“Ferelden is a struggling kingdom. That itself was apparent from the few weeks I have spent here. Turmoil on the countryside has bred desperation which in turn has cultivated widespread chaos in the populace. Though safe havens exist, they seem to be few and far between, quartered in the cities and fortresses such as Denerim. It gave me cause to wonder what led to this predicament…”

* From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

    The sun had long since fallen off the horizon, replaced by two foreign half-moons. Neither was as large as the White Lady, who had lit the road on my journey to Stormwind, nor were they as small as the Blue Child, who followed its parent along the night sky. They were another reminder of how far I was from home.

    Besides the moonlight, there were twinkles of midnight oil burning from windows and the flare of torches from passing guard patrols. They were out in force now, far more than in daylight. They didn’t seem to mind me, taking far more interest in keeping vagrants off the streets.

    The shadows cast throughout the dark corners of the buildings, normally restrained by the sun, now stretched out well into the streets. There were the faint echoes of conversation from the inns and taverns throughout the city. The final oases of activity in a world preparing to rest.

    The only other sound were the scrapes of my boots as I trudged through the roads. A part of me that wished to just go and bed down. However, I had a job to do.

    From a paladin and officer of the Alliance to a mercenary working questionable jobs in the middle of the night. Not exactly how I envisioned my life to go. Absurd even, though this was pretty plain compared to everything else that had happened.

    My feet were sore. Even after taking a short break to air them out and wrap them in cloth. At least I wasn’t lugging the extra weight of my travel pack, a fact my shoulders and back were infinitely grateful for. I had left most of my belongings in a room at the closest tavern I could find to the west gate. The place itself was shabby and my room smelled like sweat and grime left by occupants’ past, but I was hardly in the mood to find better quarters. Time had been running short and it was the place I trusted myself to be able to find my way back to in the middle of the night.

    My stomach growled again. I recalled the smell of roasted stew in the inn. There mugs too, full of beer or mead. I licked my chapped lips and pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. Hopefully, it would be available once the night’s mission ended.

    The walls came into sight. Fires flickered from the guard posts above, patrolled by the occasional soldier. The gate itself was open and I could see campfires litter the landscape from the vagrant camps outside the city. Beyond that, everything devolved into an endless swirl of black and gray.

    A gust of wind blew past, and I shivered as the cold air sent goosebumps up my arms. I had an old coat that Aunt Tiana bought for me that I had left at my quarters in the Badlands. At the moment, I wished I had it on, less out of sentiment and more to avoid the chill. I could bear another night wandering in the cold, after all I managed for at least a few weeks. However, it was enough for me to make better clothes a higher priority the next time I would get to scrounge for supplies.

    A little ways from the gate were several figures huddled together with torches. They weren’t guards. The helmets were shaped differently and they were dressed in muted black and brown. The Blackstone Irregulars from the looks of it. I stepped towards them.

    As I got closer, their plate armor flickered in the firelight. The wind didn’t seem to bother them. Fur puffed out of the creases around their breastplates. I felt a tinge of envy at their warm clothes.

    Then I noticed another. I almost didn’t catch him, if it wasn’t for the odd motions I saw in the shadow of a building. He was perched on a crate by the others, but outside of torchlight. As I got closer, I recognized him by his lean form and the shawl that wrapped around his face like a mask. It was the fighter from earlier, the one with the daggers. I think Knives was what they called him by. I couldn’t see his eyes but I felt his gaze following my movements.

    Then the rest of the group took notice of my approach. One of the individuals in the circle shifted toward my direction.

    “Eratus,” said Taoran as I stepped into torchlight. “Glad you made it.”

    “Here in time?” I said.

    “You ain’t Balt,” said one of the mercenaries. “Who are you?”

    “Balt is… occupied with other matters at the moment,” said Taoran. “Eratus bested him in the fighting pit this afternoon and is taking his place.”

    “What?” the mercenary said. “This little wilder here beat that big lugger up?”

    “I saw it with my own eyes Tom,” said Taoran.

    Tom craned his neck forward into the torchlight to get a better look at me, and in turn I got a better look at him. His helmet obscured most of his features but not everything. His jaw was lopsided, probably from a fight and his nose was crooked, also probably from a fight. Scratches and pocks marred his cheeks. This man had been through some tough times.

    “You look a bit lightly equipped,” he said, pointing at my clothes.

    “I travel light,” I said as the wind billowed again. I really wished I had that coat.

    Tom laughed. “Whatever you say. Not judging.”

    “Before we go,” Taoran interrupted. “Can you lot introduce yourselves to Balt’s replacement?”

    “Fair be it,” the mercenary said. “My name is Tom.”

    “Bill,” said the second.

    “Ed,” said the third.

    Even with the poor visibility I could barely tell Bill or Ed or Tom from each other. All three of them sounded the same, wore the same clothes, and were even the same height. All of them had swords on as well.

    “Eratus,” I said, not bothering to remember to stick names to faces. “Nice to meet you all”

    The only person who didn’t introduce themself was the lone figure perched on the crate. His head drawn to the ground.

    “And that is Knives,” said Taoran, pointing towards him. “Hey! Introduce yourself.”

    Knives looked at me, and merely nodded.

    “He… isn’t much of a talker,” said Taoran. “But he is one mean fighter. He is new, just like yourself.”

    “So,” one of the mercenaries said. “What is this off-the-books job you got for us boss?”

    “That,” replied Taoran. “Will be explained later. For now, we go past the city. I’ll lead the way.”

    “Bleh,” said the mercenary. “Probably another scavenger escort.”

    “Scavenger escort?” I asked.

    “Just a kind of job where you keep scavengers off. Too many keen folks nowadays looking to pay for their next meal out of people on the road. Which is why they hire us to keep them off,” another mercenary replied.

    “Is it true how much this job is going to fess up?” said a mercenary. “30 silvers?”

    “I could spend an entire bloody month drinking and whoring with that,” another replied.

    “Hope we get some action tonight,” said the third. “Usually the ones that try have some coin on them. I always consider it a little bonus ripe for the taking.”

    “Right… ” I said.

    “Enough talking,” said Taoran. “Let’s get going. Keep your eyes out. Tom you are with me up front. Knives, Eratus you two are in center. Bill and Ed, you have the rear.”

    He was putting the two newest, and I guessed the least trustworthy individuals in the center where they could be watched by the others. I couldn’t blame him and wasn’t going to complain either. Being in the center was always the safe place while traveling. If you were the lead, you run into traps from up front, in the back you get ambushed from behind.

    “Got it,” I replied. Everyone else gave a verbal acknowledgement while Knives only nodded, and leapt off the crate before stepping next to me. If his skill in the fighting pit was any indicator, I now only had one side to worry about.

    We stepped off, past the gate. The guards themselves didn’t seem to mind us as we left, and were half-asleep by the looks of it.

    The only sounds as we passed the tents outside the city were the steady shrills of infants. I grimaced with discomfort, resisting the instinct to help. Nobody else in the patrol seemed to mind it. Maybe this was just the way things were in this world. The cries dissipated as we gained distance, replaced by the whirls of the wind and the rustle of grass along the plains.

    It was a dark world out here. The only color except black or gray came from our torches. The hair on my skin crawled, and it wasn’t just from the wind. I hated night patrols for a reason. It was like being in the tunnels, but worse. At least there you only had to worry about what was in front or behind you. Here, an attack could come from any direction. The torches themselves only made us easy targets.

    My nerves were also frayed from the voices of the two mercenaries behind us. It was Bill and Ed from Taoran’s orders.

    “Air is piss cold out here.”

    “Yea, I’m gonna go warm myself up at The Pearl after this.”

    “Didn’t you get thrown out the last time you went? Coulda sworn they said you were banned from ever showing your face.”

    “Not once I have 30 silvers in hand. You know what they say. Women love coin, whores even more so.”

    “Eh, I’ll probably join up as well. I’m going for Banca. She’s Orlesian. I hear she does a doozy from a friend of mine.”

    “Heh, that does sound nice. Give her nice Ferelden romp. Though I do prefer the elves, they do a better job, cheaper too.”

    “Do they even knife-ears there?”

    “Saw a few through the window.”

    “What about you? Eratus, was it?” I think they were pointing towards me.

    “Hm?” I replied.

    “You got a favorite?” asked Bill. Or maybe it was Ed.

    “A favorite what?” I replied.

    “Oh come on. You know. Brothel.”

    “Don’t have one and don’t care,” I replied. The two of them reminded me of your standard run-of-the-mill Alliance soldier. When their attention wasn’t centered on fighting it was either gambling, booze, or prostitutes.

    “What! You ain’t a eunuch, are you?”

    “No. And none of your business.”

    “Pheh. Suit yourself.”

    That was the end of that, but they kept talking. Damn loud too. I was expecting Taoran to get them to shut up. With their yammering, everything would be able to hear us from miles away too.

    Instead, our leader was having his own conversation with Tom ahead, something to do with the fighting pits. Even the so-called adventurers we hired back home had more discipline than this.

    At least Knives kept his mouth shut.

    Gradually, their voices were drowned out by the sound of waves in the distance.

    The plains drew down and dropped to a cliff. Beyond it the ocean glimmered with specks of moonlight reflecting off the waves. The cliff stretched on for miles to the left and the right, murky water shifting to and fro with flashes of white every time it crashed against the rocks.

    At the edge of the cliffside were four figures standing by a cart. There was also a ship floating in the distance.

    “Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected lifeforms with arcane capabilities ahead. They will be aware of my presence.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    “What?” I asked. “What are we supposed to do then?”

    “They will not be able to detect me so long as I remain inactive.”

    “Alright then.”

    No wonder Taoran was so secretive about this. There was a mage involved. What was one of them doing here?

    The breeze became stronger as we stepped closer. I resisted the urge to shiver. The figures ahead wore cloaks that concealed their faces and gave them a shade-like appearance. Two of them stood larger than the others, and there was a glint of steel under their clothes. There were two smaller ones, one was carrying a staff.

    Taoran stopped, looking back to us. “We have arrived, I don’t want a single word from any of you while we are on this job.”

    All the mercenaries nodded in silence, along with me. We approached the group on the cliffside.

    In the blink of an eye, one of the figures had the bow ready with an arrow nocked in our direction. My hand went to my sword while the other formed the beginning of a barrier seal. I didn’t want to reveal my abilities but it was a better course of action than dying. I could hear the shrill scrape of metal as the other mercenaries drew their weapons.

    “Hold! Do not raise arms!” Taoran Hawkwind yelled. He took out a gold medallion, shimmering in the moonlight. “I believe we have a contract.”

    “Not one step closer,” the figure said. I couldn’t see under her hood but it was definitely a woman.

    “Now, now Devera,” a coarse voice croaked. The one with the staff stepped forward, lowering her bow. “Please lower your weapon. You are frightening our guests.”

    “I am sorry, my master,” she said, obeying his words.

    The stranger with the staff then stepped toward us. He removed his hood. It was a man, his head shaven clean of any hair save for a groomed mustache and beard. There was something… unnatural about him. It reminded me of one of the strikingly realistic impressions of a human face shaped and painted with clay. Something that resembled a human and at the same time deeply inhuman.

    “Apologies,” he said. “We are unfamiliar with this land and its customs. We just arrived on shore. It is only natural that my dear servant would be protective. May I take a closer look?”

    Nobody else seem troubled by his explanation as to how they disembarked from a cliffside. Either that or the mercenaries were keeping shut about it. Alamere used to talk about whole libraries hovering with levitation spells in Silvermoon, so magic was probably the answer. I kept my lips sealed. No need to let on my suspicions.

    “Of course,” said Taoran, stepping towards the man. Devera fidgeted as he drew close.

    The man squinted at the seal, then looked back at Taoran with a satisfied smile.

    “Ah, I see our mutual benefactor has made good on his promise,” he said. “You are the Blackstone Irregulars, I presume?”

    “We are,” Taoran replied, putting away the seal.

    “And I take it you understand that… our visit here requires a degree of discretion?” the man asked.

    “Yes,” Taoran said. “We regard the privacy of our clients most highly.”

    The man looked behind Taoran and gazed at us, almost like he was trying to judge whether we were trustworthy or not. He maintained a neutral expression throughout. It was impossible to determine whether he was satisfied or displeased.

    “Good.” The man raised his hand. “Nobody is to touch the wagon, let alone inquire about the contents. We shall follow in your stead.”

    The two large cloaked figures drew up the wagon. The contents of which were concealed by cloth. Devera slung the bow back in place.

    “Let us be on our way then…”

----------------------------------------

    We departed the cliffside in silence. Taoran led the way ahead with Tom. Knives and I walked right behind him. The strangers traveled behind us, with Bill and Ed in the rear.

    I was uneasy.

    There was at least one mage here, maybe more. I saw what the last mage I ran into here could do. The memory of that… thing was still fresh on my mind. This wasn’t my world but I had no intention of assisting in anything that could be deemed malicious. Given this trip was happening late at night- and out of sight - told me that whatever was happening was against the local laws, or the templars.

    Then again, the templars hadn’t leant much sympathy for their cause either. The way I saw them handle the situation back in the forest was horrific. It had been murder. For all I knew, perhaps this was just another mage trying to survive in a world that persecuted their kind. Why would they come to the city, though?

    The thoughts kept racing in my head, until I decided to put a stop to it. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, to make any rash decisions tonight. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. My obligation was getting back home alive, and for that I needed coin. This was all this was. Just a means to an end.

    Del was silent, which only added to my unease. I didn’t realize how I depended upon his ability to detect lifeforms and differentiate threats until now.

    We turned around a hill, and came to a wreckage of wagons blocking the road. A few bodies were laying by the ground.

    Taoran stepped up to one of the bodies. “That’s odd,” he said. “This wasn’t-“

    “Boss watch out!” Tom dove and tackled Taoran away, right as the “corpse” had sprung up and slashed a sickle where Taoran’s foot was a moment ago. It started another swing when I felt an arrow swerve past me and into the attacker’s head. The man dropped down, dead.

    I looked back to see Devera with her bow out and another arrow nocked.

    The remaining bodies sprung up, blades at the ready. I could hear steps through the plains, the sound of people approaching from all sides.

    Taoran and Tom got up from the ground. “Ambush!” they yelled.

    I drew my sword and noticed Knives take his daggers out. The air was filled with the shrill scrape of swords being drawn.

    I saw the outline of a man rapidly approaching me. His weapon was raised high. As he stepped into torchlight, I noticed it was a… shovel?

    The weapon swung down and I blocked it with my sword. The wooden handle of the shovel crashed into the mithril blade and cracked in two. While the man stared at his now useless weapon, my fist collided with his face. He fell to the ground. It didn’t kill him, but it would be enough to keep him out of the fight.

    It was chaos. Enemies were charging at us from all sides. Visibility was poor. All around me were shifting blades, clashing steel, and whirls of movement. There was no telling where the next attack would come. The best thing to do now was to stay focused on the threats in front, trust everyone else to protect my flanks, make the decision help when needed.

    Another man rushed at me, wielding a sickle. He was slashing in a blind fury. I dodged back a few steps before catching it with my sword and whipping the weapon out of his hands. As the sickle flew off, I kicked the man with my boot, sending him staggering into the night.

    Taoran and Tom were handling themselves well. Fighting off any foes that stepped too close. Several attackers pushed around use toward the wagon guarded by the strangers.

    I was about to step toward them to help before I saw the scene unfold. Devera fired arrows at the approaching bandits with near perfect accuracy. They whistled into the darkness, followed by yelps as they found their mark. I had no idea how she was able to see so well in the dark.

    Three of the bandits managed to encircle one of the cloaked figures. One of the men swung a hammer at the figure. There was a flash as a sword cut through the wooden handle and chopped the attacker in half. The remaining men turned tail and tried to run, but the cloaked figure was faster. His blade fell twice and two headless bodies fell to the ground. His compatriot was doing the same on the other side of the wagon.

    The bald man did nothing. He simply stood there, with excitement in his eyes at the carnage, like he was watching an act of theater or a play.

    There was no time to worry about the perverseness of the people we were escorting. My attention turned back to the frontline, where another man rushed towards me, this time with a hoe. I dispatched him like I did with the others.

    It was strange. Their attack was disjointed and lacked coordination. The weapons too were odd. Shovels. Hammers more suited for farmwork than battle.

    Knives was up against two opponents holding rakes. He deftly dodged and parried their blows, before dragging his knife through a man’s arm, sending him sprawling to the ground. He was about to finish off his next opponent when another appeared out of sight, holding a sickle up high.

    “Look out!” I yelled and rushed forward, but I wasn’t fast enough.

    Knives ducked away from the rake and into the blade of the sickle. Blood splattered through the air. He gasped, dropping to the ground, clutching his wounded side.

    The man with the rake raised his hands in a final blow when I slammed into him, knocking him into the darkness. The one with the sickle swung and I blocked it with the flat of my sword then punched him in the face. He went down, blood trickling from his nose.

    There were no more foes nearby. I looked back down at the injured mercenary.

    “You okay?” I asked and offered a hand.

    He slapped it away. One hand grasping the wound then grabbed his remaining knife before leaning back up.

    Well, I was only trying to help.

    The fighting soon drew to a close, as the remaining attackers were taken down or had fled. Corpses and wounded men surrounded us. Taoran and the remaining mercenaries were stepping around, finishing off the wounded. Nobody on our side had fallen. Tom or one of the other mercenaries finished off another wounded and immediately begin rummaging through his belongings. He took the contents and put them in his pockets.

    “You know,” said Tom as he removed his sword from a corpse. “I’ve lived through my fair share of ambushes. But playing dead? Unbelievable. You almost got hamstrung boss.”

    Taoran looked less than amused, grabbing one of the fallen men by the cuff of his shirt.

    “You picked the wrong target.”

    “Please!” the man said. “We-We weren’t trying to hurt no one.”

    “Too bad.” He let the man go and raised his sword high.

    “No! Don’t!”

    Taoran’s sword fell, silencing him for good. I winced. The men were preying on travelers but these seemed more like an act of desperation, not vehemence.

    I looked away from the looting. This was just another job. Instead I focused my attention toward Knives. He stood to the side, one hand over the area the sickle struck him.

    I tossed him a cloth roll from my belt pouch. It landed on the ground in front of him. “Here,” I said. “Wrap yourself up.”

    The cloaked figure didn’t respond, but he did pick up the roll. He slowly wrapped it around the wound. The bloodstain on his cloak looked ugly and jagged. The man clearly didn’t want my help though.

    The strangers weren’t taking part in the looting. They assembled themselves back in formation around the wagon. The bald man stepped towards one of the wounded. He crouched down at the terrified man, lifting up his chin with a finger.

    “Hm… ,” he said. “Malnourished as expected, but in otherwise good health. Yes… this shall be good stock.”

    “Everything okay?” Taoran said, wiping the blood off his sword on the clothes of a corpse.

    “It is,” the bald man replied. “I must commend your skill in handling the situation. It was most impressive.”

    The bald man let go of the unmoving wounded, leaving him to slowly bleed out on the ground. He looked at the wreckage blocking the way ahead.

    “It appears we are at an impasse for now.”

    “We’ll have it cleared out in a moment,” said Taoran.

    “Actually…” The bald man gestured toward one of the cloaked figures. He reached into the wagon and brought out a bag, that jingled with coins. He walked over and offered it to Taoran.

    “Your payment as promised,” the bald man said.

    “But we haven’t made it to our destination,” Taoran said.

    “We will be able to find our way there without your assistance. For now, “he looked at the corpses surrounding him. “We have found ourselves in the midst of an opportunity.”

    “Very well, then,” Taoran said, accepting the bag.

    “We shall be in touch,” said the bald man. “There will be more work required.”

    “Come on lads,” said Taoran. “Let’s return home.”

    “Bleh,” said one of the mercenaries. “Only found five coppers on the corpses. Nothing else worth taking.”

    The deed was done and we left the strangers amidst the corpses. I felt an ominous feeling in my guy as they grew more distant.

----------------------------------------

    The west gate of Denerim was now in sight, along with the light from campfires in the outskirts. I thanked the Light. Each step was a step towards food and rest, and away from the strangers. I had little to no intention of joining on any excursions involving them in the near future.

    Knives suddenly tripped and fell to the side. His hand clutching the side of his waist.

    “Eh,” said Tom. “Is he alright?”

    I moved over to the fallen man. His breathing was shallow. Blood slowly dripped out of his side.

    The remaining mercenaries came back from the commotion. “What is going on?” Taoran asked.

    “Knives got wounded a while back,” I said, stepping next to him.

    Taoran moved a torch to get a closer look at the wound then sighed.

    “That’s a lot of bleeding.”

    “Looks like he won’t make it,” said Ed. “Guess he won’t need that silver then.” He reached down for the sack tied to the man’s belt. Knives shirked back.

    “Leave him be,” I said.

    “What?” said Ed. “If he is going to die, he ain’t going to need the coin on his way to meet the Maker.”

    “I’ll take care of him.” I said.

    “You just want his coin to yourself,” Ed said. “I spoke first so I call dibs.”

    “You will leave him be,” I replied.

    “And what are you going to do about it? Cause I don’t take orders from fresh-meat,” said Ed, his hand creeping toward his sword.

    “I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” said Bill. “He took out Balt after all.”

    Ed thought about it and drew back down.

    “What do you want to do, boss?” asked Tom.

    “Leave him on the road,” said Taoran. “He earned his coin, but I ain’t paying for a healer.”

    “Are you seriously going to let one of your own die?” I asked.

    “Maker helps those who help themselves. It’s all part of the profession you see,” said Taoran as he turned back towards Denerim. “Besides, I’ve lost more coins than I can count from his wins at the fighting pits. Barely won it back today.”

    The rest of them turned to follow him. All except for me.

    “I’ll taking care of him,” I said.

    “Suit yourself,” Taoran replied.

    They trudged onwards, leaving Knives and I on the side of the hill. I kneeled next to him and placed my torch close to the dirt.

    “Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, how does assisting this lifeform further our pursuits?”

    I guess the Lorekeeper was active again. Though he hadn’t made it known since we encountered the mages.

    “I don’t have a good answer for you but I’m not leaving him to die here,” I said. Funny, especially after witnessing what was essentially mass murder just a few hours ago. I was almost complicit in it. However, there was enough death for this night.

    Del didn’t reply. Troublesome, but I welcomed the silence. I had a life to save now.

    I could barely see even with torchlight but the glimmer of blood was present. The liquid was seeping through the bandage. This wasn’t good. The way he tied the bandage was doing nothing to stem it, and I doubted the physical exertion from the walk had helped. I reached into my belt to grab my last cloth roll.

    My hand moved towards the wound. He weakly tried to slap it away.

    “I can either help you or leave you here to die,” I said. “Which will it be?”

    Knives didn’t respond, but his land limped down to the ground.

    “I’m going to have to control the bleeding,” I said. “I only have a wad of cloth left but I’ll need something to wrap it off. I’m going to need some more fabric.” I reached for his shawl.

    He tried to push my hand away.

    “Do you want to live or die?” I said. “I don’t care what you look like under there.”

    He dropped his hand, slowly. I couldn’t tell if that was a yes or if he was too weak to resist.

    I carefully unwrapped the shawl, revealing a young face and long hair tied into a bun. I recognized the sharp pointed ears anywhere. An elf, a female elf at that. She looked barely older than those Dalish I met weeks ago, probably the same age as that girl I met on the streets this afternoon.

    Well, at least I knew why she kept himself wrapped up. Something told me an armed elf wouldn’t be treated too kindly out in public. Especially one dabbling in mercenary work.

    I had questions but they could wait until later. I had to focus on the task at hand. I unsheathed my sword and cut the cloth in half lengthwise. I removed the bandage and layered it until it became something akin to a pad.

    I pressed the pad against the wound. She gasped. I lifted her back with a hand to make space as I wrapped the torn shawl over the pad and around her. After several rotations, I tied it down over the makeshift dressing, keeping pressure on the wound. That should keep the bleeding down.

    Sweat trickled down her brow and her head tilted to the side.

    “Hey!” I said, tapping her cheek. “I need you to stay awake.”

    It was futile. Her breathing was getting shallower by the second. She was going into shock. There was nothing more I could do out in the grass. She needed better care.

    I entertained the idea of trying a healing seal, before shutting it off. It hadn’t worked back then and it probably wouldn’t work now. Calling upon the light right in the middle of the plains would just alert everyone to my existence.

    I didn’t know how healing worked in this world either, nor did I know where to find one. Maybe she did.

    “I need you to talk,” I said. “If you go to sleep here, you’ll never wake up. You have family in the city? Someone I can reach to?”

    “Ta..”

    “Ta?” I walked toward the city.

    “Tabris…”

    “Alright Tabris. I can’t do much but where should I take you?”

    Her head drooped down and she fell unconscious, dashing my hopes.

    Still, there was still another option. It was going to come at a cost though. No matter. A life was worth it.

    I turned around, lifted her onto my back, and rushed toward the city.