I stepped outside and right away the humidity slapped me in the face. A mosquito tried to bite me—I slapped it in the face. My tunic clung to me immediately. Fantastic. Nothing like starting a job already swamp-marinated.

  Vasil was staring at me. I looked at the squashed mosquito in my hand. Then at him. “You want this or something?”

  “Can I?”

  “…Sure?” I said. “Bit sweaty. Hope that’s not a problem.”

  He took it carefully and ate it with obvious satisfaction, eyes closing for a moment. Then he smacked his lips. “Good stuff.”

  I watched in silence. Wow. This guy really likes mosquitoes.

  I didn’t really want to interrupt his moment of pleasure, but business was business. Besides, marching off to fight a bwotnik (whatever that may be) without asking a few basic questions felt... unwise. As funny as it would be to die to the first swamp monster I met, I’d rather avoid it if I could help it. And by funny, I mean not funny at all.

  “Does this bwotnik have any strengths? Weaknesses? Things I should know?”

  He considered for a moment, putting a hand on his chin. “Well. It’s strong. Sort of. Not fast, though. Big and slow. It stinks. It hides in the murky water and likes to drag people under.”

  Great. Just what I needed. Another stinker. This place was full of them, apparently.

  “So no weaknesses other than being slow?” I asked.

  “Not really. What level are you?”

  “Four…” I started to say, then caught the look in his eye—like he was sizing me up to see how easy I’d be to kill. “...Five. I’m level forty-five.”

  His eyes bulged. “Wow! Then this should be like a walk in the swamp for you.”

  “Miserable?”

  He stared at me for a couple of seconds. “…Easy.”

  “So where does it keep your crown?”

  “Probably in his hoard. Underwater.”

  Of course it’s underwater. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m supposed to recover a crown from the underwater hoard from a swamp monster whose whole thing is dragging people under and drowning them. This was starting to feel like a setup. Maybe the bwotnik and the frog were in cahoots. Probably the old man who gave me the wrong directions was in on it. Just another cog in the elaborate murder machine that is my life.

  As usual, the world had banded together in a—now cross-species—collaboration to kill me. It was nice, in a way, how I was always bringing people together. That was the real problem, wasn’t it? I was too friendly. Too approachable. People saw that and thought, yes, let's ruin her day.

  I hated this place, but two gold was still two gold, and I was getting those coins one way or another.

  “Do you know where it is?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Roughly. There’s an overgrown cathedral half a day’s walk from here. It hangs around there. That’s where I lost the crown.”

  “You mean that’s where it stole your crown?”

  “Uh. Yes. Exactly.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Something about this stank, and it wasn’t just the swamp. I sighed. “Alright, let’s go find your swamp monster.”

  “Spirit,” he corrected.

  Mēnē, light of the cold sky, give me strength before I throw him into the bog.

  ***

  We were maybe two hours into the walk when Vasil looked at me and asked, “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Eighteen,” I answered.

  He looked surprised. “You know, you’re very intimidating for someone so young.”

  “Okay.” I adjusted my belt and kept walking. “So how’d you even find me? Are there any other witches out here?”

  “Animals like to talk, and when there’s a new arrival at the swamp news travels fast, especially someone as… exotic as you.”

  “Exotic?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t exactly look like you’re from around here. You sound like it though, which is even more interesting.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “[Omniglot],” I said simply.

  He gave a nod. “Makes sense. Anyway, I was surprised to find you living in that hut. People usually avoid that part of the swamp. They say the Swamp Devil lurks around there. I heard he eats people. So no, there are no other witches around, or anyone else for that matter.”

  This place just keeps getting better. Guys in furry pants, grabby drowny monsters, man-eating swamp devils. Maybe I should find a nicer place to live. This whole region is aggressively unwelcoming.

  “Sounds dangerous,” I said. “Hope he doesn’t show up.”

  Vasil gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well… if he does, he’ll probably eat you first.”

  I stopped walking and turned to him. “Why would he eat me first?”

  He shrugged. “Because you have more meat.”

  I gave him a look. Was this frog calling me fat? By Erotokomos’s lustrous strands if this frog was calling me fat he was going to wish he was mortal.

  “Did you just call me fat?”

  He froze. “No! I meant you look strong!”

  My eyes widened. Strong. Everyone knows that’s fat’s sneaky cousin.

  He cleared his throat. “Uh—I meant power. You look powerful. He’d probably go after the biggest threat first… I’m sorry.”

  I narrowed my eyes. If this frog called me fat, or strong, or big-boned, or in any other way implied that I wasn't at the perfect weight, I was going to eat him first, then eat that stupid bwotnik, and then go find the Swamp Devil and eat him too, just to make a point.

  I reached down, picked him off the ground, and held him up to eye level. “I wouldn’t be so sure if he’d eat me first. I heard frogs are a delicacy in some places. People eat them.”

  He gave another nervous laugh. “Not where you’re from… right?”

  I didn’t respond. Just stared at him for a bit… then made a small, thoughtful smacking sound with my lips. Let him worry. Little bastard.

  Though, if the swamp monster did eat him… how would I get paid? Not that I was actually worried. The frog was indestructible. If the bwotnik tried to eat him, it’d probably just choke. Or I could always cut him out afterward. Problem solved.

  Maybe I could use that. Dangle him like bait. Monster shows up, I shoot it in the face. Everyone wins. Especially me.

  A smile crept onto my face.

  Vasil stared at me in horror. “Y-you’re not actually thinking about eating me, are you?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  I put him back on the ground. “I’m just in a good mood.”

  “That didn’t look like a good mood smile.”

  I shrugged. He edged further away, like a cursed little canapé trying to roll off the plate. I licked my lips and winked at him.

  He gulped and hopped even further away from me.

  ***

  We walked in silence for a bit after that. Vasil kept a safe distance. At some point, a mosquito flew straight into my eye. I took it as a bad omen.

  Eventually we reached the cathedral Vasil had mentioned.

  It rose out of the muck like a drowned god’s tomb, massive archways cracked and half-sunken into the ground. Moss clung to every surface. Stone statues leaned sideways, eyeless and forgotten. Vines crept up its crumbling white stone walls. The roof sagged in places, and more than a few of the stained glass windows were broken, but it was still standing.

  There were no roads. No paths. Nothing around but swamp and bugs and rot.

  I frowned. “Who builds a cathedral in the middle of a swamp?”

  I stepped closer, sandals squelching in the muck. The closer I got, the worse it looked—moss-choked gutters, warped steps, old carvings worn flat by time and weather. But even half-fallen and rotting, it had presence. Something in the bones of the place still breathed. Not literally, I hoped.

  The statues were the worst part. Angels or saints, maybe. All faceless. Most had their arms missing. One was cradling something I couldn’t identify—possibly a baby, possibly a bundle of snakes. Either way, it wasn’t comforting.

  “It wasn’t always a swamp,” Vasil said. “At least not this part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This area used to be part of a town, but the river got diverted and the whole place got wiped off the map. It’s been like this for a while. Most people don’t even know this place is here, or that there used to be a town.”

  A rusted bell hung above the entrance, half covered in moss. It looked like it hadn’t rung in centuries. Beneath it, the heavy doors were long gone, and the inside was choked with vines and shadows. A flicker of old magic buzzed at the edge of my senses, faint but stubborn, like a candle trying to stay lit in the wind.

  “Who was this even for?” I asked, squinting up at the archway. “The god of mildew?”

  Vasil shook his head. “No, not the god of mildew.”

  Great. Excellent way to not answer the question. Maybe he just didn’t know and didn’t want to look stupid in front of me. I shouldn’t blame him. He didn’t exactly radiate intelligence. Not everyone could be a genius like me, and it was unfair to hold him to the same standard I held myself. His life was probably hard enough already, being stupid and a frog and all.

  “How long have you even been out here, anyway?” I asked.

  Vasil thought for a moment. “What year is it? I don’t know. A while. Time gets weird in swamps.”

  “No it doesn’t,” I said. “Time moves exactly the same in swamps as it does everywhere else.”

  He waved a hand. “It’s not like I have a calendar or anything, you know.”

  Fair enough. Why would he have a calendar? He was a frog. Maybe I should stop asking questions and just do the job I was hired to do—retrieve the damn crown, don’t die, collect my coins.

  I looked around. “You said the bwotnik’s supposed to be nearby?”

  He nodded. “There’s a deeper pool just past those stones. It usually lurks there.”

  We moved on. The ground turned even more sludgy as we got farther away from the cathedral. Ruined stone gave way to tangled roots and standing water. A warm breeze stirred the trees.

  I scanned the area. Nothing but swamp. No cover. No height. No clean escape route. Just a big open patch of muck. The roots were thick and slick, just waiting to grab an ankle. The water was dark, hard to tell how deep.

  Perfect place to get ambushed.

  The glow was subtle at first. Just a shimmer in the muck. Yellowish, like someone was holding a lamp underwater. As we approached it got brighter.

  Maybe that was the trick. Lure them in with the glow. Get them curious. Get them close. Then down they go, swallowed by the swamp.

  I slowed. “Subtle. Let me guess, that’s the bwotnik?”

  “Yep.”

  If I could see it, it could probably see me. So much for catching it off guard. The only thing getting ambushed today was my optimism.

  I glanced down at Vasil. Technically indestructible. Practically shaped like bait. I could toss him in, see how the bwotnik reacts…

  …Or maybe I could try something crazy. Like manners. Walk up, say hello, ask for the crown back. No blood, no screaming, no swamp gunk in my hair.

  Yeah. That would be nice.

  I sighed. “Alright. Let’s see if your soggy friend’s feeling generous today.”

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