A snowstorm raged silently against Brimstone’s invisible barrier which guarded the Archcity from the biting cold.

Despite the storm outside, the streets were deathly quiet.

Shiver heard an unfamiliar man’s voice as she approached the orphanage door. It sounded nothing like Dag. It had a nasal quality to it, carrying the arrogance of nobility.

There was no sign of Dag or any of his thugs. Shiver took the young orphan by the shoulders, whispering over the dull howls of the snowstorm outside the city.

‘Wait here Dusty. Something’s wrong.’

Peeking through the door, Shiver stared into the dark orphanage. She noticed it was empty, but for two figures.

Blaze, on the floor and a man that towered over her.

It took all of her willpower to stop herself from rushing to intervene immediately, taking stock of the situation instead.

Blaze had a split lip, and the beginnings of a bruise over her right eye. Yet despite her sorry state, she looked up at the figure without fear.

That’s my firefly.

However, Shiver’s brief sense of pride was quickly replaced by worry when the figure crouched over her.

‘So, you were the little rascal that dared to steal from me. Can you even begin to comprehend the embarrassment you’ve caused me?’

[Vines of the flickerroot]

Shiver recoiled in shock, just barely concealing her gasp. As the man uttered those words, she felt a brief flash of Fear. Not because he currently held Blaze suspended in the orphanage, at his mercy.

But a Fear towards plants. She felt a sensation of roots spreading within her, inching their way through veins and arteries. Then in a moment, the sensation disappeared.

It felt akin to her a Fear of ice. The words he uttered held power within them, the elf’s Fear made manifest.

Fearshaper. A lord.

Innumerable vines sprouted from the floorboards of the orphanage in an instant, encircling Blaze’s limbs. The girl let out a yelp, her eyes widening in fear as the vines carried her higher.

Shiver wasted no time. She moved silently, taking advantage of the man’s preoccupation with his tirade – a sickly gleam in his eyes.

‘You haven’t paid for your crimes, girl. A thief? Let me strip you of your skin-‘

Shiver twisted her torso, winding up for a kick, which lashed out squarely across the man’s right knee. His leg bent at an unnatural angle with a snap, immediately followed by his screams which Shiver immediately muffled by stuffing his cloak in his mouth. Before he could react, Shiver grabbed onto his head, and used his momentum to slam him to the ground as he lost his balance.

The vines holding Blaze flickered out of existence and Blaze fell to the ground in a small thump. She rose, rubbing at her elbow, that had come in contact with the ground.

‘Run! You know where.’

‘B-‘

‘NOW!’

The man seemed dazed from Shiver’s surprise assault, but he locked eyes with her. Taking in his features for the first time, it was undoubtedly the man that Blaze had pickpocketed the night before.

‘Wh-what are-‘

Shiver drove her foot into his broken knee with all of the force and weight she could muster, repeatedly slamming it into the floorboards below. Then she drove her fist into his face, her hands becoming slick his blood as his nose gave way.

Orphans didn’t fight fair.

The man’s screams redoubled, until his head lolled back, passing out from the pain. Shiver cursed, fully appreciating the gravity of her actions.

The man was a lord.

The ability to command plants was the signature ability of Fearshapers of House Flora. She was in trouble. Lots of it. She tried to focus. The orphanage was quiet – Mother Ventra had likely been ordered or coerced to take the children elsewhere. She might have been a Tranquility addict but she cared for charges. If she had endangered Blaze, there would be hell to pay.

Shiver ran to Blaze’s bed, finding her belongings splayed out on her bed. They had clearly been searched. So had Blaze’s little hidey hole where she had stashed the man’s purse.

Scooping up whatever was left of Vale’s belongings, she ran out of the orphanage calling to Dusty, leaving the injured and disfigured lord in her wake.

---

She found Blaze and Vale at Marta and Pov’s residence. Marta was nursing Blaze’s wounds when Shiver burst into the house.

‘Shiver!’

Little Blaze was the first to cry out, tearing away from Marta to envelop her in a hug. She was crying, no doubt unhappy to have involved the older orphan. Shiver shushed her gently, trying to calm her down.

‘What happened firefly?’

‘I’m s-sorry Shiver. He came alone. He forced Mother Ventra and the others to leave. When she refused, he hit her. He said he would do it again if the person that took his pouch didn’t own up to it. Then he hit her again.’

She looked just about ready to burst into tears again.

‘She fell to the ground and… I confessed.’

Shiver gave her a quick squeeze, looking to the others. Pov had a frown on his face, and he was pacing back and forth. Marta gently attempted to separate Blaze from Shiver to resume her treatment. Vale was staring at Shiver with a look of horror. Looking down, she noticed that her hands were covered in the lord’s blood.

That would do it. I practically smashed his head in.

Shiver looked at Pov, whose forehead was creased in concentration.

‘He was a lord. House Flora.’

He nodded decisively.

‘Shiver, you need to leave the city for a couple of days, at least until things calm down. He may be a foreign lord but a slight to his ego from an orphan isn’t something he would forget lightly. Take Vale with you and some food, lay low. Blaze needs treatment and it’s best she stays with us for the time being. Marta, head over to the others. Bring the food.’

Blaze protested.

‘No! I’m going with Shiv-‘

Marta interceded, laying a palm on Blaze’s head gently. She spoke kindly but firmly, in a way that had prevailed over a younger, and even more rebellious Shiver.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘Little one, you’re terribly hurt. I know you’re a brave, capable girl, but if you follow them out of the city you’ll be more of a burden than a help. You’ll be staying with me for a while, ok?’

Tears streamed down Blaze’s face.

‘I’m s-sor-‘

Shiver spoke with similar kindness and firmness.

‘Blaze. You have nothing to apologise for. I’m proud of you for owning up, even when it was scary. If you hadn’t, who knows what the lord would have done.’

Looking at Blaze more closely, she realised that her injuries were more extensive than she had initially thought. A purple bruise spread around Blaze’s eye, and a deep gash ran down the side of her head. It would likely leave a scar. Shiver felt a deep pang of guilt.

And rage at the lord for what he had done to her.

‘If anything… It was my fault for teaching you how to steal.’

Pov interceded before Shiver could self-mutilate herself with the guilt that had been building since she had glimpsed Blaze at the feet of that lord.

‘And if you had not done so, then both of you would have starved long ago. Orphans need to survive by any means they can, I would know. That Fearshaper was a chickenheart for beating Blaze within an inch of her life. If you hadn’t stopped him, Blaze might not have made it.’

His conviction only doubled her guilt. Dread washed over her like ice as she realized, she had gotten Pov and Marta involved.

Again.

Shiver gripped Pov’s shoulders.

‘Both of you, leave this to me. Don’t intervene, it’ll only put you at ris-‘

‘Hush Shiver.’

She turned helplessly to Marta.

‘Please Marta.’

Marta just shook her head with her frustratingly familiar smile. Her shoulders shrunk. She knew them, where they could help, they did. It was what they had done for her.

Pov turned to Vale.

‘Vale you need to leave the city with Shiver. I’ll link up with you in a few days, until then, stay in that “mansion” of hers.’

Pov shot Shiver a wink, an attempt at levity that Shiver did not have the presence of mind to appreciate.

Shiver schooled her expression. Saluting with an easy grin, a difficult lie, she grabbed Vale by the arm.

‘You got it boss! Take care, little firefly. No sad excuse for a lord is going to catch me. I’ll see you in a few days Pov, bring the popsicles.’

Shiver grabbed a bundle of food that Marta thrust into her hands. She turned abruptly and stalked out of the house, dragging Vale with her, the girl letting out a yelp.

It was her fault they were in this mess. She had put them at risk again.

So, she was going to fix it.

Herself.

---

House Flora. The “Providers”.

An illustrious title given to the noble family that fed every elven city. He was one of the sons of the legendary Highlady Solastra Flora - the Kindly Gardener. His mother’s Fearshaping gave their House unsurpassed control over all sorts of plants and vegetation.

And yet, Lord Semille Flora lay bleeding on the floor of an orphanage, foiled by filthy orphans.

Not only had he dealt with the embarrassment of facing Highlord Berevan empty-handed, his delivery stolen.

When he had tried to obtain justice, that Fear-damned orphan girl broke his nose, making him pass out in his own piss.

‘My lord.’

Lord Semille’s “faithful” knights of the Dreadwood knelt before him, silent and ashamed. He couldn’t see their faces – their impermeable visors guarded them from his scrutiny. Their armour were relics of House Flora granted to only their finest, made of brown writhing root and vine, restless for blood.

An impressive sight. As a young lord he had longed to be granted his own.

Yet the armour that enshrouded him did not belong to him. His mother, in all of her profound wisdom, had not judged him as worthy. The armour belonged to one of his knights, and as the roots and vines encircled him, he felt his wounds close at an incredible rate, his vitality returning to him.

Had he completed the delivery successfully, his grandmother would have had no basis to refuse the grant of his own armour. He was a Fearshaper, Feardammit. Yet even with all of his authority and power, he had failed to enact vengeance on the dirty orphan that had caused this inconvenience.

No matter that he had beat her from an inch of her life, it was a pity that the inch remained.

Lord Semille sneered at his entourage.

‘Doing your job exceptionally well, gentlemen. First, you allow an orphan to take off with House Flora’s delivery. Then, you abandon me, leaving me to be savagely beaten by the assailants who overwhelmed me. Ruining my chances of becoming a Knight of the Dreadwood. You are a shame on the name of my House.’

‘We beg your forgiveness my lord. Had you informed us that you had departed to retrieve the package-‘

‘Enough.’

Semile stood, brushing himself off, as if his dignity wasn’t leaking from his trousers.

Shiver would have been impressed with his sheer disregard for accountability.

He ignored the Brimstone butler that attended them, Silas was like a leech that he couldn’t shake, and he had arrived at the first sign of commotion. He silently watched Lord Semille, judging him, no doubt eager to return to his Highlord to share the scene with him.

The thought only served to infuriate Semille further.

He turned to the one man he could trust.

‘It looks like I will have to rely on more competent and reliable people than you to hold my assailants accountable.’

The thug Dag shot him a smile, cutting through the dark like a half-moon.

Dag was all bark. Everyone worth their salt knew that it was the dogs that never uttered a sound that you watched out for. But he was a useful tool, and he surprisingly saw eye-to-eye with the lord. No matter that he had attempted to rob him, talent appeared in the most unexpected of places.

‘Of course, milord, we just so ‘appened to witness where the problematic orphans absconded to. They sought refuge at the Trobid’s – Marta, a giantess of a woman, and Poverty, her husband – a lower circle merchant.’

He nodded.

‘They’re sympathetic to the dirty lass responsible for your injuries. Shiver is her name.’

Dag’s smile gleamed in the glow of the lavaways, as her turned to Lord Semille and his entourage.

‘Worry not milord, leave it to us to hold them accountable.’

The thug looked at his knights with a sad expression, pitying them for their supposed failure.

Semille returned a vicious smile.

‘No, no. Where would be the fun in that? Get the girl. Then we’ll hold them to account for their crimes, together. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun, gentlemen.’

Dag beamed, falling into a sweeping bow.

This was a man you could depend on.

---

Snow fell in droves. The gale howled outside the city boundaries, and two elven girls covered their faces as they fought against the snowstorm. It was ironic that it was the snow and the cold – the objects of her Fear – that saved Shiver from any snarky comments that Vale saw fit to make.

Every time the girl opened her mouth, she was met with a mouthful of snow that left her spluttering.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached her “mansion”. The familiar dark cave, bereft of all possessions but the barest of necessities. In their rush from the city, she hadn’t thought to ask Marta for an extra sleeping roll for Vale.

Fortunately for her, she wouldn’t need it.

‘A-ah I s-see, is this your home, S-shiver? It is… compact. Traps the h-heat better, right?’

Vale made a genuine attempt to find something to compliment, despite her shivering.

Shiver just sighed, though she appreciated the girl’s attempt. Maybe that uppity lady did have the capacity for empathy – not that she was one to judge after the grueling day Shiver had put her through.

‘L-lovely, lovely. Could you kindly point me in the direction of my c-cave?’

‘W-what? Your Cave?’

The girl glanced at her uncertainly, her lavender eyes wide.

‘Was that your attempt at humour?’

She shuffled uncomfortably.

‘Oh, come now, it wasn’t that bad…’

Shiver let out a snort.

‘Haa… that was a good one. You’re not that terrible, my lady.’

High praise, coming from her. Shiver motioned to the sleeping roll.

‘Help yourself to my luxurious, warm bed. There are still a couple of things I need to settle. I’ll join you later.’

The girl nodded tiredly, slipping into the bedroll with a yawn. She shot Shiver a pained smile, a look that was hard to unpack.

‘Hey Shiver.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks.’

‘What for?’

‘I’m glad we did something for Marta and Pov, they’re good people.’

Vale looked like she was hesitating, as if she had more to say. Eventually though, she turned away, curling up into a ball in an attempt to ward off the cold.

Not so bad after all.