Morning came, and I awoke on the lumpy mattress once more. I really had to replace it, but that was a short-term goal for when I had more money to burn. For now, I’d committed to staggered farming, and for the next nine days I wouldn’t have any income. I got up and went straight to the door to open it.

  Ophelia stared at me.

  “Do I need to invite you in?” I asked, brow furrowing. I wasn’t expecting to see her there, but at least she was supposedly friendly. My left eye burned.

  My left eye focused on Ophelia.

  The sensation burned into my skull, and the cold sounds of winter flowed around me. The world went blue and teal, becoming one more mess of color that burned my head. My toes instinctively clenched against the shiver, but I shook it off.

  “No, I’m here to report something far more dangerous, Mistress,” Ophelia began. She didn’t move inside, though, and stood awkwardly at the threshold.

  I stepped to the side. Ophelia watched me. “...Come in, Ophelia,” I said.

  Only then did she walk through the door. I wasn’t sure if this meant vampires had to be invited in, or if Ophelia was just weird.

  She looked around my hovel, then at me. “This is very quaint. You should fix this place as soon as you can.”

  I glared at Ophelia, who didn’t seem to notice or care. She didn’t move, just continued to watch me. “What do you want, Ophelia?” I finally broke down.

  “Hawthorne Manor was burned down,” she said calmly. Her face revealed nothing, but my left eye kept burning. She was anxious and afraid.

  And so was I.

  “What do you mean it burned down? Did a maid start a fire?”

  “No. The Inquisition. They burned the place down. I have become homeless,” Ophelia replied. The candor and the way she said it felt the same as when I told Jasmine I was interested in her way of polishing spoons.

  I tilted my head. “Are you messing with me?”

  “Do I look like I am?” Ophelia said again, voice as neutral as ever. But that wasn’t the case for my inner mind.

  “Yes, you do. But I know you’re not,” I sighed, turning my full attention to her. “So what’s your plan?”

  “I am going to move into the crypt, if you will have me. Then I am going to hunt each of those inquisitors down and murder them in their sleep.” Again, her voice was too calm and candid. She sounded more like she was telling me about a rock than rampant murder against the Church.

  “Do you know which ones?”

  “I imagine your… boy-toy, as the black-haired woman likes to call him, was involved.”

  That halted my thoughts immediately. I looked Ophelia up and down. She had easily torn through the bandits before, and she was incredibly fast. Her claws were harsh and fierce and could easily slice through iron.

  And that made my heart twist. Not for Ophelia.

  I bit my lip and looked at her. “No. I’ll deal with him. You can move in here, but you’re not hunting him down.”

  Her red eyes narrowed. “He is a threat. He is not only an inquisitor, but a [Paladin]. He must be put down now, before it becomes worse for all of us.”

  I wasn’t entirely sure if that was true, since the Adrian I knew was scrawny and small. But if they burned down Hawthorne Manor…

  “If he led a group that killed your father, what makes you think you have a chance? You aren’t a [Vampire Lord].”

  “I want to be an [Ancient]. A [Lamian] is one who works with blood magic, and between you and Ms. La Croix, we have that covered. Father was a [Vampire Lord], and I have no interest in becoming a [Drakhuul].”

  “You’re ignoring my actual point—you are not killing Add—” I bit my tongue, but Ophelia caught the word.

  “FINE. I will not kill the man you are so clearly infatuated with that you will endanger all of us. Surely then, his fiancée is on the table?”

  “NO!” I shouted. Ophelia stared at me.

  “Mistress, you must surely see that I am right. This is a problem that must be dealt with immediately.” Her foot tapped on the floor, and she glanced down. “It is not as though you do not have the dead working here, and something below your farm that would indict you for hanging or burning at the stake. What is your plan? You never tell him, get married, have children, and say, ‘Hello, dearest husband, do not go into the basement and do not look at my farm workers’?”

  I stared at her and opened my mouth. Then immediately closed it. “Leave Adrian and Melissa to me. I will get you the names of the others, but not him.”

  “I want to be an [Ancient],” she said again.

  “What even is that?”

  “A first-generation vampire,” she replied quickly. I continued to stare.

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  Ophelia finally took the seat in front of me and looked me in the eyes. “Vampirism is a curse from Amaril, given to the first murderer. Each generation away from him makes our kin weaker. An [Ancient] is one of the few who were directly blessed by our Patron… or, apparently, made by your kin.”

  “So you’re trying to say that from the options I had, one was just better than the rest?”

  “It shouldn’t have been an option for my kin. The only way for us to become [Ancient] is to consume an [Ancient] ourselves. Our civil wars are bloody for that one purpose.”

  “And you want to be one? Isn’t that going to start the cycle?”

  “Possibly, but I will be powerful.”

  “If I am. The advancement’s power is only equivalent to my own.”

  “Then you’re making a case for having one in your direct employ, no?”

  I looked down. “Ophelia, this whole thing your kind has about masters and slaves really disturbs me. I just want to make crops and not starve.”

  Ophelia looked into my eyes. “No you do not. If you did, you would have been farming strawberries.”

  “Strawberries?”

  “...Have you not raised [Farm Girl] at all? Do you think carrots are the only thing a [Farmer] produces? The most expensive crop in the spring is strawberries.”

  I frowned. “I had not been, no.” I looked up to cha—

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  “Make me an [Ancient], Mistress. I will not harm your ill-fated romance or his wife,” Ophelia said, cutting me off.

  I groaned again. “You under— I was going to say it binds you to me, but I imagine you are perfectly okay with that.”

  “I am.”

  Girl was crazier than a hog in a slop festival, it seemed. I was curious how this all worked, so I approached Ophelia.

  My hand touched her head.

  “Kasda-Miyak. Voka’la Rheva… [Ancient].”

  (By the powers of the grave, become through my will — [Ancient])

  The blue winds of winter flew around me and my clothes fluttered upward. Snow began to fall and ice formed on my windows once more. The room was getting colder—enough for the fire in the hearth to go out—but my skin seemed to enjoy the sensation.

  I heard the howling gales and the fluttering of snowflakes, and could smell the ice and dry air.

  But I could smell Ophelia’s Symphony too. She smelled like bats, and sounded like screeching and blood flow.

  Then I heard her bones crack. Her biceps and chest tore apart and her muscles reformed. Blue winds and green magic flowed through my hands into my minion. Her eyes glowed with my light, and her body reshaped itself.

  Her symphony was overwritten by my own, and the blood and bats gave way to the crushing tones of winter.

  Her body became firmer. She had started at a humble five-eight, but the reshaping made her far more fierce. Bones remade and reshifted carried her metamorphosis to an even six feet.

  Her body bulged before becoming lean, the muscle absorbing into her soul. She looked more… regal, from what I could tell. She became a dark queen, and her white hair fell to her waist. Her eyes sharpened, and her lips grew fuller.

  Ophelia was already very pretty, but now? If I went anywhere with her, I could easily steal from a stall.

  She cracked her shoulders after the transformation and looked down at herself. Her hand opened, and a green flame appeared.

  “...Interesting, Mistress,” Ophelia said. Her voice was deeper, more sultry—one I could listen to for hours. Even then, she was far more developed, and I couldn’t help but feel envious.

  Her pale skin seemed to glisten, and her heart-shaped face was just so immaculate. Yet the flame caught my attention.

  “Since when could you do that?”

  “I do not know. This is the balefire of the crone. I am not of that descent,” she said again, then stood.

  Mirchie woke up and stared at the woman. Her teeth bared, and she screeched, running toward me to hide. I rubbed the rabbit’s head, who immediately shivered, moving away from me. I’d have to warm my poor bunny up.

  I didn’t have much else to say about the change, but then realized something. If Ophelia was going to stay here and manage things, she already had experience. “Do you want to be the head of my household, Ophelia?”

  “No, I am not attracted to you. Physically, I mean. But if you wish it, I—”

  I cut her off. “I meant my [Foreman]. Not—”

  “Oh. I had worried you had deviant tastes now, Lady Hart. Not uncommon among nobles.”

  “I need you to take care of my workers and make them, you know, work.”

  She stared at me. “Is your familiar not enough?”

  “I mean, I thought you wanted a purpose here?”

  “No. I am here till I can rebuild Hawthorne Manor.”

  “You like the crypt, though?”

  “...I do. But again, you and your pet share a bond. She’ll actually know what you want.” Mirchie chirped at her words.

  I sighed and beckoned Mirchie over. She hesitantly walked toward me and licked my hand. Again, the rabbit shivered.

  “Guess you’re staying as the [Foreman], Mirchie,” I told her, and rubbed her head. She shivered again but chirped.

  I stepped outside, and my hand waved over my fields. The four zombies I had yet to name, and Rattlejack, appeared. They peered at me. I could advance all of them, but then they wouldn’t be basic. I didn’t need them advanced for the job.

  Ophelia walked behind me, looking at the crops. “Are you planning to maximize as a carrot seller, or are you going to improve?”

  I chewed my lip. Moving toward new crops would be more efficient, but right now…

  “I need to figure out my plan before I start going there.”

  “Wouldn’t the others find that suspicious?”

  “Maybe…”

  I sighed and swapped back to [Farm Girl].

  My eyes were stunned like staring at the sun! So many different things happened at once, and my head burned with the knowledge.

  Ophelia grabbed my back and rubbed my spine. “Are you alright?”

  “...I have to actually sit down and write things out, Ophelia,” I muttered, not happy with the information overload.

  I had so many more seeds available, better tools… not that I needed them. All of a sudden, those 8,192 tiles I had seemed a lot more manageable.

  “What happened?” Ophelia asked.

  “I’m a better necromancer than I am a farmer, it looks like.”