Valen's eyes fluttered open to a spinning room. A throbbing ache in his shoulder served as a brutal reminder of the night's work. His body felt wrung-out and left to dry, muscles taut and sore. He tried to sit up, but a fresh wave of agony sent him collapsing back against the pillow with a sharp hiss. The smell of herbs and the cool press of a fresh bandage told him Mona had been busy while he slept. His vision swam, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a slow breath. The cost of blood magic was always high.
"I overdid it," he murmured, his voice raw. He shifted on the bed. The light through the shutters was brighter now, shadows retreating to the corners. "Mona?" he called out, the word a ragged whisper.
Her ears twitched at the sound, eyes shooting open. She sat up with a start, realizing she'd dozed off beside him. "Valen!" Her tail gave a frantic swish of relief. She placed a paw over his hand, searching his face. "You're awake."
"Mona," he croaked, his gaze finding hers through the fog of pain. "Are they safe?" The fate of the beastfolk they'd saved was a sharp hook in his hazy mind.
She nodded, eyes shining. "Yes, they're safe. I took them to the village." Her gaze dropped to his injury. "But you... you're hurt." Her voice wavered with concern. "Let me get you something for the pain."
He offered a wry smile and a gentle pat on her head. "I'll be okay. Nothing I'm not used to." He sat up slowly, hissing through his teeth as he pulled his shirt over his head. His body was a canvas of scars, each one a story. But as he examined his arm, his smile faded. The discoloration from the dark magic was spreading, a tendril of shadowy blackness reaching further than he'd ever seen.
Mona's eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing as she took in his bare torso, her gaze snagging on the wounded flesh. "Valen," she whispered, her voice shaking. "What's happenin' to you? You say it costs you," Mona whispered, her voice small. "But this... this is different, isn't it?"
Valen sighed, the sound heavy with a weight she'd never heard before. "It needs fuel." He avoided her gaze, staring at the whip. "My blood. The jewel in the core... ignites the mana within. Turns it into fire, into lightning. The more power I need, the more it takes. The pain isn't a side effect; it's the cost of the spell. And if my focus wavers..." He finally looked at her, his eyes bleak. "The magic fights back. The only way to regain control is to give it more of myself. It's a hungry thing. And I'm running out of things to feed it."
Mona's tail flicked anxiously, her eyes locked on his. The seriousness in his tone was new, and it scared her. "Is... is there anythin' I can do?"
His smile turned sad. "No, Mona. This is my burden." Valen's voice was a hollow echo. "Years ago, I was dying. Our elven mage saved me by sharing her own life force, binding this magic to me." He gestured to the whip. "It was a desperate gamble. The power was meant for a race that lives centuries—their bodies have more than enough life to spare. But a human body?" He let out a shaky breath. "Every spark I summon devours weeks of my life. She gave me a second chance, but this curse is determined to make it a short one."
Her eyes widened with shock. "But you can't keep doin' this!" she protested, a soft meow in her throat. She leaned closer, her eyes begging. "We'll find another way. A healer, maybe? Somethin' to reverse it?" Her tail swished in a silent plea. "You're not alone anymore," she whispered, her paws tightening around his hand. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the chill of his words. She had to help him.
He chuckled weakly, his hand rising to pat her head. "You're too kind, Mona. But I've searched for over a decade. There is no cure. The magic that saved me is the same one that'll eventually kill me." His hand fell away. "It was a sacrifice she made willingly, and it wreaked her forever. I won't waste it. I'll use this power to protect those who can't protect themselves."
With a grimace, Valen pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. "Mona," he said, his voice firming. "We need to go to Fioré." He offered a weary smile. "I could use your sharp eyes. And besides," he added, softening, "You want to visit Luna, right?" He paused, his hand hovering over the bandage. "I need to talk to Fioré, explain what happened. She's well-connected. She might know more about the shadows in this city."
Mona's ears perked up at the mention of the Crescent Moon. Despite her fear, a spark of excitement ignited. "Yes, let's go!" she exclaimed, jumping off the bed with a sudden burst of energy. She grabbed her bow, her eyes never leaving Valen for long. He was in pain, but his determination was something she clung to.
. . .
Meanwhile, in the Royal Guard barracks, Captain Cassian slammed his fists on his desk. "What do you mean, they escaped?" he roared. The guard before him trembled through an explanation. Cassian's eyes narrowed. This was no coincidence. A traitor's whisper was growing into a shout.
He stalked to the makeshift cell and stared at the bruised mercenaries. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice cold, "who orchestrated this?"
Their leader glanced up through swollen eyes. "A man," he gasped. "And a shadow. The man had a whip... it sang with magic. Flames and lightning."
"What else?"
The merc trembled. "Masks... but the one with the whip... his eyes glowed. Like embers."
"Glowing eyes," Cassian murmured. He leaned close to his subordinate, his tone lethal. "Find them. Alive. I have questions."
He turned to his second. "The mage registry. Now." His mind raced as he scanned the list. Healers. Entertainers. A fire dancer, a water juggler. None matched this. A mage who could wield multiple elements in combat was unheard of in Elysia. Parlor tricks were one thing, but this was something new. Something forbidden.
His jaw tightened as he scanned once more. No matches. His mind, a steel trap, settled on the only possibility left: dark magic.
"This is bigger than I thought," he murmured. The thought of it festering in his city was an affront.
. . .
Valen and Mona moved through Calamor's crowded streets with new urgency. Whispers of their rescue swirled around them, mixing with the smells of roasting meat and baked bread. Mona's ears twitched at the murmurs, a swell of pride in her chest. They'd done something important.
As they approached the Crescent Moon, Valen's mind raced, so fixated on the Captain he didn't see the nobleman until they collided. He staggered back, his breath catching. Lord Aldric. The man's stern gaze pinned him. Guards leveled their weapons.
Valen stumbled back, his hand flying to his chest as he dropped to one knee. "My apologies, your highness. I wasn't paying attention." He kept his eyes downcast. Mona, startled, mimicked his posture, her heart hammering.
Lord Aldric raised a hand, his expression one of feigned surprise. "No harm done. No need for such formalities." His guards relaxed. "Please, rise." As they did, his gaze lingered on Valen's whip. He stepped closer, offering a hand. "My apologies for the collision," he said, his smile charming. "I was also lost in thought." His hand remained on Valen's arm, his thumb brushing the whip's leather. "Tell me, young man, your name? And what brings you and your… charming companion here today?" His eyes flicked to Mona, then back. His grip tightened, just a little.
Valen took a steadying breath. The man looked more like a scholar than a ruler, with his spectacles and gentle face, but his eyes were sharp as daggers. "Valen," he replied, keeping his voice even. "Just our weekly shopping. The market had some fine-looking fish today." He felt Mona tense, ready to bolt.
Lord Aldric's laugh was warm. "Ah, the local catch! A true delight." His grip released. "Well, enjoy your shopping. May the sun always shine upon your path." With a nod, he turned away.
As he left, a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. The magic he'd felt from Valen was… peculiar. He was a mage himself, and he could sense it. He'd be looking into this 'Valen' further.
Once in his quarters, Aldric paced. He'd felt the traces of magic at the scene—raw, undisciplined. But the power Valen commanded was different. Ancient. Forbidden. The door creaked open. Captain Cassian entered, his armor still grimed from the chaos.
"My lord," he began, formal. "The mercenaries speak of a man with glowing eyes and a whip of elemental fury. A rogue mage. Perhaps with a vendetta."
"A whip, you say?" Aldric turned slowly. He knew of only one person who matched that description, from a lucky crash, no less. Valen. The power he'd felt in the market wasn't legal, practiced magic. He couldn't reveal himself to Cassian, but a devious plan sparked.
"Ah, Captain," Aldric said with a cool smile. "I encountered a young man today. With a whip. An intriguing and concerning air about him." He steepled his fingers. "Should our true adversary elude us, we could turn public attention to him. Make an example. A warning to our enemies, and a beacon for our allies."
Cassian's face tightened. "Framing an innocent, my lord?" His hand rested on his sword. "It would stain the city's honor. Without evidence, it breeds distrust."
"You think I desire this, Cassian?" Aldric's voice dropped, becoming conspiratorial. "You remember the chaos of the uprising. The bodies in the streets. That peace was bought with hard choices, choices the populace can never understand. This Valen isn't an 'innocent.' He will douse the spark. If we do not control the fire, we will have another inferno on our hands. Sometimes, protecting the flock means sacrificing one stray lamb to the wolves. It is a distasteful truth, but a truth nonetheless."
Cassian studied his lord, his jaw clenched. The peace was vital; the specter of another uprising haunted him. He had spent years building his honor, brick by brick. Now, with a single nod, he had placed the first crack in the foundation. "As you command, my lord. For the sake of Calamor." It was a solemn promise, the gravity of the sin etched in his face.
Returning to his chambers, the weight of the decision pressed on Cassian. He'd been named 'The Hero of Calamor' for his valor in the uprising, but now the title felt like a shackle. That peace was bought with blood and deceit. Was he about to pay the price again?
He would be no better than the mongrel who'd used him all those years ago. Aldric was willing to play the villain to save the city. The question was, could Cassian stomach doing the same?
. . .
"Let's make a quick detour. To celebrate." Valen dragged Mona towards the tavern. Laughter and merriment spilled into the street. He pushed his unease about Aldric aside as they stepped into the warm, wooden interior. The scent of roasting meat and ale made his stomach rumble. They found a corner table, a good spot to watch the door.
The tavern was lively. A burly, bearded man held court, his tale growing with each tankard. "And the mage," he bellowed, slamming his fist, "they say his eyes were like the fires of the underworld! He took down a dozen guards with a flick of his magic whip!" The crowd roared. However, a few dissenters spoke up: "Yeah, and who's gonna pay when the Guard doubles down on the docks? They're not just gonna take this lyin' down." Another joined. "More trouble. These 'saviors' always bring the law down on the rest of us eventually."
Valen allowed himself a smug smile, ignoring the detractors.
Mona giggled, leaning into him. "That's not how it happened," she whispered. "You didn't take down that many, did you?"
"Of course I did," Valen teased with a cheeky smirk. "You just missed the grand spectacle. Typical lazy cat."
Mona swatted his arm, feigning offense. "Lazy? Me? I did all the sneakin' and distractin'!" Her tail twitched playfully. She took a sip of warm milk. "But it's fun to hear. Makes us sound like fancy heroes."
"Indeed it does," Valen murmured, his gaze distant. The firelight danced in his eyes. For the first time in years, he felt the thrill of it, the piece of himself he thought was lost. The weight of the whip was a comfort.
He took a deep breath, savoring it. The adrenaline, the scent of victory—he felt alive.
Mona's touch on his bandage brought him back. "How's your... arm?" she asked, her voice a soft mewl. Her yellow eyes searched his face.
He winced. "A nuisance," he admitted. "Painful, but it'll heal. Just can't push it." He took a sip of ale. "That little bump with Aldric sent a jolt through it, though." He offered a reassuring smile.
As their mugs emptied, Valen leaned in. "Ready to go check on Luna?"
Mona playfully bumped his side, her eyes sparkling. "Come on, 'Hero of Calamor'," she teased. "Let's go save the day again."
His heart swelled. Despite everything, a lightness filled his step as they stepped out into the night.