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“Reatia believes I’m in league with you and Rimore, and they suspect you to be elsewhere. I’ve no reason to be on this side of the continent. Coming across an escence user this far from the empire is unlikely, so… let’s say, a bear attack will be convincing enough.”

“Bears aren’t native to this area.”

“I’ll keep it vague then.” Jarek waved away the complaint. “Any other issues?”

Lilith pressed her lips in a hard line. “I don’t see how that’s enough to—”

“If you wanted something less stressful, then maybe you should’ve been more careful with where you chose to take Brialis’ whelp,” Jarek bit. “The good news is, all you have to do is sit here while I take care of it. Shouldn’t be too hard to manage.”

Lilith frowned, a swarm of irritated oranges blending with her anxiety. She sat down on the log at her feet—chin high and arms crossed. “We’ll be right here.”

“Perfect,” he seethed, not trusting her, but believing her if it were possible. At least across the trench, he’d be far enough he could sense them if they did try to run.

Jarek bled into the shadows, nestling with the darkness beneath the base of the tower. He shifted back into his body when the lanterns on either side were swallowed by the night. He waited, head cocked up toward the tower, only hearing two sets of footfalls inside. Along with those patrolling the woods, there were four soldiers in total.

Jarek reached inside himself, down to the god rattling his bones. This trick was what ultimately stalled the Gnaw long enough for him to get close enough to crack apart its shell—so he was told by its current vessel, anyway. Hearing the tormented wail of a loved one would send anyone into the panicked state the Serpent loved to feast on, even more so when they realized they were never there to begin with.

Jarek whipped a solidified shadow against the side of the tower, startling the guards inside. He snatched up their fear, turning it into a rustle in the trees outside.

The growing chatter above him quieted. After a moment, the wooden slates groaned under the fall of feet, and the creak of a door swung open. Across the trench, the outline of someone who wasn’t there ignited their curiosity. To finish the effect, Jarek manifested a pleading scream, then the growl and stride from a pursuing predator deeper into the woods.

The guards crept down the stairs, igniting into a slow jog past a hidden Jarek to call across the trench.

“I don’t hear anything,” a man yelled from inside the tower.

“There’s something there,” the guard, a woman, responded. “You don’t hear the screaming for help?”

Watching the floorboard above him, Jarek frowned. Why wasn’t it working on both of them?

The pair argued further, but finally, the guard still in the tower approved the bridge to be lowered. Wheels and pistons hissed to life, rotating the chains keeping the massive bridge upright. As it slowly descended, more footfalls tread heavily down the stairs under all the noise. A reeking stench clung to the guard.

Jarek sighed. “For fuck’s sake.”

He snuck up behind the guard and struck the back of his head with an elbow. Jarek caught the dizzied man, one hand around his mouth. The Serpent latched onto his surprise and warped it into tranquility while he was dazed.

Dragging the guard to the woods, he amplified the illusion so the scouts would come running to join their comrade who was now crossing the bridge. They passed in a rush of voices, and Jarek waited in the darkness for them to fade on the other side of the trench.

Pain blazed across his skin.

The Escardian slammed a handful of solidified life into his arm, melting his flesh with the molten energy. Jarek cursed, releasing him. The Serpent rushed to the site, and in a flash of emerald light, healed the growing wound.

The man reached for more life, opening his mouth to scream. But Jarek manifested in the shadows behind him. He kicked the back of his knee, knocking him down. The man’s call for help died to a low grunt, and he released the aura. It spilled between his fingers like magma before soaking into the ground.

Jarek flipped the man over and forced him to the ground with a heavy foot to his chest. The Serpent snaked shadowed tendrils around the man’s wrists and pinned him to the spot.

As he leaned over the fearful magic user, an unwanted feeling jumped in his chest—an eager sensation he equated to picking up a glass of liquor, knowing even only one would lead to a night of regret.

A sip here and there didn’t harm anything. The problems came after he indulged too much. He shouldn’t. He already asked for more of the Serpent and himself than either could spare.

He knew exactly how this would end, and he still knocked back what was left in his cup.

“This isn’t personal, you know,” Jarek said, outstretching a hand toward him. The man’s growing fear darkened. Jarek froze his touch deliberately, watching the beading sweat between his captive’s wrinkles. “On second thought, maybe it is.”

“Don’t touch me!” the Escardian shouted in Retian.

Jarek ignored him, fixating his attention on a lump in the chest pocket of his coat. Carefully, he fished out a small glass vial with a cork stopper while the man struggled beneath him. Inside, a powder the color of white opal shimmered like dust in the wind.

Escence. The drug crafted using dried up souls. This was why he hadn’t fallen for the illusion. It heightened his senses enough for him to see right through it.