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1 __st_ day of Nova_

128 I.E.

Fires burned and crackled around Dane as the flames consumed the forest. Embers danced with the wind, whipping around him like forest sprites. He growled and got up, removing his sword from the corpse of the orc lying next to him. He wiped tears away with the back of his blood-stained hand.

"You savages are still looking for a fight? You took everything away from me, and still you want to take my life?" He stalked towards the orcs that slowly tried to surround him. "You won't even get the chance! I will burn this entire forest until there's nothing left but ashes and remove your disgusting race from this world!"

He didn't care how much mana he channeled or how badly it would hurt his body. He had nothing left to live for. A gout of fire erupted from his hands and added fuel to the flames that engulfed the forest around him. He brought his hands around and directed the spell towards the orcs. He managed to catch a few of them while the rest dodged it. Dane roared as he snapped his fingers several times to call down streaks of lightning from he sky, felling the rest of them.

Dane was wracked with pains as wounds began to erupt along his body and he could feel his stomach turning. His muscles ached and unconsciousness threatened to consume him. He could no longer move his right arm. It wasn't broken or dislocated, it simply would not move anymore, as if his body was shutting down. A continuous stream of blood and bile filled his mouth until he coughed it up. He didn't care if he was over-using his magic. He'd already lost everything that was important to him, would losing his life really matter?

A sniffling sound broke him from his rage and he spun to face it. Laying in a fetal position and shivering near a small bush was an orc child. It was still very young, but it didn't matter to Dane how old an orc was. They all needed to be cleansed from the world for what they had done. He moved towards it, and it looked up to meet his eyes. They were wet and full of tears.

Dane stood poised over the orc and hefted his sword with his good arm. The small red form cowered away from him, whimpering silently. The forest was alight with the blaze that Dane had created, and it made everything seem more surreal.

He's just a child. The thought ran through his head, swirling around his mind, giving him pause and staying his blade.

But he's an orc. The two thoughts warred with each other as they crossed blades, each one trying to come out on top of the other.

Dane's grip on his sword felt wet, and he hesitated. His resolve faltered. The orcish child's whimpering slowly turned to a desperate wailing, causing further turmoil within him. Dane's eyes burned as he glared at the orcling. The filthy beasts had taken everything away from him and from the people he knew and loved. He was angry with himself for hesitating, and at the powers that be that had put him in this position. He swallowed hard, feeling his pulse race. Time felt so slow, and the thoughts kept racing through his mind.

They stole Aiden from me!

But this one is just a child.

They all need to die.

Dane's sword rattled as his arm shook. His hands felt wet as blood from his wounds began to drip down past his wrists. The orcling continued to cry, but didn't make a move to flee. Dane's throat felt hoarse as he swallowed.

He's just a child.

But he's an orc.

Just an orc...

"You're just another filthy orc!" Dane cried out, lifting his sword to strike. The only way to end to all the pain and all the hate was to put an end to the red-skinned beasts, and wipe their stain from Galria. The child screamed, the high pitched whine stinging Dane's ears.

"Get away from him, you mongrel!"

Dane spun and brought his sword to bear just in time to parry an axe from a female orc that came charging at him. She side-stepped around him and tried to get between Dane and the child, swinging at his weakened right side as she moved. She held the hand axe at the ready, pointing it at Dane with one hand while urging the child to get up and move with the other. She swung out at Dane, and he deftly avoided the axe.

"Get out of the way, beast!" Dane rushed her and tried to take a swing at her, but she matched him in speed and deflected the attack with the axe head before launching one of her own.

Dane blocked each of her attacks with ease. With one strong swing, Dane's sword cut through the handle and the axe head came off, hitting the ground with a dull thump. Growling, the orc futilely hurled the shaft at Dane's head, but he merely incinerated it without a word, the mana in the air igniting the chunk of wood and turning it to ash before it even got near him.

"It ends here!" Dane brought his sword up to strike the orc down. She grabbed the child and held him close. Dane hesitated again, recognizing her move as one to protect the child.

Father!

The haunting voice echoed through his head, one that Dane had shouted as his own father huddled over him in a similar manner before he'd been stabbed. He could remember feeling blood on his face after the spear left his father's chest. On reflex, he dropped his sword and his hand shot up to wipe himself clean. He looked down at his palm, but there was no blood there.

The memory chilled him to the bone. Dane watched the two orcs sitting before him. The child was terrified, and the female stared defiantly at him, waiting for him to make his move and glaring with the resolution that said she was prepared to die to protect the child.

"What have I done?"

Lost in his thoughts, Dane barely noticed that the orc had grabbed his sword and made a move to strike him. Lifting his arm, he blocked with his bracer and jumped backwards. Dane cast a quick spell, disappearing in a portal. Once he reappeared outside of the camp, he fell to his knees. His stomach heaved and he threw up onto the ground as his wounds reopened from casting yet another spell. His retching was mixed with sobs as he let the tears flow freely. Through his watery eyes he could see the outline of the nearby orc village that looked so much like Tran had the night the Fleshgorgers had come.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant Trueshot!" called a voice that Dane recognized as belonging to Elizabeth.

The sergeant ran over to Dane, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lieutenant, are you alright? We heard someone screaming. You're covered in wounds! What happened?" She looked around, expecting to see Aiden by his side. "Where's Corporal Philem?"

The question struck Dane like an arrow through the chest. "Please, stop," he snapped, fresh tears rolling down his face. He stood up and dusted off his leggings with his hands. The rest of Dane's troops moved towards their location. "Sergeant Vedray is in charge," he told them, "I need some time to plan our next move. Locke needs medical attention for his wound immediately, and someone needs to recover Aiden's-" he paused, his words becoming stuck in his throat. "recover the Corporal's body and belongings and return to Northpine." His voice was wavering, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he'd break right down.

"Safe travels, men!" Dane cast a final spell and disappeared again.

As he sped through the swirling portal, he wondered if this last spell would kill him. He didn't care if it did. It would merely mean he could go back to being with Aiden. Several leagues away inside a small forest clearing, he reappeared in a sudden gust of wind, the leaves at his feet rustling and swirling around him. Dane's entire body went limp, weakened from his excessive spell casting, and he lost all sense of himself as darkness took hold of him.

After several hours, Dane awoke in the middle of the forest. He had a massive headache that made it hard to look up at the moon's bright light without wincing in pain. Fortunately, he found that he was able to move his body once again. He was still tired and out of breath though, and the repeated teleportation had left him with a twisting feeling in his stomach. Ignoring his nausea and his overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and cry, he took in his surroundings and confirmed that it was the road that he and his troop had taken to get to Northpine.

Taking a short detour down an old, disused pathway, Dane found himself in front of a rotting log cabin. The door hung off its hinges, threatening to simply fall off at a moment's notice. The windows were cracked and broken, covered in dust, dirt, and cobwebs. Next to the house was a stump with many deep grooves cut into it, smoothed and weathered by years of being exposed to the environment.

To many people, it would have looked like a useless, dilapidated shelter for the homeless or a hide-out for bandits. But to Dane, it was the remains of what his life once was. To him, it was the only home he had ever known.

It's been four long years since I've seen this place.

Dane gently pushed the door aside, afraid that any sudden movements would unhinge it. His nose wrinkled as the smell of rotting wood assaulted him from all sides. A table and a pair of chairs still sat in the center of the room, just as he remembered it being. Two worn, ripped cots were set up against the far wall. The stove was covered in rust and the wash basin was cracked and full of holes.

He looked to the open cellar door, and remembered how Zoey would always come bounding out of it. She was always excited to see him and Jon, especially when they returned from a long day of hunting. Zoey had been such an excitable cat that was full of life. Now all she did was sit around and sleep on a counter in a dirty, crumbling tavern that barely looked better off than the cabin Dane stood in.

Something caught his eye off to the left. Against the wall, next to where Dane and his father used to store their hunting gear was the staff that his father had carried with him so long ago, covered in a layer of dust, dirt, and cobwebs. The old man had used it to hike over the rolling hills and through the forest and to navigate the thick snowdrifts without falling in. It had also been used in a pinch to hog-tie their kills to make carrying their prey back to the cabin easier.

Surprised that the staff was still there and in such pristine condition, Dane picked it up and brushed it clean with his hand. As he ran a hand over the metal, he recognized the material to be mithril, and it was no wonder that it hadn't rusted. The magical metal would never rust, even if it lay exposed to the elements for a millenia.

He stared at his reflection in the silvery surface of the staff. His face was covered in thick stubble and marred with blood from both the orcs and from Aiden.

"Have I become everything I've hated all these years?" he asked himself as he stared at the distorted reflection, knowing that it could not answer him. "Am I as big of a monster as the orcs?"

Dane walked over to the table and set the staff down on it, taking a seat on the chair. The wood creaked loudly as he put his weight down. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He thought back to the events from earlier that evening, of seeing Aiden being mutilated before his very eyes and of the terrified orc child that cowered away from him. Dane wondered if that was what he looked like as the orcs descended upon him when he himself was a child, when Jon had given his life to save him. It had been the only kindness he could remember his father showing him.

Did he treat me harshly to keep me away from a life like this? To protect me from seeing the horrors of the real world?_Dane wondered. _Why couldn't he just tell me himself, instead of leaving me to find out on my own? Even in death, you make me hate you, old man.

His thoughts turned back to Aiden, and he could still see the man's death clearly in his mind. Why didn't I do more to protect him? I should have used a spell, or taken a bow with me, or something. It's all my fault. If I hadn't gone on that stupid chase this would've never happened. Please forgive me Aiden! Please don't hate me... Dane remained in the cabin for the rest of the night, slumped over on the table and crying until he no longer had any tears. He didn't know what to do now that Aiden was gone. He'd hinged so much of his future on the man being there by his side, and now he felt lost, like a sailor out in the middle of a stormy sea.

_Dane..._the sound of his name being called was faint, almost like it was coming from some distance away. He looked up, and the sun was shining outside. There was no one around to have called his name, yet he was certain that he'd heard something. There was nothing but silence occasionally broken by the gentle birdsong of the forest.

I must be imagining things. Damn mana intoxication. I used too many spells.

He decided that it was time to go. Dane didn't want to go back to Northpine where his troops were waiting for him. He wasn't ready to face the world. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and not deal with anything anymore.

Aiden..._Dane stepped outside of the cabin, carrying the staff with him. He looked up at the orange-blue sky, entirely devoid of clouds. It promised to be a warm, peaceful day. _Can you see me from up there Aiden? Is there even anything up there? Please forgive me for being weak. He looked down at the ground and shut his eyes tight, hard enough to keep the tears away.I don't want to go on without you.

As Dane raised his hands to begin casting a translocation spell back to Northpine, he could faintly hear his name being called again as the wind kissed his ears. But once again, there was no one around. He wondered if perhaps he'd finally lost his sanity, and wasn't sure what to make of the sound.

You're just imagining things. With a heavy sigh, Dane cast his spell, taking the mithril staff with him and leaving the cabin behind.

He reappeared in Northpine a short ways away from the rendezvous point, and he could hear voices carrying across the plains.

"Sergeant Vedray, what are your orders?" one of the soldiers, Matthew Jericho asked. Dane figured they had to have just woken up and were sitting around waiting for him to return.

Elizabeth turned away from watching the sunrise, and replied, "We'll wait for the Lieutenant until he returns."

"What if he's abandoned us?" Surrel wondered out loud. Dane watched as Elizabeth stormed over to him with her fists clenched, but he seemed completely unaware of that fact as he continued talking, "I mean, he seemed pretty upset about something after yesterday, perhaps he-"

She slammed a gloved fist into the side of Surrel's face. "Are you questioning the intentions of a superior officer?" she roared, standing over the fallen soldier.

"N-no sir...ma'am!" he replied.

Dane cleared his throat as he approached the camp, and walled off his thoughts to keep from looking unhappy. "You're striking my subordinates, Sergeant." He moved to the middle of the gathering of troops, gripping the mithril staff and using it to hold himself up.

"Merely a minor disagreement, Lieutenant," she replied, shooting a quick glare at Surrel.

Dane fell to his knees, unable to hold himself up. He let go of the staff and it toppled towards the ground. Elizabeth rushed to her Lieutenant's side, and helped him to his feet.

"Sorry, haven't eaten in a while," Dane said, his voice sounding like gravel rolling down a hill. "You're a lot nicer when I'm not being an idiot."

"Despite what I may think of you and some of your... actions, I still abide by the chain of command and military law," she replied.

"Ah," Dane remarked. "You're nicer that way."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Elizabeth led him over to the command tent and sat him down on a tree stump that was being used as a chair. Dane removed his cloak and let it fall unceremoniously behind him.

"I could use some food, and perhaps a chance to speak with Briggs."

"Yes sir! I'll have a meal brought to you immediately." Elizabeth excused herself and went to deliver Dane's orders.

A few short minutes later, she returned with some dried meat rations, some bread, and a skin of water for Dane, then stood at attention near the tent's flaps. He quickly downed the food and gulped the water down in a single breath, the excess fluid dripping down the sides of his mouth. Dane wiped himself clean with the back of his hand and sighed, already feeling mildly refreshed and rejuvenated. He was still tired from not having slept all night, and emotionally drained, but there would be plenty time for rest later, when they boarded the ship back to Rogust.

"What are your orders, sir?" Elizabeth asked. She held something in her hands that Dane had not noticed before, having been too preoccupied with the food.

"Begin preparations to pack up the camp. I want to be out of here and on the way back to Rogust within the hour. If we do, we should make it to Wersgrauff by nightfall."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. "Yes, that would be best. By the way..." She handed something over to Dane and he immediately recognized it as Aiden's spell book. He could feel fresh tears welling up along the rims of his eyes, but he suppressed them for the time being with a sniffle. "The men recovered this along with Corporal Philem's other belongings, and I thought that you should have it."

Dane took the book from her, then began to flip through the pages. He wasn't looking for anything in particular. All he wanted to see was Aiden's hand writing. It was neater than his own, and it showed how diligent he was with his work. A lot of the spells in the book were not any that Dane knew, and he wondered if it would be wrong to use the other man's spells for himself. He never used Aiden's water magic, and had no interest in learning it, but suddenly, seeing the pages so neatly written, he wondered if perhaps he should practice some of the magic contained in the tome. Dane felt it would keep his memory alive.

"If only I tried harder. I could have saved him..." Dane whispered.

"If that's what you believe, sir, then that means you're weak," Elizabeth said. "If you want to keep being weak, then continue wallowing in your self-pity. Corporal Philem was a soldier. He knew what he was getting into, and part of that means accepting the consequences of that choice."

"But it's my fault he died!"

"Unless you held the blade that cut into him, then it wasn't your fault. Think about how you can make restitution and keep his memory alive." She looked at him sadly, the anger fading from her features. "Ruminating like this is only going to tear you apart from the inside out."

There was a short pause as Dane nodded his head. "Where's his body?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"The Corporal has been loaded onto our supply wagon," Elizabeth said. "I'd suggest not going to see him, since I know what it'll do to you, but I can't stop you."

He sniffled again, and it was becoming harder to hold the tears back. "Thank you, Sergeant." He took in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, trying to play it off as being tired but knowing that Elizabeth likely didn't buy it. "Is the weapon-smith here yet?"

"Yes, he'll see you now. If you'll excuse me, I have to oversee the troops as they pack up." she moved to leave, but then paused. "Despite my harsh words from the other night, I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Dane was momentarily taken aback by the woman's kindness. It was only the other day when she had been criticizing him for his and Aiden's love. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but at that moment he didn't really care why she was trying to console him.

"T-thank you," Dane said. The woman excused herself after that.

A short, stout man entered the tent moments later and saluted. "Weapon-smith Briggs Strongarm reporting. You wished to speak with me, Lieutenant?"

"Thank you for coming, Weapon-smith." Dane picked up the staff that lay on the ground next to him and handed it off to Strongarm. "What do you make of this?"

The weapon-smith took the staff in his hands and looked it over for a second before giving his assessment. "It's well crafted, that's for sure. Where did you get this?" he asked, but he didn't bother to give Dane a chance to answer. "Well, doesn't matter. It's not crafted by an orc, that's for sure. Possibly Valarian smithing."

"Would it be possible to inscribe any runes on it?" Dane asked. He wanted to add a few magical runes to it to enhance the staff's power, and while he knew how to do some rune crafting, he knew little about what was an appropriate weapon to use it on.

"Hmm..." Briggs reached into a chest pocket on his tunic and pulled out a pair of large spectacles with thick lenses. He put them on and examined the staff more closely with comically enlarged eyes. "I did say it was well crafted, but I'm afraid that you won't be able to etch any runes into it. Such an act would likely ruin the staff's integrity and make it worthless as both a weapon and a focus for magic."

Nodding, Dane replied, "Thank you for coming to speak with me. I have one other favour to ask of you. Do you have a spare sword? I had lost mine during the battle last night and I'm in need of a replacement." Dane gestured to the empty scabbard at his hip. "I'd rather Commander Digran not know about that."

"Yeah, I have a few extras back with the rest of my supplies. I'll make sure to set one aside for you before I begin packing up and get it to you as we leave."

"Thank you again, Weapon-smith. You're dismissed."

Once Briggs left the tent, Dane was alone again, and he would be alone until it was time to leave. He sat back down and slumped in his seat. He wanted to sleep, but his mind wouldn't slow down long enough to let him do that. Most of all, he wanted Aiden back. He pulled out the extra ring he now had. Its surface was marred by blood, and Dane hoped that he'd be able to clean it off. He slipped the ring back into his belt pouch and made sure to close it tight so that he wouldn't lose it. As he closed the bag, he saw his embossed initials on the flap. It had been a gift from Aiden years ago. He couldn't help smiling when he thought of the man's kindness.

Aside from his memories, their rings, and the man's spell book, it was one of the few things he had left to remember him by. Dane didn't plan of letting go of any of them.