Sarah fumbled to uncork the vial as she led Matt down the stone stairs to the chapel’s crypt. The seeds were still slamming themselves against the cork and the walls of the vial, pulling it in a different direction with each strike and making the effort that much more difficult. Even with a peripheral watch on the stairs ahead, Sarah was too focused to see Father Pryce.

  The priest stood before a massive wooden door, chained shut with copper links. A grand gold-colored lock set with runes hung in its center. As soon as Sarah’s foot hit the crypt’s floor, he thrust an open palm in her direction. A concussive force rushed toward her, cutting her momentum instantly.

  Sarah looked to Father Pryce, opened her mouth to shout something obscene, but was cut off. The priest was not allowing any quarter. His left hand gripped a large, golden pendant around his neck, and with his right hand balled into a fist, he threw a punch in Sarah’s direction.

  The strike somehow, from across the room, hit her square in the sternum. It was a hit unlike any she had ever felt. All of her limbs went numb instantly as every muscle contracted. In just a few moments, Sarah went from a hastened descent to being completely paralyzed, falling helplessly to the stone floor of the crypt.

  Matt was hurrying down immediately behind her. Sarah tried her best to shout a warning, but her lips would not move.

  “Stop there, thief,” Father Pryce shouted as Matt came into view. He was buying time, recovering mana before he threw another paralyzing punch.

  The voice that answered was not Matt’s. It was dignified and noble sounding, but also with a timbre and volume wholly unnatural.

  “Step aside, priest. Your battle is destined to end in failure.”

  “And who makes such a claim?” Pryce demanded, looking past and around Matthew. Overhead, there was a crash, sending dust atop the trio.

  In the space between Father Pryce and Matt, two glowing red gemstones shined into existence. They twinkled brighter and brighter as they became more tangible, spilling behind them massive volumes of shadow. The shadows twisted and surged into the vague impression of a man. Sitting atop the figure’s head was a silver crown. Father Pryce looked sick.

  “Do you know who stands before you, Father?” the shadow’s voice filled the room completely. Matt was stunned that the demon of his dreams stood before him in the flesh. Or something like it.

  “You are not to form an avatar in this sanctuary of The Dreamer,” Father Pryce reprimanded.

  “I was invited by my dear friend, Matthew Carpenter.”

  “Remove yourself, Wraith.” Father Pryce was beginning to tremble.

  “I understand your swagger, Father. You gaze upon a god, and thus you boast and brag to prove you guarded the gate until your last moments.” As he spoke, the shadows became more voluminous, spilling across the room, becoming nearly suffocating. “You know I am a god, but I ask you again, Father. Do you know who stands before you?”

  “The King’s Shade,” Father Pryce was resigned to say. His faith was being shaken.

  “Correct.” The King’s Shade’s shape rushed in the priest’s direction, sweeping up his body. The old man did not say a word as he was enveloped. After just a moment, the shadows laid down Father Pryce’s unconscious body on the stone floor. “And that takes care of that one.”

  “What are you doing here?” Matt asked, stepping toward the god.

  “Making sure you do not ruin this like you have so much in your life, dear Matthew. Get the vial and open this gate.”

  Matt was about to protest the jibe, but thought better of it and moved to Sarah’s paralyzed body. He looked into her eyes and saw nothing but fear. Tears were rolling down her face as she watched Matt approach.

  He could think of nothing to say to her, so he just reached for her hand. The vial was caught in her fingers, locked in position by the priest’s attack. The seeds inside seemed to have calmed at the god’s assault on the room. With an amount of effort Matthew was sure should have broken Sarah’s finger’s, he freed the vial from her frozen grasp.

  “Dawdling still, Matthew? Though you stand on the precipice of mortal greatness?”

  “Sorry,” Matt muttered, half to Sarah, half to the King’s Shade. He walked the vial over to the god.

  “What are you doing, Matthew? I will not be committing these sins. Do this yourself. Earn your own greatness.”

  Matt scowled, and looked over to the lock. He struggled as he approached it to uncork the vial. Sarah must have loosened it during the descent. Unsure of any special action needed, Matt just dumped the vial’s contents into the lock’s keyhole.

  The sound was like children loosed onto a playground punctuated by the splinter and crack of plant growth. The glyphs on the lock began to glow and shine, but roots and vines burst from within the keyhole, wiggling and reaching out playfully. The metal bulged and buckled as the plant matter expanded unnaturally within. The lock began to whine as it strained to contain the assault, but it was going to fail. The crack of the magical lock busting was startling, like the bust of a small explosive. The metal pieces fell to the floor with a harmless clatter as the copper chains cascaded downward.

  Matt watched in awe and disgust as the ball of vines and roots that landed amongst the lock’s shards surged around like a disoriented vermin. Suddenly, once the wad of life had its bearings, it skittered off into the shadows of the crypt.

  The King’s Shade laughed heartily. “Well done Gideon! Yes?” The shadow looked at Matt, then suddenly inhaled sharply. “Ah, forgive me Matthew. Gideon helped you destroy your marriage. I had forgotten.”

  Matt, overstimulated and nervous, said nothing as he went to open the crypt’s interior door.

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  Expecting some sort of massive dungeon, Matthew was shocked to see the locked chamber was just a small room terminating immediately at an altar. Atop it was a long cylindrical piece of silver metal, carved with some fashion of calligraphy-like writing.

  “And there she rests,” the King’s Shade said solemnly. “The crux of the Halcyon’s power. The core of the greatest hero the Church of the Will has ever known lies before you Matthew. What will you do?”

  Matt thought for a moment as he approached the Halcyon Band. He thought of his promise to Kaitlyn. On cue, there was a bang from above. His pregnant wife was risking her life and the life of that child to get him this treasure. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to keep my promise to Kaitlyn.”

  The King’s Shade laughed again. This time it was more mean spirited. “See? This is why I am here, Mr. Carpenter. No you are not.”

  Matt was silent. He walked up the altar and looked closer at the Church’s treasure. The band seemed to shine with some inner light. The writing was difficult to read, so Matt gave up on it, but he reached out to touch the band’s surface. The cool metal was electrifying on his fingertips.

  “Can you feel the power?”

  “I think so.”

  “That shall be yours, Matthew. Yours and no one else’s. Think about it. What will that crime family do to your family when you have the power of the Halcyon?”

  Matt’s mind was filled with images of destroying the Tarleys. Getting vengeance for everything they had done to him, from his parents to his wife. It was intoxicatingly vivid. He just barely noticed the gleam of the King’s Shade’s eyes.

  “Take what is yours,” the shade said harshly.

  Matthew, with little contest, reached up and plucked the band from the altar. It was not at all ceremonial. There was no mechanical click. There was no magical chime. Just the bated breath of an excited god and the light breathing of the two bodies outside the room.

  Matt turned the band over in his hands. When he saw inside the armor piece, he immediately cringed. There was a long, thin, fluted blade that ran down the inside.

  “Church Enchantments are such crude ideas.” The King’s Shade was critical. Not in a harsh or hateful sense, but more with the tone of a restaurateur trying another culture’s cuisine. “They require harsh sacrifice from the user. But I think you are strong of will enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That blade is not for your enemies, Matthew. The Halcyon Band requires input from the wielder. For this one in particular? It is written right there on the surface.”

  Matt looked harder at the surface. The carvings were more salient now that he held the item. “Blood and Blood Again.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Who knows?” the King’s Shade muttered. “These people, the Church of the Will, of course, do nothing but speak in asinine riddles and hymns.”

  Matt sighed and continued to turn the Halcyon Band over and over in his hands. The King’s Shade indulged him for longer than Matt would have expected.

  “You know this is not a toy, Mister Carpenter. It is a weapon. And you should wield it as such.”

  “But I made a promise to my wife.”

  The jewels that were the eyes of the King’s Shade twinkled. “And she has failed to maintain your image of the perfect family. She rails against your leadership and she butts heads with you whenever she can.”

  Matt first found himself struggling to remember any event where Kaitlyn “butted heads” with him for no reason. But suddenly, with the gleam of the shade’s eyes, he was reminded of the Broken Bough Tavern. Where Kaitlyn embarrassed him in front of the Crew.

  “Matthew. If you put this band on you will not need to depend on Kaitlyn any more. Or the Tarleys. Or me. You will be a free man.”

  Matt’s eyes widened at the idea. That is all he ever wanted. Freedom. Freedom from his parents and the sins of their past. Freedom from the baggage of his friends and their crimes. Freedom from his haphazard family.

  Matt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took the device in his left hand and plunged his right arm into the Halcyon Band.

  He screamed out as the blade stabbed deep into his forearm. When his hand emerged from the Halcyon Band’s end, the tip of the blade struck against bone. Hot tears from the pain rushed from his eyes as blood poured out from under the band.

  The calligraphy began to turn crimson. The words “Blood and Blood Again” were brilliant against the shined silver surface.

  The King’s Shade embraced Matt. “Calm down Mister Carpenter. The pain will pass, and all that will remain is your power.”

  Sam pulled himself to his feet. More strength. I need it. His muscles pulsed with the final vestiges of his magical endurance. The paladin rolled his shoulders with the new surge. His adrenaline was shot, his body was already beginning to ache, and his hammer was starting to feel somewhat heavy.

  But the shaman looked no better. He could see she was trying to stabilize her breathing.

  “Kait,” Benji said from the side of the sanctuary. “Are you going to be okay? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

  “I’m fine, Benji. Don’t worry. I just need to teach this little paladin that even a pregnant woman has some fight in her.”

  “I do not doubt that, ma’am,” Sam called as he began his careful approach. Who knew what sort of elemental assault this woman would unleash. “You have proven that enough. But I can not allow you to rob this chapel. The device we hold is too powerful.” Sam was not too sure about that last part. For all he knew, the Halcyon Band was useless without the rest of the armor.

  Kaitlyn raised her hands up. She opened her heart up to the stone that made up the chapel. Otherwise emotionally and physically exhausted, this was her last chance. This strike would have to be the one that laid the paladin low, otherwise arrest was imminent. Her heart skipped as she realized that it pleased her to think that at least arrest would get her away from Matt.

  The bricks churned beneath her. Cut stone always had an interesting outlook. It did not have the raw stubbornness of a natural boulder. It had a sense of duty. It had a purpose.

  From that, Kait was drawing her power. She made clear to the stones that she had a purpose herself. She was going to raise her child, and raise her child properly. The harsh existence that Matthew had suddenly roped them into would be nowhere at all a part of it.

  The stones were sympathetic. After all, they were set to protect something. The stones themselves were not of value, but instead a bulwark to protect the valuable item. And on that level they understood what Kaitlyn wanted from her life.

  The entire chapel was mobilizing to attack Sam, and he could tell. The walls and ceiling began to creak as the shaman hurried to finish the duel. Then, a scream could be heard from the basement.

  It did not sound like Father Pryce. It also did not sound like surprise or anger. It was pure pain. A sound that chilled Sam.

  And that was when he noticed that the chapel was no longer straining. Sam looked to Kaitlyn, to see Benji already rushing toward her.

  The shaman was on the floor, her eyes rolling and body seizing. And despite the distance, Sam could see she was beginning to bleed.