“What did you do?!” Ernard yelled.

“Emergency banishing, wouldn’t have been necessary if you used your head before opening your mouth. ‘I’ll never forget you’, what's that supposed to mean to someone who’s still alive?!”

“I was- I was saying goodbye.“

“goodbye forever! Did you even think how she might interpret that?!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You almost made her realize she was dead, the thing I told you most specifically not to do!”

“She’s my- she was my daughter, she deserves-“

“-she’s dead, there's not a single thing more you can do for her. These rituals are for the people on this side, not the other. Nothing you can say to her will matter after she departs.”

“She won't remember?”

“No, she barely remembered the first calling and that was only because the second was so soon after.”

I usually keep that part to myself but perhaps I should make it another rule to avoid this happening again.

Ernard looked crushed.

“Ahem… I hope you realise I put my neck on the line calling her a second time, I seem to remember you saying something about extra pay?”

Ernard looked downwards, I didn’t really believe he had the funds to pay me anything more than he already had.

“alright…”

He went into a side room and came back with a piece of paper.

“here. This is the last thing I have.” He passed it to me.

The deed to the house.

“yeah right, what am I going to do with this?! Ask everyone I walk past if they want to buy a mouldy old shack in some backwater village no ones ever heard of?”

He looked personally offended.

“It’s worth something-“

“-it’s not even worth the effort! Do I look like a saleswoman to you? Would you buy a house from a Satalan Magier with a skull painted on her face?”

“I don’t-“

“-No? I sure as crux know I wouldn’t!”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“w-what else do you want?”

A thought crossed my mind, there was something he could offer me, something he might even be hopeless and fearful enough to give me willingly.

I could tell from the way his expression melted that he had drawn a similar conclusion from my stare.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tempting, how often do I have the opportunity to work with fresh materials…

“Forget it.” I shrugged.

“huh?”

“trying to squeeze anything more out of you would be more time and suffering than anything you could possibly have left.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He said, as if trying to conceal his alleviation.

“Yes, well, I should have known better. This concludes our business, I’d tell you to recommend me, but I don’t think there's any point now.”

Ernard said nothing.

I packed up my tools and made my way to the exit.

“Where are you going now?”

“I’m going to stay at the tavern.”

“I could put up a bed for you here.” Ernard offered, quietly.

“It might be a bit musty but...“ he added quickly, likely hoping to dissuade me.

“No, I rather think you need some time to yourself.”

I’d rather sleep in a muddy pothole than spend the night here.

“I see.” He barely hid his relief. “Well, goodbye… thank you…”

It was very clear to me that he didn’t mean it.

I took the pain of his exasperation, the pain of his unknowing and simply exchanged it for pain of another kind.

Old wounds are sealed as fresh ones are torn elsewhere.

He’s just a few gold teeth lighter.

“Farewell Ernard, I’d wish you the best, but it wouldn't make a difference.” I opened the door to leave but he spoke again.

“You’re wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?” I turned to face him.

“There is something I can do for her.”

Oh boy…

“If you’re going to tell me you plan to track down her killer, let me tell you right now, don’t even bother.”

“but I-“

“No, it’s hopeless, that happened months ago and you don’t have so much as a single lead on who that even could have been.”

“I-I don’t care, I’ll find them anyway.” Ernard stammered, I could tell he meant it, regardless of how incapable he knew himself to be.

I sighed.

“…fine, clearly I can’t tell you what to do, if you want to spend the rest of your life chasing shadows go ahead, you won't be the first.”

I gave him a half hearted wave and departed from his home.

Perhaps this is better than the alternative, what would he have done without his daughter anyway? Probably go and kiss the void if I had to guess… at least he has a purpose now, even if it is a phantom’s pipe dream.

A hopeless crusade of vengeful justice, at least it's better than dying.

It was still drizzling outside but I found myself too distracted to care.

That could have gone a lot better, but it could have gone a lot worse.

Bitterness, melancholy and regret, this is the typical outcome of my rituals.

Only in a precious few of them did I make a genuinely positive change. More than that went horribly wrong…

This isn’t how I wanted it to be at all…

The name of the village tavern was ‘the drunken monk.’

Curiously the monk comically depicted on the sign wasn’t a Lorentian devout who were known for their brewing prowess and love of their drink, but a High Consort of Khalidhavra who were allegedly forbidden from even smiling.

Better hope those guys don't set their sights on this old place…