“Meladon, hear my vow. I promise my honor to thee. I promise my life to thee. I promise my faith to thee and thy children. My body is Justice. My mind is Peace. My soul is Love.” Zander paused, feeling the gravity of the words weighing on his body, mind, and soul. He had recited the Knight’s Oath thousands of times, but this time he made a true covenant with the Divine Thirteen.

  In the background, he heard the rushing of the Bear River. He felt the wind blowing the scent of flowers his way. Zander felt where the priestess had rubbed anointed oils onto his shoulders; they burnt as if to sear this moment into his memory for eternity. His sponsor, Sir Edward Bladestorm, stood vigil over him with his meladonite longsword gripped firmly in both hands. The eyes of most of the encampment, including the auxiliary forces from Bear’s Crossing, were upon him.

  “I pledge my sword and shield to Leveria. I promise my loyalty to my king and archlord. I will answer their call with honor and bravery. I shall smite their enemies and uphold their law as long as I breathe.” Zander froze. Alexia, I could never smite you. He clenched his hands and finished solemnly, “I shall protect the innocent and bring justice to the evil. Zamael may never triumph while I fight. Meladon, judge me justly if I break my oath.”

  Sir Edward tapped each shoulder with the flat of his sword as he completed the ritual, “In the name of the Divine Father and the Eleven Scions, by the authority of King Adameon Ruby, the fifth of his name, and Archlord Wayn Bearbreaker, the sixth of his name, I, Sir Edward Bladestorm, hold witness to these sacred vows of divine knighthood.” Sir Edward held his sword up to the sky in a two-handed grip. “Rise, Sir Zander of Mirrevar!”

  Zander stood, towering over all who came to witness. He lifted his sword into the sky for the first time as a knight. The camp cheered his ascension. Through the celebration, Zander could make out the sounds of Theo and Kenneth competing for the title of most uproarious.

  Despite the joy that surrounded him, Zander experienced a pang of emptiness as he fulfilled his lifelong dream. A melancholy swept through him, washing away his youthful dream and replacing it with longing for peace. Zander gripped his locket and thought of his mother. He clenched it so tight he heard his mother’s voice over the cheers and through the years. I will be right here.

  Sir Edward’s embrace caught him off guard. “Your mother would be proud of the Leverian you have become,” Edward confided. “She smiles from Paradise, Zander.”

  Even more surprising than the sudden embrace was the wetness in Sir Edward’s eyes. This was a promise fulfilled for the old knight who had made a vow to Melody of Mirrevar that he would help her bereaved son grow strong and just. Zander wouldn’t be the man he was today without Edward Bladestorm’s guidance. He embraced his old blademaster harder, remembering all their private lessons and how hard he had pressed Zander to become the man he was. Zander had pushed himself, trying to prove that he was worthy of his father’s love by becoming the strongest and most skilled swordsman he could. Now, Zander realized that he may never have had a father, but that Sir Edward was proud of him, and for a moment he felt what he imagined it was like to be a son who made his father proud. Though his was not Edward’s blood, Zander’s heart beat prouder.

  Zander and Edward broke the embrace and Zander’s eyes searched for Alfread. Instead, he was engulfed by bright light. Asa grabbed his hand, “You are a truly worthy man, Sir Zander of Mirrevar!”

  Unable to maintain his melancholy with her smile shining up at him, Zander beamed back at her. “Thank you, Asa.”

  Sir Zander leaned back from Asa, scanning the crowd. It took several turns, but Zander finally found Alfread striding away from the ceremony. Mindless to the cheers of others, Zander tried to push his way through but was assailed by a horde of people eager to congratulate him.

  Zander moved through all the pleasantries as briskly as he could, dodged Kenneth and his shite-eating grin, and chased after his best friend. He found him in the first place he looked—a place he had not seen him in days—their tent. Within, Alfread gathered his belongings. Potions, arrow feathers, and unfolded tunics were being pressed into his travel sack.

  Zander’s voice came out like the dying croak of a toad. “Alfread?”

  Alfread snapped back at him, as irritated as Zander was sad. “I’m leaving.”

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  Fear gripped the new-made knight. His first foe was his worst and no amount of training could ever teach him how to slay it with a sword. “Don’t go, Alfread!”

  Alfread chucked a chipped arrowhead across the tent. “Do you think I’m a divinedamned fool, Zander!”

  Confusion momentarily set fear aside. “What?” Zander gasped.

  “Don’t play with me, Zander! You bedded her!”

  Anger engulfed confusion and suffocated fear. “I did not!”

  “You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself with the one woman that I wanted to be with! Divines damn you!” Alfread lunged toward Zander.

  Alfread’s fist collided with Zander’s jaw. He bit his tongue, blood filtering into his mouth. His vision blurred.

  Alfread’s arms swung like meladonite hammers. Zander tried to deflect as he regained his senses. Alfread landed a blow on Zander’s chest and the air was expelled from his body. Zander deflected the next blow and pushed Alfread away.

  Zander stepped back and yelled at Alfread, “I didn’t bed her!”

  Blood from Zander’s mouth had splattered on Alfread’s face and tunic. He looked crazed with rage. “Liar!” Alfread screamed. Hot tears melted down Alfread’s cheeks as he charged again. Zander got ready to deflect his fists. Instead, Alfread landed a clever blow, blasting Zander in the groin with a kick.

  Zander doubled over, heaving.

  “I’m done with you, Zander!” Alfread called, grabbing his rucksack to leave. “You can have her and break your own girl’s heart, you divinedamned oathbreaker.”

  Zander clenched his teeth. He wasn’t done with Alfread. He drove forward, wrapping his arms around Alfread. Zander slammed Alfread through his cot, snapping the beams and scattering Alfread’s belongings. Alfread pushed against Zander’s weight, but he had no leverage. Zander used his size and strength to bury Alfread beneath him. He pinned his arms and straddled him to keep his legs locked. Alfread thrashed with his upper body, unable to match Zander’s strength. Alfread’s lower body bucked like a wild bronco, and Zander was astounded by his ferocity and strength, but not unseated by it.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” Alfread screeched. “I’m done with you!”

  Zander’s tears fell onto Alfread. He couldn’t let his once best friend go. Not like everyone else.

  “I hate you!” Alfread yelled.

  Anger evolved to madness. Nausea permeated Zander’s essence but he kept fighting, a wild dog let out of its cage. A bitterness pushed him forth into madness, urging him like an evil whisper in his ear. Zander couldn’t resist the allure of madness as it corrupted every value he held dear. Zander’s hands left Alfread’s arms and wrapped around Alfread’s throat.

  Alfread resisted, digging his nails into Zander’s wrists, trying to pry his hands open. He jabbed at Zander’s chest and bucked with his lower body, but nothing could stop Zander. He didn’t feel the pain of the blows anymore, only the madness wrapping him.

  Alfread thrashed, turning purple as he gasped for air. Zander squeezed, and he squeezed, his muscles pulsating, his vision blurring from madness and tears. The gasping stopped, the nails clawing into his wrists went limp, even the tension in Alfread’s neck went slack. A cacophonic laughter echoed in his head and the madness dissipated.

  Zander let go and stared at his trembling, bloody hands. He heaved, vomiting on the floor of the tent. Wiping his mouth, madness and anger gave way to sadness. The sadness overwhelmed Zander, immobilizing him. For several moments, he stared at Alfread, then he stood up and wavered to the opposite end of the tent. Zander collapsed into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest. He buried his head in his arms and hid as he wept like he hadn’t wept since his mother died.

  Zander gripped at his locket and wished his mom were here to hold him. He sealed his eyes as if that would change the ending to Alfread’s story. He was horrified by his loss of self-control and the destruction his hands were capable of. He begged Leverith for Alfread’s life and offered his in return. He couldn’t live with he’d done.

  If Alfread was truly gone, Zander would soon follow him.

  Sobbing like a ten-year-old on his mother’s deathbed, Zander closed his hands together, “Leverith, please. Take me instead. Don’t let him be gone too.”

  He felt a moment of warmth in his chest. It felt like his mother singing a song to him, like Alexia’s embrace. The hate he’d felt for Alfread, and then himself, couldn’t withstand such powerful feelings of love.

  Leverith, he thought, opening his eyes. Through the tears he saw it, a faint blue light seeping into Alfread.

  Alfread gasped, his eyes shooting open. He wheezed for several turns then struggled to lift himself out of the ruined cot.

  They stared at each other in silence for several turns, Alfread massaging his neck.

  Then Zander looked away, unable to face what he’d done. The threads pulling on his emotions were released by whatever puppet master played the strings, leaving him feeling like an empty pit with nothing to fill it but shame. He’d spent his childhood dreaming of becoming a knight, then sullied his honor not five degrees later.