They weren’t carrying any candles themselves though, Max noticed. Clever. They must have allies guarding all of their candles so they could go hunt down others with no obstructions.

The goons headed deeper into the jungle. They went forward at a random angle.

Max tiptoed quietly behind them.

“Is there anyone even up here?” whispered one goon.

“Resin want to hit something,” said another. “Resin sad that there’s nothing to hit.”

“Shh!” said the third companion.

The three thugs didn’t seem to notice Max’s presence behind them. He needed to stop them before they got to their base camp. The last thing he wanted was to fight them while also protecting his and Casey’s candles.

He needed to strike and to do it soon.

* * *

Reginald peered through the dark shrubbery of the island summit jungle.

He closed his eyes and could hear the flicker and crackle of a campfire in the distance.

That’s where they needed to go.

He turned back to his companions, “Alright, guys, let’s head this way.”

Neither Ash nor Resin were behind him.

What’s going on? The two thugs were meatheads but they knew better than to pull a prank at a time like this.

That’s when he saw something flicker in the shadows.

“Who’s there!?” shouted Reginald, his heart racing. “Show yourselves! Fight with honor!”

He personally didn’t believe in honor but he was desperate. He would do anything to get his opponent to come out in the open. It would be an easier fight that way for him.

But whoever was attacking was smart. He’d taken the two knuckleheads out one by one. He doubted whoever it was would be convinced by such petulant ideals like ‘honor.’

It was always worth a try though.

The bushes rustled behind him.

So, he was trying to sneak up on him, huh? Well, he’d just have to catch him then.

The man started sprinting straight ahead.

Rustle, rustle.

Suddenly, the shadowy man’s footsteps were coming from a different direction.

Reginald pivoted, running faster this time.

Keep chasing me you idiot, Max thought. Where will you go once we hit a clearing?

Reginald sprinted full speed ahead. He needed to get his attacker out in the open.

He powered through bushes and shrubbery, knowing he needed to get out in the open as soon as possible, but—

He took a step and his foot had nowhere to go.

His stomach lurched.

He’d just run off a cliff voluntarily.

He gasped one final breath and scream before making his quick descent to the bottom level of the island.

63

Cyrus stood over Reginald Booth’s dead body.

He spat on the boy whose family had served his for generations, even before the emergence of the tower and the great changes it brought to the world.

“Pathetic fool,” said Cyrus, looking up to the cliff above.