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“ I … I stole something,” I confessed. From the corner of my eye, I surveyed his reaction.

He scrunched his brow and studied me. “Ok, but that’s only a five-year sentence. Why would you add your name to the drawing with such a short term to serve?”

He was right. The truth was, I was serving a twenty-year minimum.

“I wasn’t only charged with theft.” Not wanting to see his reaction, I focused on a branch catching light in the flames. “They charged me with theft and murder .”

The fire’s soft roar filled the air.

When Arden spoke again, it was with the question I loathed. “Did you do it?”

I spread my palms on my thighs to keep from fidgeting. “The theft, yes, in a way. … The murder, no.”

He nodded like it was the answer he expected. “What happened?”

I hated telling the story. I had repeated it so many times. Retelling the events always left me feeling hollow and dirty. But he shared his past with me, so it was fair I offered something in return.

“I made a poor decision, at the very worst time.” Not ready to expose more, I gave him the shortened version. “I discovered a purse with enough coin to start over, away from my father.”

Arden wasn’t familiar with my father’s character, but I didn’t offer more.

Before he could ask, I continued, “I knew the owner wouldn’t miss the money …

because, well, he was dead. … Murdered. Not by me.

” I was quick to assure him. “I hid the funds away until I could devise a plan. But things went awry, and my father found out about the money.” I didn’t explain how.

“He called the authorities. There were no suspects for the man’s murder, and since the pouch I possessed matched the description of the one missing from the scene, I was charged with theft and the man’s death. ”

My shoulders slumped, and I let out a long breath.

Glowing embers drifted high above the flames as my confession hung in the air.

Some found my actions dishonest—unforgivable. Would Arden be one of them? I twisted my bracelet, waiting for him to decide.

He straightened his posture. The softness in his appearance shifted, replaced with some sort of resolve.

“You received your judgement; It is not my job to assign more. I’ve sworn to escort you back to the Keeper, and that is what I will do.

” He stood, turning toward his bedroll. “We have a long journey tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

Even at a young age, Arden always portrayed a sense of honor and duty. Delivering me to the Keeper was his job. He could offer me no escape, and I wouldn’t ask that of him.

But there was something I hoped he could help with. “Arden,” I said. “Would you happen to have the supplies to write a letter?”

His gaze caught on me as he considered it. He kneeled down and shuffled through his bag, pulling out a wrinkled, folded page.

“It’s only meant for brief messages while traveling, but it’s yours if you want it.” He held out the paper.

I nodded and thanked him.

The sheet was a small space for so many questions.

As Arden and I settled into our separate spaces, details of Clay’s appearance earlier that day played in my mind. I took a moment to sort out the most important things I wanted to convey. I doubted I would have another chance to reach him.

Clay, You have grown! I miss you. Please know I hold no ill feelings from our past and hope you don’t either. You’re my little brother. I will always love you. Share your jokes and drawings with the world! Be kind. Watch over mom’s rock garden. Know you are always in my heart enough that I could take Clay and start anew, get away from the reaches of my father’s callousness.

I peered down the alley—not a soul in sight. I wanted to feel wretched for considering the idea, yet I couldn’t help but rationalize how a dead man’s life wouldn’t benefit from a purse of gold—but mine could—Clay’s could.

So, I secured the bag and tucked it in my pocket. Steeling my composure, I left the dead man in the alley and continued on my way home.

When I made it to my bedroom, I sat staring at the pouch for hours. Flashes of the blood-soaked man resurfaced in my mind. How could I have left his body there?

I worked tirelessly to push the image away. Sickened with shame for not reporting his death, I never told a soul that I had seen the man—not even later, when the guards questioned me.

That night, and countless nights that followed, it was his pallid face that haunted me when I drifted to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to an aching shoulder and heavy eyes, more tired than if I had stayed up all night. Worry stabbed at my stomach as Arden and I packed up our supplies.

“Make sure you eat before we head out. We won’t be stopping until later this afternoon.” He handed me a small bottle filled with a dark gray liquid. “And you need to drink this.”

Lifting the bottle to my nose, it smelled of iron and ash. “What is it?”

“It’s an elixir. The Keeper makes it. She has an obsession with destroying the Slips. I don’t ask what’s in it. I only know that it helps keep the shadowy spirits from attacking.”

With my stomach already in knots, the sight of the sludgy mixture made me queasy.

“It’s best to just get it over with,” Arden said.

Grumbling, I tilted my head back and drained the vial, swallowing the thick substance while trying not to retch. “Eh, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, it’s a real treat,” he joked. He downed his bottle, making a sour expression. “And you don’t get used to it.”

We washed the sludge down with a swig of water and a few bites of fruit.

The initial nausea subsided a moment later.

After our bedrolls were packed, Arden walked to the edge of the campsite and pulled out two long sticks that had been hidden under a tarp, each with a dark tar-like substance at one end. “Ashloran torches,” he explained.

Picking up a random branch from the ground, he stirred up the smoldering coals of the previous night’s fire.

Once the embers were glowing, he rolled the torches’ coated ends over the surface.

Flames burst forward—but the color was not the expected orange and red like our campfire—it was a deep shade of blue, almost purple.

Arden handed me a lit torch and repeated his warning from the previous day. “Shadows are the enemy, make as little noise as possible, and stay close behind.”