Dion’s eyes prickled with the steep pull of exhaustion, but sleep continued to evade him like a rainbow’s end. At least a rainbow would provide riches or a wish, not that he had any need of the former, and his only true wish was an endless sleep. 

He groaned and wiped his eyes, forgetting his company might not appreciate the noise, and received a brutal jab in the side in retribution. Rowe turned away, pulling the blanket with him, but Dion didn’t care, he was already halfway to his feet. 

Outside their tent, the forest greeted him with an overcast quiet he could never find under Tassuri’s limelight. It wasn’t as humid as the forests from his home, but the Grenallish countryside did enough to let him relax for a moment and forget the world that only wished to pull one thing from him. Violence. 

He stretched, enjoying the peace that came with a moonless night, and began to jog a circuit of the lake. Though darkness hugged the world, Dion saw through it all, faint glimmering threads of the souls around him – trees, mice, insects and plants – guided his way. 

Seeing had never been an issue for him. Turning it all off was where the problems began.

With trees to his right and water to his left, Dion’s bare feet carried him into memories of his early childhood, when his main worries had been an empty stomach and the wrath of his stepmother’s moods. Her violence felt like a shadow that never left his soul, even after far more sinister evils had snuck into his life. He could feel one said evil trailing him. 

It had been tracking he and Rowe through the Grenallish highlands for at least a week. Lurking, watching them hike and swim and chat and fuck without shame. But the creature had yet to show itself. Dion had been watched his entire life, and was careful about what he exposed of himself out in the world, especially in forests. Not even Rowe to truly knew him – anytime Dion had broached the festering magical knots of his life before Tassuri, Rowe’s purebred Tassurian education kicked in and the conversation would turn quickly into a joke. Eventually, Dion convinced himself most of his past was a cruel and gruesome fairytale. It was better than accepting any of it as truth. 

‘Are you going to come out?’ he muttered to the shadows. Only the quiet of the nighttime highlands replied. ‘If you are going to keep watching, the least you could do is respond.’

‘Your respect could do with work,’ the shadows spoke in his native Lyvanian, taking a feminine voice he knew well.

Dion didn’t break his stride. He’d met this one several times before. At least his poachers were being consistent. ‘Still not going to show yourself?’

‘Is there need? You will only see what you want to see.’

‘Still can’t swim?’ Dion asked.

‘No, fresh water is…’

Dion lurched sideways, diving into the lake before he could hear the end of its explanation. The water burned cold against his skin and dragged his clothes, but it was better than remaining under the shadow’s gaze. He pulled himself deep as the lakebed and pushed the air from his lungs so he could sink and sit at the bottom. A shoal of small fish ambled by, weaving its way into a bed of lake grass. He could stay here, he thought. He could stay and be missed by millions who didn’t truly care about him, only cared for a reality they created for him. Watching the black ripples several feet above his head, he ignored the rising scream of his lungs and the growing ache of his scarred throat. He could stay here, he thought. But Rowe would probably follow him to the afterlife just to strangle him for morbidity. 

He pushed back towards the surface. 

Dawn was kissing the horizon by the time Dion returned, sodden clothes strung over his shoulder. Rowe sat at the open mouth of their tent, brown eyes glazed and distracted by whatever news and gossip updates had taken his fancy that morning. Rowe preferred lens inserts and chips for comms, where Dion still clung to phones and tablets he could easily distance from. His pulse remained on edge whenever Rowe used them and, for Dion’s sake, he had held off for most of their trip, only linking in sporadically to catch up with his girlfriend. Tanya, to her credit, rarely asked for updates, and had become well accustomed to Dion and Rowe’s elusive escapes between Kagosae cycles. 

‘You should see this Scouting–’ Rowe started. 

‘Don’t.’ Dion’s stomach lurched. ‘I’ll catch up when I’m back.’ 

Rowe knew better than to argue and shrugged his broad shoulders in surrender, then diligently removed his lenses. The shimmer of news disappeared. Rowe’s glance up turned into a gawk. ‘You swam in that creepy water?’

‘No, your snoring kept me awake so I found some faeries to wash me with a sleep shower.’

Rowe narrowed his eyes. ‘Hah. I don’t snore.’

Dion scoffed. ‘Would you care to move aside, I’m cold.’

‘No, I’m enjoying the view.’ 

Dion dropped his wet clothes on Rowe’s head and pushed in past him.

After some shrieking and grumbled threats, Rowe asked, ‘Are you sure you won’t come with me today?’

‘Yeah,’ Dion replied, wrapping himself in a towel as exhaustion pressed him down again. He watched Rowe’s back for a few seconds, grounding himself in the solid lines and curves of muscles that were as familiar to him as his own. ‘I have a few more things I need to do.’ 

‘What, like talking to more animals?’

Dion laughed, because Rowe wasn’t too far off. The soulmaster was certainly still lurking, he could feel the prickle of its putrid soul lingering close. Once, the creature had presented itself as a scruffy dog which Dion considered an insult to canines everywhere. ‘I just need a few more weeks to myself before the clown show starts again.’

‘Amber would probably let you leave…if you requested it.’

Dion’s skin pebbled at the sound of her name. He hadn’t seen or thought about Amber Viscose in almost half a season, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Rowe was probably right. Dion could evade having to take part in his third Kagosae cycle if he asked, but it wasn’t worth the cost.  

‘One more cycle and we’re free,’ he said. There was no way to explain Dion’s true desires, not even to Rowe; especially not to Rowe. It was a burning, all-consuming need he couldn’t put words to, and he had spent years burying it, waiting. 

‘Okay, but–’

‘Quit it, Lyncetti.’  

Rowe looked back at him with a furrowed brow that cried concern. Dion could so easily read the comments brimming at the edge of his tongue, but they were all pushed aside. ‘Want me to help warm you back up?’ 

‘Yes, but make sure the latch is locked. Those faeries might come by to check I’m getting my beauty sleep.’ 

‘You and these fucking faerie stories,’ Rowe scoffed and zipped the tent shut. 

That night, Dion waited for the soulmaster to come for him again. Alone for the first time in months, he felt comfort and vulnerability all wrapped up together in an uneasy duet. 

‘You trust him enough to share your body with him, but not enough to tell him of me?’ asked the shadows. 

‘He’s gone now, come out from your hiding.’

The figure that materialised made Dion’s skin chill more than the lake water had. It was small, no more than four feet, but out of proportion, all elongated grey limbs and a clinking of blood beads around his neck. It looked like someone Dion had known in his teens, but a terrible caricature of him. 

The soulmaster’s grin was a feral thing. ‘I can present as the things you hate most. Interesting, this one. I thought he held a more pleasant place in your heart.’

‘Speak your League’s business and be done with it, Kyrah.’

‘Straight to the point as always, Dion. Very well. The League requests you rethink your timeline and come to us now instead of after another cycle. Things are moving more quickly than planned.’

‘If I run away now, the last five years will have been for nothing. You can wait.’

‘But we can give you the freedom you so crave.’

‘A hollow promise. Don’t treat me like I’m still some child you found lost in the street. Your kind didn’t give me freedom then and you certainly don’t have the capacity to hand it to me now.’ Dion had been stalked by the Katlianic League since his childhood, sending messengers and crimson disk tokens to lure him across the Molinthod Sea to the seat of their growing empire. They promised freedom from Tassuri, from the cage of his own birth. He had always declined, mostly out of a self-induced duty to protect his little brother. Or so he told himself. The more time he spent parted from Theo, the more he wondered if the only thing stopping him had been fear of his own capabilities. Tassuri was safe, controlled. He could unleash himself to an acceptable degree and keep the invasive light of the world dimmed away. 

‘A soul for a soul,’ the soulmaster said. ‘What if I were to tell you we have found one we want?’

Dion’s jaw clenched. In the past he would have sprung straight to violence, but that only ever harmed those he cared for. He dug nails into the palms of his hands to distract from the tingling urge to pounce. 

‘We struck a precise deal,’ he said, voice mercifully steady. ‘My choice. I decide what soul is worth it.’

The soulmaster sighed. ‘It seems you are indeed loyal to agreements. To a fault, might I add.’ 

‘I don’t believe you watched me for weeks only to shrug at the first hurdle.’

‘Tassuri is fracturing from the inside,’ it said. ‘The Families no longer hold control as they did, they’re forming factions and picking one another off while the Kagosae distracts the public. The Fayrouz and Blakes have been virtually wiped out already, it will not be long before their hold on the continent crumbles. How long do you plan on playing to their charade?’

Dion wondered that as well. However, the soulmaster was not the one to air out his troubles with. No one was. ‘I’m tired. What else is there?’

Kyrah stared, unblinking. 

Dion stood his ground, but something inside began to wither. ‘I won’t jump from being a fake idol for Tassuri only to do the same for your League. Swapping one empire for another will not save us.’

The soulmaster let out a shrill giggle. All animals nearby scattered, sending rustles through the foliage until he and Kyrah were blanketed in complete silence. The sudden isolation pulled at Dion’s heart. 

‘The Katlianic League is coming, and Tassuri’s people will suffer unless the likes of you step in line, but you are selfish, Dion. Don’t pretend you care whether Tassuri is overthrown for a worse master.’

Dion began to turn, left eye hurting with the promise of a migraine. He was aware from the years of the League’s stalking, the soulmaster would not give him any information it wasn’t cleared to give. They preferred riddles and half truths and lofty promises.

‘Our most esteemed Scholar has sent word regarding your lineage.’ An edge of desperation in its voice, if it could feel such a thing.

Splitting the creature’s head against the rocks was becoming a more inviting prospect by the second. He re-centred himself with a paced breath, but a heat was rising to his head that he wasn’t yet convinced he wanted to quench. 

‘I understand you’re sick of our theories.’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Would you at least entertain–’

‘My father is Xander Kestales and I never had a mother. Blood means nothing. We all spill it the same.’ 

The soulmaster pursed its thin lips. ‘Then I suppose you don’t wish to have an update on your brother. We located him.’

Dion’s body reacted before he could snuff out the tension that shot to every muscle at its mention of Theo. Every cell in his body careened towards the prospect of knowledge, ached to know how his brother was doing after all this time. ‘Leave me be.’

‘You know,’ it crooned, gaze dropping to his neck. ‘I can help you sleep. I don’t mind sharing that soul of yours, however dark–’

‘Leave, Kyrah, before I forget my patience.’ 

Dion’s mind tingled long after the soulmaster had truly left him.