In his imagination, he fought well. He ducked and whirled and countered and parried and thrust. In his imagination, the sword was an extension of his arm, and he was magnificent.

In reality, things weren’t quite so impressive.

He swung his sword a hundred times and a hundred times the Guardian wasn’t there any more. A step to the side or a step backwards or a step forward, and Scapegrace would miss and go stumbling and the Guardian would then turn to Thrasher and fend off his ridiculous attacks. Compared to this porcelain-faced stranger, they were clumsy idiots who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.

But then, compared to anyone, they were clumsy idiots who didn’t know what the hell they were doing.

But Scapegrace didn’t give up. He couldn’t. His sword clanged against the Guardian’s. This wasn’t about him any more. He knew how pathetic he was. He could see through all of his past delusions. He was a joke. A punchline. But so what? None of it mattered. What mattered was winning. What mattered was helping Valkyrie Cain save the world.

He turned again as Thrasher distracted the Guardian. Maybe this was his chance. Now, while the Guardian’s back was turned, while he was busy fighting Thrasher. Was it heroic, to stab an opponent in the back? Not in the slightest, but then Scapegrace wasn’t a hero. He was just a man, doing what he could to help others. He started forward, and then the Guardian plunged his sword through Thrasher’s head.

“No!” Scapegrace shrieked as Thrasher crumpled, the sword still lodged in his skull. Blind rage seized Scapegrace’s mind and suddenly he was throwing his own sword down and diving at the Guardian.

They rolled across the ground, but Scapegrace was the first up, his teeth gritted, hatred burning in his eyes. Again and again, his fist came down on the Guardian’s unbreakable face. He tried to keep the anger going, tried to draw strength from it, but he was weak and getting weaker. It was as if Thrasher, that idiot Thrasher, had been his strength all along, and now that he was lost …

Scapegrace fell back into a sitting position. The Guardian lay there, looking at him. Then he sat up.

“You have passed the final test,” he said.

Scapegrace didn’t care.

“The skeleton began the trials,” the Guardian continued. “He was told the first test was a test of purity. But all the tests have been tests of purity. You have passed the most important test of all. You are pure of heart, Vaurien Scapegrace.”

“Thrasher was pure of heart. Not me. I’m selfish, and mean, and stupid. What about me is pure, eh? If you think you can see something pure in me, you tell me what it is.”