It felt strange, being at an arm’s distance from an airie, clasping his wrist, hearing his fast, panicked breathing, yet still being unable to see even the outlines of him in the dark. It was like holding on to a ghost.

“What’s your name?” Dusan said.

“It’s Reijo,” the airie answered.

Reijo. Dusan had never met anyone called that, but it sounded human enough. He had expected something stranger-sounding.

The digging noises outside briefly intensified, and then came the sounds of stones and pebbles rolling down. It started muffled, but then became increasingly loud. A small hole appeared in the wall, and a ray of light stabbed through the darkness like an arrow.

“Stop!” Dusan yelled. “Stop digging!” He raised his knife, holding it to the side of Reijo’s neck. He still couldn’t see much, but the single ray of light had made at least the outlines of his opponent visible—the pale oval of his face, the wide-open eyes, the unprotected, slender neck.

“If you try something,” Dusan told him, “I’ll cut you right away. Even if enough air enters for you to use it, I’ll cut you the moment I feel anything strange.”

Reijo nodded shakily.

“Dusan?” came a voice from the outside, and the light, dim to begin with, disappeared almost completely as someone concealed the opening. “Is that you, man?”

“Yes!” Dusan called. He recognized the voice—Lugh, Borwin’s oldest son.

“Did you ask me to stop?”

“Yes, wait a bit with the digging.” Dusan paused, gathering his thoughts. “The man I was chasing ran away. You must follow him. I’ll wait.”

“They went after him, man. They figured he’s gone away. Mirche found his footprints. It’s just me here, digging you out.”

“Yes, great… just wait for a minute with it, will you?”

There was a pause, and then Lugh said, warily, “Why?”

“Just…” Dusan bit his lip, racking his brains. “Just give me a minute, will you? I’ll explain to you later, I swear.”

“Fine,” said Lugh after a pause, his voice the definition of mistrust. “I’ll wait a bit.”

“Thanks, man,” Dusan said, before focusing on the face before him. He still wasn’t seeing it clearly but judging by the wide-open eyes and the tremors running through the airie’s arm, Dusan had his full attention.

“So,” Dusan said. “Reijo? Let’s see where we stand. You tried to kill me once. You intervened today, ruining our plans and allowing one of those bastards to escape. If he’s not caught, my whole village might be destroyed.”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Reijo said. “I was just playing.”

“I get it.” Dusan nodded. “Playing is great. How about I play with this knife now and carve my name on your forehead? You’ll be done for. Not an airie, not a man—I heard you guys don’t last long without your powers.”

Reijo licked his lips, his unblinking gaze fixed on Dusan.

“Why would you do that?” he whispered. “It won’t help your village.”

Dusan shrugged. “For entertainment? Your fun-loving habits might have rubbed on me.”

“Don’t do it,” Reijo said, in a quick whisper. “I won’t bother you again, I swear.”

“You’ve bothered me enough,” said Dusan.

He moved the knife closer to the flawless skin and saw Reijo’s eyes go even wider.

“Please,” Reijo breathed out. “Please, just… don’t. I might be of use to you one day. How about that? I’ll owe you one.”

Dusan snorted. “Owe me? You expect me to believe that?”

“You can have my word on that.”

“A word of an airie?” Dusan chuckled. “What a bargain.”

He contemplated his options. He could go ahead and make the cut. One movement of his knife would render this airie helpless—and useless.

You see an airie, you cut them open.

That was a widely accepted wisdom, but he still hesitated. He could destroy Reijo, but that meant destroying something magical, something beyond his comprehension—something he had always been curios about.

“Please,” Reijo whispered, the white of his eyes gleaming in the shadows. “I’m begging you, don’t do this. I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.”

Dusan stared into his eyes, large and uncannily beautiful. If Dusan acted on his threat, this airie wouldn’t be laughing anymore—ever. On the other hand, promises of airies meant nothing. They were traitorous by nature. He would be a fool to trust Reijo.

Still, he couldn’t do this. It was just—wrong.

With a sigh, he lowered his knife and released Reijo’s wrist.

Slowly, Reijo made a step back, his figure becoming even less visible, a pale shape in the dark. Then, Dusan felt a breath of air on his face. It streamed into the cave through the narrow opening, making a whistling noise, like autumn wind. It carried in the pleasant smell of the forest, but also raised from the floor the dust that had already settled. Dusan felt momentarily chocked. He stepped away from the pale figure, coughing. The whistle of the air was growing stronger, rising from a thin, whining sound to a threatening wail as the hole in the wall gradually widened.

“You promised,” Dusan said.

“I remember,” said Reijo, and then the noise turned into a roar, and the wall exploded.

The impact threw Dusan backwards. He hit the back wall of the cave and fell, little rocks and dirt raining upon him. He hastily sat up, rubbing his dust-filled eyes. He heard shouting and cursing outside.

“What the hell was that?” Lugh yelled. “What in bloody hell was that?”

Through the blur of tears, Dusan saw the opening of the cave, rocks lying everywhere, a layer of dirt covering the moss outside. Blinking, he looked around the cave. The new cloud of dust was settling around him, making it hard to see, but he could tell that Reijo was gone.

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