For only the second time this week, Amy Wachlund woke up to silence.

It wasn't quite complete silence, it never was near the forest, but it was a comforting respite away from what had become her 'normal' morning. How do those children never get bored of waking me up?

As she got up from her decently sized bed, she noted her creased clothing and decided to get changed into something more comfortable; a floral patterned summer dress, one of her more expensive clothing, paired with the same hat as yesterday. It was when she finished getting changed that she finally came to the most urgent issue in her mind. The books.

She was still undecided on whether to turn them in or not, but the most pertinent problem was hiding them in the first place. They had broken into her house before, even if they were, supposedly, 'harmless', and she didn't trust them not to snoop around. Discovering a grimoire of all things would be a major problem, not only for the village as a whole, but for when the government inevitably ended up finding out about it.

The Iyrtiran Empire has always been somewhat lenient with mundane people finding out about magic, especially nowadays, but an entire rural village who were previously not in the know discovering a grimoire in her home? That would get her into some trouble.

Amy grabbed the pair of books and carried them to her room and to her bedside table, kneeling down to it. She carefully slid her fingers across a side of one of the tablet legs, applying the slightest pressure possible. With a click, a small button in the leg indented inwards, unlocking the secret compartment underneath the table itself. Then, she pushed it in even further, the compartment popping out of the bottom and slamming onto the wooden floor. There were only a couple things she needed to hide in here, the desk supplied by her supervisor in light of the village's mundane status, that being a small blue metal bracelet and an almost comically thin leather-bound journal. However, after trying and failing to fit both of the books in, she decided to only keep the Mage's grimoire in there, keeping the other book in one of her other not-so-secret drawers, hoping they wouldn't disrespect her privacy so profusely.

Slightly more nervous than she had entered the day before, she headed out onto the path to the village. It was this long path that added an extra layer of isolation to her situation, and only empowered the rumours more when they began. Not to say that the rumours were wrong though...

As the path met the main road, even though Amy had her head down, watching the cobble path intently, she could begin to feel the stares through the back of her head. Pitying, scorning stares that told her exactly how they thought of the Witch. She rushed along faster than before when the number of people on the path picked up, hoping to get lost among the crowd, despite its sparseness, relative to the city at least. Though the village had a large population, it always felt too small to Amy. Cramped wooden buildings and rickety paths only added to that feeling, and the fact everyone seemed to know each other. Her first stop was the bakery, ran by an old couple who were always kind to her despite what happened. And, of course, the only reason they were kind was because they were in the know. If the reason for their kindness was out of fear or genuineness, she'd hadn't the heart to question.

The bakery was one of the first buildings she saw when she entered the village proper, a tiny cabin wedged that shot off from the owners' home, made surprisingly of stone. When Amy entered the small shop, the door bell ringing very loudly - likely for their old ears, it was Albert who saw to her this time, presenting some nice sourdoughs he had baked this morning, lining the front cabinets; the other breads would come later, but she preferred these ones. Passing over a couple copper chips, two loaves of seeded sourdough were hers, packed up in nice paper and twine which she tucked into her bag.

"Thank you for your purchase," Albert grinned, waving goodbye.

"Have a nice day!" Amy waved back as she left the shop, too afraid to look behind and inevitably watch his smile drop.

Her next stop was the newspaper stall, the easiest of her trip, her just needing to drop a tin pence in the tray and pick one up. She didn't even need to look the paperboy in the eyes this time when she did it! It was as she was making her way to the final, and most welcome, stop of her trip that she skimmed through the front page. The Iyrtiran Press was the only company able to reach this far out from the city, its government funding allowing it more coverage than even the richest city tabloids ended up having. However, it almost always ended up rinsed of all opinion beyond Iyrtiran support due to that same funding, making it a dry read. Even the most interesting story that she'd glanced at was about a new coal mine opening in the north, nothing like some of the things she'd seen in the tabloids. Amy could still remember the day when the head chancellor's affair was not-so-subtly revealed to the public. I don't think a single copy of the Press was sold that day thinking back on it. Everyone in the streets were reading the Bremin Gazette. Now that was an opinion piece.

Timing it well, Amy came to the laundry house just as she finished reading, tucking the paper back into her bag. As one of the busiest places in the village, it was also one of the biggest, towering over many of the surrounding businesses and a couple of the elders' homes. Anyone would be a fool if they did their own laundry versus letting Maria do them after all, and she was rich because of it. The young laundress washed and cleaned miraculously well and went through people's clothes in no time. Amy herself usually dropped them off in the morning and picked them up the next day, though that didn't end up happening yesterday due to the day's events.

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And, best of all, Maria liked her. Speaking with someone who liked her was a rarity and social interaction with anyone was more than welcome. I might be an introvert but I don't want to be lonely. I'll have to apologise to her for leaving my clothes late too.

Another bonus to picking her laundry up in the morning was that it was quieter, most of the village opting to pick it up later in the day. So when she stepped through into the building, it was just Maria in the back mixing soaps.

"Maria!" Amy shouted across the room.

"Oh- Amy!" Maria shouted back, a bit off-put after being interrupted, "Here to collect, are you?"

"Yeah, sorry I missed yesterday. I had some things to do."

"No problem, no problem, just give me a couple seconds and I'll be with you," Maria said, taking off her wash gloves and heading towards the back. Shortly after she came back with a small linen bag of her clean clothes, "Here you go-"

"I'm sorry I was just held back by a... job I had to do. It was an emergency, so I had to get it done quickly and ended up forgetting this."

"As I said, it's no problem." Maria smiled stiffly, pushing the bag over the counter, "As always, make sure to return with the bag on your next wash."

"Will do, Maria," Amy replied, not picking up on the mood, "How have you been doing lately?

"And," Amy said, her smile stretching into her best impression of her mother's, "If I remember rightly, you said you'd give that lumberjack a date to finally stop him from bothering you. How'd it go? Was he nice?"

"It was nice, Amy," Maria said, becoming a bit more relaxed, "But really, I've got a lot to get through and I'd rather get back to work as soon as I can. I'm going to be busy all week. We can catch up in a couple days if you want?"

"That's fine, then," Amy sighed, her mother's grin dropping, "Make sure to catch me up on all the details, okay?"

"Yes, yes, I will."

"Good. Here, right?"

"Yep, I always am."

"I'll see you then! Bye!"

"Bye, see you then!" Maria waved as Amy picked up her bag, stepping out the shop quickly to let her get on with things as soon as possible.

Shame that we couldn't speak as much as we usually do, Amy lamented, keeping her head down and navigating through the building hubbub, but at least it was a conversation. Better than what I have most of the time at least. And the way she looked the second I mentioned the lumberjack! She's definitely smitten with the way she talked about him last week. 'Annoyed' my ass, he was all she could talk about! Also, with how quick they are to marry around here, I might end up getting an invite if it goes well. That is if I stay long enough anyways... I can always come back if need be, but I doubt the books are enough to get me out of here. Nothing probably is. Damn bureaucrats and their-

"Get out of here, Witch!" A shrill man's voice cut through her thoughts, making her heard whip straight up. Her breath started to quicken as deep panic settled in.

It could be a store owner, kicking someone out. There's traders right? Maybe someone disrespectful came around, and I misheard what they were called? I've done that before with them so it could be an accent thing. Yeah, its-

It was as she turned around to the voice, pale, that her thoughts of denial were wiped away. Every head was turned towards hers, their eyes full of realisation, rage, and reproach. And, nestled in the back, was a tall, balding man in overalls, pointing a finger directly at her. When her wide eyes fell on that man's father, guilt welled up inside her as the first tears began to build. She was back in that horrible moment, the one she always revisited, the one where she begged herself to do something different, to do anything than what she did. It only took an instant for it all to become too much, as she responded in the way she always had when dealing with stress; running away.

Their gazes followed - their gazes followed - Amy as she sprinted through the parting morning crowd, bumping into and shoving her way through. Her head firmly down and tears dripping down, it took, yet again, everything in her not to break down before she reached her home. The worst thing, Amy realised as she ran, weren't the angry ones. They were always there, and she learned to deal with them quickly. Pity was one of the worst, yes, but it was the ignorant that hurt the most; the ones who would be told the lies, the truth. Fewer in number than the beginning, yes, but the ignorant were always there whenever an incident happened. So they would inevitably ask about the commotion and learn who the Witch truly was. Traders would gossip, telling other merchants of the cruel herbalist to avoid; the isolated would ruminate, judging her every move as they watched from afar; and the connected who somehow didn't know yet would spread it further than Amy ever could.

It was so damned unfair. Amy knew she had done something wrong. Amy knew she deserved it. Yet that never stopped the sadness, the jealousy, the anger, at them all. Guilt fed the vicious cycle further, as her indignity was squashed, replaced by shame. How dare she feel this way? She deserved it, didn't she? Don't I? It was my fault. It was my fault. I did it! I was the one who-

Tripping on the step to her house, she fell onto her door, pain lancing through her stomach as the handle dug in, disrupting her sorrow. Although Amy was in supreme hurt, she was almost thankful for it, stopping her before she fell into another depression. Not to say I won't, Amy grumbled, entering her home, but it's a distraction. Lord knows I need one...

Hanging onto the last thought, her mind went to the one thing that had dominated it for the last 24 hours. The books. Wiping away her tears, she looked to her right, through the door to the kitchen and then her room, and to the table. No one would care if I looked through them. I already have for the first one too. They're just two old books, likely wrong. My superior wouldn't care if I didn't report them immediately. It's not an emergency after all. Just books. I don't need to mention the wave either. Nothing came of it, just the disappearance of the virid mana. Noteworthy, but not dangerous.

Setting her bags down and stepping carefully towards her bedside table, explanations ran through her mind. If she wasn't so distressed she would've recognised the reasons for what they were; excuses. Despite her shyness with people, she was always a bit reckless and brash. A bull in a china shop, as her parents always put it. And, she would've also recognised what the excuses for what they too were; useless. She was always going to do this. The second she had put the books away, she knew she was going to open them again. That's why she never locked them back up, after all.