Dear

  Arenya,

  I’m sorry I have to write this to you, but something big is

  going on. I know I was over at your school not that long ago, but

  this is new.

  I heard some weird stuff from ■■■■■■■■■ my

  parents. You, or a friend of yours… yelled at someone at a Great

  Feast? What happened? That person is ■■■■■■■■ a

  friend of my family. They’re not happy. I think it’s dumb, but my

  bosses my parents care quite a lot about this. They, umm…

  don’t want me going to help out your parents anymore. Too concerned

  I’ll “pick up bad habits from the Followers” or something

  ridiculous like that.

  It gets worse, though. I don’t think it’s related but the

  demons nearby are extorting a bunch of extra money from the

  townspeople. Like, a of money. Your parents will need

  extra hands to help out, but ■■■■■■■ won’t let me.

  I heard a bit about your sword. Called Shomer or something like

  that? Apparently it’s really unique and has some interesting

  designs on it.

  ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

  ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

  My parents heard about it and want to know. What are the designs

  on it? What do they mean? There’s something funny about how the

  channels were made - can you tell me about that? I think if they get

  the answers, they may lighten up on me and let me get back to the

  farm.

  This may be my only letter for a while, even if you get back to

  me. But if you can get me the answers to what happened with that

  woman at the feast and what’s up with the sword, that might help

  out some.

  - Daniel

  By the way, they keep mentioning some guy named Drav. I’ve

  heard of him. Do you know him?

  “…What?”

  “That’s what it says, Cartalis.” Arenya shrugged. “I know.

  It makes no sense.”

  Arenya stared at the letter. Drav, Zelzad, Cartalis, and Ya’el

  sat in around the table in the all-but-empty dining hall, exchanging

  concerned glances.

  “Ugh,” muttered Cartalis. “Classes resume in but two days.

  Now is not an auspicious time for dealing with strange crises such as

  this.”

  Zelzad gestured for the letter. Arenya passed it to her. “Wow,

  you weren’t kidding. Half this thing is crossed out so hard you

  can’t even read what it said before.”

  Cartalis rose, strode to Zelzad’s chair, and looked over her

  shoulder. “One of these was done poorly. You can still make out the

  writing, though faintly. ‘My bosses…’” Cartalis tsked. “I

  shall go out on a limb and suggest that several of the other excised

  portions said something similar. Replacing ‘bosses’ with

  ‘parents’. Someone has put Daniel up to this, and it was neither

  his mother nor his father.”

  “How the hell did he know about your ?” asked

  Ya’el. “Did you tell him?”

  “No,” said Arenya.

  “You tell anyone outside the school about it?”

  “My parents? They could have told him about it.”

  “They didn’t,” said Cartalis. “If they wished to know

  about it, and he knew your parents were a source of information, they

  would have let him continue at the farm to obtain it.”

  “That lady Cartalis yelled at,” said Zelzad. “If she and

  Daniel were friends… Did she seem like she was part demon or

  something? She was a Six worshiper, yeah? That’s not a common

  demon-ey thing to do.”

  Arenya shrugged. “She didn’t look like a demon to me.”

  “Any idea what relationship she might have had to Daniel?”

  “Not a clue.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “This makes absolutely no sense,” said Ya’el.

  “You can say that again.” Arenya put her head in her hands and

  sighed. “And he was doing such a good job helping out on the farm.

  The place is too big for just two sets of hands. My parents won’t

  be able to do nearly as well without him. And if the demons are

  demanding they pay a large fee…” Arenya sighed. “They used a

  lot of our savings to cover my time here. They won’t have enough to

  pay if they can’t get a lot of additional help. They might not be

  able to keep paying for me to be here… or they might have to sell

  the farm.”

  Drav jolted, just a hair. Arenya hardly noticed and thought

  nothing of it.

  Arenya stood. “I’ll go write a response. Shamir isn’t a

  secret, anyway. I’m fine letting his parents or bosses or whoever

  learn about him.”

  “Permit me to look over the letter before you send it,” said

  Cartalis. Arenya could not quite tell if it was a question or a

  statement.

  “I will,” said Arenya.

  As she walked towards the dining hall’s exit, hoping the library

  had once again opened for the semester with its free collection of

  stamps, she realized she had forgotten one important aspect.

  That last line… about Drav. Who were these people and how did

  they know about Drav?

  And did they know about Drav?

  And why did Drav remain completely silent the entire time? Was

  that coincidence, or did he know something?

  Arenya halted in place in the doorway. Birds chirped outside, and

  the grass was green…

  She considered going back to ask him, but the day beckoned her.

  She wanted to enjoy her last days before break ended also. They

  weren’t in a crisis, at least not yet.

  She would go to the library, write the letter, grab a stamp, and

  find a nice place to relax outside. When she next saw Drav, she could

  ask him then. That would be fine.

  This was probably nothing, anyway. It seemed a bit funny, but

  surely it was just a job of his with some annoying anti-Follower

  leader, and some word got out about the yelling and someone got on

  Daniel’s case. Not good, by any means, but nothing horrific either.

  It would blow over in the end, surely.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Still, a small part of her could not help but worry.

  “Speak.”

  Cartalis stared over the table at Drav. They had switched to a

  small room in one of the campus buildings, ostensibly because

  Cartalis wanted to ask Drav a question about the band’s storyline.

  A bold-faced lie, of course.

  Drav looked a bit nervous. “Speak about what?”

  Cartalis narrowed her eyes at him. She said nothing.

  Better for hiding the indecision in the back of her mind.

  Cartalis had grown incautious. At the Great Feast, she’d given

  The Fiery One far too long a leash. She’d torn into that woman, an

  act that Cartalis kept telling herself was just to protect Arenya,

  but she knew that was a lie. She’d just wanted an excuse to let

  loose, after spending so long trying to be so careful.

  And now she had to reap the consequences. Daniel was up to who

  knows what, but Drav was involved with him. She’d unwittingly taken

  her new friends, her greatest treasure for which her family’s old

  wealth was naught but dust, and pitted them against each other.

  And now she sat here, staring Drav in the face, about to let The

  Fiery One out to play with him. As though she thought that was a good

  idea, and not at all liable to blow up in her face.

  But for all that… She had to know. It was obvious that the

  letter had been badly censored on purpose. Whoever had written it,

  they wanted them to ask. The pressure on her family just as they took

  away extra help, the risk of selling the farm… Arenya, joy as she

  was to be around, was too naive to realize it. But Drav knew

  something, and whoever had written this letter wanted them to find

  out. The scrawling of Drav’s name looked like it was done in haste,

  however, perhaps at the last moment before the letter was sent.

  Unlike most of the letter’s idiosyncrasies, that appeared to be a

  genuine mistake, and Cartalis would capitalize on it.

  If that meant flirting with releasing The Fiery One, so be it.

  Hopefully she could manage this without sabotaging all she had

  gained… But she found herself with no choice but to take the risk.

  “You will speak.” She closed her eyes. “You know something

  about that letter and about what happened.” She prepared her best

  glare - one meant to cut through a person’s face, through their

  soul, and out the other side of their head. “Do not deny it.”

  She opened her eyes. She could see Drav simultaneously sit up to

  look larger, and wither slightly beneath her gaze.

  “I have no idea what’s going on.” Drav’s voice held the

  barest hint of a break in it. “So he knew my name. Whatever. What

  does that prove other than that someone there heard of me once? And

  anyway, it’s not like Drav is the rarest ever name for a part

  demon, right? It might have been a different guy.”

  “How long do you wish to keep up your charade of ignorance?”

  “Come on, Cartalis. If I tell you they’ll have my head.”

  Cartalis let the glare recede some. “Ah. So there is indeed a

  ‘they’?”

  Drav froze. His mouth moved up and down, as though he attempted in

  vain to speak. Eventually, he simply smacked his fist against the

  table and muttered “Dammit.”

  Cartalis took a slow, deep breath. As she exhaled, The Fiery One

  receded. Her purpose was fulfilled, and the damage mercifully small.

  Drav had surrendered quickly. Almost as though he wanted to be

  found out, to release whatever burden he was carrying.

  She hoped, anyway.

  “Care to discuss?”

  Drav nodded. “Fine. I suppose it’s too late anyway. Promise me

  though, you won’t tell Arenya?”

  At that, The Fiery One sent out one final spark, one that insisted

  she refuse. She bit it back. “I shall try.”

  Would that she could hold herself to it. Provided he didn’t say

  anything too concerning, she could probably manage it. Perhaps she

  might even handle it herself and not worry Arenya any further.

  Drav took a deep breath. “Daniel and I belong to a group. It’s

  small and pretty much all demons, though there’s a few who aren’t.

  We’re pretty small, still, but the group has been around for a few

  decades now.”

  “Is Zelzad involved?”

  “A little. She hasn’t been fully initiated yet, but she wants

  to be.”

  “What kind of group is this?”

  “We worship The Seventh. The one beyond The Six, and savior of

  demonkind.”

  Cartalis had to physically bite down on her tongue to keep from

  crying out. Drav had just admitted to blatant heresy. A seventh god?

  A god?

  Foolishness, she knew, to react that way. After all, Arenya was a

  heretic, and that didn’t bother Cartalis one bit. And further,

  was a heretic - she wasn’t convinced The Six even

  existed, and while her family had insisted she attend with them for

  services in her younger days, she’d gathered eventually that it was

  more for appearance and social decorum than out of any actual zeal

  for worship. She’d long since stopped paying attention when she was

  forced to attend, and the occasional swearing by one of The Six was

  the extent of her religiosity now that she attended Ba’al Cedric’s

  - a school started by yet another heretic, for that matter. And

  further beyond , she’d known the instant she laid eyes

  on Drav and his group that there was no way they followed The Six in

  any traditional fashion, and neither did most of the students at

  Ba’al Cedric’s. So in a very real sense, this wasn’t much of a

  revelation.

  So why should any of this be bothersome?

  Nevertheless, she still swore by The Six on occasion, and she

  still felt a lurching in her innards at Drav’s proclamation. An

  absurd artifact of her upbringing, she knew, but despite that it

  remained there like a thin fish bone stuck in the back of her throat.

  All that passed through her head in the briefest of moments.

  Drav grimaced. “Now you see why I didn’t want you to tell

  Arenya. She has enough trouble as it is.”

  Evidently her poker face needed some work.

  “We’re not crazy, I promise.” Drav looked away. “Okay, so

  maybe a bit crazy. But the rest of us, we’re just

  regular demons trying to get by in the world and we have our god just

  like the rest of you. But it’s too dangerous to speak up about it.

  If everyone reacted the way you did, it’d be frustrating, but

  whatever. We’d survive. But lots of people would react worse than

  you. A lot worse.”

  Cartalis felt a pang of guilt. Drav was right, after all. Those

  with strong beliefs and little tolerance for others might not stop at

  a concerned look upon hearing of this new religious group.

  The pang ended when her memories returned to the night of the

  Great Feast. “Such as by attempting to forcefully convince others

  of the wrongness of their ways? Making them morose on their holy day

  of joy?”

  Drav cringed. “If that lady is who I think she is, nobody really

  likes her. She goes around trying to find others who like The Six and

  convince them to join, no matter how many times she’s been told to

  knock it off. The leaders are getting sick of her. We don’t talk to

  others like that.”

  Cartalis detected the hint of a lie in the inflection of Drav’s

  voice, but she determined that pursuing it now would be fruitless.

  She let it remain for the moment.

  “We may discuss the details of the theology later,” said

  Cartalis. She found with some surprise that she was genuinely curious

  about what sorts of changes they would have had to make to their

  liturgy. “Through this group, you met Daniel?”

  “I’ve never met him. Maybe I saw him once at a meeting, but we

  were never introduced. I did hear about him from time, though. He’s

  kind of a big deal. I’ve been hearing more about him lately, though

  I dunno why exactly. I think they want him to be a leader of some

  kind.”

  “And that makes them so concerned about Arenya that they would

  write a letter like this? Why?”

  “Man, I don’t know.” Drav laid his head in his hands. "Most

  of the people there I’ve met don’t like Followers much - you

  know, we demons and they never got along well. Most of them never

  a Follower. Neither had I, before Arenya. Maybe they think she’s a

  bad influence?

  “Look… I’m sorry about all this.” Drav clenched his fists.

  “I’ll talk to someone, I promise. I’ll get it sorted out. But

  please, can we move on?”

  Even The Fiery One could get her heartstrings pulled sometimes.

  Seeing Drav’s eyes barely begin to well up told Cartalis she’d

  done more than enough this time.

  “I have learned what I feel a need to know, for the time being.

  Might we continue to discuss, under… less strenuous circumstances

  another time?”

  Drav nodded. “Let’s.”

  And with that, he stood, turned, and left the room.

  Cartalis sat back, thinking, trying to access her logical

  faculties through the guilt she felt at pushing Drav so. Some parts

  of this seemed a bit, might she say, cult-like? A focus on mystery,

  preparing someone in some obscure way, trying to put obstacles

  between their new members and their former friends… She could not

  quite tell if her concern was well-formed or if she was merely

  overreacting to something she did not understand. Either way,

  Cartalis determined to keep a closer eye on Drav for the time being.

  Hopefully this would prove unnecessary.

  Just before she stood, Cartalis noted to herself that one notable

  question remained unanswered: Why did they care about Arenya’s

  sword so much?

  Perhaps just the religious designs on the side caught their eye,

  and it was nothing more than interest in a sort of colleague.

  Or maybe there was something more.