For the next few weeks… “Holy mother of all the gods,” I speak under my breath as Severin and I make our way back to the pit house, trembling in the cold as the light of the full moon guides our way through the dark forest. A gust of wind blows by. “It is freezing!” “A-at least we were able to bring the next batch of goods to that village,” the green-haired man replies, putting down the crate he is carrying to pull the sides of his cloak over his chest in an attempt to warm himself. “Do you think that village will be able to find it, unlike the last one we disseminated these goods to?” Another strong gust of wind suddenly blows by, making me stop in my tracks. Ugh… I am starting to dislike the cold now, too. “W-we literally put the sacks in the middle of the village for everybody to find,” I reply, suppressing a shiver. “No need to fret, for I know that these p-people will get those goods— just like the others have. They will have enough to get through Winterfylleth, and so will t

Continuation. Even while running, I cannot shake off the rising anger I feel in my chest. “Reclaim what is rightfully his? Those goods were never his to begin with, that assheaded noble! He is fooling nobody!” As what I have witnessed keeps repeating itself in my head, that familiar feeling in my hands returns. Though there is a hint of panic because my father’s life could be in danger, I have to stop dead in my tracks when my anger boils into rage, and my palms begin to feel hotter than usual. I tremble. I do not think I’ve felt this angry since the night Sapphire was slain. “That bloody BASTARD!” I shout, exuding my feelings and the ever-growing fire I feel inside me. My hands and arms are set aflame, except 'tis not red nor orange in color, like when I normally conjure fire at will… They are blue, and comparing it to the heat I naturally feel when I uqse fire spells, this one feels hotter. Despite my confusion and my emotions, I turn my hands and arms over and over, watching

Ingenuity is the one thing I thought Eadmond Davidson would at least have, as the commencing Lord of Augborough… because he seemed like he had the potential to be different from his predecessors. But never would I have thought that he would be just as cruel, merciless, and insensitive as his coxcomb father Edgar. The brunette and I were able to follow my sister’s murderer and his wee army of men to one of the villages we had continually stolen from in the past— and the very one that we had not yet given a share of stolen goods from the manor since we decided to begin observing the nobles’ next moves. This was supposed to be the next place we would give the stolen food stocks to. “‘Tis a good thing I got to you in time,” Maia whispers as we hide beyond the density of the forest’s edge, observing the men in armor announce their arrival and the reason why they arrived in the first place. “We would never have known where my father's right-hand man will start this ‘hunt’. He does not see

“And that is another one,” I mutter to myself, cautiously pouring the hot concoction into yet another vial. This batch filled fewer bottles compared to the first batch I made. “That makes… eight, nine, ten… eleven, all in all. Hm, will this be enough, though?” “Severin, we are making those for emergency escapes,” Maia says, interrupting my chain of thought. “Not dazing the entire borough. That is more than enough, o’ magical man-witch.” I look up and scrunch my nose at her teasing, putting down the pot to seal the bottle in my hand with its cork. “Firstly, I have told you countless times now: I am a conjuror, not a witch! There is a difference.” “I wonder where you learned that term from.” “Secondly, you can never be too prepared for anything and everything. How is the map of the manor going, dagger-lady?” She ignores my attempt at teasing her back and instead scribbles something down, eyes flicking from one part of the hand-drawn map to another. Well, that was embarrassing… “Ma

Ever since I left the central village, all that has been on my mind is looking for her. I am distressed, exhausted, and beginning to feel like this long, long search for my beloved friend is becoming futile. The look on Eustace’s face as he and the other victims were set alight has been burned into my mind, haunting me even while I sleep… A few nights ago, I screamed myself awake after seeing the skin on the frail boy's face melt away like a lit tallow candle, only to realize t’was all an awful dream, and I may or may not have disturbed some of the guests in the neighboring inn chambers. Wyatt was devastated when we watched him struggle amid the rising flames; I can only imagine how Maia would have felt if she saw him roast to death… Gods, it was terrible. The Davidsons are terrible! I am really wishing that Maia could end them off faster, but with the current situation, I’m more afraid for her and her life… I do not even remember how long I’ve been travelling— going through Au