Blood carrots smelled foul, and I couldn’t even remotely figure out what to do with them. But my new class? I had to check my abilities.

  I didn’t know what blight was—well, in this context. I looked off the panel and toward my field. The world was... vibrant, but a bit more gray at the same time. I could hear the cicadas chirp and the sun frazzle, but there was a coldness in certain spots. A bird’s nest nearby had one... “gray cicada song,” and when I focused on it, I saw a chick dead in the egg.

  My field, however? There was a central mass of chirping and “gray song.” Gray Song was going to be annoying, so I’d call it the Whistle. The Whistle was where Ma said the rabbit warren was, and I gingerly approached.

  The hole was dark, and I knew what I was going to find inside. I shifted aside, and... oddly, my face didn’t go pale. I knew what was going to be there, and I thought it’d be worse.

  Four. Dead. Rabbits.

  The Whistle warned me, but even now, it just seemed like dead bodies. I remember when Adrian pulled me away from seeing Mirchie dead, and here? I wasn’t even fazed.

  I pulled up my panel again—I had more abilities.

  Interesting. Not useful right now, but at least I didn’t have to risk fainting if I needed to plant more blood carrots. Or, I guess...

  No. I wasn’t going to sacrifice something—someone—else.

  I smiled. Incredibly useful. No longer did I need to maintain a compost heap. I could... revitalize the soil, if I found... animals... to kill.

  That thought seemed somber to me, but it had to be done. It was no different than any hunt, but for now? I’d stick to already dead bodies.

  For now, that’d do. I reached down and inspected the corpses. Maggots carved into their skin. Ma said they were dead already, so I guess a new one had to move in.

  And they also died. Judging by how scrawny they were—of starvation.

  My stomach grumbled at that—I had stew in the house, but it wasn’t mine. Besides, this was fascinating.

  These four rabbits were the start of something... new. I moved my hand toward them. The corpse flies buzzed, but their fluttering wings were nothing compared to the Whistle. My fingers pushed into the purulent flesh, squishing and groping the rotting meat. The maggots inched away as I picked up the first one.

  It had died four nights ago, in fact. Starvation. I didn’t know it, but I knew it. [Mortis Visio] was a song in my head and the Whistle was the answer. They’d do better feeding the ground.

  I could smell the rot, I could feel the meat squish, and hear the maggots squirm in protest. But this was work, and I felt oddly detached. I tossed the first body against the area I had cleared. The second, third, fourth followed. They were too small to rejuvenate the entire field, but as I approached the four splattered bodies, it gave me a new feeling.

  Pride.

  This was all my doing.

  I leaned down and touched the corpse. My mind was hollow as I willed the Symphony to conduct as I wanted. Yet as before when I cast [Mage Hand], I felt like a good part of my mental energy was fading.

  This was taxing—far more taxing than [Mage Hand]. I could feel my brain fog, and the cicada song dispersing, but... I just had more. It didn’t feel as big of a loss, and even after I used [Compost] on all four bodies, my brain felt fine. I felt more like a girl who went on a brisk walk around the field than one who subjected herself to a night’s labor.

  I used [Inspect] on the soil. 100% quality on the four holes. Now I’d just need more seeds.

  But I couldn’t afford them without figuring out how to sell these blood carrots. Who would even buy these foul-smelling contraptions?

  My stomach growled again. I looked at my cottage and then my blood carrots. A normal carrot sells for 30 silver. What would these sell for— I stopped thinking about the rot and used [Inspect] on them.

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  My mouth watered at that price! Just a small amount of blood, one bag of carrot seeds, and a single one of these returns the investment? And this was just poor quality—how much would a normal or fine one be worth when I fixed my fields?!

  I brought one to my lips, but the rotting smell and sensation just didn’t do it for me. I tried to open my mouth to take a bite, but I instinctively gagged.

  I guess I wasn’t a sanguinarian.

  My head tilted at that. I’d just had confirmation that vampires and Drakhuul were real, and I glossed over that to look at the price? I shook my head.

  Where the hell do I find a Black Market?

  I looked at the notification and then the dirt road. Oakheart was “the city,” and I hadn’t stepped foot inside since I went to the Academy. I remembered the sweet cakes, the Winter’s Feast, and the candied peaches were divine. I, however, also remembered the cost—3 silver, 1 gold per head (5 silver if they were a child, cutoff being 12 years), and 2 copper per slice.

  I remembered Melissa Bellamine mocking me for not being able to afford it, and how her mom, a [Master Weaver], would set aside the “scraps” for a special dress every Winter’s Feast. It was the only dress I’d get. A constant reminder.

  I swallowed and went back into the house. It still smelled of beef, of carrots, of... well, Ma. I glared at the pot and then down at my little wooden bowl. My hands touched the repaired wood and inspected it.

  No crack.

  That bastard. My hands pulled the edges apart, and I could see what was done. A small charm used by journeymen and craftsmen to help keep the quality of their equipment stable. Or when their childhood friend would predictably lash out and try to break a gift.

  [Reinforcement]

  I glared at the bowl and saw the radiant Symphony coming from it. Saccharine, foul, sweet-smelling like overripe strawberries. Those notes coalesced into my hand. I opened my skill tree.

  My hand took the radiant song and turned it into a tune of cicadas. I heard the hymn and chorus drowned out by a plague of locusts—another insect, I know, but all of them had a place in my heart. The devouring came about, and the saccharine aura was fixed.

  [Reinforcement] → [Cursed]

  I shrugged. I dipped the wooden bowl into the stew pot and brought it to my lips. The fragrant spices and warm water made my lips wet. The beef rolled into the thick broth, and the carrots and potatoes were just so tender and soft. I brought the edge of the bowl to my lips.

  I spat it out!

  Flora damn it. The sour-tasting broth and chewy pieces of meat weren’t what I was expecting. Even now, the carrots were shriveling, and the potatoes were becoming thick and fetid. A strong layer of mold and rot grew over the serving—the one I had just put to my lips.

  I stared at the bowl and then the stew. The stew itself was fine; it was just my bowl.

  The one I cursed.

  You understand you’re doing this to yourself, right?

  I rolled my eyes at that thought and put the bowl on the table. I’d have something for a hot meal if that pious boy ever returned. I instead grabbed the ladle and served myself from the pot. I wished I could afford more bowls.

  I turned to the cursed bowl and finally opened up my last skill. Maybe this would help me.

  That was... less than useless. Why on earth would I want to repair a broken bone? It didn’t seem like it worked on the living, and frankly, I wasn’t interested in breaking a bone to find out. I sighed and turned to the immediate problem at hand.

  My hunger was satiated, and I could begin my trip to Oakheart to find the Black Market. Yet, as my foot pressed over the squeaky, loose floorboard, I remembered:

  Adrian’s final “gift” was waiting. I steeled myself for whatever dumb joke he had planned. I pulled up the floorboard, and inside...

  ...was Ma’s reagent bag. A small note in clean cursive—a far cry from how that boy used to write.

  “Hey Ashy. Your Ma told me what happened, and I wanted to give you a break. Here’s what your Pa took from you, your Ma gave to you, and a small amount from me. Take care, Addy.”

  Inside were 100 gold. My eyes stared at my life savings, returned to me in one mocking blow. I wanted to throw it away, but this was my gold. No, it was his.

  789 gold. Six hot meals. And a broken wooden sword.

  He enjoyed lording his superior status over me. I got up, took Ma’s reagent pouch, and transferred the gold to my inventory. I spat on the ground and looked at the warm stew, the stocked pantry, and my life savings returned.

  Curse him.

  I left for Oakheart. I’d pay that bastard back.