Deep snow accompanied them on the final leg of their journey. In some spots, the drifts came up to their waist, slowing their progress. Mid-day, the three came up to yet another steep incline when Sojourn broke the laboured silence. “Over this rise, we should see chimney smoke from my people. Down the other side and up one more hill, you will see my home.” A nod from Anaphora, and they buckled down on the trek, new energy coming with the knowledge that they were almost done.

From the folds of Anaphora’s cloak, mindless, sometimes endless, complaint came from the squawl. “Cold. Wet. I want warm, dry. Cold. So cold.” The poor creature’s fur had been wet from snow and sweat all day.

They were almost over the rise when Sojourn suddenly burst into a sprint to the top only to stop suddenly. With her eyes on him, she walked next to him. His eyes were wide, full of panic and fear. Confused, Anaphora followed his gaze.

Black smoke billowed up thickly from the far side of the next incline. “That’s not chimney smoke.” Anaphora whispered.

Without a reply, Sojourn ran. Snow no longer seemed to be an issue as he bounded towards his home. They stumbled down the slope, Cetus launching himself from Anaphora’s jacket and soaring into the air.

“Ana, I go check. See what wrong,” he chittered before zooming towards the smoke.

The valley approached before they knew it, and soon they were going uphill. The going slowed down as they fought gravity and snow. Sojourn’s eyes were wide, sweat pouring down his brow as he tried to go faster and faster. He seemed to be bounding over the drifts as if they weren’t even there, slowly leaving Anaphora behind.

Smoke continued growing in the sky, turning darker and darker as time passed. Sojourn reached the top of the last hill and dropped to his knees. It wasn’t until moments after that Anaphora caught up and witnessed the devastation.

Flames leapt from every wooden building, burning with a ferocious rage. She saw figures lying in the snow, covered in blood, soot and wounds. Then the smell hit her like a fist to the gut. Smoke and burning flesh. It persisted in her nostrils, and it took everything she had not to gag. Anaphora couldn’t forget the screaming, but that meant that people could still be alive.

“Let’s go,” she shoved Sojourn. “There’s still fighting and survivors, I can feel it. We need to help your people.”

With those words, it was the girl leaving the elf in her wake, drawing a dagger as she ran towards the burning village. They reached the first of the houses, heat blasting dryly into their faces; it was like running into a wall. Closer and closer, the screaming got until they turned a corner to see horror.

A man was covered head to toe in flames. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his vocal cords burnt. Panicked eyes fell on their pair. Sojourn met the elf’s gaze as he fell to his knees, then after a moment on his face. The flesh was charred black, yet still, the flames ate away.

With considerable effort, Anaphora dragged her companion down an alley. “Look at me!” She slapped him. “Sojourn, look at me now!” Finally, his vacant gaze met hers. “I know these are your friends and family, but I need you with me. Maybe we can help anyone still alive, but we can’t stop. You hear me? We can’t stop unless we know we can help.”

He just stared at her, mouth gaping like a goldfish. Anaphora gripped his shoulders, “are you with me? Because if you’re not, I am going to help these people with or without you.”

At that moment, Cetus swooped down from the sky, rocketing onto Anaphora’s shoulder, chittering before he even landed.

“Cetus says there’s about a dozen of your people fighting shadows in the square, that’s where I’m heading. Either stay here, or do something,” she released Sojourn's shoulders and took off running, Cetus taking to the sky again to lead the way.

In a moment, the girl disappeared around the corner, brown hair streaming behind her as she ran. Sojourn blinked, then got to his feet. His village, a place that had always been safe from the darkness, was now alight. In his people’s rich history, they had always escaped the tragedies of the between times when the Champion was gone. Why now? Why now were they being burned?

He took a teetering step, legs unsteady. Then another, and another until he was running. He was here; he had to help. Anaphora had said the centre of town had survivors, so there he was going. The streets flew by as his legs carried him, fire and screams raging everywhere he passed. He wanted to stop, he wanted to douse the fire and save those in pain, but Anaphora was right; they had to pick their battles. No matter how much it pained him to do so.

Sojourn quickly caught up to Anaphora, his long legs making up the distance. He grabbed her free hand and dragged her along the quickest path towards the town centre. Their progress was slowed by shadow creatures that still milled about the streets looking for more to kill. They worked well together, either striking the few weak spots the creatures had when they could or slipping onto another street when an attack would take too long. Cetus took an aerial view when he could and helped them avoid the large groups of monsters.

Before they rounded the corner to the town square, Sojourn stopped Anaphora and motioned to be careful. Together, they crept to the edge of the clearing. Bodies littered the ground in various states of death. Burnt corpses laid in black heaps, a few writhing in agony before death took them. Dismembered limbs and bodies with holes in their torsos were everywhere. Most were dead, very few held on to life, however futile. Strangely the whole area was devoid of the shadow creatures. There was a lone figure clad in a void black cloak that concealed any defining feature. The cloak fluttered in the wind revealing briefly, a villager being shaken violently with a black blade at his throat.

Moving slowly, Anaphora and Sojourn moved towards the tableau. Halfway to the pair, the attackers cloak flapped again in the wind revealing his captives face. Breaking into a run, Sojourn let out a blood-curdling scream, “FATHER!” and tried to launch himself at the villain.

Startled, the cloaked figure turned, dropping Sojourn’s father. His face, now visible to Anaphora, seemed familiar, a long-repressed memory from her childhood trying to surface. Anaphora shook her head; it didn’t matter right now, she needed to help her friend.

Sojourn and the man grappled on the ground, the impact of bodies knocking weapons from hands. Afraid to distract Sojourn from his vital struggle, Anaphora felt helpless until the familiar stranger overpowered Sojourn with his hands closed on her friend's throat. Seeing her opening, she kicked the man in the ribs sending him sprawling on the cobblestones. Helping Sojourn to his feet, Anaphora whispered, “go check on your father, move him to the edge of the square and get the weapons. I can hold this guy off.”

He nodded sharply before running to his father. Anaphora, in the meantime, faced the attacker, dagger in hand. The figure pushed himself to his feet and collected his weapon, the hint of a smile glinting under his shadow cloaked face. Without a beat, he was running towards Anaphora. She readied her dagger, parrying and dodging his onslaught. The man swung his sword viciously. All Anaphora could do was deflect. With a dagger, she had a much smaller range, making attacking useless unless she could get within his reach and out of the danger of the sword.

The collisions reverberated through her arms, the sound of metal on metal rang out above the screams of the dying. Anaphora growled as she fought not only against her foe but her memories, trying to place who this person was.

In a flash, an opening appeared, Anaphora was able to get under the stranger’s guard, kicking him once more in the gut. As he stumbled, unbalanced, Anaphora launched herself, knocking him onto his back, the sword once again skittered out of reach.

“Who are you,” she shouted in his face, knees pinning the stranger’s arms and dagger against the flesh of his throat.

He spit malice and blood, teeth stained red, “I think the question is, who are you? Why is a human helping an elf in such an isolated village?”

With another growl, Anaphora ripped back the hood that still covered the strangers face, “who are you!”

She gasped. Dark brown eyes framed with long lashes stared back at her. Though he had aged, she recognized the strong jaw and messy tangle of curly black hair. A name escaped her lips, “Aldwin?”

“Tis I,” confusion surfaced below the anger as he stopped struggling against Anaphora’s hold.

“What are you doing here?”

“Who are you? how do you know me?” He tried to peer into the shadow created by her hood.

“Do you not recognize me, Aldwin,” Anaphora’s eyes were wide as she stared at a memory from her childhood. She pulled off the cowl of her cloak, releasing her long brown hair and revealing her glimmering gold eyes. Silence stretched as she watched the gears turn behind the man’s eyes, slowly clicking into place.

“Anaphora,” he whispered. He shook his head, “you’re supposed to be dead. The-the king, he told me you were dead.”

Anaphora shook her head, releasing an old friend and reaching out a hand to help him up, “I am certainly not dead. I just ran away.”

It had been almost five years since they last saw each other. Aldwin and Anaphora laid in the castle garden, soaking up the spring sun. They were sixteen, life was full and worries distant. While they were half dozing from the morning’s activities (hunting and sparring, both past-times Anaphora loved despite her father's wishes), the young man spoke of dreams.

“You know, I plan to be a knight, Ana. I will be by your side, no matter what. My mother told me that I shouldn’t get close to you. You know… because of what you are.” Aldwin rolled on his side, studying Anaphora’s face as she stared into the sky. He watched her eyebrow rise as she grunted in dissatisfaction. “I don’t care though, I will train as hard as I need to so I can help.”

Anaphora snickered, “You’ll have to beat me first,” she joked and added, “but I always want you by my side too. Together it doesn’t seem as scary.”

They drifted again into companionable silence. Just as Aldwin began to drop into a light sleep, Anaphore spoke again. “Father asked to see me today.”

“Oh? What does he want?”

“I do not know. He said he needs to show me something. He said that we need to discuss my future… What do you think he could want? I know my future.”

The golden-eyed girl sat up, crossing her legs. Aldwin copied her, seeing the worry hidden deep within. “You know him, lots of plans but nothing to show for it. It is probably nothing,” Aldwin said, trying to comfort his friend.

“Yeah, you are probably right.” The silence, more solemn this time, fell once more upon them.

On an impulse, the handsome young man reached out, turning Ana’s face to his own. “Ana? I need to tell you something. It is something I have felt for a while now.” Puzzlement crossed her face, but Anaphora said nothing, allowing her longtime friend to continue. “Ana, I-I, I lo-.” The rest was silenced as the church bells tolled loudly.

The princess jolted to her feet, apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry, I’m late to meet father. Tell me again after, meet back here with the moon.” She moved to run but stopped herself and planted a kiss on a stunned Aldwin's cheek.

Anaphora blinked, images of the memory fading away. The pair stared at each other for a time, before the moment broke as Anaphora took a step forward and grasped her old friend in a hug, “Aldwin, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you so!”

He returned the hug, the years apart seeming like nothing.

“Wait,” Anaphora broke the hug, shoving Aldwin away by his shoulders. “What were you doing in this village…” Horror filled her as she realized what he was doing here. “What are you doing massacring these people?”

“I didn’t want to, my dear Ana, but it's your father. He told the kingdom that you were dead… That the Champion was dead. Do you remember what he was doing with the shadow creature the night you left? Well, he did it. He found a way to control those monsters and became their master. He-he convinced everyone that it was the only way to survive without the Champion. He wants to start a new world. He needs the weapons, so no one, not even the Champion, can stop him.”