Clinging to his brother, Bren braced himself as they dropped into the forest below. The sensation of free falling made his whole body feel like liquid, the glow of Archer’s magic dissipating into particles of dust. Branches cracked and scraped past Bren’s shield, barely slowing their fall. Bren’s voice ground out of him, his body straining as he focused on maintaining their last line of defense, gripping the vessel in his hand. 

After the bruising hurtle downward, Bren felt a final thud that knocked the breath out of him as they barreled into the earth. The impact shuddered through him, the shield leaving cracks within the ground before it vanished in a shimmer of rippling air. 

Bren groaned, looking up at the night sky through twisting black branches that resembled the shadow of a spider web. He lay there, staring up at the barrier; he’d never been close enough to the border to see it. At the city center, it was too high to be visible, blending in with the stars at night. But here, Bren could see the glittering, swirling waves that rippled over the city of Vitalos; the forcefield that kept out all of the corruption from the Manos realm…most of it. 

Rolling over onto his stomach, Bren coughed and grasped the pendant tighter. It filled him with a comforting strength, magic running through him that was more pure and brilliant than anything he’d felt before. He placed the chain over his head, tucking the jewel under his shirt as he pressed it against his chest, heart still pounding. 

Letting out a deep breath, Bren looked up to see Archer lying a foot away beside him. He pulled himself closer to his brother, feeling sore and tender as he neared him. “Archer?” he groaned, his head throbbing as he shook Archer gently, wondering if he was injured. 

For a moment, Bren feared his brother was dead—that he’d killed him, too—but Archer grimaced and coughed, throwing his arms out as he sucked in deep breaths. “I hate you,” Archer muttered, opening his eyes to slowly blink up at Bren. 

A smile tugged at Bren’s stiff mouth, relief filling him. “Yeah? I’m not the one that crashed, idiot,” Bren chuckled wearily, pulling himself to rest on Archer’s broad chest as they lay together, gasping in deep breaths. They were still alive; still together.

He heard the rumble in Archer’s chest as he laughed, barely moving. “Forgot about that part,” Archer grunted, a hand going to Bren’s back; warm and solid. Archer was the last remnant of his family… The only person who could remember what their parents had really been like, and think of them with him. 

Caught off guard by the tightness in his throat, Bren pushed himself to kneel next to Archer, looking down at him. He blinked so the tears wouldn’t form in his eyes, raking a hand through his hair as he glanced over Archer’s scrapes and bruises, wondering if there was anything more serious. 

It reminded Bren of when they’d been attacked at the manor. 

He watched Archer sit up, leaning over his crossed legs as he stretched and winced. He rolled his joints, cracking his neck as he tried to loosen whatever was aching. “Damn, feels like I had the beating of my life.” 

“Well, you did tackle that merchant to the floor. I never expected you to go rogue,” Bren said with a smirk, wanting to focus on what they’d accomplished…instead of what they’d lost. “First time in the black market and you’re already starting brawls and causing trouble.”

“Wasn’t going to let her cheat us. And we were running out of time.” Archer’s brow furrowed, his voice sounding distant as he uttered, “Think we did a bit more than cause trouble. I’m pretty sure we buried the whole place, actually…” Archer let out a shallow scoff, but Bren could see the terror on his face. 

Smile fading, Bren felt the twist of guilt in his gut, grimacing against the sensation. “Yeah, well… It doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll ever be going back there.” He didn’t want to think about the people in the cavern; if they made it out…or if their lives had been taken. 

It felt like death was always just a step behind him, Bren having seen more of it in the last few days than he’d ever wanted in a lifetime. 

Bren stared at Archer, his brother’s eyes flicking to Bren’s hands. Archer’s face was full of anxious fear as his gaze moved to look down at his own fingers, like he expected them to be monstrous, too. “I’ve never used that much magic before. I didn’t think I…could.” He let out a breath, smoothing down the waves of his hair as he looked at Bren, almost apologetically.  

“You’re a Manos… I’m sure you could. You did,” Bren whispered, forcing himself to smile as he tried to reassure him. 

Archer’s gaze flashed to the chain around Bren’s neck, Bren reaching for the pendant instinctively, squeezing it beneath his shirt. Archer had been holding the pendant when his magic had shaped into wings…and when his eyes had gone white. Though Bren had been the one to tell Archer about a Manos’ use for vessels, he’d never really seen the effect it could have… Not like that.   

Without any signs of corruption on Archer, there was no way to know for sure where the surge of magic had come from; if it had been the pendant or adrenaline… 

There was a twinge of jealousy in his chest as he looked at his brother, a Manos that could use magic without consequence… Without corruption. It was a feeling that was difficult to let go of, but Bren swallowed it. He owed his life to Archer, more times over than he could count. 

“Thank you. For getting me the vessel,” Bren murmured, finally releasing the pendant that still hung against his chest. 

Archer blinked up to look at Bren once more. He cleared his throat, his voice slightly gruff as he answered, “Well, we’re going to need it, right?” 

Looking away from Archer, Bren’s hand moved to feel over his breast pocket, bringing out the leather-bound journal. He opened it, finding the parchment that had slipped out between the pages. “Ryva…” Bren murmured to himself. “Yeah, we’re going to need it.”  

Placing the book back into his coat, Bren pushed himself to his feet, eyes searching the dark. “I’ve never been here before,” Bren muttered, listening to the eerie snaps and rustlings in the distance. He gazed around the small forest clearing; a circular patch of dry soil that was surrounded by wickedly shaped trees. He stepped over the cracking, dry earth, surprised there was anything growing at all. The ground was so fragile and pale beneath his boots, it looked almost like ash. “Where…are we?” 

“The Forest of Folly,” Archer answered, his voice echoing in the small clearing between the trees. “I heard Mother and Father talk about it before. The corruption from beyond the barrier seeps into the soil and…changes things. Doubt anyone would be foolish enough to follow us into here.”

Bren felt a shudder run up his spine, Archer’s sudden, welcoming glow casting light over the black bark of the trees. The foliage looked jagged and dangerous. The trunks and branches were twisted in odd and unnatural curves, strange vines coated in thorns twining along them. There were flowers that looked almost like roses blooming from the thick, tangled stems, but they weren’t roses at all… The ruby petals were oddly luminescent themselves, like smoldering jewels; embers in a dying hearth.   

They were like no flowers Bren had ever seen. 

Curious, Bren reached forward, hesitating with his blackened hand outstretched toward the bloom. Extending his index finger closer toward a petal, he noticed how his fingers looked like they belonged to the forest. 

“Bren, don’t,” Archer called, a shuffling sound from behind his shoulder telling Bren his brother was getting to his feet. 

“I just…want to see something,” Bren muttered back, ignoring Archer’s warning. Mindful of the thorns, Bren grazed the edge of the blossom…and flinched, pulling his hand back in reflex. The petal was razor sharp like a knife; even something so delicate and beautiful could be deadly with corruption.

He hissed out a breath as he cradled his finger, a droplet of deep red blood dripping into the soil between his feet. Small swirls of dust plumed up like smoke as his blood seeped into the ground and stained it. 

It sparked something in his mind, Bren plucking a petal carefully as he looked it over. His mouth was suddenly dry as realization dawned on him… 

They had everything they needed. The vessel, the instructions…a place where they were free from being hunted. They couldn’t waste this chance. 

Slowly, Bren turned to look at Archer, who was already walking toward him with concern. He looked at Bren’s hand, making an aggravated sound in disapproval. “Brennon! Why did you—”

“We do it here,” Bren said with a sense of urgency, cutting off his brother’s worry. 

Archer’s eyes flicked up to Bren’s, holding his stare in silence.

Bren nodded, almost to convince himself as he said with conviction, “Before we run into any other problems, we do the summoning now.”

Shaking his head, Archer let out a trembling breath, his arms falling to his sides in defeat. “Bren… Are you sure about this?”

“We talked about this Archer!” Bren hadn’t expected anger to fill his voice so quickly; it was a guttural reaction. “We decided. For Mother—”

“I know! I know…” Archer held his hands up in surrender, his face pensive and filled with regret. “But I’ve been thinking… What about you? Summoning a demon is one thing, something I’m already against, but you know it won’t be enough to just bring one here. It won’t give you anything without making a deal… And when that deal ends…what will be left of you?”

Bren felt his heart hammering against his ribs, bile rising in his throat. “Mother wanted me to do this. There’s something important about that vessel the Umbra was searching for. About stopping her. The answers are in this journal, and maybe— I don’t know! Maybe the demon can decode this. Or help us find the vessel. Or stop Ora from finding it. Mother wouldn’t have told me to do this if it wasn’t for a good reason… Please, Archer,” Bren was begging, “I don’t want to do this alone.”

Archer sucked in a breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled slowly. When he opened them again, it was with a new determination. “Alright. I’m with you. I don’t know if I can help you with the summoning, I’m not sure that I’m strong enough…” There was regret on his face, his eyes flicking to the vessel for a moment before he pulled his gaze away, forcing himself not to look at it. “But, I’ll do whatever you need. Whatever you tell me.”

Bren nodded in gratitude, gripping the chain around his neck as he pulled out the vessel from beneath his shirt. “I’m the one making the deal… I have to be the one to summon it. I just need you with me.”

Stepping back, Archer waited near the border of the tree line, watching Bren as he murmured, “I’m here.” 

Taking out the paper, Bren looked over it one last time. He memorized the runes of the seal as he recalled all he’d learned over his years buried in his books and studies. It wasn’t difficult to summon a demon if you had enough power, it was what happened after… Making a deal and binding his soul to a creature of pure corruption. 

With the vessel in his hand, Brennon felt the magic coarse through him. Bending down to reach the soil, Bren readied his clawed finger like a knife, pressing the tip into the ashen earth as he began to carve the sigil. He dragged the markings through the cracked dirt, focused as he completed the diagram with every rune in the perfect position. 

The moment he closed the circle and completed the seal, sapphire flames filled the carved enchantments, igniting from the ground. The forest was bathed in blue light as Bren stepped toward the center of the circle; the fire couldn’t hurt him, formed from his own magic as it flowed through the vessel.

With the plucked petal between his fingers, he knelt as if he were at an altar in prayer, and sliced the flesh of his hand open. He smudged his bloody finger against the dirt and spelled out the name that had been burned into his mind, his own blood forming the letters. 

There was only one step left, Brennon’s heart pounding in his ears as he said with all the strength and force he could muster, “RYVA!” 

Lightning rose from each rune that Bren had carved, all crackling toward the center of the summoning ring as it formed a vertical line of light. Wind picked up with a rush of turbulent air, forming swirls of blue smoke around the flames. Bren had to dig his claws into the earth to stop himself from being pushed back, wincing against a burning, searing pain that shot up his arm from where he held the pendant. 

He heard Archer call his name, but his voice was lost to the wind as the bolts of lightning split and an opening formed in front of Bren. Red smoke spilled like blood out of the dark void; a gaping wound in the charged air itself. 

Bren held his breath, staring up at the door he had ripped open, speechless and waiting… 

And then, from the void, a figure made of shadows stepped forward.