The beast charged with a swiftness that belied its squat frame. Esteban lunged, driving his knife into the creature, but the blade passed through the shimmering form without resistance. Striking nothing but the empty air, his momentum carried him forward, and he tripped over his own feet, crashing into the ground.

  The Echo stood in his peripheral vision. Thunder crackled in its chest an instant before its tongue lashed out, whipping against the side of his naked stomach.

  A pulse of energy, like countless pinpricks of fire, rippled through his body. He convulsed, his elbows locking tight. His jaw snapped shut as if by the hand of an invisible giant, grinding his teeth together and denying him even the mercy of a scream.

  It took all of his willpower to break free of the unseen grip. He rolled away, the Echo’s claw swiping the air where he had been a moment before.

  He sprang to his feet, knife raised, sweat glistening on his face and his heaving chest. The Echo darted about, shedding illusory copies with every move. Esteban lashed out at the swarm of beasts in wild, frantic swings, as some charged head-on, while others circled around him to flank.

  His blade shattered several of the illusions, but others slipped past him, their phantom attacks passing harmlessly through his body.

  All except one. The true Echo lunged, its claw tearing through his wool cloak, into his shoulder.

  Esteban cried out, clutching his injured shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. The creature stared at him with obsidian eyes, thunder crackling with each flick of its tongue.

  The Black Ring stood unmoving behind his eyes. He cursed it, the heat of anger rising in his chest. Covenant be damned. This was not a fight he could win.

  He turned and bolted, praying the Echo would not follow.

  It did. The rapid crunch of crystalline grass behind him assured him that no matter how fast he ran, it would not lose ground.

  The embankment he had fallen down loomed ahead. He threw himself at the slope, digging his fingers into the wet soil, his boots scraping against the nearly vertical incline as he scrambled to the top.

  The Echo leaped, its jaws snapping shut inches below his heel. He hauled himself over the ridge and looked down at the chaos below. A frenzy of Echoes swarmed the base of the slope, swiping, snapping, and scrabbling against the mud, earth churning as it tried to follow.

  Esteban drew a deep breath, but it hitched in his throat, breaking into a laugh at the absurdity of the scene below. The movement tugged at his torn skin, however, cutting the amusement short. He checked his shoulder. The heavy cloak had absorbed the brunt of the blow, and the gashes were shallow.

  He grabbed a rock and tossed it at one of the images below. It dissipated on impact, and new copies burst forth, cluttering the foot of the embankment. He studied the swarm, looking for a way to distinguish the real beast.

  From his vantage point, the answer was obvious. The trees, shrubs, and rocks all cast long shadows in the setting sun. The real Echo did the same. The illusions did not.

  He scanned the ground and found a jagged boulder, roughly ten inches across. He hoisted it overhead, looking down at the creature. It paid him no mind, consumed by its futile climb.

  He aimed at the one casting a shadow and, with all his strength, hurled the rock. It struck true, slamming into the Echo’s neck with a loud crunch. The beast gave an ear-piercing screech and scrambled back, retreating twenty feet from the embankment.

  “Go away, you ugly bastard! Get out of here!” Esteban shouted.

  The creature stood motionless, watching him, iridescent green blood streaking down its neck to pool in the mud.

  He grabbed another rock and hurled it, but it fell short. He snatched a smaller stone and tried again. It struck one of the monster’s front legs. The Echo took a few steps back, before resuming its silent, unblinking stare.

  He considered fleeing, retracing his steps, but shook his head. The creature could still find a way to follow, and he would never sleep knowing it still lived.

  They were both battered, but the Echo’s wound looked worse. The puddle of green blood beneath it continued to grow. It had ceased shedding copies, standing rigid, save for the slow, hypnotic sway of its tail. Its unblinking eyes remained fixed on him, but the crackling tongue had finally gone still.

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  “This better be worth it,” he grumbled, readying his knife.

  Esteban sat on the edge, planted his heels, and slid down the slope. The Echo charged before his boots hit the mud, splitting into a pack of beasts that closed in from every angle.

  He ignored the copies, focusing on the long shadow stretching across the ground.

  The false Echoes clawed and bit, as he drove his knife straight at the true beast’s skull. With supernatural speed, it snapped its jaw upward, its mouth opening wide. Uneven fangs clamped onto his fist, sinking deep into his flesh, but they couldn’t stop the momentum. The knife plunged into the open mouth and burst through the underside of its jaw.

  Esteban screamed as the creature thrashed, its jaw still locked around his arm, whipping him from side to side. He clenched his free hand and rammed his fist into one of the large obsidian eyes.

  It was like striking solid rock. His knuckles crunched, the bones shattering against the polished black orb.

  The world spun, and Esteban collapsed into the mud. He barely registered that the Echo had released him until he saw his arm, bones visible behind torn flesh, the blood pumping out in rhythmic spurts.

  He slumped on his knees, facing the beast. It was ruined too. The obsidian eye was a spiderweb of cracks, weeping iridescent ichor that fell down its face, mixing with the gore gushing from its neck and its wounded jaw.

  Without warning, it turned to flee. Esteban moved on instinct, throwing himself toward it, and locking his arms around its tail, ignoring the sharp ridges that dug into his chest. The tail whipped violently, trying to shake him off, but he clung to it with all his strength.

  “You had your chance, you piece of sheep shit!” he shouted.

  The creature screeched and flailed, dragging him across the rough ground. But its strength was fading. The sprint slowed to a stagger, each step heavier than the last, until finally, it collapsed.

  Esteban peeled himself off the tail, gritting his teeth as the bony spikes tore free of his chest. His left arm dragged, useless dead weight. His right hand was a ruin of broken bone, but he forced his fingers to curl, hooking the ridges on the creature’s back to haul himself forward.

  He grabbed the knife sticking from the monster’s throat and wrenched it free. The Echo shrieked, twisting its head in a feeble snap. Esteban slammed the knife into the soft tissue at the bottom of its jaw, fighting through the agony that shot through his shattered hand, and trying not to black out. He ripped the knife out, driving it home again, inches to the side.

  The creature’s knees buckled, and it collapsed to the ground. Esteban let go. The monster tried to crawl away—a single, desperate motion—before going still.

  The light of the sun had nearly vanished, leaving only the silhouette of the dead beast. Esteban lay on his back, staring at the gray gaps in the canopy above. The Black Ring had long cracks along its surface, with parts separating into small islands in a sea of faint light. His world began to darken, and he found no energy left to fight the encroaching death. He had tried. He had done his best. But he had failed, and now he would die.

  Pale essence seeped from the dark form and surged into Esteban, and the monster’s corpse dissolved, melting into the earth. On the black ring, the number slid along the band, coming to a halt at the bottom, directly opposite of where it began.

  Covenant Fulfilled. Boon granted.

  More essence coalesced in the air and flowed into him, and the dial turned, completing its full revolution. The digit flickered, changing from “1” to “2”. The number continued to slide down the ring, finally coming to rest at the bottom.

  Cycle Concluded.

  Esteban gasped as a sudden flood of vitality washed over him, the cracks in the Black Ring mending, and the broken chunks fusing back into the whole. His torn flesh knit together, the agony vanishing in an instant. He rose to his knees, feeling as though he had just woken from a long, restful sleep.

  The wounds were gone, but their memory remained etched on his tan skin. Raised ridges streaked his body, pale and faded, like he had earned them years ago.

  He stayed on his knees, dazed, for several long minutes before his head cleared. His focus turned to the ring. The number had changed to 2, and the void within the band shimmered, extending gossamer threads to touch every orbiting star.

  The knowledge was instinctive. He understood that he could channel that shimmering light simply by willing it, directing its flow to feed whichever star he chose to strengthen.

  That knowledge, to his dismay, stopped short of offering an explanation to what the stars actually governed. He knew one of them was called the Star of Celerity, but he did not know what “celerity” meant. “Acuity” was just as foreign.

  Even the familiar terms were puzzling. He knew the definition of “mind” and “will”, but he didn’t know how strengthening them would affect him. Would feeding the Star of Will make him more determined? Would empowering the Star of Mind make him smarter?

  Until he learned more, he would stick to what he was certain he knew. The Star of Might must be related to physical strength. That would certainly be useful. He was less sure about the Star of Vitality, but it might have been related to one’s health and endurance.

  He focused on the threads, channeling the lion’s share of the essence into the Star of Might and diverting a thin trickle into Vitality. Both stars pulsed in response. The Star of Might flared brilliantly, its internal value climbing to nine. Vitality glowed a softer light, ticking up from four to five.

  The light poured from his mind, cascading outward to wrap his body in glowing coils. For a heartbeat, the sensation of the muddy ground vanished, replaced by a feeling of floating in a star-strewn void.

  He watched the energy slither across his skin, reshaping him. His muscles swelled and hardened. The loose leather of his leggings went taut, pushing against the thighs that were suddenly thick with power. When the glow finally faded, he looked stronger than he had ever been in his life.

  He flexed his arm in the dying light, a grin spreading across his face.

  “I have to admit. That was worth it.”