Diego’s eyes are so heavy. Opening them feels like walking through a swamp. His vision blurs, and it takes a second to focus. He’s kneeling on the stone, hands sticky and wet with blood. His sword lies before him, soaked in red.

  "What?"

  Blink.

  He turns his head slowly to the right. His little brother lies in a pool of blood — his blood.

  Blink.

  Diego crawls toward the body, his limbs barely responding. He kneels before his brother, lifting Rohan into his arms. His brother’s eyes stare back, vacant — the spark of life snuffed out. Like a porcelain figurine, empty of whatever breathes life into flesh.

  Rohan’s expression is frozen in surprise and horror, his mouth open in what could have been a protest... or a final plea.

  Diego hears a wail of agony — it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.

  Thud.

  He kneels there rocking with his brother’s lifeless body for seconds… minutes… hours…he doesn’t know.

  Thud. His vision fades to black. Then back again.

  It wasn't him. He did not kill his little brother.

  Thud. Black. Muffled scream.

  A faintly familiar voice speaks in his head. "Help me," the voice whispers—a gritty, earthy rasp, like rocks grinding together.

  And he’s back, kneeling on the stone, sobbing, holding Rohan. And he knows.

  He did do this.

  He killed his only family.

  Thud. Black.

  "Fulfill the contract. Help me."

  A vertical slit of light cuts through the darkness. It grows, and blinding light pours in, swallowing him.

  Diego falls — and just as suddenly, he hits the hard, muddy ground.

  Where am I? Rohan? A nightmare… no… sadly it wasn't… he thinks. He drags himself to his knees. His senses are dulled. Every movement, every thought feels like hauling a stone uphill.

  He blinks. Slowly, painfully, he comes into focus. Grass. A giant, gnarled tree stood above him. Bright sun shining down.

  Not in the fortress, then.

  A muffled gasp reaches his ears. Then solidifies into a slurred voice

  "Fuck…By Era’s word…"

  Diego turns to see a tall, thin figure about twenty feet away. Pale skin. Long pointed ears.

  An elf, Diego thinks.

  The elf sways, smelling as if they bathed in whiskey. Their clothes are torn and ragged, hair matted with filth. In their hands, an axe that is clearly too big for them. Around their neck, a pendant: a star spinning in a circle. Their nose is twisted, as if recently broken.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A priest of Era? Diego wonders.

  On closer inspection, he notices a wedding piercing on the elf’s left eyebrow. A married priest of Era? Diego ponders in confusion.

  The elf’s face contorts from fear to drunken anger.

  "Did you take my boy?" he snarls, stumbling toward Diego, raising the massive axe overhead. "It was you!"

  Diego stands shakily, his body weak from inactivity.

  As the elf looms over him, Diego meets their eyes. In that instant, the elf stops. Their face twists — from anger, to confusion, to horror as they take in Diego’s naked form. Diego’s nakedness lends even more confusion; he’s sure.

  They see Diego’s brown skin, burly frame, beard, and round ears. Not an elf. And too big for a dwarf. Not anything they know.

  The elf knows only one creature could be standing before them.

  “Traviulus…” they breathe out in fear. The name given to Diego what seems like ages ago.

  Diego looks away ever so briefly, a mix of emotions threatening to tear him apart as the elf stares at him in horror. He takes a deep breath and looks back up, all emotion gone from his face, replaced by grim determination. No time for that, Diego. He thinks.

  Horror finally wins, and the elf turns to run, but Diego’s hand shoots out — faster than lightning — grabbing the elf by the scruff of the neck. Not hard enough to hurt them, but hard enough to stop them.

  "Stop," Diego croaks, realizing he's speaking a language no one in Owen could understand. He switches tongues.

  "Stop, elf."

  "Fulfill the contract," the voice whispers. Anger rages through Diego, and pain flashes in his eyes as memories begin clawing their way back.

  "Give me that," he says to the elf, his grip firm as he takes the axe from their hands.

  "D...di…did you take my boy, Dark Paladin?" the elf sobs, anger and grief trembling under the fear. So that's what they call me now. Diego ponders sadly. So much pain... He tucks that information away for now. He must keep the walls up… This elf is brave, even now. Good. Diego could use that.

  "No," Diego says simply, peeling the axe from the elf’s grip. But he knows who did.

  He meets the elf’s fearful, broken gaze.

  "I am going to release you now," Diego says, voice cold as iron. "Do not run."

  He lets go. The elf stumbles but stands his ground. Trembling, crying but not running.

  "Fulfill the contract," the whisper urges again. Desperate and maybe a little afraid. As it should be. Diego thinks. He was so tired and angry. Tired of being tricked. Angry at himself for letting them do this to him again. Damn this world, these creatures, damn himself for being so gullible.

  Diego turns to the giant tree behind him — once a mighty oak, now twisted and monstrous. No leaves — only black, gnarled fruit dangling from bare branches. Sharp wooden spikes jutting from a charcoal-colored trunk like jagged teeth.

  The hole he crawled out of still gapes open.

  "Finally showing your true colors," Diego growls at the tree, rage simmering.

  He swings the axe. THUD. The blow lands hard. In his mind, the tree screams.

  "You break the contract and the Dryads will never shelter you again," the voice wails.

  "Fuck your contract," Diego snarls, swinging again. He will never trust ANYONE again!

  THUD. Splinters explode from the trunk.

  "Where is Sarita?" he demands.

  "You will burn for this!” The voice in his head shrieks

  THUD. Another scream. Diego was done talking.

  The contract forbids this..."

  THUD. Another blow. Done believing.

  "Please!" the elf behind him sobs. "It took my son!"

  Diego glances back at the tear-streaked elf. Those tears aren't for his own life — they’re for his lost boy.

  Something in Diego’s heart tightens in pain. He pushes it back and turns back to the tree, swinging the axe again. "TELL US!" He screams. He is done with all of it!

  "Stop! Promise — promise not to kill me — and I'll tell you!"

  "I won’t cut you down," Diego promises, lowering the axe.

  After what feels like an eternity, Diego walks down a bluff, axe in hand, the elf trailing him. Both wear grim expressions, destination clear.

  Behind them, smoke rises into the sky. Flames lick across the bluff, devouring the once-proud tree. From the burning ruins, faint wails ride the wind — the dying screams of something wicked.