A hanafiend: a hideous attempt at a hybrid between a man and a desert spider. From afar, it looked very much like a spider, with its eight legs sprouting from the sides of its nude body. Up close, though, one could see the ways it was molded to be more like a man—at the end of each limb was a hand, at least twice as large as the average man's hand, its palms padded with thick skin to withstand the scorching hot ground; its main body was not round and bulbous, but long and slender, with clearly defined thighs that would branch into pairs of hind legs; and its head did not have pincers, but a more humanoid mouth and only a single pair of eyes, though it did have slits in place of ears and noses. It had almost no fur to cover its skin, which was as beige as the sand that sifted between its stubby fingers.

The hanafiend crawled across the desert. It was not nearing the post or the village, but instead crawled past it. Edin held his breath. Perhaps, if it would continue along its path, then he and Rowan would not need to slay it.

The hanafiend tilted its bald head towards Stoll. A right arm lifted off the ground, outstretched towards the village, and then stomped on the sand.

The course was changed.

"You think we can ask her to kill it?" Rowan asked.

"I don't know, maybe," Edin said. "You ask her."

"No, you ask her! She's your mentor."

"Was my mentor. You ask. You suggested it."

"Edin, I'm shy."

"Shy? You talked to her during the inspection!"

"That's different! I-I wasn't asking her to do something, you know."

"I'll go with you." Edin stood up from his seat. "You talk."

The two of them trod side by side towards the stairwell. Edin gestured, and Rowan climbed the steps ahead of him. Quick and light thumps chased a series of loud and heavy thuds.

When they got to the second floor, Arden was still watching from the window, her back facing the stairwell. The recruits exchanged glances. There was a gesture with the head, followed by a nudge.

"Uh, Senior Arden?"

"What is it, Rowan?" she addressed him, her back still facing them.

"There's a hanafiend approaching this post."

"I can see that from here."

Edin and Rowan shot glances at each other. Was Senior Arden Mægenstern reluctant to head into the battlefield? Surely Idelhen's most powerful guardian could take on such a creature?

"Why are you two still here? You're both guardians, are you not?"

Rowan gulped. "Yes, we are."

"That's all I need to hear."

The two boys exchanged another set of looks before both of them climbed down the stairs. They were trembling from head to toe, albeit not so visibly.

"We have to fight it," Rowan said.

"And we better get started now, before it gets too near the village," Edin added.

Rowan gave a nod, his head bobbing up and down like a loose spring.

Edin opened the door. "After you."

"After you." Rowan gestured. "You're older than me."

Edin sighed and exited the post ahead. He closed the door behind them. At once, they trod towards the creature, their throats as dry as the parched ground beneath them.

"Edin, I'm scared."

"You think you're the only one?"

"Look, I don't want to die!"

"She won't let us die," Edin assured him. "Even if things get out of hand, she'll intervene if she has to."

"So what's our plan?"

Edin paused. "I'll try to kill it with lightning. You distract it."

"But—"

"Rowan, I don't want to lose control—"

"You said you stopped yourself last—"

"But this is different—"

"I can stop you—"

"And if you can't?"

"Then Senior Arden will!"

Edin exhaled in exasperation. Of all the times he would have to fight a potentially bloody battle, it had to be when his former mentor was around to watch him. He could picture it: first, the slightest droplet of scarlet, followed by a man-turned-monster.

He gulped. It would not matter if he used his bloodlust to triumph—it would make him no different than the beasts they were meant to slay. No, a correction: he would be more fearsome than them.

He knew there was a way to avoid bloodshed. The real test was executing it.

Meanwhile, Arden watched over them from behind a glass pane. Under normal circumstances, she would have gone outside and dealt with the creature herself. To let a pair of recruits, who had not encountered anything as deadly as a hanafiend, fight it themselves! And she, a senior, merely watch from within safe walls! A part of her ought to head out the door and take their place.

But she could not, not now, for she and the other seniors had a plan.

It was known that towards the end of every recruitment phase, the seniors would use their magic to direct the more powerful beasts to the recruits' posts to test their true abilities. They would usually send medium-sized monsters like glæsselings and ætterlings, but her fellow seniors chose to send a more dangerous creature instead. Since Edin had already slain a glæsseling, they thought it would be useless to direct a similarly powerful beast toward Stoll. Arden had argued against it—"No recruit should face a hanafiend this early!"—but alas, the majority thought otherwise. There was something about Edin that made them want to push his limits a little more than the others.

And that something was his rumored bloodlust, something that Arden could not bring herself to believe. If anybody knew whether he was violent or not, she would know of all people. She was his mentor for more than two years. If he had any signs of savagery, she would see them right away. But she did not. Then again, she had never seen him slay a living beast before her eye.

Now, Arden was observing him and his partner, her hands fidgeting behind her back. She hoped that whatever she was about to witness would silence the speculation surrounding her former student and his alleged bloodthirstiness, and that the two recruits would emerge from the coming battle unscathed—or at least alive. She breathed a deep breath. There was no need to worry; if things went south, she could step in to save them.

Besides, she did not have to fear for their lives that much, for there were two of them. Two heads were always better than one.

Edin and Rowan positioned themselves so that they were far apart—if one of them fell, they would likely not hit the other. Edin drew no sword. Rowan created six.

The hanafiend reared its unsightly head towards them. It stopped creeping, rotating in its spot to face them. A wiggle of the legs. A cracking of the joints.

Then it jumped at them.

"LOOK OUT!"

The two leaped sideward before the creature could catch them. It was between them now—Rowan on the right and Edin on the left.

Edin fired.

Crack!

The hanafiend dodged the bolt and darted towards him.

Edin propelled himself backward with his fire. He leaned on his flames as he fired more lightning at it. Crack! Crack! Crack! Lightning threaded through air, in between legs, hitting none of them.

Lightning was quick. So was the beast.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Edin's heart raced as fast as bolts that shot from his fingertips. The beast evaded each stream of quicksilver he sent its way. It scampered closer and closer and closer—

"Rowan!"

"I'm trying!" He chased it from behind, throwing blades. "It's avoiding—my knives—my knives keep missing it!"

The creature swayed sideways as it dodged their attacks. Edin strained his legs—the fire blazing from his feet bulged, and he flew faster across the sand. His heartbeat slowed a bit. It could not keep up now.

The creature kept scuttling towards him. It bent its knees.

Then it sprang.

A soundless scream escaped Edin's gaping mouth.

The beast soared through the air. Eight legs reached out for him, closing in, about to land on him—

"I GOT IT!"

A metal rope flung from behind and curled around the hind legs.

Tug.

An iron rope dragged away the beast before it could land on its target. The hanafiend screeched to a stop, gripping the grainy ground. Its hind legs buckled as Rowan's metal lasso bound it.

Rowan whirled his wrists—the rope snaked around its body, strangling it. The hanafiend wriggled under his grip.

Edin halted, seeing the beast had been bound.

Edin glanced at Rowan. Only the beast's two front arms were free to move now, but all they could do was flail helplessly. The rest of it was writhing under Rowan's metal rope.

Edin jogged to Rowan's side. "Thanks."

"No problem." Rowan clenched his fists, tightening the metal rope around the creature. He looked at his partner. "D'you think I can strangle it to death?"

"Uh, maybe. It'll be faster if I kill it with lightning—"

"I know, but I was thinking that maybe we can kill it at the same time."

Edin raised an eyebrow. "Kill it at the same time?"

"Well, you know what they say: you get paid for every beast you kill. I don't know how it works if only one of us actually kills it, but if we do it at the same time..."

The beast outstretched an arm. It grew longer—

"LOOK OUT!"

Too late.

A leathery fist shot toward them and punched Rowan in the chest, sending him flying backward.

"ROWAN!"

Rowan slammed the ground, scraping his arm against coarse sand. There was a scratch.

And it was red.

Arden gasped—what had she done! She ran away from the window and dashed downstairs. She summoned a pair of dual swords, swung the door open with a glance, and hoped they could still be saved.

She darted out the door. She gasped again; they did not need her help.

And the reason froze the blood in her veins.

A chilling scene unfurled a distance from her. One recruit was on the ground, tending to his wound; the other recruit had transformed. He was no longer a man, but a blur of blade and blaze. A storm of sword and spark.

The beast howled in pain as scarlet spurted from a newly opened wound.

Edin cackled. He cried out, "How does it feel to have your own blood drawn?"

His voice petrified her when it entered her ears. The rumors were true.

The hanafiend swiped its limbs at Edin to no avail. He cut them off, hands and forearms and elbows dropping to the ground like felled timber. Gore gushed and flesh fell from where his sword struck the body. Its pained wails masked the sounds of fresh meat meeting the ground, of blood spattering the sand, of fire searing skin. It was screaming for mercy, screeching in surrender.

And then silence, followed by a soft whump as a head rolled to the ground.

Time stopped for a moment. She could barely believe it, but there he was, standing amidst a field of body parts he had chopped up. There was blood everywhere—blood coloring his clothes, blood sticking to his skin, blood dripping from his blade, blood soaking the soil. She looked into his eyes. His oceans of deep blue had always held a bright spark, but the glimmer of vermillion they held at that moment was not the same one she had known. It was something else.

The look of lust.

Edin raised his sword once more, his razor-sharp eyes narrowing at the beast's chest. He swung it downward. More blood poured out, thickening the pool of gore surrounding him. His lips curled into a smirk.

He stabbed some more, and some more, and some more.

"Edin! Edin!" Rowan cried out.

He did not relent.

"EDIN! IT'S DEAD! IT'S ALREADY DEAD!"

Only then did he freeze. The vermillion glint in his eyes was no more, and their innocent look returned.

But that did not stop the lasso of light coming his way.

A rope of light gripped Edin around his torso and tugged him off balance. His sword fell from his hand as he collapsed to his knees. He looked to his left. At the other end of the rope was Arden, gripping the light with the same amount of firmness as the leash that bound him. He looked at her mouth. It was parted, like his.

She spoke ahead: "Can I release you now?"

"Yes."

He felt the pressure lift off of his body as her lasso vanished into thin air. He stood up. The first thing he did was to run towards Rowan, who was now on his feet.

Edin asked him, "Are you alright?"

"I am, it's fine." Rowan glanced downward at his body. "I can heal myself quickly."

The two exchanged not another word but instead turned their attention to the other guardian standing near them. Daggers appeared to emerge from behind her curtain of hair.

"Anyway," Arden began, "I think we all know what's just transpired. Rowan, please clean up this mess. And as for you"—she shot her piercing stare at Edin—"clean yourself up. We have a lot to discuss when we get home."

"Yes, Senior Arden."

Rowan retrieved a packet of powder from his pocket and tore it open. As he sprinkled it over the hanafiend's remains, Edin followed Arden to the post. He looked straight ahead, for he could not bear to look at himself.

***

Arden's castle was camouflaged with the dark sky above it. Night had risen from the horizon, and it hovered over her home like a heavy shroud. Even heavier was the air within the castle walls. The air was cold and still, weightless as a feather, yet it appeared to suffocate those who breathed it, for the two inhabitants of the castle could not bring themselves to speak.

To say that the atmosphere was awkward would be an understatement. Ever since Edin and Arden returned home after the "incident" with the hanafiend, they had not dared to speak to each other. In Edin's case, he did not dare to even look at her. He could never tell if she dared to look at him—even if she were daring, her eyes were hidden anyway. The only cues he had were her lips. They were unreadable. They were not pursed, nor were they downturned, nor were they curved upward or stretched or parted. They were simply resting, yet he was not sure if they were truly resting, or if they were holding back a flood of questions that he would soon be subject to. It was only a matter of time.

He thought that she would interrogate him during dinner time. He watched with anticipation as their salad drifted from plate to mouth, his ears trained on the sounds escaping her lips. The loudest sound was not an utterance, but the crunching of croutons. Then after potato soup was poured into their bowls, he observed her spoon. She scooped some soup and sipped them, waiting for words to spill through her lips. Instead, what spilled onto the table was not a series of queries, but cold water when he knocked over his glass by accident. The first words of that evening: "I'm sorry!"

She did not reply. With a sideways tilt of her head, a bottle flew through the doorway and refilled his now-standing glass.

He waited for her to speak. She did not speak. She spoke not while they were cutting through roast chicken, not while they were biting into fruit tarts, not while they were washing down their dinner with water and wine. Her silence was worrying him. Arden had told him that they had a lot to discuss at home. They were home, and yet, not a single word!

At last, just before he could leave the dining table, Arden spoke: "Meet me in the basement."

The chair slid from underneath her as she stood up. Arden strode away from the dining table and disappeared behind the door.