I groaned as I slowly opened my eyes. Why is my vision so blurry? Everything hurts. Please tell me it didn’t happen again.

I tried to reach up to my face. The seemingly simple action felt as though it ignited a roaring fire in my arm and I cried out.

“Diane! Lay still! You are seriously hurt. Stop trying to push yourself.”

Thistleman stood beside my bed, his face was creased with worry. Behind him, Emily was laid out on a hay mattress, covered in bandages.

Ryme and Jotuun were also asleep in the corner, their clothes covered in our blood, and there was a pile of bloody bandages piled next to them.

My eyes began to feel heavy again, as my labored breathing eased slightly.

Thistleman’s eyes never left mine as I drifted back to sleep. Slowly he kneeled by my bed, crossed his arms, and rested his chin on them. Even though his face still showed concern, his eyes hardened, boiling with rage.

Everyone, I lost everyone.

Tears rolled down Emily’s cheeks.

Why am I the only one who got to live?

Emily couldn’t forget the sight of those huge, brutish creatures barreling towards her and the faces of her friends turned pale in fear.

“Still not saying anything, huh?” Thistleman said as he entered the room with a tray of food. Emily tried to hide her face deeper under the covers, with only her eyes peeping slightly out.

Thistleman popped a squat right next to her as he stared unblinkingly.

What is he doing?

“If you wanna stay a mute forever, that’s your business. As far as I am concerned, you are beyond useless, practically sacrificing yourself to save people who were too stupid to listen to you. If it were up to me, I would have left you to die.”

Emily tried to swallow, her throat quickly turning dry. Thistleman’s eyes radiated a cold, emotionless calculation, and her body trembled in response as if she was chilled to the bone.

“I am curious though, why did you do it? What about them made you willing to step into an ogre’s path?”

Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes and her face flushed with anger as his words wormed their way through her mind.

“Fine. Keep your silence.” Thistleman stopped at the doorway, before looking back over his shoulder with a slight smile. “Just remember, Diane told me to grab you, so you pretty much owe her your life. No dying until you pay her back, or else I will make sure you suffer!”

In her silence, Emily had found a new pastime to occupy her, and that was loathing Thistleman. For now, at the very least, she had forgotten some of the despair which had been plaguing her.

As Diane recovered, she began to go on quests again and, soon, she was starting to hone and master her skills. Every day she would read through her book. In it, she could feel immeasurable knowledge and power.

“Is she back again from another quest? Goodness me! She is covered with blood.”

“What did she kill this time? I heard she went after a small goblin raiding party…”

“Look out, she is coming through! It’s that bloody girl. What is her problem? She’s got this wild, obsessive look on her face.”

“Another quest? Again? Doesn’t she take a break?”

“Why does that boy keep following that monster girl around. Do you think he’s like her too?”

“This is new. Looks like she is dragging another girl along with her.”

“There they go again. That poor girl looks so scared next to that little devil! And yet they are always traveling around together. I hope nothing happens to her.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Emily was taking a bath when her relaxation was interrupted by a capricious laugh.

“Teeehehehe, Emmmmm! Oh dear Eeemmmily! I need your help, Big Sis!”

Emily’s eyes affixed themselves in terror to the door of the bathroom. She promptly pulled her hat lower and tried to sink deeper into the water, as a feeling of dread permeated her bones.

Footsteps echoed down the hall….

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow passed the doorframe as Diane’s calls grew distant again. After a minute of silence, Emily breathed a sigh of relief.

Click.

The window above her bath flew open. Emily shrieked, certainly not for the last time.

That was the first time Diane ‘abducted’ Emily for training. From there, it only got more demanding, as Emily rapidly learned the terror of an ten year old child with a tad too much power…

And at first, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t get herself to speak a single word of complaint.

She got abducted:

When she was eating.

When she was shopping.

On a nice, quiet date.

Going for a walk.

Getting abducted by bandits… just to get abducted by Diane again.

Days blended into weeks, and the weeks blended into months, through winter and into spring. No less than once a week, Diane would return from a quest covered in some creature or other’s blood. Several times a week she would she drag Emily on a quest with her and Thistleman.

Not that Emily could go anywhere even if she wanted to. The few times she tried to sneak out, Thistleman and Clover always happened to wander in to block the doorway. She couldn’t handle his cold stare. Then there was Diane, she had a supernatural sense for finding her any time she had managed to get alone time outside.

Lastly, there was Rhyme and Jotuun. How such sweet creatures as them wound up sheltering those two, she could not figure out. But at least they made her food, and tended to her nicely and didn’t take advantage of her silence.

People also began to take notice that the orphaned children that once roamed the streets were slowly disappearing, even as the war to the west raged on and families were destroyed. Soon, stories of Diane began to circulate as though she was the boogeyman.

“Listen to me good here, Bjorn! I know you have seen that little she-devil running around here, always coming back late at night and covered in blood. Do you know where she gets it from? Well I’ll tell ya, it’s from all the bad boys who don’t listen to their mothers! If you don’t start behaving, she will abduct you like those orphans and you will be just another blood splotch on her skirt!”

Around this time, there were also unconfirmed sightings of another little girl carrying an oversized scythe. Apparently, she stood on the rooftops of the buildings around the slums late at night. However, just as quickly as she was seen, she disappeared.

Soon, Diane’s new nickname spread across the kingdom. Tales of the Little She-Devil of Njord could no longer be suppressed. Tales that would bring the attention of many new eyes to the former Viking town.

The Year of Emperor Hirihito IV: 240

Mist Vale, Kingdom of Luthas

“You must not forget… you must never forget”

Amala tossed and turned restlessly in bed, her mind plagued by a vision she first had more than a month ago.

“Spare her life and send her north. More than just your freedom will depend on it.”

Amala shot up from her bed, her breathing wild and a cold sweat dousing her body and her sheets. She let out a small groan.

These damned nightmares. I should have never stopped to pray at Almalexia’s temple. The priest even said they hadn’t felt her inspiration in months, and now I appear to be cursed.

Her small room at the inn felt very constricting for a moment, but she was soon able to regain control of her breathing. At least the people here were surprisingly welcoming. She had been worried that the people here might be suspicious of her as an outsider, but as she spoke with the innkeeper and told them her story, their expressions changed from tense to relief. Even the other people in the town would smile and wave at her.

They were quite the pleasant elderly couple, I still can’t believe they let me get this room for free!

Amala allowed herself a smile as she looked out the darkened window, enjoying the sight of a nice fog bank rolling in over the town.

Shortly after the fog rolled in, Amala heard a soft knock at the door.

“Dearie, are you alright? May we come in?”

“Yes you may, it is quite alright.”

As the door swung open, all the hair on Amala’s arm stood on end, and her skin was covered in goosebumps.

Next to the little old innkeeper stood an extremely tall and thin old man, wearing a trench coat and dark leather clothing. He was wearing a bowler hat, which somehow felt like it contrasted his gaunt, pale face and cold, lifeless eyes.

“Ah, my Lady Amala, since I heard of your arrival in my small, quiet town, I have been… hungering to make your acquaintance. My name is Mobius, Mobius Strathclyde.”

Mobius strode across the room towards Amala’s bed. Her eyes went wide in fear. She was unable to open her mouth to let out a single sound. Her body trembled, but with a moment’s push with all of her will, she broke the gaze of Mobius and sprinted to the window… and then froze before attempting to leap out.

They’re all, every last one, in on it.

The entire town was standing around the inn, all of them with peaceful smiles plastered on their faces. All of them watching Amala’s window—the friendly shopkeeper who gave her an extra apple; the stable master who recommended the inn, and the craftsman who offered to clean and sharpen her sword for free.

“Now now, Lady Amala, where did you think you were trying to run off to? I really hate it when I have to give chase.”

This is it, then. All or nothing.

Amala reached into her pajamas and pulled out a hidden dagger, swiftly twisting around with a strike to Mobius’ throat… when she met his gaze again. Her body froze in place, unable to move.

“Ahhhh, but I do enjoy the feisty ones. I can make good use of you, even after I take my fill and dine.”

Amala felt a sharp pain in her neck, unable to move, unable to scream, her face frozen in pain and the surreal feeling of this silent, smiling town watching her… somehow, she kept remembering her dream.

image [https://i.imgur.com/IaOyePs.jpg]