The Festival of Sparks was in full swing. For three days, HollowHorn was alive with song and joy. The smell of sweets and roasted meats carried on the sound of children’s laughter as they ran through the streets. Even the elders danced as if the songs filled their bones with youth.

  “There are places to piss that aren’t on people’s homes, Jacob,” Arryn said to his friend as they hurried through the crowd.

  Rob put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder to stop him.

  “The town guard aren’t going to be very friendly if they catch you.” They locked eyes for a moment.

  “The tree line is just a little bit further. Just hold it a little longer,” Arryn said, hopeful in his plea.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you two.” Jacob shook Rob’s hand from his shoulder.

  The three men turned off the main street down an alley. While it wasn’t uncommon during festivals, pissing in alleys was unwelcome and caused the stench to carry through the streets. Some even said the guards would jail you for it until the festival was over. Just a rumor, though—they would end up tossing every drunk here.

  Arryn could feel the nerves in his stomach. How silly it would be for THIS to be the reason they spend the rest of the festival in a dark cell, he thought to himself.

  “You two just wait there and keep watch for me. It’ll just be a moment.”

  Jacob stopped before a pair of wooden frames that were filled with soil, weeds sprouting from neglect.

  “Just be quick about it,” Arryn told him, the sound of Jacob’s relief puddling in the soil.

  “You two really need to relax, you know. Let me take my piss, and then I’ll work my magic and find us some women.” Jacob chuckled after his words.

  “Have you ever had a woman, Jacob?” Rob laughed as he asked, lightly shoving Arryn.

  As Arryn and Rob’s laughter faded, there was no response from Jacob, which was rare.

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  “Oh, don’t be that way,” Rob said, turning halfway to glance toward Jacob. Then he froze.

  There was a thud. Arryn turned, and his legs almost failed him.

  Jacob was standing there, in front of the wooden frame, still facing away from Rob and him. His head was on the ground, a pool of blood gathering around it. His body slowly crumbled before collapsing to the ground.

  A man was standing over Jacob’s now limp body. He was covered in cold black armor, with a dark, earthen-colored cloak that went just past his knees. The cloak was over one of his shoulders, leaving only one arm visible.

  Arryn noticed the man looked unnatural in the way he stood—not like a man, almost like a beast watching his prey. His arm even seemed wrong, the fingers of his hand elongated and twisted, as if blades themselves. Arryn felt his stomach sink, and his heart began to race.

  A bone mage, Arryn thought to himself. It had to be—no other way a man could do that with his hands, and there was no other blade at his side.

  Rob opened his mouth as if to plead with the large man, but instead, he found himself holding back his own bile.

  The man in armor closed the gap instantly. Arryn had to wipe blood from his eyes to see what had happened. When he looked, a whimpered cry left his mouth.

  The man had all five of his fingers piercing Rob’s face, through and out the back of his skull. It was almost as if they changed shape while in his skull, stirring its contents. Blood ran from each hole his fingers left. For a moment, it sounded like Rob spoke, but the words weren’t right—just sounds, half-formed syllables as blood spat from his mouth.

  Arryn felt his stomach sour, his face grow warm, and his legs gave way as he tried to run. When he fell, his head began to spin, his vision shaking. He retched and spilled the contents of the festival so far onto the grass.

  Reaching into the deepest wells of his own will, he began to crawl. Arryn had seen death before, but not like this.

  If he could get out of the alley, he could call for help—get a guard’s attention.

  Arryn glanced back to Rob. The man held his hand still as Rob’s limp body slid off his fingers.

  Arryn reached the edge of the alley and noticed something. The sound of song and laughter had been replaced with screams and cries of mercy. The stench of blood covered any trace of the grand feast.

  The festival was now full of men in the same cold black armor and dark cloaks. Each of them moved like the man in the alley as they killed the festival-goers. Men, women, and children were slain without regard.

  Arryn felt the knot in his stomach return as it tried to empty its contents once again.

  He felt a hand grab him like it was made of stone. It rolled him onto his back.

  The man in armor reached down and grabbed Arryn’s collar. “Where are you from?” he asked.

  Arryn couldn’t get his mouth to work. His breath was heavy and quick, every part of his body screaming, Run, and all other functions were ignored.

  “One more chance.” The man in armor held up his hand, and his fingers began to twist and contort again.

  “Twig Hill!” Arryn spat the name out.

  “Twig Hill. Very well. Go back to Twig Hill and tell them that House Carrol came to the Festival of Sparks. Tell them to go to the magistrate, then the council, and let them know—it has begun.”

  “H-ho-house Carrol, b-bu—” Arryn’s memory flooded with children’s stories about the disgraced House Carrol and its Bone Mages. Knights that twisted into monsters beneath their armor and fought like wild beasts. Exiled and crippled by magic so powerful no one spoke it aloud, and now they were here.

  “Say it. House Carrol has come here, and we are coming for everyone else as well.”

  “H-House Carrol was at the Festival of Sparks, and they’re c-c-coming for ev-everyone.” Arryn exhausted himself forcing the words out, but he dared not test the man’s patience.

  “Very good. Don’t mess this up now. I’m letting you live to share those words—don’t waste it.”

  The man let go of Arryn’s collar, and Arryn watched him walk into the streets.

  Arryn tried to stand again. However, his heart felt as though it was trying to tear from his chest, and as it went faster, his head became lighter. He saw the edge of the woods that would take him from the town. Only, his body had given all there was, and it was forcing him to rest. His arms and legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed. The world faded to black around him.