An age is truly almost over.”

  “So, what’s your point?”

  “My point is that people had to adapt, because while power gradually began to dissipate, the human urge to learn and conquer that power never did. So, the only way to do that was to tap into the ancient sources and discover what was once considered lost. Mankind made a host of discoveries, relics of magic from before even your own time. And I made one of these discoveries.”

  He stood up, clenching both fists in excitement. “I found the Keeper of the Names.”

  Osiris’s eyes flashed in interest. “You refer to Kaggi, the Hangman?”

  “You know of him?”

  “The legend went that he obtained a book from God’s own shelf, a book of all names past and present. And to keep Him from taking it back, he made a deal with a demon and hung himself from a tree. As a result, Kaggi’s body and soul remained of the earth, unable to go to Heaven or Hell.”

  Vash nodded. “And the legend is true. After lifelong research, I found the Hangman, under the Thistlewood of Thistle. Offering a sacrifice of magic and life so that Kaggi could extend his possession of the Book of Names another thousand years, I was granted a single look.” He laughed excitedly. “That is how I obtained your true name, Othello of Orion. The original source of names! A magic beyond the power of the New Name Rite. And through my research, I also acquired the Venorous Seal, turning you into my eternal servant!”

  Osiris now stared at him with a calculating gaze, and Vash regretted calling him by his true name. He quickly sat back down.

  “So then, what now?’ Osiris asked in a severe tone. “Do you plan on taking over the world, Nathanial Vash?”

  Vash waved his hand, taking another drink from his flask. “That kind of thing means nothing to me. I want knowledge. I want to rediscover the lost things you once considered to be common fact, and apply them to what we know today. By doing this, I could accumulate the greatest amount of knowledge ever amassed by a single human being. I could bring about a true revolution! I said I believed it was the end of an age for a reason, and it’s because I believe I can usher in a new one.”

  “That is the first impressive thing I’ve heard you say.”

  Vash sniffed, refusing to show how pleased he was to hear that. “Besides, to contest the king and his Flying Birds is foolishness. Why try when even you failed once upon a time?”

  Osiris leaned back. His gaze was far away now, thoughtful and full of the past. “It wasn’t Flying Birds that defeated me. It was something else… something far stronger Aurora possessed that I never fully understood.”

  “What was it?”

  Osiris didn’t answer, instead shifting his gaze to the long tables. Vash followed it. The orange flowers of his experiment were rapidly wilting, the petals fading to gray before falling one by one.

  Vash sighed, getting up again and shuffling over to the pot. “Another failure.” He pulled the plant up by its roots and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

  Osiris joined him. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, you won’t find results. Not only are your crystals aligned wrong, but you’re using the wrong kind. You should be using Cure Stones. The natural assumption would be to use Element Stones…” He picked one of the long, green crystals from the soil, turning it between his fingers. “…as they manipulate the elements, but Cure Stones should be used to measure restorative properties in elixirs.”

  Vash gritted his teeth. “That would be lovely, except I don’t have any.”

  “Then go get some.”

  He sighed in irritation bordering on loathing. “You don’t understand. Only a few Cure Stones exist now. It’s the rarest gem in the world. One doesn’t simply ‘go get’ a Cure Stone.”

  Osiris folded his arms. “How is that possible? In my time, they were more common than rocks. You could buy ten for a gold coin.”

  Vash reached into his robes, producing his flask again. Opening it, he offered it to his servant. “Smell this.”

  Osiris whiffed it. “An organic elixir, probably plant-based. Is this the Cenial Formula you referred to?”

  He nodded. “And it tastes awful, yet I must drink a full flask every day or perish within hours. Carnel has seen peace since the Battle of the Final Word, my Lord, but it has still seen its dark times. Cure Stones were once as common as Element Stones, Life Stones, and Black Stones, but that changed about one hundred fifty years ago when a man named Nicholas Sprouls discovered a potion that granted eternal life.”

  Osiris leaned against the table, smirking in contempt. “Whenever I hear of new-fangled attempts to gain immortality, my desire to purge the world of idiots increases.”

  “Carnel could have used that wisdom. For a great disaster befell this land. The potion, called Miracle, required the grinding of a Cure Stone into a fine powder to be mixed with a careful measure of twelve other commonly known ingredients. And it worked. People who drank the potion stopped aging.”

  “But at what cost?”

  Vash pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, frowning. “A severe poisoning that killed in the slowest and most painful of ways. And that isn’t the best part.” He laughed. “The only known cure at the time was more Miracle.”

  Osiris nodded. “I understand now. Cure Stones were probably hoarded like treasure and consumed faster than any mines could replenish.”

  “It’s worse than that. Children born of people who drank the Miracle potion also were poisoned, but no amount of Miracle could save them. Babies born with ice-blue hair died by the thousands until those rich enough to continue acquiring Miracle stopped having children. The noble classes grew old with no offspring and started forcibly stealing healthy children from others. The poor and middle classes rose against them in their weakened state. Anarchy threatened to conquer the land.”

  “How fascinating. I would have liked to witness these events.”

  “Eventually, a temporary antidote was discovered by Antoine Cenial.” Vash held up the flask. “Which staves off the poison if consumed every day. As you can see from my blue hair, I am a child of two would-be immortals, and I can personally attest that my parents are very much dead, as is everyone else who drank Miracle. Today, there are thousands of people just like me who now must suffer for those mistakes. We can never have children, lest they suffer the same curse, and Cure Stones have all but disappeared. Only a few shards remain in the wealthiest of collections. I’ve never even seen one.”

  Osiris reached to a pack on his belt and produced a handful of light blue gems.

  Vash gasped so loud, it echoed in the chamber. His eyes went wide, and hands trembled violently as he slowly reached out. “Are… are those… are those…”

  “Cure Stones?” Osiris finished, dumping them into his hands. “Yes.”

  “I can’t… I can’t believe it!” His arms shook, and sweat formed in droplets on his face. “Do you know how much these are worth? Millions! Millions and millions of gold!”

  Osiris closed his eyes, refolding his arms. “I remember when Blood Stones were the expensive crystals and Vilex Stones were the rare stones worth millions.”

  Vash licked his lips, unable to take his eyes off the blue crystals tightly gripped between his fingers. “Blood Stones are still rare, though not impossible to acquire. But what’s a Vilex Stone? Aren’t there only five crystal types?”

  “I used to think so, but no, there are six. Or there were six, at any rate. Frankly, it never mattered since my brother knew a way to convert one crystal type into another.”

  Vash carefully laid the long blue gems on the table, lining them into a row. “You refer to Lord Gransaiga and his Crystal Conversion. He never passed on his knowledge of the process. His writings suggest he feared the method would be misused.”

  Osiris nodded. “That is true. He never even told me how to do it.”

  He watched Vash in his excitement over the Cure Stones. It was evident his mind was already churning with ideas of how to best use them. He truly loves knowledge. The thought of selling the crystals hasn’t even crossed his mind. If it’s true that much was lost during the extended period of peace after my death, then he probably feels he was born in the wrong era. Ambition drives him. He would have become powerful during my time.

  Osiris’s eyes narrowed. He’s a bit like I was. Smart and determined, yet embittered by life.

  Zethos’s face came rushing back to him in that moment, old and decrepit – nothing like he remembered of his little brother. How many times would his dying words haunt him? Forced to remember it yet again, Osiris was reminded just why he loathed Nathanial Vash. He had to find a way to free himself from the Venorous Seal. It seemed the magic forcing him to serve Vash had limitations. He couldn’t harm him, and he was compelled to obey his direct orders and warn him of danger. Yet, he could mentally plot against him. What else Osiris could do under the Seal without Vash knowing had to be tested.

  “So then,” he said, forming his words strategically. “What’s our next move? Will you bumble about Carnel in search of Champlain, dragging me along with you and forcing me to persevere through your painfully dim-witted decisions?”

  Vash scowled. “We will wait for Marshall sinKalem to find them. He has orders to send me their location when he’s caught up with them.”

  “Grand. Now I can sit still and wade in your endless stupidities.”

  Vash slammed his hands on the table. “Stop mocking me!”

  That’s it…

  “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t,” he continued. “Surely, you don’t consider yourself my ‘master’ or some equally ridiculous title, do you?”

  “You may not like me, but you will obey me.”

  “I am your superior in every sense of the word. Coupled with the disgrace you have treated me with by binding me to the seal, you are a waste of time, a failure, and an idiot. Honestly, show me one thing you can do that could impress me.”

  “Fine!” Vash took a Black Stone and Life Stone from his robes and stormed to the other side of the room, near the chairs. Osiris stood opposite him, smirking in contempt, his hand steady on the handle of his sword.

  Vash held up the black and white crystals. “We may have lost much in seven hundred years, but we’ve learned things, too. Magic even you never knew! Soul Tap!”

  The crystals glowed, and a white mist seeped from Osiris’s skin, translucent and bright. The swirling wisps of ether collected beside him, forming a vision. Hazy at first but growing crisper, a person soon appeared from it, like a ghost. A young girl no older than fifteen stood between Vash and Osiris, smiling sweetly. She wore a simple but pretty dress, and freckles sprinkled her nose. She tucked a wisp of short hair behind her ear and then clasped her hands together. A necklace featured many different trinkets and charms identical to the ones dangling from the side of Osiris’s head.

  “Who is this?” Vash taunted, smiling in triumph. “I know it’s someone important to you. That’s what the Soul Tap does. It shows me visions of your deepest, darkest past, no matter how much you might wish it never to be seen. What do you think of that?”

  Osiris didn’t answer. He stared at the girl standing before him with wide, terrible eyes. Blood-shot, demented, deranged. A darkness came over his face, and his whole body shook until it seemed to fill the room and beyond. He looked at Vash, eyes growing wider. A pure, livid fire exploded around him in a sudden burst, and searing purple light consumed his left eye. He took a step toward Vash, then another, still trembling, chest heaving in rage. The walls shook, rafters groaned, and glass shattered all around them.

  Vash stumbled back against the wall, strangled with petrifying fear. He’d never seen anything like this before. Flames discharged from the Rinx Lord’s body, filling every inch of space with suffocating heat. His face was so full of anger, so full of murderous hate, it clutched to Vash’s heart, threatening to crush it from the inside.

  He quickly raised a hand. “You can’t harm me!” he squealed.

  The circular seal appeared over Osiris’s chest, burning crimson, but it only slowed him down. He still came, arms reaching out as if to snatch Vash by the neck.

  The seal’s not working? Impossible!

  “STOP!” Vash shouted.

  Suddenly, a new apparition melted out of the shadows. A hideous black dragon with the hind legs of a horse formed from the darkness itself, maw lined with sharp teeth, and eyes glowing red. Vash gasped in new fear before realizing it was the guardian of the Venorous Seal. The dragon held a great chain in human-like hands. It threw the steel rope, ensnaring Osiris and pulling him back.

  But Osiris barely seemed to notice. He yelled in rage, pushing against it, thrashing and clawing to get at Vash. His gaze whipped back and forth between Vash and the vision of the girl. Each time, it enraged him further. The fire cascading from his body burned even more, washing in a rainbow of screaming flames. The demon dragon roared, pulling with all its might but unable to keep Osiris from advancing. The Rinx inched closer and closer. Bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, teeth clenched, and a guttural shout escaped from somewhere deep inside. The ache to kill consumed his whole being. The walls of stone began to melt, the furniture burst into flames, and the lanterns detonated with ear-splitting bursts.

  Vash screamed. The fire scorched his skin, barely checked by the Seal. How could it not hold him? How was he doing this?

  I’m going to die!

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the vision he had produced. The girl still stood beside them, smiling happily. Vash quickly waved his hand through the air, and the ghostly image vanished into fading smoke.

  Osiris stopped.

  The fire quelled in moments, reduced to embers. Smoke filled the once open space. Chains dropped at Osiris’s feet with a clatter before melting back into shadow, and the demon disappeared with them. Vash slowly sank to the floor, staring up at Osiris in trembling fits.

  But his servant turned, hand resting back on his sword. Small voices on the smoky air, whispering death chants, filled Vash’s hearing, so quiet that he wondered if he wasn’t imagining them. An aura of vile darkness surrounded the Rinx Lord, more terrible than the events he had just witnessed.

  “If you ever show me that again…” Osiris said after a long silence, his voice quiet yet deep and full of cruel wrath. “…no matter what magic you bind me to, I will kill you in the worst way imaginable.”

  He slowly walked out of the destroyed chambers, closing the remnant of the door behind him.

  Vash’s breathing slowed, but his heart did not. His chambers were half-obliterated, but the loss was little compared to the fear he felt. The pure, unsurpassed fear.

  What have I done?