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  "You know something about Dead Spot."

  Asagai threw the stolen roundel into the air, aiming for one of the juicy red apples amongst her many sisters littered messily on their tree. The dagger missed, and the boy groaned in disappointment; he had already been practicing his aim ever since they escaped the black-jackets, and that was two days ago.

  Emberchase hadn't answered any of his queries, just continued walking and warily taking a peek into some random bush and tree every now and then. He was still the selfish, snake-tongued liar he was once before, even though he had grown considerably quieter through the last few days they spent — very unfortunately indeed — together.

  The boy still vividly remembered the flames lapping up at the dilapidated houses, devouring them with wild abandon as if the structures were nothing but soft taffy. The young thief looked up into the sky, alabaster-white clouds reminding him of those pale, thin children they had left behind in the crypt. What had happened to them?

  Asagai couldn't shake their sickly faces off his mind even after he had fallen into deep slumber, and just the faintest rustle of leaves brushing against each other left him gasping. Their cries, all the sobbing and the wailing... all those horrible memories made his stomach churn, as if Fier was inside his belly and was gnawing on his guts. The bitter pang of guilt had hit him hard, and it left the boy wondering if what he had done was as selfish as Emberchase's insensitive actions.

  He had turned back numerous times, had grabbed the fire-dancer's arm and had forced him to go back into the crypt — that dark and smelly and low crypt, but he wouldn't budge. The little one still felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, and they were hot, just as hot as the flames towering over the dead village.

  "Why? Why won't you help them?" he had cried helplessly, hands on his quivering knees. They threatened to fail him any time soon, and the boy simply braced himself for it.

  "Even if I want to, I can't," Emberchase had replied, his supposed spring irises black against the pale moon's low glow. The scarred man had simply walked further and further, his steps as light as if Reisyce and his gang of half-masked individuals still tailed them. 

  "We wouldn't be able to do anything to help those little ones. We ourselves barely managed to escape alive," he had continued, picking up the bag that he had previously hidden under a mahogany's curved root.

  "We could've done something at least!" Asagai had protested, even though the entire argument had rendered his voice quite hoarse.

  "And risk their fragile lives even further? Do you think they can all escape in one piece of they had followed us?" quipped the fire-dancer, his fists clenched tightly as he held onto his precious rucksack, now deflated and half-empty, for Asagai had left his juggling torches back at the musty crypt.

  "You should've... you should've used your fire."

  Emberchase had spun round so suddenly that the boy flinched and instinctively took a step back. He had guessed what would happen next: the fire-dancer would beat him black and blue and wring his neck, or would shake him violently till more tears flooded out his eyes.

  Well, that was usually what the older thieves did when he said something out of line. But the man just stood there as if struck by lightning.

  "Fire obeys you. Why didn't you use it earlier to destroy all those rooks?" the lad had continued defiantly, his hands balled into tight fists. He was about to punch the fire-dancer if he had attempted to dodge the topic again.

  "No it doesn't!" Emberchase's voice was rising too, but his face had remained deadpan — with no brow furrowed, no corners rising into a sneer, and no tightening of the jaw. Fier barked in the distance, as if she had been trying to tell them to leave each other for now.

  "No... it doesn't obey me at all," repeated the weaver of flames, his broad shoulders slightly sagging as if a certain force had sapped his strength.

  Asagai noticed the tiny details — he found this quite convenient when Emberchase showed no expressions — and briefly glanced at those smooth, scorch-ridden hands. They were shaking.

  Perhaps he had prodded a hidden wound, but Asagai couldn't care less.

  "We probably would've stood a chance if you... if you burned them all! The way you always did when you danced for the fire!"

  "It doesn't work that way, trust me," was the only audible enough sound that came out of Emberchase before it had been shortly followed by his incoherent gabbling. Asagai strained to hear, but perhaps the fire-dancer had forgotten he was even there. He just whispered words to himself as if he had gone mad.

  The two had already reached a steep slope, and the boy's eyes lingered hesitantly at the bushes and trees growing denser and blacker than the field in which they had providentially escaped from. He looked back, and the burning village greeted him from below, etching itself into his breast.

  Asagai always loved watching Emberchase play with fire, and he had often envied the way the flames tenderly licked his skin instead of biting him. Fire was usually so docile and beautiful, but now the only thing he saw was the crimson beast consumed by greed. Perhaps fire was just as traitorous as the man who could talk to it.

  "Even if it was the right thing to do, we're not heroes. Miracles won't come to our aid if we do some sort of noble deed. We'll just end up spilling our guts on the ground and dyeing the floor red." Finally, something quite understandable came across Emberchase's lips.

  Asagai wiped the tears away regrettably. He fixated his gaze on the fire-dancer, who was leaning on a narra's trunk with his arms crossed, and with a heavy heart, accepted the fact that he was spared. Ever since then, those floating images of the frightened young ones haunted his dreams, and the thief often awoke with a start, fully drenched in sweat as if those he had left behind had tried to drown him.

  Emberchase had chuckled when the boy told him about the ghosts of those children and the nightmares they brought with.

  "That's impossible," he had answered, "for those children aren't even dead yet."

  "How do you know that?" Asagai had scowled as he fished up the roundel and swung it back and forth into the air. Where was Reisyce now? What were their plans for those young ones? That was when the boy ended up asking about Dead Spot so fervently.

  "The Dead Spot don't kill children. They take them in and hoard them into their camp," replied Emberchase as-a-matter-of-factly, brushing a few strands of his fair hair away from his face. 

  "Usually, they take in those homeless ones on the street. But when there's a seemingly dying village standing alone, they attack and steal everything, then burn them down. No need for further explanations, no? You've seen them do it the other night."

  "What... what do they do with those children?"

  "They take them to their guild, Dead Spot. And their leader, known by many as Hyl, will train those said children to become one of those rooks," the fire-dancer explained.

  Not too far away, Fier hopped along a few ruined pedestals as if she had been doing so her entire life. Emberchase looked at her with longing, like she was the only thing keeping him sane. Then his gaze moved to the sky, clear and serene. His face was still empty.

  "And then what?" Asagai prodded him on. "What does the Dead Spot do?"

  "Hyl teaches those children to commit theft, arson, murder, threats, and other things criminals usually do. He doesn't teach them to read and write, for skills that bring knowledge is something he would never want the rooks to understand. Ignorance keeps them controlled, you see," Emberchase held both his hands and wriggled his fingers as if controlling a marionette.

  Asagai nodded. He couldn't read, but what about it? He had never encountered a problem that needed words before.

  "And then there's Reisyce. Hyl's most loyal dog — henchman. As I said before, those children will be practically devoted to the man, and that's what had happened to Foxface," continued Emberchase, running a hand over his twin scars. The clouds overhead moved lazily, as if they were also taking their sweet time digesting all the strange information the weaver of flames claimed to be true. 

  "One snap of his master's finger and he will do anything: strip someone off his own skin, chop a few fingers, cut away one's tongue... he's very creative in the slashing department too." The young lad shuddered as he gazed at the purple roundel on his lap with absolute incredulity. How many pieces of flesh and human meat had the said knife gutted? The mere thoughts of it sent sour bile rising up his stomach.

  Asagai bit into the juicy red fruit in his palm in the hopes of getting rid of his disgust. He had missed the apples completely, but it was always easier to climb the trees and pick off the delicacies himself. He had offered Emberchase one, but the man simply shook his head as if the previous incident took away his appetite.

  "Tell me about this Hyl person," demanded the lad as he took another bite. The sweet, slightly crunchy and tangy taste erupted in his mouth, and the thief couldn't help but hum in a shrill tune. There weren't any apples in Xaddercrux, and all he had eaten before were berries of some kind.

  He had previously thought those 'apples,' were large berries that had taken root on the treetops, but Emberchase had laughed and told him all about those fruit-bearing trees. The lad hadn't known anything about fruits on tops of large wooden plants, for all he knew were pines and sycamores and sturdy trees for cutting and turning into firewood.

  The strange smile was back on Emberchase's face as he leaned against the trunk and closed his eyes. "Trust me, I don't think stories about him will be good for a boy like you. They'll only give you nightmares."

  Fier strutted close to her master and rested her head on his lap as she blinked up at the sun sleepily. Her right ear twitched restlessly, and the boy smiled. The vixen often went drowsy during daytime, and she was less likely to bite by then.

  "That's okay. Just tell me. You owe me that much, after all," said the thief, scooting closer to the vixen's side. Indeed, Emberchase had to at least tell him what the master of Dead Spot was like.

  He hadn't fully forgotten about how the fire-dancer had abandoned him in the claws of Foxface, and every time the lad remembered, a sudden strong urge whispered for him to wring the man's neck while he slept. Oh, and what a powerful urge it was, indeed!

  Emberchase opened one eye to check if the boy was paying attention. "Have you ever seen a little bird with a broken wing?"

  Why was the man asking him back about birds when he had questioned about the leader of Dead Spot?

  Asagai nodded, anyway.

   "I'm sure that children like you would probably want to help it, right?"

  "Why're you telling me about birds?"

  But Emberchase just shrugged and continued, "Hyl... that man would just watch the helpless creature writhing on the ground. He would watch with great amusement, and he would watch it while the little one gets eaten by some big cat he had brought with him."

  "Are you trying to make a childish story to frighten me?" retorted Asagai. "Still belittling me?"

  "No, I'm not."

  "Tell me, then!"

  "He's a nobleman born out of a high-ranking archduke's lineage. Xaddercrux is home to many corrupt leaders, and even the citizens had adopted this lifestyle. He's been raised to become a cunning, merciless thing, seeking excitement in the pain and suffering of others. For no one else knows pain and terror the way he does. And that's what Dead Spot had turned into as well. Manipulative, always striving for power... something like that."

  Asagai's hand caressed Fier's twitching ears. She yawned, but paid no heed to the boy touching her. "And then what?"

  "And then he formed that damned Dead Spot oath and purpose. It's a guild meant to topple down kingdoms and take over them." Emberchase frowned upon the sun. Perhaps he had spent too much time in the darkness.

  Asagai scratched the back of his head. Toppled kingdoms. He had heard something like that before.

  "Like... like Laenoris?"

  Emberchase opened his eyes and stared at the boy, nodding. "Yes. Now we're done, let's drop this stupid topic."

  Abruptly, he got up and grabbed his rucksack and spilled all of its contents to the ground: a black and red hoop, a small, half-empty bottle of what seemed like grease, and a bag of coins. Asagai crouched, his hands itching to grab something. His mind still lingered about the things Dead Spot was capable of doing, and he often wondered about the mysterious kingdom of Laenoris.

  It was said to be a prosperous place by the north, taking up territory by the sea and the hills. People who lived there grew strong and happy, and the players were almost always welcome... but the kingdom had met its end a long time ago, and the tales spoken in Xaddercrux had said none about what had happened.

  "When we reach Amoria, you'll handle yourself, okay?" reminded the fire-dancer as he opened his purse and began counting what little bit of silver and copper coins he had left. A gold coin rolled on the grass, its center intricately carved with leaves and roses. In between them sat the image of a prince's head. Asagai swiftly picked it up and hid it under his palm, but the man pried it from his fingers.

  "I don't have my torches anymore, so maybe I'll just use Fier for the time being."

  "You do know that I didn't regret leaving them back there, right?" A smug smile entered the lad's face as he leaned beside Emberchase.

  "Yes, I know. Quit rubbing it in my face, boy." 

  A soft breeze came in, seemingly lulling them both to sleep. Leticia would've thwacked Asagai in the head if she found out that the boy had wasted such a fine day to nap in, but she wasn't there, and the thief sighed. Memories were coming again. He stared into the weaver of flame's ragged cloak and wondered for a moment what was underneath. Speaking of which, did Emberchase have a family? Did he ever miss them? Why was he always so... quiet?

  "Was Dead Spot responsible for Laenoris's demise, too? What did they do to the kingdom?" enquired the boy further. He glanced at the apple's remains and tossed it away without any care. The remnants of the fruit landed amongst the tall grass, seemingly forgotten by the rest of Vorare.  

  Another strange smile crept into Emberchase's face, distorting the scars adorning his left cheek. "I suppose. Who knows?"

  Yes, who knew indeed.

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  Hello there, dearest readers! We actually made it to chapter ten, thank you so much for the support!

*shoots confetti* 🎉

  This chapter is pretty much a filler of what had happened to the both of them after that incident, but hey! Let me know what you guys think.

  Question: Have you ever encountered a friend like Emberchase? With stupid decisions, lies, and lots of fights with you, but you're still together for some reason?

  Anywho... if you liked this chapter, please don't forget to show your appreciation by pressing that hollow little star below! It would mean so much to me.

  See you next week!
awesomeSTG🍎