Late afternoon. Storm looming.

  Delmar.

  Hunter Guild Master Office.

  I was buried beneath a mountain of paperwork when someone barged in without knocking. I sighed—roughnecks never learned etiquette.

  “Emergency, Alfred. Merchant Guild.”

  Warren—unperturbed as ever. I prayed my workload wouldn’t swell further, though perhaps Lord Levia no longer heard prayers from this office.

  He handed me a sealed envelope, and my gaze sharpened.

  Top secret.

  Top priority.

  The golden crest pressed into the wax seal carried weight—far more than the parchment beneath it.

  I broke the seal and scanned the contents. A report, concise and merciless.

  “Bring in The League. All of them. Now.”

  Warren departed. I leaned back, rubbing my temple.

  Outbreaks had to be eliminated before they grew beyond control.

  Moss?hoppers were nuisance enough already, but if a Knight Rank or Lord Rank emerged, catastrophe would follow.

  Investigate the woodlands. Rune pillars. Protective barriers.

  The list of tasks lengthened in my mind.

  I glanced toward the window.

  Clouds churned low and heavy. A storm was brewing.

  Hunters relied on slings and bows.

  In a downpour like this, their effectiveness would be crippled.

  Bad timing.

  ??????????

  Early afternoon. Storm gathering.

  Delmar.

  Merchant Guild Mistress Office.

  I rubbed the runic ring on my finger, waiting for my guest.

  Footsteps approached, a knock followed.

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  “Enter.”

  I put on a smile.

  “It’s been a while, Blademaster Thousand Slash.”

  “Quit the play Yarissa. And call me Lune.”

  Despite her lack of courtesy, the young woman before me was the real deal.

  Astute, efficient—and worth every coin.

  The fee was steep, yes, but if we could secure more A-grade moss, it was negligible.

  Alfred would have received my letter by now. Still, Lune would move first.

  If things turned ugly, the hunters would serve as convenient backups.

  Either way, profit was guaranteed.

  Outside the window, a storm was about to come.

  “Let us discuss your job then, Lune.”

  The blademaster departed for the woodlands shortly after the briefing.

  Time is money.

  ??????????

  Afternoon. Cloud-laden.

  Orphanage.

  I was in the coop with brother Julian, collecting eggs into a basket.

  He swept the floor for feathers and fluffy down.

  His loud, energetic voice gave me strength.

  I felt safe.

  Lucia says chickies always shed feathers in preparation for the cold winter.

  I hope there would be enough for everyone’s pillow.

  I brushed stray down on his messy chestnut hair; gave his back a light pat for his hard work, then headed to the kitchen.

  It was warm and comforting, the clay cook-pot settled deep in the hearth.

  A rich pottage simmering hot, the earthy smell of turnips and carrots filled my nose.

  Lucia sat on a rickety wooden chair, peeling parsnips.

  I stood on my tiptoes, and placed the basket of eggs on the table carefully.

  A smile bloomed across her wrinkled face as she looked at me.

  Every day she gave me the same reminder—rinse the trail dirt from my palms, wet my whistle, and dress against the chill.

  Though the words never changed, they felt like a warm, quiet promise that she would always be there to watch over me.

  I padded softly toward the bedroom to fetch Lala, my rag-doll and a woollen cloak, just as Lucia bid me.

  The sharp-sweet scent of lavender and wormwood met me at the door.

  Millie knelt by the beds, slipping fresh herb pouches into our pillows, filling the air with the garden’s simple gifts.

  Last season it was dried chamomile and mint—for pleasant dreams, she said.

  She was always changing the scents—to ward off insects, to ease a flu, to shield against bad spirits.

  Thanks to her, I could drift into dreamless sleep each night.

  I pulled on my woollen cloak and hugged Lala close.

  Watching Millie’s back, I tottered forward and wrapped my arms around her neck from behind.

  Her pigtails tickled my cheek as she clasped my hands with firm gentleness.

  I loved peaceful, quiet moments like this.

  Not wanting to disturb her work, I slipped away with Lala and settled in my usual spot by the window in the passageway.

  From there I could keep watch on the porch, waiting for Thomas and Allen to return from their labours.

  Almost time.

  ??????????

  Late afternoon. Rampant storm.

  Cobbled way.

  Heavy raindrops lashed against me and a piercing chill seeped into my very bones, yet I felt neither pain nor cold.

  Rain washed over my face, mingling with hot tears until they were one and same.

  I sprinted down the cobbled path, which had transformed into a rushing stream as water cascaded from the heights above, slick and treacherous underfoot.

  I had abandoned my best friend in the darkest hour, fleeing like a coward.

  My slinging skills—the pride I had honed in secret—were utterly useless against that beast.

  Allen has always been the most steadfast presence in my life—and in all of ours.

  He was our leader, the one who stood before us when trouble arose.

  We followed his lead implicitly, for things always worked out in the end.

  I ran until my legs gave out, slipping and falling more times than I could count.

  My pants and tunic were in tatters; scratches marred my limbs.

  Still, I forced myself onward.

  I had to keep my promise.

  I had to return to the orphanage and protect everyone there.

  Because you told me to.

  So, Allen—don’t you dare break your promise!

  I offer up my most sincere prayer:

  By the mercy of Lord Levia, spare us.

  Grant us more time!