The days had shortened, and the crisp bite of autumn had settled over the farm. Leaves, tinged with gold and amber, tumbled from the trees, gathering in quiet corners of the yard. The sun, already dipping low by late afternoon, cast long shadows through the windows of the farmhouse, but the air had turned cool and sharp. I had been in bed since the beating, and though the worst of the bruises had faded, the ache lingered.
I shifted under the covers, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my ribs. My body still protested with every movement, reminding me of the price I’d paid for standing up to Grayden. The farmhouse had become a cocoon of sorts over the last few weeks, though the quiet had been unsettling. Sophia’s visits were the only thing breaking the solitude, and even those were few and far between.
The door creaked open, and Sophia entered, carrying a bowl of fresh water and a cloth. The cool air rushed in with her, and I could see a flush of color in her cheeks from the chill outside. She set the bowl down beside me, her brow furrowed slightly as she dipped the cloth into the water.
"You don’t have to do this, you know," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse. "I’ll heal on my own."
She shot me a look—half amusement, half frustration, the kind that always made me feel like I was missing something obvious. “Don’t be foolish,” she muttered, wringing out the cloth before pressing it gently against a tender bruise on my cheek. “You’ve been in this bed for a month. The least I can do is help you heal.”
Her touch was careful, but the tension in her movements betrayed how much the enforcers’ visit had impacted her. The way she pressed her lips together, the way her eyes darted away from mine—it was clear she was holding back more than just her words. She worked in silence for a few minutes, dabbing at the fading bruises, but I could feel the silence in the air between us, like an uncomfortable harness, removing it would make you fall.
Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hate them. Every time the Veilguard comes, it feels like the air gets colder, like they’re stealing something from us just by being here.” Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed the cloth to my shoulder, and I winced, but the pain didn’t bother me as much as her words.
I had seen Sophia always with a brave face, always smiling and enjoying life, but this... this fear in her voice—it unsettled me more than I expected. I had faced far worse in my old life, but seeing how the Ministry had cowed even the strong, like her, reminded me of how deep their control ran.
“They’re not invincible,” I whispered, hoping to offer her some comfort. “Men like Grayden… they thrive on fear. But they’re still just men.”
She shook her head; her gaze hardening. “No, they’re not just men. The Ministry’s grip on this land is suffocating. They take and take, and no one stands up to them. No one but Uncle Jacob.” Her voice softened when she mentioned her uncle, and I could see the gratitude in her eyes. “He’s always been the only one keeping them at bay. Without him...”
She trailed off, staring into the bowl of water as if she could see something there that wasn’t. Her fingers still trembled slightly, and for the first time, I truly understood just how much she depended on Jacob’s protection. I’d always known Jacob was strong, a man of influence, but to Sophia, he was the last line between them and a world she feared.
“Jacob’s a good man,” I said, shifting slightly as the aches in my body flared up.
"But so are you, Ragan,” she said, her voice quieter now. “What you did… standing up to Grayden like that—it meant something. It showed me that there are still people willing to fight back, even when the odds are against them.”
Her words struck me harder than any blow I’d taken from Grayden. I hadn’t come to this farm intending to be anyone’s protector, let alone someone’s hero. Yet, here I was, entangled in their lives, their struggles, their hopes. Sophia had always seemed untouchable, but the way she looked at me now... there was something more than just gratitude in her eyes.
She turned away for a moment, her expression softening. "Sometimes… I wonder what it would be like to leave. To get away from all of this. The Ministry, the farm. Just… go somewhere else. Somewhere free.”
Before I could respond, the door opened again. This time, it was Ged who entered, his presence filling the small room. He glanced between us, his brow furrowing as he took in the sight of me still bedridden.
“Sophia, go on now, I’ll take it from here,” he said gently. Sophia hesitated, casting me a glance before nodding and retreating from the room.
Ged sighed heavily, crossing the floor with slow, deliberate steps. His face was a mask of sternness, but I could see the worry beneath it.
“You know,” he began, his voice low, “you’ve got spirit, lad. But what, you did? It was foolish.” He sat down heavily in the chair beside the bed, it creaking under his weight and leant forward. “Grayden’s not the kind of man you want to irritate without consequence. You’re lucky Jacob came when he did.”
I nodded, wincing as I shifted slightly. “I know. But I couldn’t just stand by and let him treat Ross like that.”
Ged’s eyes softened for a moment, and he glanced toward the floor, where his wife was undoubtedly preparing the evening's meal in the kitchen below us. “For that, I’m grateful. I am. But we have to be smart. We can’t afford to draw the Veilguard’s attention like that. Next time, they’ll come back with a vengeance. We can’t risk losing the farm.” He looked down at his hands, the lines in his face deepening. “Jacob’s doing what he can, but I don’t want to put him in the middle of this again.”
There was a silence that settled between us, one that carried the weight of unsaid things. Ged finally broke it, his voice gruff but with a note of concern. "From now on, you stay out of the Veilguard’s way. Keep your head down. I don’t need another incident like this.”
Inside, I bristled. Keep my head down? Hide like a coward while those men—the Veilguard—took what they wanted, bled people dry, and left them in fear? The thought ignited something deep in me, a fury I had long tried to keep in check. My hands clenched into fists beneath the blanket, and the familiar pull of the light weaving flickered somewhere in my chest. I could tear them apart. I had power that they couldn’t imagine, and here I was, hiding, doing nothing.
But then I remembered where I was. This wasn’t my fight to start—not yet. This was Ged’s farm. His land, his family. If I defied him, if I stirred up trouble again, it wouldn’t just be me who paid for it. Ross, Sophia, even Reece—they’d all suffer for my actions.
I forced the rage down, swallowing hard. “It’s your farm, Ged,” I muttered, my voice calmer than I felt. “I’ll respect that.”
Ged nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, though I could sense he wasn’t fully convinced. He put his hand on the bed, learning further forward, and spokee.
“I heard from Jacob,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “The Ministry’s done poking around Moss Side. They cleared out a few days ago.”
I frowned. Moss Side had been under scrutiny for weeks. It wasn’t far from here, and the investigation had only stirred up more tension with the Ministry. “So, they’re finished there?”
Ged nodded, but there was a shadow of worry in his eyes. “For now. Jacob’s been dispatched north. He’ll be away for a while. I’m grateful for the help he’s given us, but it means we’re on our own until he gets back.”
The weight of those words pressed down on me. I knew what it meant for this farm—no more protection. Without Jacob here, the Veilguard would likely come back, and this time, they’d be angrier. Bolder. Ged’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"You’ve been a good help around here, Ragan. God knows we could use you." He stood up, adjusting his worn jacket. "You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”
I forced a nod, though my mind was already racing. Stay here? Could I? I appreciate the offer, but the thought of staying, of dragging this family further into my battles, made my stomach turn. What good was it if I couldn’t protect them? And what would happen when the Ministry finally came for me?
In the back of my mind, a quiet truth settled in. When I was fully healed, when my body was strong again, it might be better if I wasn’t here. Better for Ged, for Sophia. Better for everyone if I left before the worst came.
“I’ll stay,” I said, forcing a smile.
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew that one day soon, I’d have to leave.
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A few days later, after my ribs had healed enough to walk without wincing at every step, Ross suggested that Ged take me to the market. “It’ll do him some good,” she insisted, fussing over me. “Get him out in the fresh air.”
I didn’t argue. The thought of leaving the farm, even for a short while, was a welcome change after spans of being bedridden. Sophia and Reece joined us for the trip. Reece, however, hadn’t said a word to me since the enforcer's visit. The tension between us still hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable. He climbed into the back of the wagon, his eyes avoiding mine, while Sophia settled in with her usual bright demeanor.
“When we get there,” she said, her voice filled with excitement, “I’m getting you a sticky apple, Ragan. You’ll love them. They’re sweet and warm, like caramel melting in your mouth.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling. “I’m looking forward to it.”
The autumn air was crisp as we traveled, the trees lining the road shedding their golden and red leaves, the wind scattering them across the dirt path. The smell of damp earth, wood smoke, and the distant chatter of crows filled the air. The sun, though still bright, hung lower in the sky, casting a golden embrace over the landscape.
By the time we reached the market, it was alive with activity. Merchants were calling out their prices, competing for attention, while people haggled over everything from fresh produce to leather goods. The smell of fresh-baked bread and roasting meats mixed with the scent of drying herbs, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.
We set up our stall near the center, unloading baskets of vegetables and fruit. Ged immediately began haggling with a nearby trader over the price of potatoes, his voice rough but good-natured. Reece stood by the stall, arms crossed, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else.
“I’ll be back soon,” Ged said, handing Reece the reins. “Got to see the blacksmith about some repairs. Watch the stall.”
Reece muttered something under his breath, but Ged didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Reece in charge. As Ged left, Sophia darted off, her eyes already set on the stall selling sticky apples.
“I’m getting you one, Ragan!” she called over her shoulder.
I watched her go, keeping an eye on her as she moved through the bustling market. The place was full of life, but it also had a way of drawing in those with less than honorable intentions.
It wasn’t long before I saw trouble brewing. Sophia had wandered down a side street, caught up in admiring some trinkets at a stall, when a group of young men—older and rough-looking—noticed her. They sauntered over, blocking her way, their faces full of leering intent.
My heart raced. I pushed off the cart, ignoring the dull ache in my ribs, and moved toward them. As I approached, I could hear their mocking voices.
“Where you off to in such a hurry, girl?” one of them sneered, stepping in front of her. “Stay a while. We can show you a good time.”
Sophia took a step back, her face pale, but another brute blocked her retreat. My blood boiled.
“Leave her alone,” I said, my voice hard and steady.
The men turned to face me, their expressions shifting from amusement to irritation.
“Who’s this?” the leader jeered. “Her knight in shining armor?”
I took a step closer, squaring my shoulders. “She doesn’t need your kind of company,” I said, my many years of training in the military, making me shift my stance instinctively reading for a fight..
The leader sneered, sizing me up. “You think you can stop us?”
Before I could respond, he swung a fist at me. I dodged, my ribs protesting as I sidestepped his attack. I retaliated, slamming my shoulder into his chest, knocking him back. Pain shot through my side, but I ignored it, focused on getting Sophia out of danger.
One of the other men lunged at me, but I met him with a punch to the jaw. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through my body, reminding me I was still healing, but I didn’t back down.
Just as the fight was about to escalate, a strong hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back. I turned, expecting another attack, but it was Ged. He stood tall, his face hard and unwavering. The men hesitated, clearly unsettled by his presence.
The group exchanged uneasy glances before slinking back into the crowd, their bravado fading as quickly as it had appeared.
Ged turned to me, his eyes softening as he glanced at Sophia. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He didn’t need to say much more—his gratitude was clear. He gave me a nod and added, “Try to stay out of trouble.”
I gave an awkward smile, knowing that I was becoming more than just a nuisance in his eyes. Maybe it was just my years of, not wisdom but just life, that made me unable not to act.
We began walking back to the stall, the tension easing slightly. But as we approached, Reece stood there with his arms crossed, his scowl deepening as he watched us return.
“Where have you been?” Reece snapped, his voice thick with irritation. “I’ve been stuck here watching the stall.”
Ged’s expression darkened. “You should’ve been watching out for your sister, not just the damn stall,” he said, his tone sharp but controlled.
Reece’s eyes flared with anger. “I was doing what you asked. I can’t be everywhere at once.”
The tension between them was palpable, and I could feel Reece’s resentment growing—not just toward Ged, but toward me as well. Something more was troubling him, but that was the least of my concerns.
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The wagon creaked as it rolled along the dirt road, the fading light casting long shadows over the fields, as we headed back from the market. I sat in the back, leaning against a sack of potatoes, biting into the sticky apple Sophia had gotten for me. The sweetness flooded my mouth, a stark contrast to the lingering tension from the market. Across from me, Sophia sat with her own apple, though she hadn’t taken more than a bite.
“You know,” she said, her voice soft but edged with frustration, “you can’t keep doing that.”
I raised an eyebrow, wiping the sticky juice from my chin. “Doing what?”
“Standing up to people like that. Like those men in the alley, or the enforcers last month. You can’t just rush in every time, Ragan. One day, you’re going to get yourself killed.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I know you mean well, but… you can’t save everyone.”
I swallowed the last of the apple, savoring the warmth it left behind. “Maybe not,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”
Sophia fell silent, her eyes cast down as she played with the sticky apple in her hands. I could see the worry in her face, and I hated that it was because of me. She was right, in a way. I couldn’t always protect everyone. But there were times when standing up, even if it was reckless, felt like the only thing I could do.
To ease the tension, I decided to tell her a story. “Have I ever told you about Smoke?” I asked, leaning forward slightly.
Sophia glanced up, her curiosity piqued. “Smoke?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “He was an old man, small and wiry. Lived in a world a lot harsher than ours. People looked at him and thought he was weak, just some fragile old man who couldn’t fight back. But he proved them wrong. Time and time again.”
Sophia shifted, leaning forward, the earlier tension forgotten for the moment. “What did he do?”
“Well,” I began, staring off into the distance as the story took shape in my mind, from what I could remember Elbar telling me. “Once, Smoke freed some prisoners who were being held unjustly, they were treated like slaves with no hope. The ones in power sent two huge men after him—each as big as a house, with fists like hammers. People thought Smoke didn’t stand a chance.”
“But he won?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
I nodded. “Oh, he won. But not because he was stronger or faster. It was because he knew when to fight and when to wait. When those two giants came for him, everyone thought it was the end. But Smoke was clever. He used their own strength against them, outsmarting them at every turn. It wasn’t always about brute force—it was about knowing how to turn the tide in your favor.”
Sophia’s eyes lit up with fascination, her earlier worries slipping away. “I like that,” she said, her voice lighter now. “I like thinking there are people like Smoke out there. People who can stand up, even when it looks hopeless.”
I smiled, watching as the sun dipped lower in the sky, its last rays bathing the landscape in a warm glow. “There are, Sophia. And maybe, one day, we’ll see more of them.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence, the bond between us growing stronger with every shared moment. The tension from earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet understanding. In her eyes, I saw hope—a spark that maybe things could change, that maybe there were still people out there fighting the good fight.
As the wagon bumped along the road, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the story of Smoke linger in my mind. In a world as harsh as this one, it was stories like these that kept us going, kept us believing that something better might be just around the corner.