I arrived back at the farm, and there was a massive pile of stones and sticks stacked neatly in the corner. Goblins came from the forest, while Laertes oversaw the movement. Wizex waited at my hovel, and I was glad that no one entered it.

  Or offended, since the goblins on break were lazing at the gazebo that Jasmine made for me.

  I approached Wizex, causing Laertes to move over as well. “Missus, glad to see ya here.” Wizex began, bowing his head with a small tilt. Laertes copied the motion.

  “What’s going on? Why are you here?” I asked, motioning towards the resources that were being stored here.

  Wizex raised his hand and shook his head. “Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout missus. Material for building Missus Hawthorne her new house, overseen by this massive lug ‘ere.”

  Laertes crossed his arms. “This is beneath me. I crave blood, Ashley.”

  Wizex glanced at Laertes, but I couldn’t tell why. “Okay, but why is it here? And not, you know, at Hawthorne Manor?”

  “Can’t walk in the sun,” Laertes immediately responded, ending his sentence with a guttural growl.

  “But the goblins can…?”

  “Aye, missus. Land doesn't belong to Missus Hawthorne just yet, and, besides that - they’d knife a goblin real quick they would. Been told a knife-ear is setting up a guild here, makin’ this place dangerous grounds.”

  “Since they’d raid your lair.” I said.

  “Aye, that they would. Or exterminate us. You longlegs don’t seem to be understandin’ how to be good neighborfolks,” Wizex grinned, breaking into a laugh.

  “What EXACTLY do you do? I get that the vampires went around enslaving people and eating them, but you?”

  “Pretty much the same, Missus. Though, we also put the healthier to work in the goblin mines.”

  “You do far worse, greenskin. We’re lucky your brutish cousins aren’t around.” Laertes interjected.

  Wizex grinned again, and gave a mocking shrug. “Now, now. Missus Farmer here doesn’t need to get into the nitty gritty of goblin-orc-greenskin relationships with humans. All I’ll say is this – I enjoy and fully intend to expose the truth of the rumours.”

  “Not in Oakheart, you won’t. I just got freezing technology, and I’m about to get into an agricultural breakthrough!” I commanded, reaching into my pocket to pull out…

  Nothing.

  I forgot to take the Manastone from Aywin. My fingers clenched against the air, nails driving into my flesh. A small dollop of blackening blood formed, and I opened my palm.

  Levan’s Scythe appeared in my hand. Wizex immediately shirked back, losing his composure and cowing himself. Laertes looked at the blade, and quickly glanced away.

  “Threat rec–” Wizex began, his hands raising with open palms.

  “What, no. I’m not threatening anyone. I don’t even understand how this came out. I thought I left it in my storage box,” I responded, pulling the Scythe up towards my face to inspect. The silver blade shined in the sunlight, and this close, I noticed the engraving on it.

  “Uta-Unon-Rhyvest.”

  I lowered the scythe down, and looked between the pair. Their resolve returned, causing Wizex to peer at it. “And I’ll be… a Reaper’s Scythe… so, when are you tendin’ to our Dark Mother’s guardian, missus?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but Wizex looked at Laertes. “You made that lug, did ya?”

  “Yes, she did.” Laertes immediately responded. “Laertes or General, greenskin.”

  Wizex looked at the Drakhuul’s massive form, the bulging muscles, and the bat-like face. “Laertes. Can’t be a general without blokes, aye?” Wizex’s attention shifted to me. “I’m under your command and so is he, if that is what you’re worried on, Missus.”

  “I don’t get it, are you capable of speaking proper common, or are you just butchering it for fun?” I finally asked, ignoring the other part.

  Wizex grinned again. “Oh, I do apologize for this one's arrogance, Mistress Hart, I can converse in the Queen’s Common with all the proper tones and words if I need to. But, eh? I like the greenskin drawl more, aye? Feel’s far more like home.”

  Laertes snorted. “Too many words. Speak plainly, greenskin.”

  I liked Laertes. He spoke simply.

  “Are you more concerned ‘bout my manner of speakin’ missus, or about tending the garden?” Wizex pivoted the conversation back, as his eyes watched the goblins move the stones and sticks from Lyrelle Forest to my house.

  “I am concerned about both! But, I mean… why are you even working with vampires?”

  “Common enemies,” Laertes stated. “Different means. More fodder, greenskins. More Elites, vampires.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. I mean, I ‘ove a good scrap with these blood-lickin’ leeches, but…”

  “No, I mean, what do you even get out of it?”

  “Favours and debts,” they both responded. I stared at the pair, and then quickly realized this was utter nonsense.

  Or it was the ledger again.

  I smiled softly at that realization. That was understandable. “So you know about the garden tending, Wizex?”

  “That’s what our Dark Mother calls it, aye. Levan used to call it the great equation where the left must balance with the right. Missus Bazerie called it the Decimation, where the top must be culled and the slaves butchered too.”

  “I call it slugs and weeds,” I added. Wizex didn’t react, nor did Laertes.

  “Hunting a weed, then?” Laertes added.

  “You understand that –”

  “Weed is excess. Slug is deficit.” Laertes quickly responded. “We know the Dark Mother’s Command. Can’t let Amaril’s children become excess.” Laertes mouth opened into a wicked grin, his sharp teeth shining in the light.

  “...So I’m tasked with culling a slug and a weed.” I began.

  “Aye, very basic task to understand the tenets, missus. I’ll give you the same advice my ancestor gave to Levan - start with the excess. Deficits everyone finds acceptable. Kill a bandit, clear a deficit. But kill a family? Everyone thinks you’re a goblin.”

  “I’m going to imagine there’s no way around it?” I asked.

  “You ask me to pick strawberries. I pick up wild strawberries. Strawberries on field remains unpicked. Did I accomplish goal?” Laertes interjected.

  “...No. I’d be annoyed.”

  “Dark Mother is not machine. Judges you by intent and consequence. Can choose not to obey, yes. Earns nothing. Choose to trick? Scorn, like…”

  “Bazerie, ya lug. One of her later tasks, she tried to get out of.” Wizex explained. “[Vampyre] is often seen as the worst worshiper, yeah. Would have been better if she just didn’t do it…”

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

  “And remained in place?” I questioned.

  “Dark Mother, Ashley. Conversation between daughter and parent. Sometimes, parent needs to teach their child discipline. Child does not know best.” Laertes explained. My skin shivered at Cadence – Laertes – words. He didn’t look the same, but I could still see traces of Dalliance’s face.

  “So… I stay in place and try to make a deal with her. I obey. Or, if I’m feeling really arrogant, try to trick her.”

  “Let’s not even consider the third one, missus. It’s very much a bat-brain move.” Wizex snickered. Laertes’ hand opened up and slapped the back of Wizex's head. The goblin growled, but didn’t do much more.

  “Glad to see you two getting along. Well, and I can’t believe I’m asking this now… know any weeds?”

  “I know of chi-” Laertes began.

  “No.” I quickly cut Laertes off. He scowled at the rebuke, but stopped talking.

  “Then, if I may, missus, I know the perfect group, with your restraints. Ain’t in Oakheart, Ain’t someone anyone knows, or anyone you care about. Know a family by the name of the Florences?”

  “No?”

  “Good. Pa’s off in the big town - Flowers-By-The-River - and is comin’ back tonight. Him and his wife have eight kids, so a total of ten living on the land.”

  I said nothing. Mr. Marlow had eight children. Was he a weed?

  Laertes’ palm slapped me in the back, though with the repeated blows, I think it was meant to be comforting. “I can take care of it.”

  “Aye, that you could, ya big lug, but then the girl would always be countin’ on ya to do the murders.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s not good, bat-face! Can’t have our Mistress scared of getting innocent blood on her hands. Trust me, I know our Dark Mother, and if the missus here is too scared to get her hands dirty, her next tenet is to do it herself. Take the gloves off, and you impress our Dark Mother.”

  Laertes growled. I took a deep breath.

  I had already killed a drunk in the alleyway. But that was to save Mrs. Bellamine’s life.

  To Give, is To Take. To Take, is To Give.

  The words echoed in my head. “I… won’t promise anything, but I’ll come see the place.”

  “Excellent! You do so, and I’ll make sure the tribe makes it look like it was the work of goblins and not a [Necromancer]. The boys and I have been craving human meat, and the populace is getting fat.” Wizex grinned, taking his grubby, green finger and its sharp nail to his teeth. I refused to look at what he flicked out.

  “I want in.” Laertes immediately stated, looking at Wizex. “Land and Forest Sustains. Does not nourish. I crave [Anima].”

  “You call it [Anima] too?” I immediately asked.

  “Yes? It is its name. Imprinted in my head. In Lady Hawthorne’s Brain.”

  “Funny tha’. Was called Vitae in Levan’s time, but now… I recognize it as [Anima]. Your doing, Missus?”

  “...Yeah. I thought it was a cute name. But it was my name.”

  “It is your name, Missus. And it is your necropolis, and your kingdom. You tell me a goblin’s actually called a sheep - I’ll look at you funny, but I’ll tell the boys to call themselves sheep. Tell Laertes there he's actually named Unicorn, and everyone will call him Unicorn.”

  Laertes growled, but I raised my hand. “I understand. Wizex, Laertes. Escort me tonight to this place. I… might not be able to do the deed, but I will be there to watch.”

  “Baby steps, missus, baby steps. Now, get yourself some sleep. I’ll get the boys to maintain your crops since it seems your Lady Hawthorne is still missin’.” Wizex offered.

  I nodded, and returned to my hovel.

  The hovel smelled like Ma’s stew, but I wasn’t feeling hungry. I was famished, but…

  I just stared out the window, looking at my reflection. My white hair, that could go red if I wanted it, my dark eyes, and my… not as waifish figure looked back at me. I was healthier, stronger…

  …and alone.

  I wanted to run, to go to anyone. To ask Jasmine for her advice. I knew Madeleine would tell me to get over it. Noel would find what I’m doing worse than a parasite.

  Adrian would hate me. I don’t care about what his bitch of a wife thinks though.

  Where did that come from?

  I… was getting along with her. And I still despised her? Was that the real me? It had to be. Any normal person would find this entire act abhorrent.

  I let out a breath. Mist curled in the freezing air. My eyes quickly scanned the room. Frost began to chill the window panes, running up in rising tendrils. The hearth fire immediately stuttered out, and the dark smokes of ash never materialized. Instinctively, I rubbed my palms together, the friction creating the smallest hint of heat.

  And then something draped over my shoulder. A black shawl made of intricately woven… spidersilk. It looked too familiar, but before I could process that, cool hands stroked my head and took my white hair back.

  I stared at the window, but could see it floating. I tried to turn, but a soft, not-forceful hand kept me steady.

  “If I should die and leave you here a while, be not like others sore undone.” I could never forget her voice. I tried to turn again, but her soft hand gently kept my head focused on the window.

  “Thou had sought counsel with thine servants, but not thine Mother? Art thou afraid?” her voice was smooth, yet the small echoes of other voices harmonized beneath it.

  “Ma?” I hesitantly asked.

  “Your Dark Mother. Amaril’s Eye scours the Earth, and I may not be present with ye physically. I desire to see thou face to face, but only in mine altar. However, sweetest daughter, thine fears are heard. Thou sought counsel, and who better to counsel a daughter than thine mother?”

  “I.. want to talk to my Ma.” I repeated. The tender fingers caressed my white hair.

  “I know, sweetest daughter. Thou seeks thine mother’s approval, and thine father’s pride. Found men among the living to grant ye comfort, and then seek reunion among the dead for thine matron. I feel thine pain, and it hurts me as well. Yet, I know if thou retreat to thine comforts at moments of fear, all they will see ye as a spoiled daughter.”

  Each time she talked, I couldn’t find my will to interrupt. There was no force, but there was pressure. I tugged on the spidersilk shawl, and clasped it over my emerald necklace. I… never took that off.

  “Talk, daughter. I offer no judgement, just counsel. Express thine fears and desires, and I will listen with open heart, mind, and ears.”

  I hesitated. I tried to form words but nothing came. I choked again, but then, Rhyvesta’s grasp stroked my cheek. I couldn’t see her hand, but the cool touch relaxed me. I closed my eyes and just talked.

  “...I don’t want to murder a family. I just want to grow carrots and farm. I’m.. happy to be important, to be an equal to Adrian, but now…”

  I couldn’t find the words. Rhyvesta said nothing, but continued to comb my hair. The silence lasted, as I stared at the window.

  “...I don’t know, Ma. Ma would be looking at me and saying I failed.”

  “Does thine seek counsel, comfort, or ears?”

  “...Whichever one you’ll give.”

  “All three. I hear thine fears and understand. Thou is a girl seeing the realm of adults and it fears her. I do not diminish thou by calling ye a mere babe, my sweetest daughter, but as a mother knowing thine mind. Death is not the ending of a cycle, but the continuation of one. Thine Mother is able to see and speak and talk to ye because of thine actions. The dead do not have voices, until ye allow them too.”

  “I don’t think it’s a fair statement to say ‘you can talk to your mother because you’re a serial killer [Necromancer] now’, Ma.”

  I caught myself this time, and cupped my mouth with my hands. I could feel her gentle hands come to my wrist to pull it down.

  “I am not thine Ma, but thine Dark Mother, sweetest daughter. Thine Ma awaits for you in the Fields, alongside thine Pa. However, ye see things in morality that does not befit my sweetest daughter. I know I ask thee to dive into the darkest ocean and commit a grievous sin on the flock… but I question thine thought. Is it a sin?”

  “I’m committing murder, Ma!” I finally shouted, slamming my hands against my table. It sweltered, but Rhyvesta’s hand rested atop of my shoulder.

  “Thou is no different than a soldier killing for her country. Murder is murder is murder. Dress it up as thou wish. Kill a goblin, if you must. Kill Ophelia and Elias again and again and again. Justify it as they were monsters, not men. I ask my sweetest daughter to look beyond what a church, a hostile god, or edicts placed upon thee by mere men to see what I have in store for you.”

  “And what do you have in store for me, Dark Mother?”

  Rhyvesta chuckled, and with four voices ringing at once, it was a discordant cacophony. The frost on the window stained into images.

  I saw a farm. Industrious, strong… fully working. I saw the town, both leaving me alone and seeking my advice. I saw Jasmine by my side, Ophelia in her manor.

  And I saw Adrian… dressed in black with a sword that burned fire. I saw myself beside him, in black robes with an emerald necklace and a spidersilk shawl made into a veil.

  I saw Ma and Pa, alive and healthy.

  I saw myself happy.

  I shook my head, taking the vision off my eyes as the frost became meaningless again.

  “Don thine veil I had gifted to thee, [Necromancer]. I have so few daughters and sons… I can count my flock on one hand. And now, my youngest daughter must kill her sibling. Know this, Ashley Hart - My sweetest daughter - thine mother loves thee. Thine Ma loves thee. Fear is allowed. Disobedience is allowed. I seek what is best for my children, like Amaril above seeks for his own. If thou would honor thy mother, I have a request for thee…”

  I said nothing, but leaned back, my head and thoughts still running with what I had seen.

  Her words were honey, and sounded like dark whispers.

  I nodded my head. “I could do that.”

  The chill in the room faded, but the spidersilk shawl remained. I flipped it over my face, and the reflection starting at me was a familiar veiled face I had seen in the frescos around.