“I’m bored, Mordecai. Read me something from your book!”
The young girl dropped to the ground with her arms crossed. She pouted, staring intently at the old man sitting on a wooden cart with a large book clutched to his chest. She conjured the cutest puppy-dog eyes possible.
Mordecai erupted in laughter. “Oh, Felicity. This isn’t a book of stories. It is my Grimoire.”
“What’s a Grilwarg?” She sounded confused.
Mordecai chuckled. “A Grimoire is a book of magic. It’s filled with hundreds of spells and invocations.”
“Wow.” She laid belly down in the dirt with her chin resting on her hands. “Do you know them all?”
“Of course! I’ve had a long time to practice.”
“Is that how you summoned the portal?” Felicity’s eyes widened.
“Not exactly, but that’s a bit too complicated for one so young. Perhaps in a few years . . . ”
She slammed her fist and started kicking the ground, “I’m almost ten. Explain it to me now!”
Mordecai smiled. A group of ants walked towards a small leaf near Felicity’s face.
“Pick that up,” he pointed.
“This one?” she asked, already moving to pick it up.
“Precisely,” Mordecai beamed with pride, “You see those ants? To them, that leaf vanished into thin air. We both know it did not. You lifted it to a plane of existence that they simply could not see.”
“Oh.” Felicity pretended to understand for a moment.
“Does that make sense?” He tilted his head, surprised by her astuteness.
“Not really.” She paused and gave the leaf a closer look. “It’s pretty.” A gust of wind blew the leaf out of her hand. “My portal!”
She jumped up and ran after it.
As she reached out, her right foot caught on a rope, which quickly pulled her high up into the air.
“Help!” She swung back and forth from a large branch.
Mordecai chuckled. “Just hang in there, Felicity!”
“That’s not funny.” Tears well up in her eyes. “It hurts!”
“Don’t cry, little one. I’ll get you down. A hunter laid these traps here. We must be close to a village.”
Leaves rustled and twigs snapped in the distance. Mordecai’s face turned serious.
Artemus jumped out through the trees, wide-eyed and panting with his hunting knife drawn. “Who are you?” he demanded through laboured breaths.
Mordecai grinned widely. “Look at that, Felicity. We found a new friend to join us on our adventure.”
Artemus struggled to maintain his composure. His heart pounded. “Who else is with you?” he asked, glancing around. The woman from his dream was not there. There was just a pale, skinny child and a rangy old man.
The girl had been caught in one of the snares he had set that morning.
“Hello there,” the man said, hardly sparing a glance at Artemus’ weapon. “Many names have known me, but you may call me Mordecai. Your game here is Felicity.”
“Hey, mister! Cut me down with your little sword.”
Artemus slowed his breath. “It’s a knife.”
Mordecai grinned. “That’s an interesting blade. Where’d you find it?”
“It was a gift from my father—”
“GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!”
Artemus debated for a moment, glancing over the pair. It seemed unlikely that this child and old man had taken down the entirety of the Village Guard. Suspicious though their appearance in the forest was, it was doubtful they were the culprits.
Artemus walked over, untied the snare, and slowly lowered Felicity to the ground.
She freed her foot, ran toward Mordecai and punched him.
“Ouch! Just because I can’t move my arms doesn’t mean I can’t feel them.”
“Good!” Her arms were folded. She raised her chin.
He can’t move his arms? Artemus stowed his weapon. “Are you paralyzed?”
“It’s a curse!” Felicity interjected.
Mordecai smiled. “Sorrow Peak, they call it. My mind is sharp and my spirit is awake as ever, but my physical form…” He trailed off, glancing down at his limbs. “Well, let’s just say it is more like a lump of wax.”
Artemus’ breath evened, and he approached them with more patience than before. “I don’t fully understand, but in any case, I need to get you both back to the village. It’s not safe here.” Artemus wheeled Mordecai down the trail.
Felicity skipped alongside them. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Oh, forgive me. I’m Artemus of Lunnon. What about you and your grandfather?”
“He’s not my grandpa! We’re on an adventure.”
“What kind?”
Before she could respond, the sound of a blade swished through the air. A tree toppled, blocking their path. The cut had left an exceptionally clean slice, just like the beech trees near the outpost.
A figure in a white robe with gold lining approached the group. A matching hood covered the upper part of their face. Wispy, ethereal clouds of black smoke emanated from a long, thin blade they held deftly in their right hand.
“Grim Grasp . . . ” Mordecai whispered.
“What did you do to my friends?” Artemus demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. The figure remained silent, continuing to advance with an eerie, inexorable purpose. “Answer me!” Artemus shouted, desperation creeping into his tone as he raised his knife with trembling hands.
The figure continued walking while lifting their blade in the air. Artemus ran and slid, feet first, between his legs, to deliver a slashing cut to the back of their calf. With lightning speed, he dealt another blow to the figure’s back. The large figure stood unfazed by the damage and readied their weapon for a powerful strike.
“Stay away from that blade!” Mordecai warned.
Artemus jumped to the right, barely dodging the blow. His eyes widened as the towering figure lifted his blade once more. He spun away from the overhead swing, then countered with a swift strike to the wrist, severing it in a single motion.
The figure’s sword clanged to the ground in a puff of black smoke. The figure held the stump of his arm. Black mist sprouted from it. He kneeled, picked up his right hand with his left, and reattached it.
Artemus moved back, stunned. “Run!” He grabbed Mordecai’s cart and darted around the fallen tree. He glanced back and realized the young girl was no longer trailing behind them. “Felicity!”
She stood in front of the hooded man. Both were motionless, sharing a haunting stare. “Where did your soul go?” she asked quietly.
“Get away from him!” Artemus shouted.
The large figure lifted Felicity onto his shoulder and disappeared into the forest.
Artemus turned to Mordecai, who was in deep meditation. Did the old man not care that his young travel companion being kidnapped? Had he fallen asleep?
“What are you doing?” Artemus demanded, his voice sharp and urgent.
The old man opened his eyes, his gaze steady and unwavering. “He’s headed to your village. They’re in grave danger,” Mordecai replied solemnly.
Artemus felt a wave of panic wash over him, his mind racing as he tried to process the gravity of the situation. He wanted nothing more than to rush to Felicity’s aid and protect his village, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of fear that clung to him like a heavy cloak.
As he paced back and forth, his mind and heart at odds, Artemus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the task before him. He knew that he wasn’t strong enough to defeat the monster on his own, and the thought of putting his village in even greater danger terrified him.
Desperately seeking clarity, Artemus thrust his blade at Mordecai’s throat, demanding answers. “Explain! What do you mean the village is in danger?” he cried, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.
Mordecai stared at the blade, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out with an exaggerated sigh. “You seem upset.”
The calmness in his voice caused Artemus to lower his weapon, feeling suddenly wrongfooted. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be!” Mordecai laughed. “Emotions are a part of life. Embrace them.”
“Please, Mordecai. I need to know what is going on.”
“Yes, I suppose you do deserve to know.” He pondered for a moment. “Have you ever talked with a tree?”
“We don’t have time for—”
“Well, I suppose it’s more like listening,” he continued, ignoring Artemus. “Every blade of grass or grain of sand has a story to tell if you have the patience to listen. Living beings tend to leave an imprint everywhere they go. Our emotions, our thoughts, and our memories all carry an energetic weight. The clothes we wear, weapons we wield, and even the ground we walk on can store that energy and—in a sense—become imbued with our spirits.”
“What does that have to do with our situation?” Artemus could feel himself calming down as Mordecai spoke. Mordecai had the same charisma and infectious conviction as Artemus’ father. It was like he exuded a sense of peace and solidity that made him want to trust the old man.
“It has everything to do with our current situation. I can feel that figure’s energy. I can hear their intentions. And that weapon—” He shivered. “That’s not your typical blade. It consumes its victims’ souls like food. And it’s ravenous. The ethereal smoke it emits enters the victims body through the wound and consumes their insides before escaping from every orifice in their body. Even their eyes.”
This is what happened to the village guard.
“Eyes are the window to the soul, and that Grim Grasp katana can rip a victim’s soul out of their skull. If my guess is correct, when it works its magic, it will leave only scorched skin and hollowed pores in its wake.”
“How can I fight something like that?”
Mordecai hummed. “That, I do not know. I’ve lived a long time and have never seen anything like it.” A sudden thought crossed Mordecai’s mind. “But it appears our little Felicity knows him.”
“How—Don’t you know each other? Shouldn’t you know this . . . Grim Grasp, too?”
“Of course not.” Mordecai snorted. “We only just met a couple of days ago.”
“Then what were you two doing? How did you even get here?”
Mordecai hesitated for a moment. “Do you believe in magic, Master Artemus?”
“Magic? As in fairy tales?”
Mordecai snickered, both amused and insulted. “I was being held captive off the coast. I’m not sure for how long. However, a few days ago, guards rumbled about a new captive—an extraordinary girl from a city in the sky.”
Artemus crossed his arms. “I’ve never heard of such a city.”
“It exists. This girl, Felicity, was sharp for her age. I was impressed. But beyond that, I sensed immense power within her. Surprisingly, her bloodline is rather peculiar. Her father was a druid, and her mother an oracle. Such a child hasn’t been born for 1,000 years.”
“What does that mean? Did she tell you this?”
“Yes, we first spoke in a dream. But my first conversations weren’t with the young girl you met. She was much older. A beautiful young woman in white robes.” There was something knowing in Mordecai’s tone as he caught Artemus’s gaze.
Artemus’s thoughts wandered back to the lady in his dream. Could that woman be Felicity somehow? This didn’t make sense.
“How is that possible?”
“She must’ve wandered into my mind as a thought projection. Felicity can’t control her power, yet. She was in a deep mist, and I helped her get out, so it might be a side effect or holdover from that.” Mordecai glanced at Artemus. “It took me decades to hone my abilities in my astral body. Meanwhile, Felicity did it by accident! This new generation truly excites me.”
Magic? Flying cities? Astral projection . . . ? It was well above Artemus’ pay grade. But what he did know was that there was a little girl—and an entire village—in danger. “Well, we need to save her. Whatever it takes.” Artemus continuously flipped his knife. That’s what you would do, Father. Right?
Mordecai grinned. “I think you’ve been holding the key to winning the entire time.” His grimoire glowed blue, rose from his lap, and floated in the air between them. A blank page opened, and Mordecai’s eyes glowed the same shade of blue. “LIGHTNING BANE,” he shouted.
Electricity burst from the pages straight toward him. Artemus reactively raised his blade in defence, causing the lightning to split in every direction and ignite the foliage around him.
Yet somehow, he remained unharmed.
“That’s not an ordinary hunting knife, Master Artemus. It is a short sword imbued with a spirit of protection. Whoever gave you that sword cares about you greatly.”
Xedho firmly grasped his torch as he approached the forest. He clutched the amulet around his neck. “You better be alive, Artemus.” He carried an old quarterstaff on his back. It was his weapon of choice, given its superior reach and tidiness compared to swords.
He slowly crept forward, feeling for level ground before picking up his pace. The acrid smell of smoke stopped him in his tracks. A bird darted past his face, causing him to duck, followed by another, then a third, and a fourth in quick succession.
It was never a good sign when the wildlife was fleeing.
Xedho was quickly disoriented as all manner of creatures flew, ran, and crawled by him, clearly trying to escape from the smell of smoke. And where there was smoke, there was fire.
Between the exodus of critters and thick black smoke, Xedho lost his torch and sense of direction. He stumbled backward several steps before colliding with something rigid and warm.
He slowly turned. Standing before him was a hooded figure carrying a young girl on his shoulder. Judging from their height and stature, they were likely male. “Sorry, friend. I—”
The man lifted Xedho into the air by his collar and threw him down like a used bread cloth. Xedho coughed and rolled onto his side, wincing from what was likely several cracked ribs. The baker was a large man and had never been handled that way in battle.
He withdrew the quarterstaff from his back and used it to stand.
The hooded man continued forward through the smoke.
“Hey,” Xedho managed to yell out through a cough. “What was that for?”
The man disappeared into the smoke and Xedho chased after him. When he entered the forest trailhead, the mysterious man grabbed him from the back collar of his shirt and tossed him to the ground again.
If his ribs hadn’t been cracked before, they definitely were now. “You have to stop doing that,” Xedho muttered as he got back to his feet.
The man gently laid the girl on the grass. He unsheathed his katana and black smoke swirled with the grey from the fire.
Xedho assumed his fighting stance.
The hooded man ran toward him with his sword raised. Xedho pivoted to his right, creating an advantageous angle, and swung the quarterstaff at the man’s chin. His hands vibrated from the thunderous strike, but the man didn’t react. “Really? Not even a flinch?”
The man swung his katana at Xedho. He ducked underneath, pivoted to the left, and slammed the quarterstaff at the man’s face with all the force he could muster.
This time, the blow spun the man off balance, causing him to stumble and remove his hood.
Xedho froze in terror at the sight of the man’s face. The blackened skin on his forehead and scalp contrasted the pale complexion of his cheeks. Fresh blood streamed down his face from the dark pits that were sitting in place of his eyes.
Xedho backed away and tripped, falling on his back.
“Die,” the man croaked.
Before the blade swung down, a sword’s tip exploded through the man’s chest, raining blood down on Xedho. The man’s body slumped to the ground, revealing Artemus standing triumphantly behind.
“Are you okay?” Artemus asked.
“Yeah, I think I got some of his blood in my mouth,” Xedho responded as he spat.
Artemus helped him up and pulled him into an embrace. “You ran off and had me worried,” Xedho said, his tone light but his eyes betraying a deeper concern. “I thought I was going to have to rescue you again.”
“This time, I rescued you.”
“Don’t celebrate so soon,” Mordecai interrupted. “It’s far from over.”
Their enemy was returning to his feet—despite the blow being fatal, it was still alive. Somehow, there was an undead in their forest.
Xedho slumped a bit against Artemus, taking a few breaths. “Who’s the old guy with the book?”
Artemus glanced over at Mordecai. “That’s Mordecai. He’s some kind of magician.”
“Wait, the Genesis Adventurer?” Xedho turned in amazement. “My word! Master Mordecai, it is an honour to meet you. My wife and I live by the teachings in your letters.”
“You are too kind.”
“Genesis . . . Adventurer?”
“Divine’s Sake, Arty. Read a book. This man is one of the most famous people in all the realms. What is he doing with you—”
“Watch out!”
Xedho narrowly dodged the sharp edge of the katana.
“Xedho!” Artemus called. “Let’s over-under.”
Xedho nodded and swept the back of the man’s legs with his quarterstaff. Simultaneously, Artemus dug his short sword into the centre of his rib cage. Their undead enemy crashed with a thump.
Xedho kicked away the katana and held him down with a foot on his chest. “Chop off his head!”
Artemus brought his blade up with a ferocious yell.
“Stop!” Felicity’s scream froze time.
Artemus couldn’t move a muscle. The burning forest’s crackling ceased to sound. He could not turn his face but saw a crying Felicity standing beside him through the corners of his eyes.
“Please don’t kill my father. He’s all I have left.” Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
The flow of time returned to normal, but Artemus remained frozen in thought. This thing is her father?
The enemy grabbed Xedho’s leg and swung him towards Artemus. The two fell to the ground while the man jumped to retrieve his katana.
“Heavenly Gale!” Powerful wind lashed out of Mordecai’s grimoire, propelling the katana further forward. Mordecai coughed violently; it sounded wet. “This cursed body of mine can’t wield magic like it used to,” he said.
Clearly sensing weakness, the man rushed Mordecai, pulled his limp body from his cart, and dumped him on the ground. His fists repeatedly crashed into his face.
Artemus and Xedho tackled the man and tried to pin him down, but he wrestled them off.
He kicked Artemus in the stomach, knocking him back several feet. Then he grabbed the back of Xedho’s head and slammed his face into the ground several times, rendering him unconscious.
Artemus tried to get back to his feet but struggled to fill his lungs with air beneath his broken ribs. He fell to the ground and could only watch as the monstrous enemy walked toward him with murderous intent.
“Artemus,” Mordecai called out. “Take good care of Felicity and see that she makes it home safely. She needs you.”
His grimoire floated into the air as golden light enveloped his body. The brightness was unbearable, and Artemus averted his eyes. The char-faced man changed course and walked towards Mordecai.
“So, this is where my adventure comes to an end.” The light around Mordecai pulsed brighter and brighter as he walked forward. He glanced over at Felicity who was groggily recovering to her knees.
“There’s no need to worry, child. Your father and I are going to get some much-needed rest,” Mordecai said, gently. He gave Felicity a hopeful smile. “I leave the future of the realms in your hands, young adventurers. May the light illuminate your souls.”
The light around Mordecai pulsed even faster and brighter. His grimoire flipped to its final page.
“Divine Twilight,” Mordecai uttered in a serene tone.
An blast of light exploded from the book, turning the dead of night into midday in an instant.
When the light stopped and Artemus finally opened his eyes, Mordecai and the enemy were gone. All that remained was the glowing grimoire.
Xedho regained consciousness and sat up slowly, “What happened?”
“They’re . . . gone,” Felicity said, sobbing softly.
A struggling Artemus stumbled towards the grimoire. As he approached, a luminous rune appeared on the front cover—a symbol resembling the rising sun. He frantically flipped through the book, but it was blank. Every page was a clean sheet of parchment, except the first.
Inscribed to the top of the page was only one sentence:
Where one story ends, another begins.