The malevolent sun's rays hammered down on the tarp stretched over the main square. It kept the light out, but the heat stayed trapped beneath it like a furnace.
Bennan's breath came heavy. Sweat streamed down his face as if it were trying to flee the heat itself. He had followed Anthony to the training grounds, wondering at first why they were headed this way. Now, all he could think about was staying on his feet.
Anthony walked to a wooden rack, pulled a plain-looking sword from it, then turned back to Bennan, concern settling over his features.
"Goodness… you look awful." The blade lowered to his side as his gaze swept the grounds.
"I thought Qurem was an Awakened. Even if taking his body brought you down to his level, the heat shouldn't be hitting you this hard." Anthony's eyes lit up as he spotted someone nearby. "Hey—Philip! Over here!"
The man stopped, grinned, and jogged toward them.
Hmmm… Specter's voice bled into Bennan's thoughts, thin and frayed. Even he seemed worn down by the oppressive air. If this Qurem fellow was Awakened… that might explain the memory you woke with.
"That would make sense," Bennan thought faintly, bracing himself on his knees. "Though why only one? With what I'm up against, I'd have preferred to arrive with an arsenal."
His musings were cut short by a voice far more melodic than Specter's.
[You have received a Memory]
Bennan blinked and realized the young master had reached him, a hand resting on his shoulder, sweat beading along his brow.
Without reading the runes, Bennan summoned the new Memory. Sparks shimmered around his neck, coalescing into an ornate silver chain. At its end hung a vial, inside which a shard of ice floated in a curl of mist.
He drew in a deep ice chilled breath and let it out in a long, cooling sigh. The world came back into focus, muffled voices sharpening into words.
"…back to night shift."
"Sorry…. I was fighting for my life," Bennan muttered, swiping his palm across his face.
"Oh yeah, we noticed," Anthony said with a chuckle. Turning, he set a hand on the other man's shoulder. "This is my brother, Philip."
Recognition flickered in Bennan's mind—the soldier from last night, the one who'd offered him a seat.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a small bow. "I'm Bennan."
"Pleasure's all mine." Philip's smile widened, but his gaze lingered briefly on the chain. "It's sweltering without the Frost-vein Pendant, so I'm heading back to my quarters to prep for night guard."
The brothers exchanged a quick salute, and Philip turned away, retracing his steps back across the simmering sand.
"So, what nightmare are you on?" Anthony asked, turning back to Bennan. "It can't be the third, not with how badly you're reacting to this heat."
Bennan paused, considering the question. "I'm on… my first…"
Anthony immediately burst into laughter. Bennan stared at him, annoyed, waiting for it to subside.
"Is this guy serious?" he thought to Specter.
Perhaps he is just a fool, the voice replied.
When Anthony caught his serious expression, his laugh faltered. "Wait… you're serious?" His brows knit, but a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and the laughter threatened to return. Eventually, he reined it in with a sigh, still holding his side.
"That's insane. Why would the spell ever send an aspirant to a place like this… Well, I was interested in seeing what type of sword style you use, but now I'm not really sure what to do with you."
He scratched his chin, the silence stretching just long enough for Bennan to shift uncomfortably. Then Anthony's eyes brightened.
"Ah, I've got it." His voice was lighter, but there was something in his gaze—an eager glint that wasn't there before. "Let's go fight your first nightmare creature."
Bennan's mind raced as his heart began to beat faster. Aspirant or not, just the thought of facing anything like what he had seen on the road less than a day ago gripped him with terror.
"W-what?" he stammered. Looking for some way out of the situation, he quickly came up with an excuse.
"Look, like you said, I'm just an aspirant. What's even the point in training me? How am I supposed to help you guys out at all?"
Though it was an excuse, it wasn't a lie. How was he supposed to help three Saints defeat the Skin Walker? The most logical decision, in his eyes, was to sit in one of the huts until this was all solved.
Anthony considered him for a moment before grinning again.
"No, I don't believe that. Wind Flower would probably grant your request, deeming you useless in the current situation. But the spell has always provided for me, and I truly believe it sent you here for a reason, so I will do my best to prepare you."
Stepping forward, he flipped the training sword, grabbing it by its black sheath. Thrusting the handle toward Bennan, he winked and said,
"Besides, I know where a weak one is."