🔥🔥🔥

  Everyone stopped.

  Asagai's beating heart squirmed as he immediately ducked, but his quivering body had other plans, and it clouded his supposed keen senses. A younger guard looked his way, urgency in his face.

  The beloved Prince of Amoria staggered, his angelic face contorted with pain as his hand touched the warm, sticky liquid on his forehead.

  Blood.

  Cosimo stared at the scarlet shade coating his fingers blankly. Perhaps the realization that someone had the guts to hit him square on the head with a rock still hadn't dawned onto him. The guards rushed to his aid, waving their spears angrily and accusing other townsfolk who had been walking around. The stone Asagai had thrown landed on the cobblestone with a loud crack, its smooth surface mixed with the Prince's noble blood.

  Asagai's little heart fluttered restlessly inside his chest, seemingly begging to leave and find a new, less reckless owner. The boy clenched his chest tightly, and for a moment, his erratic heartbeats invaded his ears until he could hear no more. Sweat rained on his brows and trickled down his chin, but that stupid young soldier's eyes were still on the dung-stricken cart. The boy imagined the guard seeing right through his hiding place. Perhaps someone had noticed the legs behind the wheels, then what?

  Asagai was about to crawl away and hide in another bigger, less suspicious-looking spot when the cart rolled back, and without the stone on the wheel to act as the stopper, it continued rolling on until it slammed loudly against a dozen empty barrels on the sidewalk.

  The cold wind hit the lad in the face, and his blood ran cold - as if winter had come and froze his entire defenseless form. His heart had stopped beating, and the boy wondered if it had finally surrendered the fight. He just crouched there, looking awkward, while the angry guards held their spears and stared at him with such vicious, deathly glares. Perhaps it wouldn't be a surprise at all if he writhed on the spot.

  The prince craned his head to the side and stared at the thief with his bright blue irises. He still looked beautiful even with blood pouring down his face. Now it was pretty obvious who threw the stone.

  In a split second, the guards were all on him, their beefy, boorish arms and brandished weapons threatening to end his puny life one way or another. They squeezed his thin arms, and the boy nearly cried at the sensation of his bones almost snapping.

  "Wait, there's got to be some sort of misunderstanding here — ow, watch where you poke that sharp thing!" Emberchase placed an arm between the guards and the boy, separating them from each other. A sword tore through the fabric of Emberchase's fire-dancing tunic, and its cold tip touched his belly.

  Numerous spears were also pointed to his breast, and with a chest filled with regret, Asagai shrunk behind the scarred man, his lithe form shivering. His stomach coiled and squirmed, and the boy's eyes suddenly felt hot. What had happened to his simple plan in diverting the guard's attention and then sneaking the man off?

  Curses. He did not think about the consequences.

  "This rascal is suspected of acts of rebellion," the head guard began, his breastplate layered with a metal crest of two spears crossing each other, the metal glinting against the sun. He scrutinized Asagai so thoroughly the boy felt all his embarrassing secrets being exposed.

  "Search him for weapons."

  Emberchase's eyes widened with realization, but he could do nothing as two more armed men pried him away from the boy. Asagai's mind went into a complete haywire, his body naked and defenseless against the men-at-arms' groping hands.

  "This is all wrong," muttered Emberchase as he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "The boy — he's just some random, harmless peasant... probably."

  Asagai frowned. The man was lying again. Well, of course he'd feign innocence when faced against greater adversary. He was nothing but a selfish, fork-tongued coward, after all.

  A thin and perhaps still inexperienced soldier came up to him and began running his hand all the way across the thief's body. All the while Asagai's heart trembled with fear as the guard continued his search, Prince Cosimo strutted towards them, hand still clutching his bloodied forehead. As he approached Emberchase, a trio of women in white dresses tailed him like dogs and kept on begging for him to quit moving for a second and receive his treatment.

  "Is this... runt with you?" he asked, taking the boy's appearance as if he were nothing more than some dirt on his royal fingernail. Asagai crinkled his nose and frowned, forcing the violent heat away from his fists. If given the right moment, he could've just punched the man and destroyed his false facade for a face further.

  But the worst part of it all was the fact that he already knew Emberchase's answer. It made his heart wrench with the stabbing, searing pain all over again.

  "No. I don't know that filthy child at all," the fire-dancer replied, his expression still as bland and neutral as always. No one truly knew what might be going on in that head of his. He was good, but the boy's heart was cold and hot, and it was writhing, dying ever so slowly.

  "I just couldn't bear seeing your brute guards onto him like wild bears," he added, that strange smile distorting the twin scars on his face. Asagai wanted to hurl. Curses on him! Liar, liar, liar. The man's nothing but a snake-tongued liar!

  Someone from behind the boy pulled the roundel that he had stuffed so carefully on the side of his pants. Asagai stiffened, and his thrice-accursed brain died.

  "This child is carrying a dagger with him!" exclaimed the soldier, and the rest of the men-at-arms began crowding around them. Something heavy and metallic clamped itself on the thief's wrists, and the fire-dancer struggled even further.

  The metal shackles clanged loudly as the boy attempted to move, and it glinted mockingly against the setting sun, seemingly taunting the thief about his rash decisions and hot temper. The tight cuffs pricked his skin and chocked his veins.

  "Treachery. Attempts of rebellion. We should see if this boy has some family members or acquaintances, your Highness. If not, it's most likely that he's from another kingdom," suggested the head guard with a bow, and the fair prince nodded. The women in white were still ogling around him and pressing soft linen cloths on his head.

  Yeah. Just for a piece of rock.

  Asagai's eyes widened as the men-at-arms grabbed Emberchase and placed him in shackles as well. The scarred dancer simply snorted before shrugging, the strange smile still on his face, all-knowing and slightly mocking. "Are you people going to hang me like a criminal or something? Because I don't think I'd like the idea very much. Suppose I should run away now?"

  A burly guard squeezed him by the shoulder so tightly the man winced, but the smile was still there. Sometimes Asagai wished he could guard his face just as well as the dancer did. From the corner of the thief's eye, the thin man-at-arms picked up the dirt-filled rucksack and held it securely in his arms.

  "Take them both to the castle," commanded the prince, swatting an old woman's arm that had stayed on his creamy white skin for too long. "The fire-dancer on my throne room, the boy on the dungeon."

  Asagai's knees wobbled, and he was thankful for the fact that a guard had held onto his arms. Otherwise, he would've dropped to a dead faint already. His breast felt cold, his head hot, and his stomach hard as if he ate rocks.

  'What now, hotshot?' jeered a voice in his head. 'How will you keep the fire-dancer from harm? How will you escape? How will you find a way to return to Xaddercrux?'

  How indeed?

  The young lad glaced at Emberchase surreptitiously as the men-at-arms began hauling them both away. The fire-dancer winked at him before turning the other way, his springtime eyes on his bag.

  Asagai frowned. What did it mean? What in the name of all cursed things did that mean?

  "Get moving!" hollered the head guard as he thrust the hilt of his bronze spear on the scarred man's back. Emberchase held his head high as the other players and peasants secretly watched them behind their windows and doors, carts and worn out pillars.

  Asagai counted the guards around them. There were ten, not including the lanky one. The boy gritted his teeth when someone shoved and ushered him to move faster with a spear. He didn't think there would be any hope in escaping, especially now that he's made an enemy out of the Prince of Amoria.

  He hoped, in his young mind, that everything around him — including the men-at-arms — were nothing more than fragments of a bad dream, bound to fade away into pale light specks by morning. He would wake up, and his old hag would be all better and yelling at him to eat breakfast. Then she would tend to his wounds even though she was cross - as usual.

  Leticia was a nasty old woman, her already grey hair laced with strands of silvery-white, making it seem like she ran a silver comb over it. Her creaky voice still reminded him of an old magpie, but there was nothing more than that voice of hers to remind him that there was still someone who cared for his safety. Nothing else could compare to such a feeling, and the young child knew that by heart.

  Being out and alone for the first time terrified him, but what petrified him even more was the fact that maybe he wouldn't be able to feel such warmth ever again. It made his heart wrench and constrict tightly, the dark, cold snake hissing as it relished in his suffering. Asagai sniffed back the tears, but it seemed like Emberchase still saw the despair in his eyes. The man raked his entire form rather brusquely before he finally decided to turn away.

  Was he finally feeling guilty? No, of course not. The man couldn't feel, and the boy was sure of that.

  They passed through a deeper crevasse in the kingdom where dilapidated huts and poorly made shops lay distraught. The cobblestone streets were barely visible against all the mingled animal dung and filth, and the thief crinkled his nose when they walked past a certain stall with strange alkemi tools that emanated a stench of much liking to rotten eggs. It had looked so, so mesmerizing before. What had changed now?

  The townsfolk, mostly women and children, immediately dispersed and ceased their chattering when the men-at-arms marched with a grime-covered boy and a famous fire-dancer. By the looks of their forlorn, evasive eyes, Asagai guessed that they must've been used to such sights already. Perhaps the blond, angelic prince frequently took random people away and toyed with them in his fancy lair.

  "Asagai," whispered Emberchase, though it was so barely audible the boy mistook it for a voice inside his head. The sound became instantly drowned out by the stomping boots and metallic clangs, so no guard overheard the single word that came out of the fire-dancer's lips.

  Asagai stared into the scarred man's stiff posture before frowning. Why did he whisper his name? Why?

  'Answer me, Emberchase!' screamed the desperate voice in the young one's mind. His heart thumped so loud he feared the dancer's voice might not reach, but he was afraid to look into the man's scarred face for too long to try and pry out the answers; there were too many men-at-arms gauging him like a rare piece of meat. Also, weren't they supposed to be strangers?

  Asagai peeked at the man clandestinely, his chapped lips hurting as if fresh embers had landed and scorched them. Emberchase's mouth opened and closed in a certain manner once in a while, whispering, seemingly chanting something incoherent. The thief craned his head in an attempt to listen further, but the guard behind him thwacked the back of his head with the pole of his spear.

  The lad rubbed the aching part of his head tentatively, feeling a small bump swelling and throbbing. He bit his bottom lip and began walking faster, struggling to evade the spears and the armours of the men-at-arms. A little girl clung to the skirts of her mother from the yard across them, and the woman, her pale face contorted with exhaustion and fear, hurriedly led the child inside. She cast Asagai a wry, motherly smile before she, too, had gone inside.

  The thief wished his mother was more like that numerous times before. The old witch was strict and often refused to give him food when he scavenged out to steal, and she gave him more bruises with all her scolding and spanking than those inflicted by the other thieves. But she cared, and even though the boy had always felt that she never appreciated whatever he did, the old hag cared all the same.

  A yellowish, slightly orange hue caught his eye, and when the boy turned to his left, a tiny spark hissed at him as it fed and gulped down the fabric of his ripped tunics, clambering up his shoulder. Asagai's eyes widened, and the small blaze suddenly appeared ten times larger than it was in his young mind. He was going to burn! He was already burning for goodness sake -

  "Aaaaaaahh!" The young thief scrambled backwards with a loud screech, and the men-at-arms around them dispersed, the faces under their bronze helmets fixated into an expression of panic.

  Asagai, in a state of blind urgency, hurriedly swished and waved his left arm with growing speed, all the while backing off wildly and screaming for his life. The flames lapped up the measly tunics, their blaze growing brighter, soaring higher, roaring, and the young boy's heart fell dead, dropping down to his stomach like a heavy, chilly boulder.

  By the corner of his eye, Emberchase's shoulders shook as if he had struggled to contain laughter.

  Heat began clambering up Asagai's flesh, the pain puncturing his skin. He shrieked even louder as the fire stood and cackled, driving the guards attempting to put out the flames and attracting the other folk's attention.

  But then everything — the pain and the heat — vanished, and an arm wrapped itself around the child's lithe chest, sweeping him off his feet. The men-at-arms were left behind, blinking rapidly as bright red embers fluttered around them. The thin one, who was still holding onto the fire-dancer's rucksack, stared at them in befuddlement, unsure of what to do.

  Asagai looked up and witnessed the pale, almost cream hair — the most unusual of colours for him — and caught a whiff of the ever so familiar scent of ashes. The scarred man shot him the strange smile he always had before placing his shaky, uncertain legs on the grime-filled cobblestone.

  "Emberchase!" exclaimed the lad, his nearly dead heart reviving itself in slow, steady beats. He held onto the dancer's arm uncomfortably, his eyes flicking back to the direction they came from. Prince Cosimo's soldiers still hadn't caught up, but it didn't mean their safety was guaranteed.

  "Let's go," spat the fire-dancer as he gripped the boy's wrist and hauled him forward. The child's steps were loud and reckless, and as they sped past the maze-like alleyways of mud bricks and straw, his thoughts lingered to Fier. Where was she?

  The darkness lurking amongst the corners of each nook and cranny threatened to gnaw and tear them apart, and even though the sky was still sloshed in purple and scarlet hues, Asagai felt that they were back into the blackest depths of Woodsworth. Only this time, no beasts loomed and lay in wait for them.

  "Where are we going?" screamed the boy hysterically, his vision darting back and forth like an uncontrolled wasp.

  "Nowhere! I'm trying to save your reckless ass, so shut up!" Emberchase still dragged him on and on... until the thief stifled a pained cry when a piece of rough glass penetrated his right foot, lacerating it and coating his entire aching figure in more stabbing, spicy pain.

  The scarred dancer halted, his eyes scanning the child's bleeding foot. Blood had already pooled around it rather quickly, and as the young lad hissed and spoke numerous curses, his ears picked up the distant sounds of stomping. The soldiers were getting closer.

  "No time to waste. You need to hide," Emberchase murmured as he picked the little one up by the waist and began running again. Down the cobbled slopes, left and right, through forks and intersections so small and narrow Asagai thought twice about the man's actual size.

  All he knew was that he was getting dizzy from watching the ground all the time, and that his vision was already spinning in blurry circles. Something sour rose from the boy's stomach, and he covered his mouth to prevent himself from hurling.

  Emberchase's shackles clinked rather painfully — the thief spotted a wince briefly entering the man's face — before suddenly tossing him inside a narrow cart surrounded by dirty clothing. It probably came from all the peasants cramped in the dilapidated huts. The boy fit inside, and the laundries swallowed his limbs up and blanketed his presence.

  "Wait, what about you?" Asagai questioned, his nose crinkling at the overpowering scent of salty sweat.

  The fire-dancer smiled his strange smile before shaking his cuffed hands. "I don't owe you anything anymore. Now just stay down. I'm more of a priority than you, after all."

  Asagai opened his mouth to protest, but the shouts of the guards immediately caused him to duck. How could they find them so quickly? Perhaps the folks sang and told the men something?

  "Wait, you're still coming with me to Xaddercrux, right? You're not going to get yourself captured, right? You're not going to just leave me alone again, right?" So many questions invaded his head and ran rampant in his dry mouth. He remembered all the heartache when the fire-dancer and his selfish, lying mouth turned its back on him.

  That's exactly what Emberchase had done. He turned to the direction of all the yelling before backing away without a word. He stroked his twin scars and began sprinting off once more.

  Asagai wanted to clamber upwards and run after the dancer, but the boorish silhouettes of the men-at-arms appeared, and his stomach recoiled with dread and dropped. He had shrunk to the deepest corner of the sweat-filled dirty laundry, had allowed the musty stench to drench and cover the entirety of him, and had prayed so fervently that the guards wouldn't find him.

  They didn't.

  The young thief sighed, but his relief didn't last long. He was an idiot. Nothing had changed, only the fact that they were all looking for him as well.

  The shackles on his wrists clanged against each other, reminding the boy of his stupid mistake.