Still damp, hair matted against the sides of her head, Rowena knocked on the door to the house she’d been directed to by one of the town guards.

The White Order was a continent-spanning mage order with many chapters and branches. Originally it welcomed humans only, but since the Great War, its Grandmaster Edana had opened membership to Alavari. Working with human kingdoms such as Erisale, and their former foe, the Kingdom of Alavaria, the order was now synonymous with peacekeeping and being a bridge between the Alavari and Humans of Durannon. As a result, they often had distinctively marked branch offices and headquarters in various towns that Rowena had often passed by. Often, they flew a white banner with two parallel gold stripes running down.

The Kwent guest-house was the opposite to these. It was a slightly larger than average row house close to the gatehouse on the Alavaria side, tucked between two more houses of its kind. It was difficult to tell it apart from the others except for a small flag that hung right above the doorway. A second doorstep stone that led to a plaster wall led Rowena to realise that this had originally been two houses that were now conjoined.

The door opened. “Hello—Oh.” Hattie blinked as she looked down on Rowena, her dark-blue eyes wide.

“Um, hi. I guess you have questions?”

Hattie did an admirable job recovering her composure because she’d returned an albeit strained smile on her face in record time. “I believe so. Do come in please.” Extending a hand, she gestured for Rowena to come in and closed the door behind them. “Morgan, Rowena’s come to the door.”

Rowena stepped in, noting the narrow staircase and bannistered gallery it led to, which was built over a hallway that led to the ground floor rooms.

Suddenly, the sound of ruffling feathers filled the air. Something large jumped from the first floor. Rowena leapt back, stumbling straight into Hattie as Morgan landed in front of her, wings extended. She nearly fell, but Hattie caught her with gentle arms.

“Morgan!” Hattie whined.

“Oh, terribly sorry about that,” Morgan pulled in her wings and came to one knee. “We’re sorry for chasing you Rowena—by Galena, you’re soaked—oh! You hid in the water barrel.”

“Yes. I’m fine. Really,” said Rowena.

Morgan arched an eyebrow and sighed. “Alright, at least follow us up. Hattie can you get the building wards?”

“Why—Oh, of course.” Letting go of Rowena, Hattie turned and with her staff began to mutter Words of Power. Swallowing, Rowena followed Morgan up the stairs, past a number of rooms with closed doors and into a small dining room with windows that overlooked the street.

“Tea or cocoa?” Morgan asked. She pursed her lips for a moment before meeting Rowena’s eye. “You have to choose.”

Rowena blinked, mouth agape. How—she shook her head. That wasn’t important. “Tea.”

Nodding, Morgan waved her white wand and sang. The magic of Durnanon was also often channelled by song after all. The harpy-troll’s voice was particularly bright and clear, and that directly translated to power.

An oh-so-gentle force guided Rowena to a chair at the head of the table, which moved aside for her to sit down at. Her backpack was plucked off her shoulders and set down onto the floor beside her. The kettle sitting on top of a small stovetop fireplace whistled as plates and cutlery flew from opening and closing wooden drawers.

The kettle poured hot water into a teapot, and then for a metal lidded tankard from which Rowena could smell was coffee. Meanwhile, a sugar bowl and a pitcher of milk floated from the nearby kitchen to the table, along with a stack of cookies and biscuits.

Hattie was soon upstairs and seated herself as Morgan continued to wave her wand, pouring cups of tea for herself and Rowena, whilst a cup of coffee for Hattie. Two sugar cubes were dropped into Morgan’s cup whilst only milk was poured for Hattie’s. Great fluffy towels floated down from some other floor in the house and draped themselves across Rowena’s shoulders. The harpy-troll then settled at her seat flanking Rowena with the grace and poise of a princess.

“Before we ask, eat and get warm. We’re not in any rush,” said Morgan.

“I…are you sure?” Rowena asked.

Hattie nodded, warming her hands with the cup. “Unless you have anywhere to go, we truly are in no hurry. Oh, and your pony is in one of the Order stables and we have the rest of your belongings safely stowed here.”

“Thank you.” Rowena swallowed and picked up two sugar cubes from the bowl and plopped them into her tea before taking the cup in her hand.

She stared at the melting cubes as they broke apart, bit by bit, sugar particles dissolving into the brown liquid. Looking up, she could see Morgan sipping her tea held in one hand, whilst the other held a rectangular cookie. She wasn’t even looking at Rowena, but out of the window, one arm languishing on the chair’s back.

Hattie was watching Rowena at the corner of her eye, and didn’t stop even when Rowena glanced at her. She just sipped her coffee quietly, occasionally taking a deep sniff of the dark brown concoction.

“I heard a little of what you were talking about in the alley,” said Rowena.

“Ah, I expected you did. Very clever to hide from us in that water barrel. Though, Morgan and I couldn’t figure out how we couldn’t hear you,” said Hattie.

Rowena closed her eyes and with one hand, she pulled out the stick that served as her wand. “I know a little magic.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“May I?” Rowena nodded as Morgan put her biscuit down and reached over. Still chewing, the harpy-troll looked down the length of the wand before putting it down just where she’d taken it. “You have very good control to cast a sound-deadening spell with just this stick.”

Rowena didn’t know what to think about that compliment. She couldn't remember if she ever had been complimented by Lady Sylva, or anyone. The few staff Lady Sylva had at her manor knew to leave her alone and aside from giving her clothing and food, left her alone. Lady Sylva had personally instructed her on language and the basic mathematics and she’d never been complimented. It was just “good,” “adequate,” “do it again,” and “are you even trying?”

Rowena finally sipped her tea. The sweet liquid poured down and warmed her to the core. The fluffy towels were so soft against her neck and arms. She put her cup down and had a biscuit, one shaped like a flower and the flavor of butter exploded in her mouth.

It was warm, right, and good. Yet it also felt all the things she didn’t want to feel right now. The doubts and fears in her mind flooded to the forefront, bubbling and breaking apart like the sugar cubes that had dissolved into her cup.

What was she even doing here? Who did she think she was, telling White Order mages abut what she’d seen in visions only he knew about? She didn’t even know who she was or where she was from. She could be in huge trouble, or none at all. She didn’t know, she was completely in over her head and she didn’t know how Morgan or Hattie would react.

She took another bite of the biscuit and took a deep breath as Morgan waved her wand again, adding charcoal to the stove. The smell of clean smoke bringing Rowena back to her vision, and everything it entailed.

She chewed, swallowed and closed her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, stopping that would be enough.

“I set the fire at Leipmont, Lehrbach and many smaller ones in Conthwaite and other places. I’m sorry. I…I kept them as small as I could, and for the Leipmont one, I did pull the bell, but I couldn’t warn the town guard. I wanted to, but I couldn’t,” Rowena said.

Morgan’s jaw tightened as Hattie blinked. “Why couldn’t you?” asked the half-troll.

“Until a week ago, ever since I was a baby, I’ve been a slave under a magical contract. I don’t remember who my parents are, or were. I don’t know who or what I am. I just know I have magic and a…a gift.” Rowena closed her eyes. She shouldn’t say. She couldn’t. If she did and they wanted to use her—

The pair of dead bodies on the cobblestones, hands interlinked even in death. The screams from their wands.

“I can see possible futures. I saw you both dead and Kwent in flames.” Rowena met Morgan’s arched eyebrow. “Your wand was screaming. He called you ‘impudent brat’ and asked you what would he say to your mother.”

Morgan’s hand shot to her wand, her jaw falling open as Rowena turned to Hattie. “Your staff said that you promised to live long.”

The cup fell from Hattie’s grasp, clanging on the ground. Muttering something about anti-shatter glass, the half-troll got up and wiped up the spilled coffee, her hands shaking.

“Rowena, do your visions always come true?” Morgan asked, hands tight around her wand.

Rowena shook her head. “No. They’re always of possible futures. The farther in the future they are, the less likely. I didn’t think this would happen—I hoped it wouldn’t, but then I ran into both of you on the bridge.”

“And if we’re here in Kwent, dressed as we are in death I imagine, then whatever future circumstance is happening is coming soon,” said Hattie. The half troll sat back down, eyes closing briefly as she interlaced her fingers. “Well, at least we died together my dear.”

In the middle of wiping her eyes, Morgan snorted. “The question is what the hell could take us both down together?” Rubbing her chin, the harpy-troll let out a breath and leaned forward on her elbows. “Rowena, this probably isn’t an easy question for you to answer, but who was enslaving you? I promise that you won’t be in trouble. We don’t punish former slaves for obeying commands. Especially if they are children.”

Rowena didn’t know what to feel about that, but perhaps it did make her feel more at ease as the words seemed to spill from her lps. “I don’t know if you know her. She’s a noblewoman called Lady Sylva.”

“Sylva? Sylva of Redglen?” Hattie asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Gnarled right hand, blue eyes, sometimes likes to cover it with a glove or sock?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, how did you know?” Rowena asked, blinking. She couldn’t recall having ever met or Sylva having met Morgan or Hattie before. She would have remembered.

“When the Red Order was disbanded after the princess’s kidnapping, a number of their former members went rogue, or have decided to work against Erisdale. Sylva is one of them and she’s under suspicion for a number of crimes, but we hadn’t found anything to tie her because well, much of the evidence keeps conveniently going up in flames,” said Morgan, her fingers drumming on the table.

“Well now we know why they kept being set on fire. She’d enslaved Rowena here, but…” Hattie blinked. “How did you escape?”

Rowena took another sip of tea. “I saw where she put my contract paper in a vision, found it and tore it up. I…I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it did.” She studied Morgan and Hattie, whose eyes were both fixed on the table. “Please, I know it sounds crazy but you have to believe me.”

Morgan grimaced. “Oh, I think we both believe you. It explains way too much.”

“Yes it does.” Hattie reached out her hand and very slowly, placed it on Rowena’s arm. “You’ve been very brave, Rowena. I know this must have been hard for you.”

“It…I…” Rowena bit her lip. Something was welling up behind her eyes, a weight that refused to go away dragged her head down. “Am I really not in trouble?”

“No. You’re not and we’re going to keep you safe from Sylva,” said Hattie.

Morgan coughed into her fist. “If you’re worried about your visions, we can keep them secret too. We’ll need some more information to verify what we learned in another way, but I think we won’t need to reveal your gift, if you don’t want to.”

Rowena looked at the two women, turning her head to try to catch both of them in her field of vision. Were they lying? Were they really telling the truth? Because things were working out too well.

“I don’t understand. How did you know that? That I didn’t want anybody to know? Why didn’t you just… make me answer you?”

Morgan and Hattie exchanged a glance. Hattie tilted her head toward Morgan, who nodded and smiled but it wasn’t a happy one.

“Hattie and I have been through a lot in our youth. As you know, we lived and fought through the Great War and survived through things that no child ought to have needed to survive through. We don’t know what you’ve been through, but you remind us both of what we swore never to let happen to any child.”

Hattie nodded, one hand massaging her scarred forehead. “Things that Sylva is clearly insistent on revisiting and reliving. Morgan, we might need to summon reinforcements. From what we know about the fires, Sylva’s likely connected to what may happen, and while I don’t want to put complete faith in that vision, she or her allies somehow overwhelmed both of us. There’s something we don’t know about her plans.”

Morgan nodded and withdrew a hand mirror from a pocket on her dress. Head still reeling, unable to believe what had just happened and how it hadn’t landed her in jail, Rowena frowned as she realised something.

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘as you know?’ The vision only showed me your wands calling you by name,” she said.

Hattie blinked and giggled. “Oh, that’s all? Ah, well you see—Hm, hold that, there’s a knock on our door.”

“I’ll get that,” said Morgan, getting up from her chair.

“Don’t jump—oh of course you did,” said Hattie as Morgan leapt over the bannister.

A few seconds later, she flew up, her eyes wide, wand in her hand, cold fury etched across her face.

“Hattie, Sylva’s here.”