Idelle’s knuckles were white on the windowsill as she stared at the burning city. Then, somehow, before she realized it, she had turned away and was moving for the door. No, she needed her gambeson first, it was better than nothing. Where was her sword? The rack. She grabbed it. She was lucky she had a proper weapon. Yesterday she wouldn’t have had that on her side.

Through the doorway. Someone was running through the hallway, shouting about an attack, hammering on doors. Who? How? She’d thought Wyrlet was a city for defending against monsters. Monsters didn’t set fires.

She stepped aside as someone sprinted past her, heading for the stairs. She followed her, Idelle’s sword scraping against the dark stairwell as she rounded the bend. A third figure. They came out into the courtyard. She could barely see, the distant fire too dim to see by through the thickening smoke.

Was anyone in charge? Where was Adrian, or Cateline? Did they even sleep here?

“Over there!” Someone screamed the words, and a moment later she saw a group cut through the haze at the far side of the courtyard. Metal clanged against metal amid renewed cries of anger and hoarse shouts of pain.

A second later, a familiar twang sounded in the distance and she flinched, diving for the ground even as the rasping hiss of crossbow bolts ended in a clattering rain. A few wet thuds were mixed in, and someone nearby her crumbled without a sound. A cold part of her brain whispered that she’d only been lucky, she hadn’t actually ducked in time.

They were firing on people as they came out the entrance! Someone else had realized the same, she heard cries to shut the doors and use the windows instead. Idelle crawled along the side of the courtyard, as fast as she could move, jerking back as her hand pressed into someone’s face. A bearded man, unconscious or dead. She couldn’t bring herself to crawl over him and awkwardly squirmed around him. Her sword was so ungainly for this...

She heard the next round of bolts land behind her. Now was her chance! She brought her feet back under her and sprinted, hugging the edge of the courtyard. Where were they firing from? There, was that someone? She couldn’t make out the figure; they could be one of her fellow soldiers.

The cold part of her brain whispered that she should attack anyway, that it was worth the risk, that she could feed—

A voice roared, so loud and livid that she almost didn’t recognize Lieutenant Adrian. “Soldiers! Look away!” She obeyed, and the next moment a great blossom of light spread from somewhere near the Lieutenant, so bright as to almost cast the courtyard into black and white. The fighting seemed to pause for a moment, as the scattered soldiers still on their feet blinked and found their bearings. Idelle glimpsed bodies strewn by the doorway and another group across the courtyard.

Then her eye was drawn to figures, hooded and dressed all in black, as they turned and scattered between the buildings and away. Shouts of anger and war cries rang out as the group who had been fighting them started to chase after them, Idelle moving to follow, but Adrian’s voice cracked across the square again. “Do not pursue! Rally on me, those who already have shields form a line!” Her ears rang — was he using a spell to amplify his voice?

She turned to obey but stumbled to a halt as she took in the sheer number of bodies in front of the doors. Most had visible wounds from the crossbows, she saw someone with a bolt straight through their eye, a bloody mess almost like a trail of tears running down his face, but just as many had necks or skulls laid open by long cuts. The enemy had initially been waiting outside the door and fallen on everyone as they stumbled out in the dark. Smart. Maybe they were even the ones who called for help in the first place.

Her eyes swept across the corpses again, despite herself. Carefully moving from face to face, categorizing them. Most of them were strangers, but some she recognized. That woman was in Cateline’s class with her. There was one of the cooks. Oh.

That was Clovis, with his head tilted awkwardly and a mess of red and yellow drawn across his neck. No, it wasn’t Clovis anymore. Clovis was dead. That was just leftover meat that looked like him.

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She turned back around. The black-cloaked figures had vanished, but she’d seen which way they went. A trickle of blood ran down her finger as she clenched the hilt of her sword hard enough for her skin to tear. Calmly, she looked over the other group of corpses. They were more experienced soldiers, no one she recognized. That made sense. It was only the soldiers who were inexperienced or unlucky who were slaughtered like pigs as they came outside.

They’d gone the same way she’d gone yesterday. Towards the keep.

Adrian was barking more orders in the background. Idelle didn’t hear him.

She reached the edge of the courtyard. A moment later, she too vanished between the buildings. Running towards the keep. Towards the fire.

Buildings flashed past her. People were in the streets, screaming, shouting, running. For all that Cecilia had called the city a fortress, most of the people still weren’t soldiers. Their homes were burning just the same. She looked at them, searching for the black clothes she’d seen. No one stood out. If they’d been wearing more normal garb underneath, she’d have no chance of identifying them. If anyone was carrying weapons…

There were fewer people, now. She’d been moving against the flow. Everyone was fleeing the fire, fleeing the city. So many innocent people, Idelle thought idly. They were probably wondering why, why was this happening? What had they done wrong? Was this some kind of punishment? Or just bad luck?

She was at the keep. The doors were open. More meat was lying there. She stepped inside. Carpet pressed against her bare feet, soft and warm. Oh, she’d forgotten her shoes, hadn’t she?

A few more turns. The tapestries were the same as yesterday. They deadened the echo of her footsteps to almost nothing. The screams were gone, now, inaudible through the thick stone walls. Only the bitter, choking air showed any sign of what had taken place.

She stopped outside an open doorway, stepping over more meat. The room was empty. No one was inside. She looked down at the meat. It looked like an unfamiliar woman in uniform, blood soaking into the carpet from where her skull had cracked open and made even more of a mess.

Idelle took a deep, shuddering breath. Cecilia wasn’t here. She needed to find her, to help her, if the princess was still alive. She’d promised to help her, right?

Damp carpet pressed against Idelle’s knees as she leaned down and gently bit the woman’s neck. A lot of the corpse’s blood was already gone, but what was left squirmed and came alive at her touch, pulsing one last time through dying veins. It flowed down Idelle’s throat, gentle and soothing, whispering to her.

It was an ordinary night, like any other. She was wasting time patrolling the hallways of the keep because the Duke was a paranoid ass. Still, he paid well, so she couldn’t complain too much. Some of the older guards saved enough money to stop working altogether. What a concept. Maybe that’d be her, someday, if she didn’t die of boredom before then.

She wandered past the princess’s room. She hoped the girl was doing well. She was so young, really, and took so much on her shoulders. What was she trying to prove, anyway? She might be happier if she took things a little slower.

A flash of pain.

Idelle stopped cradling the body’s head and lowered it gently to the floor. Her voice was barely a whisper in the hallway. “Rest well…”

Then she stood up, turning away from the meat.

Another deep breath. She ignored the smoke. Count to seven, then seven, then seven.

There must be another way, Idelle knew it. She just needed to figure it out. She turned back into the room. Tracking magic. She checked the desk and found a small black comb, a few strands of blonde hair tangled through the tines. It would be enough, Idelle promised herself. She’d make it be enough.

She closed her eyes, and took another series of breaths, counting to seven with each change. The comb sat in her hands, faint but still perceptible. She just needed to weave a compass out of the hair, it was the easiest thing in the world. She pictured it, using every ounce of focus she had. No meat, no blood, no screams, only a compass, that was all.

Idelle’s heart pounded inside her skull. She ignored it. She could feel something, like a distant pull. The needle on her compass spun lazily. She breathed, carefully, waiting for it to settle.

Then, all at once, the glimmer that was the comb in her magic-sight distorted. No, the entire world distorted. A beautiful, shimmering, pulsating wave that washed through and everything, spiraling out from somewhere in the city. Idelle shrank back instinctually, like a mouse hiding from a light, a primal reaction that came from something fundamental to her very existence.

The wave settled down, slowly, leaving only a single point. A shining beacon, somewhere close by. That was the place. Idelle stood up from her half-crouch, and sprinted for the door, almost tripping over Vi — the corpse, in her haste.