The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the farm as a heavy sense of anticipation settled over us. We’d been expecting the Arcana’s Veilgaurd for days, knowing they were near brought an unsettling air to the farm. Everyone knew they weren’t here just to collect their due—they were here to bleed us dry. Word had spread of their cruelty, their willingness to take whatever they wanted, no matter the cost.

Ged stood outside the farmhouse, arms crossed, his face lined with worry. "Keep your heads down," he muttered to us, "and let me do the talking."

Reece, naturally, was pacing beside the barn, muttering under his breath about how we should plough more land and increase the yield. "If we did things my way," he spat, glaring at me, "we wouldn’t be in this mess. But no, Da has to stick with what we’ve always done, and now look—look what’s coming."

"Reece," I said quietly, trying to defuse his anger, "plowing more won’t help if we can’t harvest it. We’d need more hands, more time. In the end the enforcers are just going to take more.”

He rounded on me, eyes blazing. "What do you know, Rags? You’re not one of us—you never will be. You don’t understand how hard this is."

I didn’t rise to his bait. He wanted a fight, wanted to take his frustration out on someone, and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I kept my focus on the road, the sound of hooves growing louder.

The enforcers arrived just as the sun dipped behind the hills. Their horses kicked up thick clouds of dust as they approached, the sound of hooves like a dull drumbeat against the evening air. There were four of them—each as brutish as the last. Broad-shouldered, with bodies like thick logs wrapped in worn leather, they radiated a sense of entitlement and danger. Their armor bore the crest of the Arcana, but it was scratched and dented, as though it had seen far more violence than it ever needed to.

At the front rode a man whose very presence seemed to sour the air. His face was twisted into a permanent scowl, deep lines carved around his mouth, making it clear he hadn’t smiled in years. His hair was grey and thin, clinging to his scalp like dead vines. Cold, calculating eyes darted over the farm as though he were a predator surveying his next meal. I felt his gaze sweep over me for the briefest moment, his lip curling slightly in disdain as he took in my appearance. It was the look of a man who saw the world as divided into those who served and those who took. I knew exactly which category he placed me in.

"Jacob Gedson!" the leader bellowed, dismounting with a grunt. His boots hit the ground with a thud, sending a puff of dust into the air. His companions followed suit, each one just as intimidating—greasy hair, unshaven faces, and the smell of sweat and rot clinging to them like a second skin. "You’ve got our due?"

Ged stepped forward, trying to meet the man’s gaze, though I could see the weariness in his movements, he hated this just as much as any man. "Aye, we’ve prepared what we can," Ged said, his voice steady but lined with exhaustion. "The harvest hasn’t been as kind as we’d hoped, but—"

The enforcer cut him off with a harsh laugh, his sneer deepening. "I don’t care about your harvest, old man. Your problem not mine, I’m here for what is due and not a grain of flour less. You’ll pay what you owe, or we’ll take it from you in other ways." He leaned in closer to Ged, his breath foul with the stench of ale. "And trust me," he added in a low growl, "you don’t want us doing that now, do you?"

I clenched my fists, the urge to retaliate boiling beneath my skin. These men—no, these parasites—had no right to take more than their share. But as much as I wanted to act, I couldn’t. This wasn’t the time. The Arcana’s shadow loomed too large over everything. I could feel the eyes of the enforcers on me, particularly the leader, who looked me up and down as though sizing me up. A flicker of recognition? No, probably not—just another peasant to him, another nameless face to abuse. I wasn’t sure how much the enforcers spoke amongst themselves, had Gratden mentioned me?”

Without waiting for Ged to respond, the enforcers turned and signaled to his men. They shoved past Ged as though he were nothing more than an obstacle, their boots heavy on the earth as they made their way toward the barn where the sacks of grain were stored. The leader cast one final glance in my direction, sneering as if he could sense the anger bubbling just beneath my calm exterior.

"Stay out of the way, boy," he spat at me, "unless you’re looking to lose more than you already have."

The other collectors spread out, rummaging through the grain stores with a brutish lack of care. Their hands were like claws, grabbing at whatever they could—sacks of wheat, barrels of barley, even a few tools left too close to the barn’s entrance. One of them spotted an old plow and gave it a kick, sending it clattering across the floor. I saw Ged wince at the sound, though he said nothing. He had to pick his battles carefully, and this wasn’t one he could afford to lose.

Sophia stood near the farmhouse door, her face pale with quiet fury, hands trembling at her sides. She exchanged a look with me—one that said more than words could. I could see it in her eyes: the injustice of it all, the way these men took far more than they were owed, leaving us with just enough to scrape by until the next visit. But even Sophia, bold as she was, knew better than to intervene.

"Think this’ll cover your taxes?" one of the men sneered as he hoisted a heavy sack of grain over his shoulder. "Better hope the Lord Arcanist is feeling generous, old man."

Ged’s jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "You’ve taken more than enough. There’ll be nothing left for us."

"Not my problem," the leader said, mounting his horse with an ease that belied his bulky frame. He looked down at Ged with a smirk that twisted his features into something almost grotesque. "Maybe next time, you’ll have a better harvest. Or maybe next time, we’ll take something a bit more... personal."

I gritted my teeth, feeling the familiar pull of magic stirring in my veins. My hands itched to do something—to stop them, to make them pay for their greed and cruelty. But I forced it down, swallowing the anger and frustration like a bitter pill. The risk was too great out in the open like this.

As the enforcers rode off, their horses kicking up dust and their spoils rattling in the cart, I felt a strange sense of both relief and resentment. They were gone, for now, but they would return. They always did. And next time, I wasn’t sure I could keep the magic at bay.

"Ragan," Ged called softly, pulling me from my thoughts. He looked older, more worn than he had before. "You did well not to react. I saw how they looked at you. They were itching for a reason to take more."

Reece, however, was fuming, his nostrils flared as breathed heavily. "We should’ve been better prepared," he muttered. "I told you, Da. I told you we needed more fields."

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Reece's voice drifted off into the distance, as I turned away from the empty road, thinking of what might happen the next time they returned. The enforcers had cleaned us out, and they’ll be coming back for more. My mind clicked into focus, with a single minded goal.

I wouldn’t let them get away with it again. I couldn’t.

.

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That night, after everyone had gone to bed and the farmhouse had settled into its usual quiet hum, I slipped out under the cover of darkness. The faint creak of the back door went unnoticed as I stepped into the night. The sky was a rich tapestry of stars, the moon hanging like a silver coin, casting its pale glow across the farm. I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to catch me, but the house remained still. Sophia’s sharp eyes had lingered on me during supper, and part of me wondered if she’d sensed something—if she knew what I was planning. Still, no one stirred.

I moved quickly toward the stables, my boots making almost no sound against the dirt. Lolly, the farm’s patient mare, stood quietly in her pen. I saddled her with practiced ease, patting her soft neck to calm her before leading her out into the open. The road the enforcers had taken earlier was faint in the distance, winding like a black ribbon beneath the moonlight.

As I mounted the horse and set off, the familiar feeling of purpose settled over me. The cool night air rushed past, carrying the scents of damp earth and distant pine. My heart pounded—not just from the ride, but from the resolve burning inside me. Memories of my old life surged in my mind, memories of nights like this, where the stakes were high and every step could mean life or death. I had done this before—set ambushes, laid traps, and watched from the shadows as men paid for their arrogance.

The landscape blurred as I pushed Lolly faster, guiding her through the low hills and along the path the enforcers had taken. The trees thinned out as I approached the main road, the moonlight breaking through the canopy and spilling across the ground. I slowed the horse as I neared the ridge where the road curved ahead of them. I could see the faint tracks of the cart wheels pressed into the dirt, leading me in the right direction. The memory of an ambush I had once set for a rival faction flashed in my mind—how I had lain in wait, hidden in the shadows, as their caravan approached a choke point. Everything about tonight felt eerily similar.

This time, though, I wasn’t relying on military tactics. Magic would be my weapon.

I dismounted and led Lolly into a small thicket, tying her reins loosely to a low-hanging branch. She nudged at me, sensing the tension, but stayed quiet. The night was still, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. I crouched by the side of the road, the dirt cool beneath my fingertips. The magic I had tried so hard to suppress stirred within me, like a beast waking from a long slumber. It wasn’t like the pure, crystalline power I had felt in the Faye realm. No, this was something darker, something heavier—more raw. It thrummed beneath my skin, eager to be unleashed, but also dangerous.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out with my senses, letting the power rise slowly. The air around me seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. My hands moved over the ground as I began to weave the magic, pulling at the threads of energy in the earth and air. It was like trying to catch hold of water—slippery, elusive—but I had done this before. I could do it again.

I visualized the knot I wanted to create, a web of invisible force that would snag the wheels of their cart and send it crashing. My fingers moved swiftly, drawing the strands of power together, but the magic resisted. It was like working with broken tools, each thread fraying as I tried to pull it into place. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I concentrated, pushing through the strain.

This wasn’t the clean, effortless weaving of light I had once known. This was more primal, more desperate. The energy tugged at me, threatening to take more than I could give. I paused, my hands trembling, before trying again—twisting the threads tighter, forcing them into the shape I needed. My vision blurred with the effort, and I could feel the toll it was taking, a weight pulling at my very core.

“Focus,” I muttered under my breath, gritting my teeth. “You’ve done this before.”

The knot began to form, a tangled, invisible snare that would lie in wait for the collectors. But it wasn’t stable. I could feel it slipping, unraveling before it was fully set. Frustration surged through me, and for a moment, I considered giving in to the urge to let more power flow through me—to finish it quickly, without restraint. But I couldn’t risk it, this was more surgical. I needed to make this look like an accident.

I took another breath, calming myself, and started again, weaving slower this time, more carefully. The knot took shape, and I could feel the tension in the air as the magic finally settled into place. It hummed with a quiet energy, hidden beneath the surface of the road, waiting for the moment when the collectors would ride into it. My hands shook as I released the last thread, and the knot solidified with a final pulse of energy.

Exhaustion hit me like a wave. I stumbled back, breathing heavily, my body weak from the effort. I had used more than I should have, and it had taken its toll. But it was done. The trap was set.

As I stood there, panting in the moonlight, I glanced down the road, where the cart would soon pass. A deep sense of satisfaction spread through me, even as fatigue washed over me. These men—these thieves—would get what they deserved. They would lose everything they had taken, and they would know the taste of fear.

I mounted Lolly and rode back to the farm, feeling the weight of what I had done. Sophia was waiting for me by the barn when I returned, her eyes wide with concern as she watched me dismount.

“You’ve been gone a while,” she said quietly, her gaze searching my face.

I smiled, though it felt hollow. “Just needed some air,” I replied, brushing past her toward the farmhouse. But I could tell she didn’t believe me. She had seen something in me tonight—something I wasn’t ready to explain.

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Word of the disaster reached me by mid-morning. I was out in the eastern fields with Sophia, helping gather the last of the grain, when a farmhand from the neighboring village arrived, breathless and wide-eyed, delivering the news with a shaky voice. The enforcers’ cart had overturned, scattering goods all over the road just outside town. But the real shock came when he spoke of what happened next.

The horses had panicked, their massive hooves thundering on the packed dirt as they bolted uncontrollably. One of the collectors—a man known for his cruelty and arrogance—had been caught in the chaos. The cart wheels had locked, throwing the man under his own cargo as the horses reared and thrashed. He’d been crushed, his body mangled beneath the heavy wooden cart and the panicked, stamping hooves. The description was grizzly—bones shattered, limbs twisted in unnatural angles, his face barely recognizable through the blood and dust. The horses, crazed and frothing at the mouth, had trampled him beyond recognition before the other men could regain control.

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach as I listened. I hadn’t intended for it to go this far. Yes, I wanted to disrupt their theft, to make them suffer for their greed, but I hadn’t planned on anyone dying. I’d imagined them losing their ill-gotten goods, maybe a few bruises and broken egos, but not... this.

Yet there was something in me—a darker part—that felt an unsettling satisfaction. The man who had died was not innocent. He had stolen from families like ours for years, and had likely caused deaths in his wake, whether through starvation or suffering. His greed had finally caught up with him. A cruel twist of fate, perhaps, but one that felt oddly fitting. For a moment, I let the satisfaction settle in my chest, the scales of justice finally tipping back against them.

But then I thought of the other enforcers. They would know something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just an accident—the way the wheels locked, the sudden halt in the middle of a straight road, the chaos that ensued. They would have questions.

I glanced at Sophia. She hadn’t said a word since hearing the news, but her eyes were on me, sharp and questioning. She knew. She had seen the way I had reacted to the news, the way my fists clenched and then loosened at my sides. Maybe she didn’t understand everything, but she knew I had something to do with it.

As the farmhand finished relaying the details, he shook his head. “Never seen anything like it,” he muttered. “Man didn’t stand a chance. Like the gods themselves cursed him.”

Sophia’s gaze never left mine. There was no accusation in her eyes, just a heavy, unspoken understanding. She didn’t need to ask what I had done—she already knew.