Okay, this is it. Just like Momma taught me.

I take a deep breath, then pick up the centerpiece of my craft, a gigantic cerulean lily I had spotted on my way home. Utilizing my claws, I very carefully wrap the end of its stem just below the petals, forming it into a somewhat oval-shaped circlet, as I very carefully tie a knot. Then, once that’s done, I begin to coil the smaller flowers I had picked, all of them various shades of blue, around the base one’s stalk, and before long my masterpiece is complete. I hop up to my feet, finding a deep satisfaction filling me as I place the flower crown onto my head.

Feeling the meadow’s verdant blades of grass beneath my toes, I do a little spin, the slight updraft it creates lifting the grass-stained hem of my white dress upwards as it mirrors my spiral. When I shift my feet to stop my momentum, the skirt continues to move in spite of me, coming to rest once again near my knees once it finishes its own circulation. I skip forward, enjoying the sun on my skin, doing little spins and humming to myself as I listen to the sounds of Turi’s meadow around me.

Suddenly, a gust blows against my back, and I giggle as I reach up to prevent my painstakingly crafted headgear right where it is. My ears flap in the howling breeze, it’s indifferent roar drowning out everything else I might be able to hear. My eyes shoot to the left as the noise dies down a bit, where I see a familiar face in the distance pushing his cart towards the village center. I duck down, not really wanting to have my neighbor yell at me for lollygagging today.

I stay stiffly prone on the ground as the cart passes, only rising once the rumbling of the wooden transport is far into the distance. Glancing into the distance around me, I can’t help but widely grin as the truth becomes clear.

Today, Fiora is victorious!

I skip farther into the meadow, slowly making my way up the slowly steepening incline of the area’s large hill, where the meadow begins to shift into a small weald. I don’t go all the way up, though. Instead, once about halfway to the hilltop, I hear the sounds of a small waterfall in the distance, so I deviate from the trail to go towards it. A minute later, I find myself stepping out into a shallow rocky streambed, water flowing southwards against my feet. Enjoying the feeling, I close my eyes, letting the distinct noise of the area flow into my ears.

Aside from the splashing of the waterfall, the tall grass behind me softly swishes in the wind, the leaves of a nearby tree rustling as well. A raven caws as it flies above me, landing upon a branch a bit away from me with a thunk. I feel its gaze on me, but I ignore it as I hone in on a more familiar, unmistakable noise. A beast running through the underbrush, uncaring of its presence being known. My heart begins to slam when I realize the noise is getting closer, far quicker then I am comfortable with.

My eyes shoot open, only to see a pale green panther rush out of the bushes, immediately pouncing towards me when it catches sight of me. I yelp, ducking down as I attempt to move my feet like Pop had been teaching me, but I flub it. I slip, inadvertently dodging my assailant as I crash into the wet cobble. A chortle comes from behind a nearby tree as I sit up, grimacing at my soaked dress.

My father steps out, proudly walking over to loom above me, his hands on his hips.

“Well, Miss Fiora, looks like you took a little tumble.” He leans down, picking me up into his arms as he pokes my cheek. “A little birdy told me you were off exploring again, made your mother worried sick.”

I immediately puff my cheeks, bonking my head into Pop’s chest. Stupid Justin. I’d get him back for this. My dad gives me a wink, then whistles to his familiar as we begin our stroll back home. The devious panther, Summa, purrs as she rubs up against his legs.

“I get your desire to chart the area mentally, Fiora, I do,” Pop mutters as we step into the tall grass, “However it may seem to you, this area is dangerous. What would we do if a Fae-Beast found you?”

I sigh, reaching up to poke at my dad’s ears. Humans are weird, I don’t get how they… function without the stuff I’m so used to.

“Well, regardless of that, I see you finished the crown this time!” He reaches up to touch my art, and I give my best menacing growl to get him to stop. Pop snorts, but does thankfully retreat his fingers. “Okay then, Vicious, I won’t touch. At least let your Momma see it, will you?”

I nod enthusiastically, giving Pop my best smile. He shakes his head, then whoops as he suddenly jumps a few feet to the right. A gigantic dark green bear lumbers across where we had just been towards the stream, seemingly entirely uncaring to our presence. I glance up at my father to see him a bit pale, sweat running down his brow.

“Fiora, that bear,” He quietly mutters, very, very slowly backing away, “Is a Fae-Beast. That’s why you can’t just come here. If I had been a bit later…”

Pop shivers, shaking his head. “Not worth imagining. Let’s get home, Fiora.”

As he begins to run, I don’t give a response, as I’m caught up in staring back over my Dad’s shoulder at the lumbering Fae-Beast. It raises a paw, several inch long pitch black claws on their edge, then swings it down at a tree. It snaps like a twig, and the bear picks up the tree, which it begins to use as a backscratcher. I almost giggle at the thing’s antics, but stop myself when I remember that it could probably hear as well as I could.

It doesn’t take Pop long to get near the bottom of the hill, but the sun still ends up low by the time our little cottage comes into view. I glance out onto the waves of gold across from it, wondering if the stalks of wheat would shine in the sunset if I stared for long enough. I stick out my tongue when I see Justin wave at us from out in the field, seemingly already having returned from his trip into the village. Stupid farmer tattletale.

Clicking the little gate to our home open, we walk into the small front yard where I’ve spent so much time. Technically, since Momma can’t leave home, I’m supposed to stay here, but it’s just so BORING. It’s not hard to leave either, Pop even taught me himself how to vault over the stone fence! It’s obviously his fault, not mine. Wait, no, that doesn’t exactly-

My train of thought is interrupted as a divine odor flows into my nostrils, and I have to reach up to hide my mouth as I feel a bit of saliva collect. My face heats up a bit as Pop winks at me, chuckling at my reaction to the smell. Like, but who can blame me! Mom’s roast beef is to die for!

Pop puts his hand on the doorknob, twisting it as he yells, “Jesse, we’re home!” The large oak door opens to reveal-

“Fuck.”

That I’m not in Turi; Not anymore, nor likely ever again.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I groan, reaching up to wipe the dream out of my eyes as I take a few moments to simply… process. I apparently had fallen asleep at my desk, a habit I am developing that I really need to break. I put a bed in here for a reason, gods dammit. I glance down at the papers I had been working on, finding them completely finished despite my unintentional nap. Had I really been so tired that I immediately crashed when my work was done?

No, wait.

I reach over, picking up the item I had left inside the dry ink well I had completely emptied last night. Or well, nearly completely emptied apparently. I gingerly lift the incomplete white paper rose, glancing at its delightful imperfections, including the black ink stain upon its stem. Regret begins to rise in my chest as I look at the failed folds, so I simply toss it into the small box I had begun to gather my attempts in.

I could never seem to get it as good as she always did. Maybe that’s for the better.

I push my chair backwards, grabbing my cane with my left hand, it's simple brass handle cold against my skin, then hobble over to the window, then hesitantly push back the curtains. I wince at the morning light entering my eyes, revealing the bustling streets of New Ochre. A boy stands down on the street corner, waving a newspaper in the air above his head as he hawks them to the public around him. An ornate carriage almost runs him down, but an armored man with a absurdly large sword on his back manages to swoop in, pulling the child out of the way.

I roll my eyes, letting the curtains fall back into place. Seems to be a normal day. I walk back to my desk, grabbing the substantial stack of papers into my free hand. I take a deep breath, then walk to my office door to step out into the hall of the building. I, as hastily as a woman who needs a cane to walk can, rush towards the closest flight of stairs. When I turn the corner that leads to them though, I inwardly grimace at the tall, pompous man strutting towards me. He proudly wears a wide variety of medals, most of which I have no idea of what they indicate, upon the breast of his royal guard uniform.

{“Oh, if it isn’t Fiora!”} The irritating man, Kellan, gives me a condescending bow, then brings his hand to his chin. {“You seem even more tired than normal, Madam. Perhaps I can take a load off of you?”}

“No thanks.” I mutter, then attempt to step past the man. Unfortunately, he moves back to force the conversation to continue.

{“Now, that’s a bit rude.} Kellan gives a fake pout as he places his hand over his heart. {“Let a man do his duties, I’m sure your investigation into the party has hit a wall, somewhere or another.”}

Reaching out with my cane, I gently push him aside. “No.”

He grins, walking backwards as he speaks. {“Did you perhaps get an interview with the victim’s wife? Maybe his brother? Oh! Was it a cheating thing!? How scandalous!”}

I pause and consider hitting the fool, but shake my head as I decide against it. Hitting a future grand duke was a good way to not have a life anymore. Thank you, Teacher Bianca, for that bit of wisdom. I grunt, then begin to slowly make my way up the stairs, Kellan casually going up while facing the wrong way.

{“Really, though. Give me something to work with here.”} As we reach the turn in the stairs, the man stops, putting his hand on his hip. {“I need to tell something about all this to my Uncle, so he doesn’t just hang the two of them. I can’t just let a Duke and my friend just die!”}

Rolling my eyes, I reach out, (gently) slamming the papers into Kellans chest. Flustered, he takes them and lifts them up, his eyes going wide at the documents half covering his face. He probably says something, but considering I can’t see his lips, I consider it irrelevant. Asking him to repeat himself would be indignant for me.

As Kellan rattles off the contents of my night’s work to no one, I raise an eyebrow as I begin to smell a distinct yet faint almond smell, then walk over to the second half of the stairs. I begin to head up towards the scent, leaving Kellan with the papers. It’s as I crest the top of the stairs the fragrances become more clear allowing me to realize what is actually going on.

Cautiously, I pick my walking aid up, limping towards the place I had originally been going to in the first place. When I reach a turn in the hallway, press a button in the handle of my cane, slightly displacing it from the rest of the tool. I take a deep breath, then rush around the corner, allowing the rod to fall away.

My blade sinks halfway into an unprepared black garbed man’s neck, his face twisted in confusion behind a mask. The three other assassins, who were gathered at the edge of the guard captain’s door, look up at me in shock as they draw their weapons.

I don’t pause to appreciate the view.

I pull my saber free from its prison, raining crimson all over the ornate purple velvet they had decided to use for this damn floor’s hallways. I pity the maids who work here, but… that’s what they get for working for royalty.

What I get. Definitely shouldn’t have taken this job.

I channel the entirety of my tiny pool of mana into my good leg, then take what feels like only a single step forward. I fly through the air, slashing out in a wide arc, cutting deep into the closest one’s chest. As he stumbles back, a deep red stain swiftly growing on his shirt, the other two assailants rush at me. The larger of the two, one his daggers in a reverse grip, slashes out at me with the reversed blade while the other looms behind to stab me. I don’t panic, hopping backwards as I twirl my saber upwards, but grimace as I immediately find the difference in our strength is rather immense when our blades cross.

Thankfully, I’m not alone, and a transparent shield of radiant light blocks the man’s second dagger from entering my stomach. Kellan uses his magic to safely pull me back a few feet, then step in between me and the assassins. Holding his sword up slightly above his head, Kellan points a hand filled with golden light up at our opponents. I take a (slightly) shaken breath as I regain my footing, looking up to see that final assassin staring at me with uncomfortably serpentine eyes.

I stumble backwards as they suddenly appear in a puff of smoke right above me, one of their Katars aimed directly at my neck. I somehow manage to catch myself before they follow up on that blow, a rather beautiful spinning kick that slams into my midsection. I grunt in pain as I go flying into the wall, only to barely dodge a second attempt at impaling me. I let myself fall to the right as they began their next punch, swinging my saber upwards in an perhaps vain attempt to catch them off guard. Surprisingly, it works, at least somewhat. They manage to almost completely sidestep the attack, but in the process they accidently let their sleeve be slightly cut.

I pale at the sight of the tattoo on their arm, which they immediately cover up with one of their hands as they take a step back away from me. Their sharp, slit eyes are filled with confusion behind their mask, and I immediately know that I am correct in the assumption I had made.

I shakily use my blade to stand, watching as the assassin takes another step back, shaking their head. Before I get a chance to do or say anything else though, a fist of golden light slams the assassin into the ground. Kellan steps forward, a sinister grin on his face, as he raises his blade up above his head, preparing a strike.

My blood runs cold, and I impulsively do something I really shouldn’t do.

I forcibly gather the residual mana from that attack into me, allowing me to rush forward one more time. I swing my sword up, parrying the grand duke’s heir’s blade off of its fatal course. Kellan looks at me with a raised eyebrow, cautiously keeping his blade drawn.

{“Why? I could have sworn you didn’t have-”}

Before Kellan can finish speaking, the Assassin kicks Kellan’s knee, then teleports in a puff of smoke to a window. Their eyes pierce into me one more time before they jump out, dropping down to the ground. I hobbled over, desperately looking out over the large crowd that was now moving around the capital streets. I bite my lower lip, that tattoo running through my mind once again.

It was an incredibly unique image, a gauntlet clenched into a fist, a golden horseshoe just below its knuckles. As far as I know, there were only five people that had one exactly like it; and four of them were definitely permanently dead. Which leaves one option.

Where have you been, Lissa? Why haven’t you come for me?

Why- Why did you leave me alone?

I clench my fist, then sniff the air, once again picking up on that faint almond scent. I grind my teeth, limping over to the bottom half of my cane. Kellan puts a hand on my shoulder, which I shake off without even looking back to see if he is speaking. I lean down, sheathing my blade once more. There is nothing that is going to stop me.

I would find her, and get answers.