I watched our guards closely after the revelation about me being the Saint, curious how they would take it, but it turned out Nadine had already handled things. She’d spoken almost exclusively the truth, telling them of our quest, the trouble we’d endured, and what the heretics had tried to do to me while I lay unconscious in crystallized blood.

  They'd taken her at her word, and not bothered to ask anything further. I doubted they truly believed Laurent and I were traveling separately over a dispute involving a book and a bite, but it didn’t matter. To them, the mission had only grown more important, and it remained the one they had agreed to see through.

  Before we moved on, I tried to recall my wings again, and thankfully, I was able. As I'd hoped, both calling my wings and dismissing them had cost less than the first time. That didn't mean it wasn't a high price, only that it left me functional, even if I would need to feed again soon. It didn’t take long to decide how to handle that.

  We reached the next town later that morning. I stayed in the cart until Nadine told me it was safe enough to come out, which in this case meant the guards were bored and the gate captain more interested in tariffs than who paid them.

  It didn’t take long to find the source of the attack on Laurent's camp, and the story behind it. The local head of the Church had already denounced Laurent’s camp as bandits, dangerous heretics preying on honest folk. He spoke with authority and certainty, and people listened. They always do, Mara explained, when someone in fine robes tells them who to fear.

  I was a little confused when we didn’t go to an inn right away. Nadine steered the cart toward the market instead, explaining something about timing, foot traffic, and not looking like people with nowhere to be. I nodded along, trusting her judgment and only half listening, still distracted by hunger…but also the way my wings felt when they weren’t there. Like I’d folded away a part of myself that didn’t quite know how to stay gone.

  Mara hopped down as we rolled to a stop near the edge of the square, already scanning the crowd for trouble and marking potential exits. “I’ll find us rooms,” she said, cheerful as ever. “Somewhere clean enough not to itch, and close enough not to be inconvenient.”

  “Try not to get us arrested,” Nadine said.

  “No promises.”

  She vanished into the crowd, leaving Nadine and me to mind the cart. Tomas and Roderick drifted into place without being asked, one loosening the horses’ tack and seeing to water, the other settling near the wagon with his back to a wheel, eyes on the flow of people rather than any particular face.

  Nadine set about making us look settled without looking rooted, and I moved to help automatically. The wheels were chocked, feed bags brought out, and harnesses eased just enough to keep the horses comfortable without slowing us down later. She propped a small slate against the side of the cart, its surface already marked with a short list of services in neat, practical script: Enchanting. Alchemy. Discreet Work.

  I blinked around the square, taking it in. The port was busy despite the hour. River traffic meant people were always coming or going, and the market reflected that constant churn. Between the crowds was a chaotic mix of goods moving or waiting to move—barrels, crates, coils of rope, produce that had seen better days. The air smelled like wet wood and fish and people who worked hard enough not to care what they smelled like.

  Nadine handed me a small slate and a bit of chalk. “If you’re going to just stand there, at least look useful.”

  I looked down at it. “What am I doing?”

  “Making a list,” she said patiently. “Alchemy supplies. Things you're low on or that we couldn't find before. I'm going to take a quick look around for anything that looks like it might take enchantments well and will be easy to sell. I can see what’s available while I do that.”

  “Oh. Right.” I glanced at the slate, then back at her. “We’re… selling?”

  “Yes, Mirela. We’re merchants.”

  I frowned. “I hadn't really considered that part of the job.”

  She gave me a look. “I thought that might be the case. At least you didn't forget our cover entirely. I don't think anyone would be surprised to find that you studied and experimented with your alchemy all day, only to forget why you started."

  That sounded uncomfortably accurate. I bent over the slate and began scribbling things that made sense to me. Glassware, clean salt, and any herbs or materials that would be of immediate use. Nadine watched for a moment, then nodded and headed off into the crowd.

  I stayed with the cart. Business was slow, which was probably for the best. A few people wandered past, glanced at our wares, and moved on. One man stopped long enough to ask the price on a length of cloth, then decided he didn’t like the way my eyes followed the pulse at his throat and left without another word.

  I was just beginning to consider sitting down when a shadow fell across the cart and I looked up.

  A man stood there, watching me rather than anything we had for sale. He was dressed well. Not extravagantly, but in that subtle way that said someone was important without being flashy. Clean lines, good fabric, and a chain of office that caught the light when he moved. He had an attendant with him, younger and quieter, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder as if I were a piece of furniture.

  The man smiled at me. It wasn’t a kind smile.

  “Well,” he said, looking me over in a way that made no attempt at subtlety. “This is an unexpected find.”

  I smiled back, because that’s what people did in markets. “Good morning.”

  “Is it?” He leaned closer, resting one hand on the edge of the cart. “You don’t look like you belong here.”

  I tilted my head, considering that. “I’m selling things. This is the market.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I see that. But you don’t look like a seller.”

  The way he said it confused me. As if he were trying to compliment and insult me all in one go. I wasn’t entirely sure which way it was meant. I glanced at his attendant, who steadfastly refused to meet my eyes.

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked, deciding I didn't really care.

  He chuckled. “Perhaps. I’ve been meaning to have some old pieces refreshed. Enchantments fade, you know. Just one of those sad facts of life.”

  “That does happen,” I agreed.

  “I imagine it could take all night,” he went on. “Work like that shouldn’t be rushed. And of course, privacy is important. You wouldn’t be disturbed.”

  Oh.

  I frowned, finally catching up. “I don’t usually do house calls.”

  “Ah,” he said, unbothered. “A pity. Though I imagine exceptions can be made for the right patron.”

  He straightened, adjusting his chain. “I am the Canon of this port. My word carries weight here.”

  That did it. I felt something settle into place, quiet and cold. A problem, neatly labeled.

  “I see,” I said. “And you were interested in… which enchantments, exactly?”

  His smile widened. “We can discuss that privately.”

  “Of course,” I said, surprising him. “That would be best.”

  The attendant’s eyes flicked to me, startled.

  “We’ll need to make arrangements,” I added. “I’ll have to come by later.”

  “Tonight,” he said smoothly.

  “Tonight,” I agreed.

  He nodded, satisfied, and turned away, already dismissing me from his attention. His attendant only lingered long enough to give me directions, then chased after him.

  Nadine returned a few moments later, arms full of small bundles and a look on her face that said she’d found at least one thing she was excited about.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Who was that?” she asked, following my gaze.

  “The Canon,” I said. “He invited me over.”

  Her expression darkened immediately. “Invited you over for what?”

  “He wants his enchantments refreshed.”

  She stared at me.

  “He also ordered the attack on Laurent’s camp,” I added, because that seemed relevant.

  Nadine’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked at me again, more carefully this time.

  “You’re not serious,” she said.

  “I think I am.”

  She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “Mirela. That’s not— You can’t—”

  Then she stopped. I watched it click in her eyes, the way her anger drained away and left something colder behind.

  “Oh,” she said quietly.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  We didn’t say anything else about it.

  We left the port before dawn.

  The house fire was already burning high enough to be seen from outside the town by the time we reached the road, smoke rising behind us as shouts carried faintly over the river. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  The days that followed blurred together as our new routines set in. We traveled as merchants, which meant Nadine doing most of the talking, Tomas and Roderick keeping watch, and Mara ranging just far enough ahead to keep us out of trouble. I stayed out of sight when it made sense and rode Altivo when it didn’t, learning the difference through a little trial and error. Towns came and went. Some were welcoming. Others asked questions I’d learned not to answer.

  We easily outpaced Laurent. His party followed behind us, surprisingly fast for a group their size, but slowed by their wounded and their numbers. There was no longer any secret who his band were, and rumor now flew ahead of their passing, well beyond the Church’s control. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but as we moved deeper into the wilds, the risk of another ambush dropped significantly.

  At night, I worked on my crafts. Alchemy improved in small, practical ways. Fewer experiments failed. I learned better judgment about which shortcuts worked and which were folly. Enchanting went slower, but steadier, especially with Nadine correcting me when I drifted. Learning from her made me feel closer to our family, the knowledge she passed to me carried down through generations. It only strengthened my resolve to find a solution to the curse.

  The hunger returned, eventually, but I kept it leashed. There were always options, and I chose them carefully.

  A week passed. Then another.

  By the time civilization began to thin and the roads grew narrow, the air itself felt different. The world was quieter, carrying a different kind of weight. Soon I began to recognize the familiar kind of silence that doesn’t belong to empty places, but to watched ones. That was when I knew we were getting close.

  The others noticed it, too. Mara stopped and waited for us to catch up before she rode on.

  “The road’s been empty for nearly a day,” she said. “Not a big surprise this close to the border. I don’t think anyone but adventurers risk the wilds this close to a nexus without a well-armed caravan.”

  “Yeah,” Tomas agreed. “This is the first time I’ve done it with a group this small. I’d rather twice as many of us.”

  “There’s no need,” I assured them. “We won’t encounter monsters any time soon. The Forest is calling them in. I can feel it.”

  Roderick looked at me, then ahead to where a shadow darkened the horizon. “Is that something to do with being the Saint?”

  I shook my head. “No. I grew up and spent most of my life not far from here. It’s something you get accustomed to.”

  Nadine stepped in to quickly change the subject, as she always did when I got too close to the truth.

  "We will be coming up on the border with Lysandra soon, won't we?"

  Mara's gaze shifted back to the road ahead. "Yes, we'll make it before nightfall. There's a small town at the crossing, with a checkpoint on either end."

  "That is something to look forward to," Tomas said. "There's enough soldiers from that alone to make it a safe place to rest, even all the way out here."

  Roderick looked in my direction. "You may appreciate it. The people of Lysandra are generally not as enthralled with the Church as those of Aranthor. You'll have a much easier time moving in the open."

  I perked up at that, "Do you think so?"

  "No," Nadine said before he could answer. "The Church will still be there, and who knows how far those heretics have spread?"

  "I doubt it will have spread far into Lysandra," Roderick countered. "The people there are not as afraid of the Church. They would speak up if something were to suddenly change."

  "We're not afraid of the Church!" Nadine said, sounding nearly as offended as she was defensive.

  Mara laughed. “Oh, maybe you’re not. But the Kingdom is. That’s the difference.”

  Nadine’s jaw tightened. “Aranthor is devout. That isn’t the same thing as being afraid.”

  “It is when no one is allowed to question what they’re told,” Mara replied, not unkindly. “If a priest says a man is a heretic, most people don’t stop to ask why. They step aside and let someone else deal with it.”

  Tomas nodded slowly. “In Lysandra, someone would ask why. Maybe not loudly. Maybe not kindly. But they would ask.”

  “That doesn’t make them better,” Nadine said. “It just makes them less certain.”

  “It makes them less easy to steer,” Tomas said. “There’s a difference.” He shifted in his saddle, glancing toward the darkening line of trees in the distance. “I’ve always felt… uncomfortable in Aranthor. Not because of faith. Because of how it’s used. I don’t think that’s what the gods would want.”

  Nadine didn’t answer right away. Her hands tightened slightly on the reins. I could see the argument turning over behind her eyes, the conflict between loyalty and what she’d witnessed with her own eyes these past weeks.

  “It isn’t that simple,” she said at last. “The Church protects people. It keeps order.”

  “And it shields those who hide behind it,” Mara said more softly. “When people are afraid to question authority, it becomes very easy for the wrong sort to borrow that authority.”

  Silence followed that, not tense exactly, but thoughtful.

  I cleared my throat. “It doesn’t matter which nation we’re in. The real concern is ahead of us.”

  They all looked at me.

  “Soon, the road will be skirting the edge of the Forest,” I continued. “Even if the Forest is drawing most of the monsters inward, they still need to eat. They won’t wander far, but anything within shouting distance of the trees is at risk.”

  Nadine frowned. “You just said we wouldn’t encounter monsters.”

  “We won’t,” I said calmly. “Not in the open road this far out. But when we begin skirting the tree line, that changes. Hunger makes creatures bold.”

  Mara gave a low whistle. “So the Forest is calling them in, but not feeding them.”

  “Not exactly. But monsters will go after an easy opportunity just like any other predator.”

  Roderick nodded once. “The road is maintained for a reason. It keeps to the edge and no closer. No one travels through the Forest itself. Not unless they’re trying to die.”

  “The patrols run this stretch regularly,” Tomas added. “Between the two capitals, it’s one of the safest roads in either nation. Safe, as long as you stay on it.”

  Nadine was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat.

  “This road will run along the Forest for quite some time before we turn toward Angelshade, won’t it?”

  “Yes,” Roderick said. “Nearly a week.”

  She nodded slowly, then looked at me. “Is that… close enough? For what you’re hoping to find in there?”

  Before I could answer, Roderick shook his head. “There are only a few sanctioned ways to enter the Forest. Entering anywhere else is like walking into a maze. Natural enchantments that snare the mind, shifting paths that all bring you an abrupt end, terrain that feels designed to trap or kill you. Even seasoned parties don’t survive long if they try to enter where they please.”

  Tomas nodded once. “You don’t just walk into the Dark Forest. You stay on the guild-sanctioned paths, and hope nothing notices the trespass. And if you overstep…” He hesitated, then finished evenly, “the Lord of the Forest keeps what wanders too far.”

  Mara glanced sideways at him. “You say that like you’ve seen it.”

  “I don’t need to,” Tomas replied. “Everyone from Lysandra grows up hearing it. The Forest tolerates trade at its edges. It will overlook some adventuring in the outer reaches. But it does not forgive intrusion.”

  I met Nadine’s eyes. “He’s right. There are only a few right ways in if you want to be safe. Angelshade is one of them. If I'm going to show you the Forest, it's the sensible choice.”

  Mara gave a faint grin. “I always prefer sensible choices when they involve forests that eat people.”

  Tomas snorted.

  By the time the sun began to lower and the air lost what little warmth it could provide, the road widened slightly and straightened to reveal the border town ahead.

  It wasn’t much to look at.

  A narrow stream split the settlement cleanly in two, no more than ten feet across at its widest and only a few feet deep where the stones showed through the current. A simple wooden bridge crossed it at the center, wide enough for wagons and reinforced often enough to suggest it saw steady use. On either side of the water, the buildings faced one another like awkward neighbors.

  Aranthor’s side was in an older, more traditional style. Heavier in construction, timber and stone, steep roofs, a small chapel with a modest tower set back from the road. The crest of the Kingdom hung near the checkpoint gate, flanked by two uniformed guards who stood straight and stiff as we approached.

  Across the stream, Lysandra looked similar at first glance, but not quite the same. The buildings were painted in lighter colors where paint still clung to wood. The signage was more varied. A different standard flew above their own checkpoint post, simpler in design and less concerned with display. Their guards were vigilant, but far more relaxed as they watched the road.

  The stream itself carried the sound of moving water between the two halves, as if to remind both sides where one ended and the other began.

  Mara rode ahead again, slowing near the bridge. “That’s it,” she called back. “Aranthor on this side. Lysandra on the other.”

  Tomas exhaled quietly. “I never thought I’d be relieved to see a ditch.”

  “It’s a very official ditch,” Mara said.

  Nadine straightened in her saddle. “Papers ready,” she murmured to Tomas and Roderick, then glanced back at me. “Stay behind the cart until we’re across.”

  “I was planning to,” I said.

  We approached at a measured pace, wheels creaking softly as the guards on Aranthor’s side stepped forward.

  One of them lifted a hand. “State your business.”

  “Trade,” Nadine answered easily. “Crossing into Lysandra. Short stay.”

  The guard’s gaze drifted over the cart, the horses, the men at our sides. It lingered a moment too long, then moved on.

  “You’re aware of the warnings?” he asked.

  “About the Forest?” Nadine replied. “Yes.”

  He nodded once. “Stay on the road. Patrols have reported increased activity near the tree line.”

  “We will.”

  The inspection was brief. A glance into the wagon, a check of seals and documents, and a stamped token pressed into Nadine’s hand. Then we were waved forward.

  When we rolled onto the bridge, the boards rattled under the weight of the cart, the stream rushing over stone beneath us. It was narrow enough that I could have jumped it if I’d wanted to. On the far bank, the earth looked no different from the one we’d left. And yet I still felt a flicker of relief, as though I’d crossed some quiet milestone on my way home.

  The Lysandran guards gave us a cursory look as we approached their post. One of them offered Tomas a faint nod of recognition, which he returned without comment.

  “No tariffs?” Mara asked lightly as Nadine handed over our papers.

  “Not for traders staying under three days,” one of them replied. “Unless you’re carrying something restricted?”

  Nadine shook her head. “Nothing like that. Just a few lightly enchanted items, potions, and general goods.”

  He smiled and inclined his head. “Nothing to worry about.”

  His gaze drifted upward to where my face was mostly hidden in the shadow of my hood. He flipped lazily through the papers again. “You one of the traders? Or an adventurer?”

  “I’m an ancient evil returning to the Dark Forest.”

  His amused grin froze.

  “But I also make the potions,” I added.

  He barked a laugh. Nadine shot me a look that promised a conversation later.

  Then we rolled fully into Lysandra as the sun dipped below the horizon. Behind us, the chapel bell on Aranthor’s side rang for evening prayer.

  Vermis is basically “what if the world’s most questionable noodle became an existential threat.”