I reach Rose’s house, crashing through the door. The small, barren space is as empty as I left it. Rose had always lived simply, never wanting more than she needed. After she died, I sold everything of value, everything I didn't need. Wasn’t worth much but it kept me fed for a while.

  Now, the only trace of her left is the old alchemical set she used to brew the village’s medicines, kept for my own personal use and studies.

  The set still sits on the wooden workbench near the hearth, recently dusted off as I've experimented. A mortar and pestle rests beside small glass vials, some empty, others still containing dried herbs or murky liquids. A slightly tarnished copper alembic remains intact, once used for distilling tinctures. Bundles of herbs hang from the rafters, brittle and long past their prime. It’s a modest collection, but it was all she ever needed to treat the sick.

  I shake my head. It’s not something I can take with me.

  I rush into my room, grabbing the few things I own. A small satchel, a waterskin, some flint, and a bundle of bread wrapped in cloth. Just enough to last me for a few days on the road.

  As I stuff them into my napsack, a voice startles me.

  "What are you doing, fere?"

  I spin sharply, heart hammering, reaching for my missing knife before I recognize the figure standing in the doorway.

  Emily.

  She watches me with crossed arms, flowing raven hair cascading over her shoulders. Young, about a year my junior. She’s beautiful, too beautiful for this backwater village. She wears a playful smirk, but concern lingers in her eyes.

  "What’s going on?" she asks, stepping forward.

  I hesitate, unsure of how much to tell her. If there’s anyone I can trust, it’s Emily. Like me, she has always been an outcast in Mistvale. Her father, a foreign merchant from the East, settled in the village after marrying her mother, but the village folk never fully accepted him, or her.

  For years, her mixed features made her the subject of whispered rumors and quiet mocking, at least until her beauty began to shine through. Now, she draws a different kind of attention…

  Similar to me, Rose took her in after her parents passed, giving her a home when no one else would. And like me, accepting her kindness did little to improve Emily’s reputation. Even so, it was a good home while it lasted, we spent a great deal of time together here.

  Actually, that reminds me....

  "The house is yours now," I say, turning to Emily. Her eyes widen in shock.

  "What are you talking about? Rose was your blood, not mine. It belongs to you."

  I shrug, tying up my satchel. "You've known her longer than I have, lived here longer. Rose didn’t care about blood. She would’ve wanted you to have it."

  Emily steps forward, her expression shifting from surprise to something more serious. "Seven, what’s going on? Why are you packing like this?"

  I let out a frustrated sigh. "I was in the old crypt," I admit. "People are going to find out. I have to leave Mistvale."

  She frowns. "They won’t punish you that badly just for entering some forbidden crypt."

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I turn away, my jaw clenching. "They will when they realize the thing I brought back killed Podrick’s horse and nearly killed him. I’ll lose a limb for sure. Probably worse. Half of them already think Rose was some sorceress and that I'm following in her footsteps."

  Silence lingers between us as the weight of my words settles over her.

  "What's your plan?" she finally asks.

  I sling the sack over my shoulder. "Same as it always was. I'll go to Ravencroft and find Zaenith. Rose said I should hurry anyway and I’ve saved up enough… I think."

  Her face darkens at the mention of the name, but says nothing. Instead, she glances to my shoulders.

  "Where’s your cloak?"

  "Lost it," I mutter regretfully. "When I was escaping the crypt."

  She frowns, eyes flicking to her room. Then, without a word, she turns on her heel and disappears into it. A moment later, she returns, tossing a bundled cloth into my arms. A cloak.

  "You'll need something for the cold. Take my old one" she says simply.

  I unfold it. Soft wool, worn smooth with use. My gaze shifts to the mantle currently adorning her shoulders. A rich violet, threadwork fine enough for a noble's court.

  "Wait. I haven’t seen that one before," I say, squinting. "Where did you get that?"

  Instead of answering she just smiles, closing her eyes.

  Irritating. If she didn’t look so good I’d slap her face off.

  "You need to stop stealing." I say, shaking my head.

  She rolls her eyes. "And you need to stop looting.."

  Hmm, well that’s true. But after Rose died none of the villagers would buy any of the medicines I'd brew. They were barely willing to buy hers.

  Without warning, she steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, her head resting on my lower chest. I hesitate for only a second before returning the embrace. She holds me tightly, her slender frame folding into my larger one, and for the first time tonight, I feel uncertain. Leaving her behind, leaving Mistvale, feels more final than I expected. I hadn’t planned on leaving so soon…

  I bend low, resting my chin lightly against her hair. "Be careful, Emily."

  She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "You too, fere. I'll visit you sometime."

  She lets out a soft laugh. "When I'm rich."

  I step back, adjusting my satchel, ready to go. "Try not to rob anyone dangerous."

  She smirks, tilting her head. "I'm the dangerous one here."

  I shake my head and turn for the door. But the moment I step outside, I freeze.

  Dammit, already?

  A ring of torchlight greets me, casting shadows against the snow. Surrounding me are men, the village watchmen, their hands gripping weapons, their expressions grim. At the center of them stand Yusef and Podrick, the former smiling ominously, the latter glaring furiously.

  I barely have time to react before Podrick’s voice cuts through the night.

  "It was him!!" he bellows, pointing a thick, accusing finger at me. "That bastard brought that thing down upon me!"

  I glare at him furiously. "What? I saved you from it you fat fucking-"

  He holds out a cleaver, silencing me.

  "This piss-drinker came to my farm in the dead of night, with that monster in tow!" The farmer points his finger at me accusingly. "And after he killed it, I saw him playing with the body! Probably part of the foul sorcery he and that aunt of his practiced!"

  "What did you say? Did you want me to smash your chubby fucking face in-" I stalk towards him, but before I can get even halfway to him, two men have gripped my arms, while a third kicks the back of my knee and a fourth takes my knapsack.

  "Argh- fuck! I didn't do anything!!" I protest, as the men drag me to the floor. I'm strong, but with four of them here? I have little hope, they're not exactly small men either.

  Yusef steps forward, looking down on me. "We'll see about that. Take him to the longhouse, he will await judgement there."

  The men haul me to my feet, and drag me after Yusef.

  "Wait, Seven!" Emily’s voice rings out as she rushes in behind me, her footsteps crunching against the snow.

  Shit... did they find the tracks already? If they did, I’m fucked.

  What do I do?

  Everyone knows the crypt is off limits. Do I admit to the crime and hope they'll be merciful? Or do I lie all the way through?

  My mind races, trying the come up with the excuse I'll give them. But so far, all I can think of is one word.

  "Fuck."

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