Of course there was something else. Life was just a series of complications stacking on top of each other endlessly, all conspiring against me. While everyone was out there living their lives in peace and quiet, I was living my life in completely undeserved chaos and misery.

  "What is it?" I asked, already bracing myself. "More things trying to kill me?"

  "No, actually." Vasil hopped ahead, leading us down a particularly muddy stretch. "The opposite, maybe. That cathedral wasn't built for Stvora."

  "Yeah, I figured, it being abandoned and all."

  "It was built for Bies."

  He said it like I was supposed to know who that was. The name hung in the air, and kept hanging there as I waited for elaboration. None came.

  "And Bies is...?"

  "A witch," Vasil said. "Or, well, she was a witch. Then she became something more. The witches in Silesia revered her as a goddess. Some regular people did too, actually. Goddess of witchcraft, healing, nature."

  I frowned. "So there was another god here before Stvora took over?"

  "No. Stvora already reigned supreme when Bies arrived. Still, Bies was beloved. People came to her for medicine, for blessings, for protection. She healed the sick. She blessed the harvests. She taught people how to use their skills, taught them to prosper. The Church couldn't stand it. They're supposed to be the only healers, the only ones able to control nature. But Bies refused to bend. Refused to acknowledge Stvora as supreme. Refused to stop helping people."

  "So they killed her."

  "It wasn't that simple. Bies was no fool, and she definitely wasn’t weak." Vasil's expression darkened. "First, they tried misinformation. Called her a demon. A corruptor. But people wouldn't believe it—not when they saw all the good she did. So the Church changed tactics. They went after her followers instead. They unleashed the Inquisition in full. Everything dedicated to her was burned. Every shrine, every altar. Everyone who worshipped her was burned with it."

  He paused. "They even diverted the river to destroy this town. Her town. Turned it into a swamp so no one would remember it existed."

  I looked around. There wasn’t a single sign anything had ever been here. "They drowned an entire town just to erase her?"

  "They drowned an entire town to send a message," Vasil corrected. "Bies fought back, of course. But by then, people were too afraid of the Inquisition. Too afraid to help her. Too afraid to even pray to her. And she alone couldn't stand against the overwhelming might of Stvora."

  "So yes," he said quietly. "In the end, they killed her. And then they rewrote the story. Made her everything they'd tried to claim she was. Suddenly, witches weren't healers and wise women—they were evil servants of a dark goddess who wanted to destroy the world. Fear is easier to control than gratitude, after all."

  I had to take some time to process that.

  So that's how it worked. The Church couldn't just kill you. They had to erase you. Make sure no one remembered your name. No one remembered what you stood for. They'd burn everything down just to make sure nothing was left.

  And if they came after me the same way? If I built something here, gathered people, made a name for myself? They wouldn't just send another Purge Squad—and they would send more Purge Squads. They'd destroy everything. Everyone who followed me. Everything I built.

  Unless I destroyed them first.

  At least they couldn't turn this place into a swamp anymore. It already was one.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Vasil tilted his head, studying me. "You know, you kind of look like what the stories said she looked like. Dark hair. Silver eyes. Beautiful. Dangerous." He paused, a calculating look crossing his face. "We could use that."

  "Use it how?"

  "Some people still remember Bies. The Church tried to erase her, but you can't erase faith that easily. There are still old women who whisper prayers to her when they think no one's listening. Still families who leave offerings at the edge of the swamp. Still witches who call on her name." Vasil's eyes gleamed. "If people thought Bies had returned... if they thought you were her..."

  I stared at him. "You want me to pretend to be a dead goddess."

  "I want you to use every advantage you have," Vasil said. "The Church just declared war on you. You need allies. You need believers. You need people willing to fight and die for a cause. What better cause than the return of a goddess they already loved?"

  "Wouldn’t the Church just send all their guys after me?"

  "They will do that anyway, after what you did."

  I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Was it insane? Or was it genius? I'd already made myself a target… Technically I already was a target before I killed those inquisitors. If people wanted to believe I was something more than just a witch on the run, who was I to correct them?

  Besides, if it kept me alive long enough to kill Menekrates, I'd pretend to be anyone. Then again, I did like my name, and Bies, well, was an ugly name.

  "I like my name,” I said. “It sounds elegant, sophisticated. Bies... sounds like a sneeze."

  "You don't have to be Bies. Just let people draw their own conclusions. You're a powerful witch who just so happens to look like her, who showed up at Bies's cathedral right when the Church is at its strongest. If they want to believe you're her reborn, or her chosen, or her avatar... let them."

  "So lie by omission."

  "Exactly."

  ***

  We kept walking. My feet hurt. My tunic was still damp from swamp water and blood and gods knew what else. I was exhausted, irritable, and in no mood for anything the swamp wanted to throw at me.

  Which was, apparently, everything.

  The first thing that came at us looked like a rotting log with dozens of eyes. It dragged itself out of the muck about twenty minutes into our walk, hissing something that might've been a threat or might've been indigestion—even [Omniglot] couldn’t make sense of it.

  I shot it in what I assumed was its face.

  "Are you going to kill everything we encounter?" Vasil asked.

  "Yes." I kept walking. "Please refrain from asking questions until after the presentation."

  “But that was—”

  I shushed him.

  The second thing was some kind of swamp spirit. Translucent, vaguely humanoid, dripping whatever. It rose up in front of us and I shot it twice before it could make a sound.

  "You didn't even let it speak," Phisto observed.

  "I'm too tired to care what it had to say." I cast [Reload]. "If it wanted to live, it shouldn't have manifested in front of me."

  "That's not how—"

  "Don't care."

  As we walked on my mana recovered slowly. My patience, however, wasn't recovering at all. Then I heard something rustling in the trees to our left. Something big. Something breathing heavily.

  I stopped walking, raised both pistols, and started blasting into the darkness. "ENOUGH!" I shouted between shots. "I am TIRED! I am CRANKY! And the next thing in this gods-forsaken swamp that makes a sound at me is getting sent straight to whatever hell swamp creatures go to!"

  The rustling stopped, and I stood there, pistols raised, breathing hard, glaring at the trees.

  After that nothing in the swamp bothered us for the rest of the walk. Not even the mosquitoes.

  ***

  We had been walking the whole night. The cathedral looked just as imposing as it had the first time. Crumbling white stone covered in moss and vines, roof sagging in places, but still standing.

  Phisto looked up at it. "You have a thing for ruins, Hecate."

  "It has potential," I said.

  "More than that hut, at least," he admitted. "Maybe this place won't even smell like armpits."

  "One can dream."

  We moved around to the back. Most of it was overgrown—wild grass and twisted roots choking out everything. But in the center, something was still growing.

  A massive sunflower. Easily twice my height, its face soaking in the morning light. The petals were vibrant yellow, almost glowing. It shouldn't have been here. There weren’t any other sunflowers around.

  I walked closer to get a better look, and the flower moved. Not swaying, but actually turning. Deliberately rotating its face to follow me.

  This thing was going to try and kill me, wasn't it? That's how my life worked. Everything tried to kill me. The Archon, the Church of Stvora, random guys in swamps, and now apparently flowers. Was there anything in this gods-forsaken world that didn't want me dead?

  The sunflower’s face split into a grin. That thing sure had a whole lot of teeth for a flower. What in Erotokomos’s breathtaking bounce was a plant going to do with all those teeth?

  I should probably shoot it, that would be the smart thing to do. Then again, when was the last time I’d seen a flower with a mouth? How many opportunities does one get to talk to a flower? Could it even talk? What would a flower even say? Did they gossip?

  I wasn’t sure if it was happy to see me, or happy it was about to eat me. Maybe it wasn’t happy at all, maybe it only had one expression.

  The sunflower kept grinning at me, tilting its massive head down. "You there," it said in a deep voice.

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