A shadow swished in the darkness in front of them, and with a slash of silver, a demented figure appeared, holding a scythe with one hand. Locke skidded to a stop, and Fahrla held onto his shoulders tight.

The figure laughed at them. He wore a hooded cloak, and underneath the cloak, Locke could make out a skull. Bone knuckles flashed underneath the hem of his sleeve. Lightning and thunder crashed around them as the rain sunk into their rags and their skin.

Danger! Locke's senses cried out at him. Whoever this person was, he was out here to bring harm.

'Danger, so he thinks.' The figure stretched out his bone hand and touched Locke's forehead. 'And danger, so she thinks.' He touched Fahrla's forehead. With a touch, Locke found that he could not move. Fear gripped at him, holding him tight. He felt Fahrla's delicate body shudder against his own, her breaths short and sharp, and her finger trembling against his shoulders where she held him.

'St-stay away!' Locke cried. The cries in the city rang about, but he could hear nothing except for his own beating heart that pounded violently against his chest.

'Stay away? When I have come to you? Now, now. I am a man of logic, young Eagles.'

Eagles! He knows our nickname!

'And know your nickname I do. You bear your thoughts openly upon your heart, I can't help but read them, even if I did not want to. I am Straza. I am looking for a lost child of dreams. One of them is here.'

'A lost child of dreams? What are you on about?' Locke forced himself to take a step back as his legs wobbled.

'He does not know. But this girl, that pitiful little creature, does.'

'What? Fahrla knows no such thing. We have nothing to do with you, please spare us!'

Fahrla held Locke even tighter, shutting her eyes. 'Please, Locke, we need to run. I'm scared.'

Straza lifted his scythe and brought it down in a wide swing. Locke jumped to the side. 'Hold on tight, Fahrla.'

'Right!'

Straza swung his scythe with a relentless barrage, and Locke jumped from side to side to avoid its deadly reach. I must escape. I must protect Fahrla.

Steel flashed from the corner of his eye as the scythe worked upwards in a deadly arc. He jerked his head to the side as the metal cut against the right side of his torso, cutting a deep gash into him. Before he knew it, all his strength and determination faded from him as his body crashed to the ground, sapped of its strength.

'The Soulsucker Scythe destroys the motivation of anyone who it cuts,' Straza said, wiping a finger across the blade of the scythe and licking Locke's blood. Straza stood over Locke and Fahrla. Fahrla held her hands over her head to shield herself. 'Come on, little whelp.' He yanked Fahrla easily up into the air and held her struggling body with a single hand.

'Save me, Locke!' she cried, staring down at her dear brother, who cowered in fear below.

'Silence girl.' Straza held out his scythe, raised it up. 'And farewell, boy. You did better than most.'

Black lightning flashed along the blade of the scythe as he raised it to its full height. He swung it downwards.

I'm going to die!

The scythe will rip through my neck.

I don't want to die. I don't want to see Fahrla go.

I … I want to live! Please!

Silence, then …

BANG!

A red skinned elf flashed in front of him, delivering a strong downward kick to Straza and knocking him back. The scythe fell from his grasp and onto the sand next to him.

'You alright, kid?' she yelled.

'Y-yes!' Locke said. The cut across his torso did not pain him.

'Is that your sister?'

He nodded.

'I'm Arla. I'll get her back for you.' As lightning crashed to the ground around the city, Locke noticed a new lightning that enveloped Arla. One second, she was there in front of him, the other she was in front of Straza, kicking him across the ribs, then on the skull, then square in the chest.

'Slimy Red Elf!' Straza screamed. He held out his palm, a dark mist cloaked his arm, and when the next kick came, he caught it easily. 'Your little puny kicks aren't going to help you, even if I am fighting one-handed.' He gave Fahrla a shake to demonstrate how he was fighting one-handed. 'I don't even need my weapon for you.'

He broke out into a fit of wide, sweeping laughter, stopped short when a bullet crashed through one side of his head and broke through the other. In the distance was the sniper, Miles, twirling at his moustache as he readjusted his sniper. The force of the shot weakened his hold, and Arla broke free from his grasp.

'Two on one poses no problem to me yet. Shadow Snakes.' He waved his hand, two snakes bouncing into existence. One snake shot towards Arla and the other towards Miles.

Arla aimed a kick at one of the snakes, but her leg phased through the shadow. The snake turned around and sunk its fangs into the red skin of her leg.

'It's over, you fools,' Straza raised his hand, black energy pulsing from his fist.

'Not on my watch.' A third person had arrived, his sword cutting through Straza's hand as easily as butter. Stag, wearing a pair of antlers on his head, smirked as the hand flew through the air and went for a second swing.

Straza yanked Fahrla up in front of him as a shield and Stag's sword stopped instantly.

'I knew it,' Straza laughed. 'Your conviction is too weak to kill me. You care more about this pitiful girl's life than the thousands of lives that I have laid waste to.'

Stag said nothing. He made no expression, but Arla and Miles knew that he was paining inside. Locke watched the events with disbelief. Who were these people? What was all this mysterious energy? How did Arla move so fast? How did Stag cut Straza with such ease? How did Straza conjure up snakes that could not be attacked, but could harm other people?

'Well, I am glad your pitiful morality will let me live to see another day.' Straza let out a boastful laugh, uttered a string of disjointed words, and continued to laugh as he and Fahrla disappeared into nothingness.

Stag's sword dropped to the ground.

'Brace yourself,' Arla whispered, her hand clasped tight over the wound from the snake, which had disappeared into nothing. Miles blocked his ears with both hands.

Locke would never, ever forget Stag's scream.

'FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!'

Arla pulled Locke close to her with her spare arm. The pain from the shadow snake reached to her eyes, and her talk was a mix of gasps and winces. 'That sniper is Miles, and that pretty boy with the sword is Stag. Stag has a curse where he can never kill another living person, lest he die himself.'

'Where's Fahrla?' Locke asked, still staring at the empty air where Straza and Fahrla had disappeared.

Arla looked down at him and how his whole body trembled. He's just a kid, she realised, there is no way he can so easily accept what had just happened. Arla turned to the city of Arindel, where there was naught but columns of fire and smoking ruins.

Nothing remained when the Black Hand reached a city. Every time, no matter how fast they had arrived, the survivors numbered in the single digits. And here was the one survivor.

'I'll explain later, you should rest now.'

On the word "rest", Locke's eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep.

'We should reconvene with our men,' Stag said, slipping his sword into the sheath. 'Arla, catch.' He threw a vial and Arla caught it. She popped the cork and rubbed the ointment where the shadow snake had bit her.

'So that guy must be the mastermind behind it all,' Miles said, sniper hung over his shoulder as he re-joined them.

'It seems so. So, the Black Hand is not acting for no reason. I commend that boy, holding him there for that long so we could arrive on time.' Arla said, picking up the scythe on the floor.

'Let's bring the hand and the scythe back to the Amber Hall. Let's study it so that we can better understand what we are up against,' Stag said. 'The boy will come with us. I like someone with fighting spirit, tell me, Miles, what did you see of the fight from afar?'

'The boy was dodging the best he could, the scythe nicked him, then his motivation fled him instantly. Look, there's no gash where the scythe got him. I reckon it's laced with magic.'

'I reckon you're right. I can tell by looking at it. But yes, the boy will join us. He will want to fight for us. He will want his revenge. I need more people that can put up a good fight. Of the Amber Army, hardly anyone can hold a spear.' Stag sighed. 'The people up top care more about politics than stopping the threat of the Black Hand, so they don't care to give us any decent soldiers, just the bottom of the barrel cowards who were drafted into the army and would much rather stay in the safety of their walls. Come on, let's head back.'