The guard approached. 

Eli’s lips moved, words soundless as they leapt from his mouth, and the first part of his spell took flight: Send those above to recent dreams past. When the head guard rounded the back of the carriage, Eli stepped forward and pressed his palm flat to the man’s mouth before he had time to register Eli’s presence and his intentions. His lips continued to move, sending the second half of his spell spilling into the air, as silent as the first.

…and let this bubble world lose its tongue as darkness devours all but a head. 

Churning beneath them both, the shadows morphed into a seething mass of black not unlike a storm at sea whipping the waves into a frenzy. Eli dropped his hand with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. The head guard stared at him, wide-eyed, as he tried to work his mouth. Across it, a thick black streak where Eli had set his palm and smeared the midnight liquid dripping from his fingertips. As the guard opened his mouth, his teeth stood out stark white against the black stain on his lips, his tongue too vivid a red, a reminder of all the life still left in the wake of Eli’s void. 

Robbed of his voice, the guard took a fury-driven step forward, his hand working to unsheathe his sword. Eli smiled as he skipped back a step and watched as the shadows twisted around the guard’s legs suddenly snapped taut. They dragged him down with one sharp tug, quick as a viper’s strike, leaving only the man’s head above their murky waters. 

Above, the conversation between the two other guardsmen had stopped. 

Eli hopped backward three more steps and craned his head around the carriage to get a better look at the front of it. Both guards stationed on the box seat had fallen into a deep sleep. The one Eli had believed to be younger was, in fact, far younger than any of the others accompanying the carriage appeared to be. With the firelight catching the reddish edge to his brown hair, he was obviously still growing into the harder lines of his adult face, now in perfect view as he slept with his right arm draped across the top of the carriage and his head nestled neatly against it. The scar-faced driver sat slumped beside him, the reins hanging on only by the slight curl of his index finger after having fallen loose from his grip. Unperturbed by the silence, the horses continued to eat, their tails swishing lazily. 

“I think we’re just about set then,” he said with a glance back toward the head guard, “wouldn’t you agree?” The guard glared at him. Eli shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I said we had to be friends or anything like that.”

He walked back to where the head guard bobbed in the shadowy pool of water. Beneath him, his own shadow formed a solid platform, moving seamlessly with every stride. Eli looked down at the man before dropping into a squat before him. On closer inspection, Eli could see he wasn't entirely bad-looking. Some might have called him handsome in that world-worn sort of way that most who had seen too much for their years tended to wear. Too stubborn to be called weary, too experienced to carry the glimmer of innocence. Bright blue eyes that might have made the skies jealous. Light brown hair tousled from his helmet. Eli leaned in, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet. A small scar cut through the guard’s right eyebrow, only noticeable up close like this. 

Recognition washed over the guard’s face. Eli could pinpoint the exact moment the memory lit up, the guard’s expression moving from his initial anger to confusion, then slipping into that slow dawning sense of not-quite-horror as a mistake was seen for what it was for the very first time. 

“Ah, yes. The tavern last night, right? The good-looking young man there in the corner, minding his own business. The taverner’s wife made a lovely cream stew, did she not?”

The guard narrowed his eyes. He struggled, or the attempt was made to struggle. A rather difficult thing to do to fight against yourself and all the heavy-weight unknowns of the world beyond. Eli commended the effort, though it bought the guard little room for further movement. 

“You marked me as a. . .ah, what did you call us ‘fringe-dweller’ types? Kuutima. Those magicless nonentities.” The guard blinked and tried to work his mouth again, only to find his reply eaten by silence once more. Eli tipped his head to the side and nodded as if in full understanding of the complaint lodged against him. “Yes, I heard all of that. You see, there’s nothing you can hide from your own shadow.”

Another realization broke open over the guard. This one more violent in its surfacing, dowsing the guard’s face first with fear, then with indignant rage.

Eli continued to nod, this time sighing as though in complete commiseration. “I know! I mean, who would ever have thought that such a handsome, unassuming stranger, who just happened to share the same tavern last night and passed by you on the road at a full gallop just this morning, could have been such a talented thief...”

Rather than mollify the guard’s anger, Eli’s words only seemed to invigorate it. He grit his teeth, tried once more to lunge forward through the morass of shadow, and was jolted remorselessly back into place. Ripples rolled out from around the guard’s neck and crashed up against Eli’s own shadow, where they broke apart and disappeared like ships sunk tragically within reach of the shore.

“Oh, it’s not the thieving part? I honestly thought that would be the real sticking point here, considering how I intend on taking that dragon’s egg from your lot and all. You know how much one of those goes for on the Hollow Market? Well, I’m not sure you do, but let’s just say my ancestors a hundred years from now wouldn’t know hardship.” Eli flicked his fingers, sending a cascade of black rain down over the pool of shadow. More ripples danced across its surface. “Can I ask you a question?”

The head guard glared at Eli.

“No?” With a crack of his neck, he reached out for the guard’s head. Inky droplets continued to drip down from his fingertips, one after the other, thumb to pinky finger, all in equal measures of time and quantity. As the last one fell from his little finger, another bead began to bud over the pad of his thumb. The guard watched them tumble free in succession, panic eating into his anger with every drop. “Are you afraid of me?”

Eli smiled as he asked this, though his voice held no malice in it. No pity either. A genuine question put forth to satisfy his curiosity’s itch. 

Even if he knew the answer. 

For you see, hope often liked to trick curiosity into thinking there might be other avenues available to it even when the truth stood naked before it. Eli had fallen prey to its lure far too many times not to be wary of it now. Not that he had forsaken hope entirely. In fact, he held onto it quite firmly. Hope, after all, kept various hungers fed and made dreams believe in wings and open skies. Eli did not dislike hope. He simply valued reality’s input a little bit more.

Looking directly into the guard’s eyes, Eli brushed the hair back from his forehead and smoothed it over his head, streaking the light brown strands with black. He kept his touch gentle, his expression neutral. When he spoke, he did so softly. “I will tell you this only because you won’t remember it, but you are right to be.”

Setting the tip of his index finger to the guard’s forehead, Eli wrote a single word across it. Release. The ink froze there, no longer liquid but smoldering like embers nearer to ash than fire. There was no immediate reaction from the guard, only a baffled look tinged with fear. Eli kept speaking as he draped his forearm over his knees, his voice holding its soft, measured cadence.

“Your emperor told everyone he had rid his borders of all Shadowscrawlers. That he had all but snuffed out that line of magic, pushed it to the wilds of the world where it would die because there would be none foolish enough to risk their lives and souls in learning it. That some things were just too vile to be sensible and right, and the good people of Aurinon would know this. Just as he claimed to have decimated the blood users and tamed its last knight. He invited fear into your hearts of the unknown. He let it fester until you all lived for his reassurances. And you believed him.” Eli cast a glance toward the carriage. “Now look at you.” A flick of his fingers again, splashing inky shadow over the guard’s face. The droplets slid down his cheeks, his nose, his chin, slow as if tethered by reluctance. “Swallowed by shadow.”

The darkness around the guard's head began to shimmer. Specks of light swam just beneath the surface, darting about like minnows, though barely bigger than a pinprick. Eli tipped his head as he watched them coalesce into bigger pods. All struggle from the guard ceased. 

“But really, you should be afraid. After all, it’s not every day that you get someone as dashing as me to upset your well-laid plans. Who knows, maybe I’ll steal your girlfriend’s heart next,” he said, glancing back toward the guard. Rather than meet Eli’s gaze, the guard’s eyes darted wildly over the shadow’s surface, jumping from one pod to another as if he thought he could corral the points of light and herd them closer to himself and away from danger. “Boyfriend’s? Do you even have a lover? Ah, no matter to me. I’m honestly not interested in someone who would find you the spark of their life. Sounds quite boring.”

Eli sighed and dipped his index finger into the pool of shadow. One of the larger pods of light spiraled around his hand, then broke apart, their movements stunned. They floated aimlessly, flickering in time with the guard’s heartbeat. 

“I need the combination for the carriage's lock if you would be so kind,” Eli said. The guard’s gaze shot straight toward Eli. In the darkness of the shadow’s water, a single orb of light burned brighter than the rest. Eli wiggled his finger as it floated to the surface, luring the light toward him. “There we are.”