Asta and the sheriff locked eyes.

  He was a warrior, that much Asta could feel in his bones. There was spirit energy around him too, real and honed, yet there was no Soule. Not even a trace.

  “So you will not go peacefully,” the Sheriff said. He reached over his shoulder and drew the spear from his back with his right hand. “Stay back. I will handle this.”

  The three armored men stepped away at once.

  “I suggest you don’t do this, boy. The Sheriff is strong,” Sam said.

  “Asta, do not kill him,” Alina said.

  Asta rose from the stool, stretching his back as he stepped forward. The man before him was strong, no doubt about it.

  Still, not strong enough.

  “I will try not to kill you,” the Sheriff said, tightening his grip on the spear. “But if I do fail, I want you to know who ends your life. My name is Lance Segisvert.”

  “The spear user is called Lance?” Asta said, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You can’t make that up.”

  “I do not care if you find it amusing,” Lance said.

  He moved in an instant.

  The spear swept across the room in a brutal horizontal arc. Asta barely bent backward in time as the shaft passed inches from his face. He felt it then, raw spiritual force rolling off the weapon. The impact alone slammed him into the floor, shattering several wooden planks beneath his back.

  So he can wield a spirit weapon, Asta thought.

  A miscalculation. Not a fatal one.

  He was already on his feet as Lance followed with another strike, this one slashing from the left. Instead of retreating, Asta rushed forward. He turned his body sideways and caught the spear between his forearms. The force shoved him back a step, but the weapon stopped cold.

  Before Lance could recover, Asta ducked beneath the shaft and thrust out his left hand.

  He called on one of the Soules within him. Its intoxicating power surged through his arm, manifesting as elemental force. The air warped. The wind bent.

  A violent gust exploded forward, smashing into Lance’s face and hurling him backward. He hit the ground hard, flipping onto his back as gasps filled the tavern.

  The bartender froze. The soldiers stared.

  Lance rolled and was back on his feet in a heartbeat.

  Without a word, he drove the spear forward. Spiritual energy erupted from the blade, compressed and razor-sharp.

  Asta twisted aside, readying a counter, and then he saw her.

  Alina stood directly behind him.

  The attack was aimed straight at her.

  There was no time. No space. No way to stop it.

  It was his fault. His fault for dragging a mortal into this mess. For letting her walk beside him at all. Was he really so afraid of being alone again?

  Asta reached for his own power, forcing it forward, but the strike was too fast.

  It was over.

  The energy veered aside at the last instant, slicing harmlessly past Alina and only brushing the tips of her hair.

  “Damn it,” Lance said. “I attacked without thinking.”

  “What just happened?” asked Alina as she picked strands of her cut hair from her shoulder.

  “That was too close for comfort,” said Asta.

  This man. He wasn’t evil; he was just following orders. The empty town, the downtrodden people at the bar, and the closed-off island. Unlike Windfall Island, this seemed different. Not religious, but something else.

  “Where will you take us?” Asta asked, letting his guard drop.

  One soldier muttered behind him, “He saw the Sheriff’s power and backed down.”

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  “To the Fortress, by order of His Majesty,” Lance said. “But we only need you. Not the girl.”

  The soldiers behind him whispered among themselves.

  “Why not her?” Asta asked.

  “I need men,” Lance replied. “Women are of no use to us.”

  Sam slammed his fist on the bar. “The King just wants more slaves for his mines, doesn’t he, Sheriff?”

  “Stay out of this, Sam,” Lance said.

  Asta frowned. It was strange. A spiritual weapon? A mine? And then there was a feeling, something at a distance but close by. There was a Soule in the island, and a relatively powerful one. The King perhaps. Asta knew he would need powerful Soules for his mission. If Alina stayed behind, he would be free to find it without risking her safety.

  “I will go with you,” Asta said.

  Lance inclined his head. “Thank you. If this fight had continued, this place would have suffered for it. My apologies to the lady.”

  “Wait, what?” Alina said. “Asta, what are you doing?”

  “I will take a trip with the Sheriff,” Asta said. “I will probably be imprisoned, but I want you to stay here for now, Alina. I will return.”

  Lance raised an eyebrow. “You understand you are being taken to prison.”

  “I do not think your prison can hold me, Sheriff,” Asta said.

  “We will see,” Lance replied. He snapped his fingers, and the soldiers produced a pair of handcuffs. Lance took them and stepped forward.

  Asta extended his arms. The metal closed around his wrists.

  “Let’s go,” Lance said.

  “See you later, Alina,” Asta said, offering her a small smirk.

  For several minutes, Alina stood outside the bar, unable to move.

  She did not understand why Asta had done it. One moment he had been fighting; the next he had let himself be taken. Now she was alone in an unfamiliar town, surrounded by strangers who watched her with tired eyes. So much for keeping her safe. It had not even been a full day, and she was already on her own. Her mother’s voice echoed in her thoughts. Heretic men were always like this.

  Why had he gone so willingly?

  “Come back inside, dear,” a raspy voice said behind her.

  Alina turned. Martha stood in the doorway, swaying slightly on her feet. The stench of alcohol clung to her like a second skin.

  “What the hell do I do now?” Alina muttered as she followed her back inside.

  “Your man will be fine,” Martha said as she dropped back onto her stool. “He looks dependable. And believe it or not, Lance is a good man.”

  “My man?” asked Alina. “No. Absolutely not. We are just — “ she stopped before saying she had just met the man and was traveling with him, “we are just friends.”

  Martha barked out a laugh. “That’s what I used to say about an old flame of mine. Micael, I think it was. Or maybe it wasn’t.” She waved a hand, making air quotes. “Just friends. We had plenty of fun though. Ah, to be young again.”

  She rattled her empty glass at Sam.

  “That was impressive, though,” Sam said as he poured her another drink. “I think he could have beaten Lance. He chose not to.”

  “Chose?” Alina asked. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “Just a feeling.”

  Martha downed the whiskey in one gulp. “This place has been hell for years. Ever since that so-called King showed up. He came out of nowhere and took the island, and what did the Kingdom do? Nothing. They turned a blind eye and left us under the rule of that… beast.”

  “So this island never had a king?” Alina asked.

  “No,” Sam said, nodding toward the man slumped over the table. “Just a mayor. But Seneca took over a few years back, along with his general. A northerner named Valgurhard. Since then, we have lived by his whims while he digs up our land for ancient artifacts.”

  Alina frowned.

  That was exactly how Asta operated. He let things play out, watched carefully, then struck when it mattered. What bothered her was that he had not told her. Not even a word. If this was a plan, he had kept her completely in the dark.

  “Is that general powerful?” she asked.

  “He is,” Sam said. “Strong enough to shake the ground with his fists.”

  That settled it.

  Asta could sense power like that. She had seen it. Felt it. He was not surrendering. He was hunting.

  Her thoughts raced as pieces fell into place.

  “How many people are in the fortress?” Alina asked.

  “Most of the island,” Sam replied. “Three hundred at least. They work the mines until nightfall, then return to their homes near the walls. It’s that or starve.”

  “Cowards,” Martha scoffed.

  “You remember what happened last time,” Sam said quietly.

  Martha’s expression darkened. “Yes. I remember.”

  “Dozens died,” the mayor said, finally lifting his head.

  “So why are you not there?” Alina asked.

  “We are allowed to come and go,” Sam said. “There is just nowhere else to go. Some people give up. Others die trying to escape. A handful of us stay out here.” He gave a hollow smile. “We call ourselves the Free People.”

  “Free to die,” Martha muttered, draining her glass. “Drinking whatever scraps we can get, or what someone sneaks out of the Fortress.”

  Alina took a breath. “What if I told you Asta is about to do something incredibly stupid?”

  Sam looked at her sharply. “Stupid how?”

  “He is going to kill that general,” she said.

  Sam shook his head. “Impossible. Fighting Lance is one thing. Valgurhard is not a man. He is a monster. It would be suicide.”

  “You haven’t seen Asta,” Alina said. The pride in her voice surprised her. “He is stronger than you think.”

  “Even if that’s true,” Sam said, “if Lance joins the fight, it’s over.”

  The mayor stood and approached the bar. “That boy would not raise his weapon if he knew his people would be freed.”

  Martha stared into her empty glass. “His spirit is broken.”

  “I need to talk to him. About Asta,” Alina said.

  Sam exhaled through his nose. “If you are set on this, you will have to wait. He will leave the fortress soon enough. He usually goes straight to his family home, back in the alleys behind this place, and stays there.”

  The mayor leaned forward against the bar. “You said this boy is strong. That he can sense power.”

  Alina nodded.

  “Hm. Long ago, a man like that passed through here,” the mayor said. “He was truly powerful. If this one is anything like him, perhaps we have a chance to rid ourselves of Seneca.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”

  “Hope has been gone for so long,” the mayor replied. “I think we simply forgot what it feels like.”

  That settled it.

  Alina pushed herself up from her seat. “Can someone take me to his house?”

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Then Martha slid off her stool.

  “I live near there,” she said. “I will take you myself. Just know I am a bit buzzed, so we will walk slow.”

  Alina gave a small nod. “That’s fine.”

  And with that, she followed her out.