I returned back home in the afternoon, determined to get all this dirt off my skin and to clean my clothes before the morning. Somehow Ophelia managed to launder them quickly. She was far better at it than my tactic of dunking them in the river and then leaving them hanging to dry. I had just drawn the water from the well when I felt cold fingers touch my shoulders.

  “Lady Hart?” Ophelia began, pulling my shoulder in. “Are you ready to head out?”

  “Head out? Where?” I immediately responded, trying to get my bearings.

  “To the Church. The night is young, and I need your assistance with helping with making progeny.”

  “Don’t you just bite people?”

  “I could, yes, but I am an [Ancient] now, Lady Hart. Any of my progeny would be second to my power, and that’s a complication I can not afford. But Wizex informed me that you can create vampires too?”

  “Possibly, if I make the preparation room.”

  “And that is precisely why we’re doing this tonight.” Ophelia quickly responded.

  “I do have the herbs, but you know, I’m still missing bodies, and souls.”

  Ophelia shook her head. “You’ve a body in your crypt, and a soul. We just need one for now.”

  I nodded. “Fine. So, do you have a plan?”

  “We break in, steal it, and leave. I rather not stay on hallowed ground if I can help it, Lady Hart.” Ophelia responded, and with that, we were off.

  The Church of Dawn was run by Pastor Farrow, Laura’s husband and a man I hadn’t met yet in the two weeks I was back. The church itself was rather small compared to the one in Flowers-By-The-River, which made it the perfect place to break in and steal a holy artifact.

  Ophelia had elected to wear her adventuring garb again, where her dark leathers mixed in with the red velvet underbackings. Her belt was prepared with lockpicks, knives, a flint, and of course, rope.

  I was nowhere near as fancy, electing to wear my farming clothes since I was already dirty and figured this would just make things dirtier.

  Ophelia looked up at the stone building and frowned. “This is it? The mighty church of Amaril being a quaint little stone building? Even the servant’s quarters at Father’s mansion were bigger than this.”

  My eyes though were turned somewhere else. “Ophelia, would you be able to clear the way for me? I’d probably get in your way.”

  Ophelia looked at me, but saw that my head was turned to the cemetery. She frowned immediately. “Sentimentality is for the weak, Lady Hart. Let the past remain buried.”

  “Uh huh,” I idly responded, which of course, made Ophelia even more annoyed.

  “Fine, I’ll break into the church and figure out what’s going on in there. You go do whatever you mortals do.”

  I nodded again, walking away from Ophelia. I didn’t look at her face, as I opened the metal grates of the church cemetery.

  It creaked open, and the air hurt my flesh. It burned, my skin feeling far too warm and my feet pressing into the dirt with a sensation like stepping on needles. I winced, but kept moving forward. Each step disturbed the gravedirt and the searing pain against my skin heightened.

  Hallowed Ground. My necrotic blood hated it, but I was human. I could only imagine what Ophelia was going through for standing here, but I was also sure she enjoyed the desecration she was committing.

  I however pulled out my gardening shears, leaving the upper end citizens graves to go towards the peasants. All of the bodies here were consecrated, and I knew better to even attempt to dig it up.

  It also just felt wrong, and many of the people here were relatives of people I already knew. My eyes glanced over the graves and last names, recognizing far more than I had expected.

  Yet, I suddenly stopped before my brain could process why.

  Amelia and Matthew Hart. Together in death, as they were in life. Their headstones were made of stone and intricately carved. I could see the remnants of a wooden pitch, and compared to the wooden gravemarkers all around, it was odd. The only other stone headstone belonged to the Skye Family.

  It didn’t take a genius to understand what had happened.

  The clay around the grave was well cared for, with no weeds. I dropped my shears to take out my spade, and even that was mostly performative. The ground was smooth, and both my ma and pa’s gravestone’s were kept clean.

  They even had flowers! And a base for a candle that had become nothing but beeswax.

  So, even that, I couldn’t do it. It was taken care of for me. I just stared onwards, looking at the two stone tombs, waiting to feel something.

  And then I did.

  My body was warm. I could feel tears in my eyes. And even then, my lips slipped into a deep smile.

  I was happy.

  My fingers reached out to feel the rough texture of the stone, sliding down and touching the engraved names of both of my parents. Someone was taking care of them, even if their good-for-nothing daughter could not.

  “Hey Ma. Hey Pa. So, I made it,” I began, unsure of why I was talking to a rock. I knew ma and pa were already below, in the fields - or being returned back to the cycle.

  I still wanted to talk.

  “I passed my exams, and a goddess blessed me. Not Flora, or Azadin, but uh….” I stopped. “Well, I was blessed by someone. Oh! And I finally have friends now. Jasmine’s really nice, you’d have liked her. Ophelia’s a bit crazy but she’s helping me take care of myself. Madeleine’s very nice, and Noel’s a lot like the better part of you, Pa.”

  I frowned.

  “Adrian’s fine too. He’s marrying Melissa! I can’t believe it either. No, I mean… I didn’t expect him to wait, but… yeah, you’re right Ma.”

  I looked at the stone again to read the dates. Ma died on Spring 38, 1386. Pa died on Summer 14, 1386.

  I didn’t even have those dates written down. I wasn’t here for that.

  It was what Ma wanted.

  My lips quivered at that thought. “Yeah, I don’t know how to feel about it Ma. I mean, I’m a [Scholar]... a bit more than that actually… like you wanted. But the farm isn’t as good as you wanted it to be. And Pa, I am doing everything myself. I told you corn won’t sell well. I even have plans to make it the greatest! I’ll finally be able to grow those peach trees, if Noel sells me his land. Yeah, Noel bought the Anderson farm! He’s selling the farm to me for cheap, just 800 gold. …Yeah, your daughter is finally making a lot of money, Pa.”

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  I waited for something. The only sensation I had was this burning in my throat and water in my eyes. That was ignoring the mundane sensation of my blood burning and skin trying to escape the hallowed ground. I could at least understand that.

  And nothing answered. I stared at the stone, waiting for the wind to pick up, a howling of a wolf, the squeaking of a rabbit. There was a breeze, but it wasn’t that ‘comforting sensation’ I had read about.

  There was just nothing. I stayed kneeling in the dirt, waiting for a sign. The warm feeling of moonlight saying they were looking at me. A frog croaking to say it was heard.

  Just the sound of crickets.

  I guess I was expecting too much. I work with the dead everyday, and only Ophelia seems anywhere near intelligent. I picked myself up, grave dirt falling off my skirt. I then sighed, and got back into the dirt.

  Life isn’t a ledger, ‘Cold Ashley’. Sometimes, you do things because you know someone else would like it. Signed, ‘That Ashley’.

  I dug into the clay dirt until I made a small pit. I took out seeds from my pouch, and dropped the Asphodels seeds I had been carrying from my visit to Rhea. I covered it with dirt, and then held my dagger out, ready to draw my own blood.

  No, not this time. It wasn’t about efficiency.

  I poured water atop of the pile of clay, and patted the small seed into place.

  The church wasn’t that far from my home. I could make a trip every few days to water this plant too. It’s not like I have much labour I do anyway now.

  I stood up tall this time, and couldn’t make myself smile.

  I accomplished part of Ma’s dream. I still felt empty inside.

  I guess I have to accomplish Pa and Ma’s goal, and make the farm successful. Then I can finally have some children like they wanted.

  Like I wanted.

  Maybe my husband would agree to Amelia Jr? If it’s a girl of course. We can name the boy after his father.

  I shook my head from the day dream, and turned to look at Ophelia. Ophelia was in the distance, leaning against the stone wall. I could tell her red eyes were watching me, even from this distance. I raised my hand in greeting, and she scoffed. She turned her head away, and awaited me to approach

  “Are you done, Lady Hart? We have work to do,” Ophelia said, before looking at my face. Her hand reached into her pocket, and handed me a silk handkerchief. “Compose yourself.”

  I took it, and dabbed my eyes, and then blew on my nose. Ophelia looked disgusted, and daintily picked it up between her fingers. Her hand flicked it, causing it to clean itself instantly!

  So that’s how she’s so good at cleaning!

  She then turned to the stone door, and began to push it inwards. I had never seen it be that heavy before, since I could easily open it. I looked at her body, to see her skin bubbling and regenerating. Ashen marks of holy flame disappeared into the cold flesh, regenerating as quickly as the wound appeared.

  So I grabbed her shoulder. “Ophelia. Stand guard.”

  She hesitated, and turned to me. “I can han–”

  “I can’t revive you if you die. I don’t know how. You are my greatest ally, and probably my second or third closest friend, so…”

  She tilted her head. “We’re frie–”

  I put my finger to her lips. “I dealt with Madeleine and Noel trying to kill each other this morning. We’re friends. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I’d tell you to wait in the crypt.”

  Ophelia smirked with that. “Growing up, huh, Mistress? Good on you. I’ll take your counsel and wait here.”

  “I still know the trick Dalliance taught me if anything goes wrong.”

  “The trick?”

  “This trick,” I whispered. A gust of air carried my words to Ophelia’s ears, who immediately rubbed her ears with her shoulders.

  “That was unpleasant, but noted.”

  I nodded, and then entered the church.

  I had been inside many times when I was a child. Eight wooden pews on each side, making a total of sixteen. The carpet in the center was well cared for, leading towards the altar. The Eye of Amaril - a golden image of the sun greeted me in its dull display. I quickly looked around.

  I just needed a holy object to pilfer, and I’d be done. But it also had to be something not too obvious, and something that could be replaced. I continued to scan the interior, until my eyes locked onto it.

  A simple, golden chalice. Used to drink the Blood of The Protector during communion. It was within the holy walls of the ritual preparation box, and it fit everything I needed. I slowly approached, my feet pressing down against the carpeted stone, glad it wasn’t making a sound. I could hear myself breathe, and just for Safety’s sake, I activated my [Mortis Visio].

  My eyes burned! Hot, white light poured directly into my pupils, as my vision was overwhelmed with the rays of sunlight.

  Right, I was on Hallowed Ground. Any of my necromantic abilities would fail, as I was in the Gaze of Amaril.

  I moved towards the box, and stepped over the boundary of the worship area to the actual altar. I felt a pit in my stomach breaking another taboo. I was never an altar girl, though I know Melissa and Jasmine were. Even Adrian was an altar boy, and the three got along pretty well in the back, from what I was told.

  I moved towards the ritual box, and put my fingers against the edge. I tugged against it, to find it was locked. It was a simple lock actually, and if I had my bone-daggers on me, I’d be able to crack it open.

  But I was on hallowed ground, and I was pretty sure they’d burn up. I needed all my daggers!

  I could try carrying this outside to Ophelia, but something told me that this box weighed more than I did even if I was soaking wet.

  I looked around, and realized it could only be in one place. I swallowed my spit, and slowly moved towards the side door. It separated the public access of the church to the back, where the administration was, and small bunks for travelers. Father Farrow technically had a room here, but he preferred spending his nights with his wife and children.

  I turned the handle, and to my surprise it clicked open. I slowly opened it, the door creaking inwards to a lounge.

  Benches with soft cushions surrounded a hearth, as the counters had the Lord’s Wine and baked hardtack for communion. The room smelled rustic, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the shelves.

  So many books! Most of them were on theology and religion, and while not my favourite topic, I would consume them eagerly. However, that wasn’t what I was here for, and I could tell none of them were actual artifacts to defile. I moved into the room to look around.

  I moved through the drawers, finding knives, quills, forks, more bottles of wine and other doodads. I quietly put everything back, but looked at the bookshelf once more.

  World Religions. Fairly basic, but I still had to research Nyla at some point, so I grabbed it. It was high school level at best, so no one would notice an educational book gone. Most nobles didn’t even crack the book’s spine! They thought a book’s purpose was to be on a shelf, and not read. It was infuriating.

  I was looking at the cover, when I heard the office door unlock. My brain immediately froze.

  “Ashley?” Adrian’s voice called, the roaring flames of the Inquisitor's office bathing my dirty form in firelight.

  Rhyvesta damn it.