Panic-stricken, I stumble back, nearly slipping over a bottle as Rory's father clambers over the filth. Eyes bulging and monstrous, the hideous expression on his face looks anything but human, like his skin's been stretched all the way back and his skull is trying to escape. He's just about to leap off the floor when Kivuli's staff swings through the air. Wind whistles in every direction, and the wood connects with the back of the old man's balding head. Crack!

He drops on the floor with a harrumph, shattering more glass bottles and shivering like mad while still mumbling incoherently. Another fit of rage overtakes him, and he strikes the floor with balled-up fists, not seeming to mind the glass shards that cut into his palms and fingers. He struggles to get up again, staring at me and the seashell in my hands with so much hatred that he can't keep his face straight.

But his arms give out. Getting hit in the head must've been too much, because he collapses again, growling and whimpering. In a flash, Kivuli closes the distance. Her shadow rises like a tidal wave and crashes over his trembling form. It pins the man to the floor as his head swivels in every direction; he's trying to worm out of the hold, but Kivuli thrusts her staff into his back.

"Go on," she says, gripping the staff with both hands. "Press it right to his ear."

The ear. That makes sense. I swallow hard, shaking almost as much as the possessed old man, but I step toward him. He spits in my direction, and the phlegm splatters on the floor beside my shoes. Gross. But he looks sick. He looks like he needs help. And that's my job now, isn't it? Not only as a Shaman's apprentice, but also as the mayor.

I kneel beside him, keeping my cloak raised between us like a shield. I have the seashell in my other hand.

"Quickly," says Kivuli. There's only a hint of strain in her voice, but she sounds patient and calm. So, I try to be patient and calm too. "Press the open end against his ear, and the seashell's magic will draw the spirit out."

My heart pounding, I'm looking right down into his bulging, furious eyes. Those gnashing teeth. Drool glistens on his chin, and fear makes me want to run out of this decrepit house and never look back, but I figure it's like ripping off a band-aid. I just have to do it. The next time his head swivels, I slam the seashell to the side of his head.

I must've been harsher than I meant because it makes a terrible sound, and I wonder if I just broke his ear or something. He doesn’t scream in pain. He stops jerking around, his body relaxing, and it reminds me of the Arctic Squirrel that attacked me. How it quieted down when I used .

The man’s breathing is loud and heavy, and he's still shivering, but he's no longer struggling against the shadows. His head lies on the floor. The top of his head is completely bald, but the sides are thick with white and gray hair. It's all clumpy though. He probably hasn't washed it in ages, but then the seashell vibrates violently in my hand, like a shaken bottle of soda.

Like it's going to erupt any second. I grasp it with both hands, trying to hold it in place against the man's head. Kivuli shouts, but I can't hear her. There's something else in my head. Voices. Dark thoughts that worm through my mind. Anxieties. The night terrors I'd have. You’re gross. You're terrible. Nobody will ever love you.

You are worthless. You can't be mayor. You should just slit your own throat and spare Kivuli the trouble.

What good can you do?

I whimper. I can't help it. The negativity swells and swells, and I think I'm going to throw up. My throat feels so tight; I can't breathe. I need to let go of this seashell and breathe! I need air. I need to get outside; it stinks like death in here. I don’t want to die in here. I can’t help anyone.

But wait.

No. I've already been through this. The Wraith! The Wraith said much worse things.

I can get through this. This can't stop me.

Gritting my teeth, I rest my knees on the floor and lean my weight forward, trying to crush the man's head with the seashell. Rage surges through my arms; fuck fear. I almost feel like I'm corking a boat, trying to keep water from rushing in, and it's taking all the strength I wish I had.

I'm glad I ate so much food earlier. I'm glad we took a wagon ride instead of walking, because If I was as weak as I usually am, this thing would've rocketed out of my hands and... well, I don't know what it would've done, but I imagine it would be nasty.

The sickly glow seems to drain out of the man's head and into the seashell. His breathing relaxes, and the shell stops vibrating. I exhale deeply as Kivuli tells me I can let go now. The job is done.

"Now don't put it to your ear, Samiya." She swipes her hair out of her face, but her eyes are sparkling. There's a smile on her lips. A fuller one than before. "Well done, Apprentice."

Well done. Praise rushes through me, and heat blossoms in my chest, driving out the ugly feelings I'd just had. I'm blushing again. The seashell is ice-cold in my hands, and I hold it at arm's length like it's dangerous. My abs hurt and traces of nausea precipitate in my head, but I try to keep my head clear.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"The spirit is contained," she says. She withdraws her shadow and her staff, twirling it before slipping it inside her belly. She crouches down. "Mr. Miller," she says, shaking the man by his bare shoulder. “Mr. Miller, you have to wake up now. I want a word.”

The stink coming off his overalls is horrid, and maybe that's why I feel so nauseous. Some of the dark thoughts linger, but I try not to pay them any attention.

After a bit more shaking, the man seems to come around. He blinks furiously, squinting his eyes like we’d woken him late at night. “What?” he asks in a raspy, exhausted voice. His head’s not glowing anymore.

Kivuli looks at me sternly. "It's alright, Samiya, you can step outside and get some fresh air. I'll take care of the rest."

Her expression darkens as Mr. Miller asks what's going on in a slurred voice, and even though I still want to help, I get the feeling I shouldn't speak back. I glance at the bottles. The holes in the walls, and then I nod and turn away, walking swiftly through the messy kitchen and corridor where I notice the smashed black and white photographs of a family. There's a beautiful woman who stands taller than everyone else and a little fair-haired girl who looks strikingly familiar, but before I can pause to study the pictures, I hear a horrible smack, followed by retching, and I rush out the front door before I throw up too. I've never been able to stomach that; mom used to throw up a lot when she'd get drunk, and when Jia got sick... hearing them retch would make my stomach turn with bile.

Grateful for fresh air and rain, I step onto the porch where water drips through cracks in the ceiling. Where Rory is sitting on the steps, hugging his knees. It’s dark outside, but the lantern sits beside him, casting a warm orange glow that illuminates the front of the house. I can see Beauty resting in her makeshift stable.

Rory raises his head as I approach. The lantern casts shadows on his face that look like bruises. There's another cry of pain from inside, and he winces. "What's happening?"

I know better than to explain the seashell. I don’t even know how it works yet, and he'd just be afraid of it. "We got the evil spirit out," I tell him, putting on a smile. I'm trying to appear friendly and warm, something I'd never been able to successfully do before. Working at the boba shop, you just get used to stretching your lips and saying welcome, how may I help you? and it's so fake that your face gets stuck like that and you forget how to smile for real.

Lowering myself on the steps beside him, but keeping a respectable distance, I sigh deeply. My first evil spirit. And it's just a bit of strange light captured in a seashell, but it's not like the seashell's glowing. It looks like an ordinary seashell other than how cold it is to hold. As if I’d just taken it out of a refrigerator.

Somehow, I feel underwhelmed, but I guess if Kivuli hadn't been there to restrain the old man, he could've done serious damage. But also, I think about how he'd been relatively calm until I pulled the seashell out. It’s like the Evil Spirit sensed it right away. I make a mental note to ask Kivuli about that.

"Is that a rock?" asks Rory. He points at the seashell.

I must've been scrutinizing it too hard. "Oh, it's just something to keep evil away. It's from the ocean."

"It's pretty."

"It is," I say, rotating it in my hand. Then, feeling worried about setting the spirit free by accident, I slip it into my shadow pocket where I know it'll be safe.

"I've never seen the ocean," says Rory. "Never really been further than the farms. Pa says the town’s full of bad people."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"So, when you went to the well, was that your first time?"

He nods. "My sister told me about the bell. Said it's how you summon the witch..." His eyes go wide, and he stumbles over that word. "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

I press my lips tightly together and look at him. He actually seems embarrassed for having said that, like he'd sworn by accident. And I think about how children get past the bigotry and stupidity that often consumes older people. "It's okay," I tell him.

"No," he says. "It's not a nice thing to say."

"Agreed."

We sit quietly for a while, watching the rain fall steadily over their fenced area. The Ember Slime rolls over in the lantern, and our shadows spin all around before settling again. I think there's a garden on one side of the house because there are rows of disturbed soil, but nothing's growing. Every once in a while, the silence is broken by a wail that rises like the wind, and I see Rory clench his fists each time. It sounds like Kivuli's killing the old man.

I feel like I should be doing some shaman stuff and comforting Rory. I clear my throat. "It'll be okay. We got the bad stuff out of him."

"So, it was an evil spirit?" he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

Nodding, I tap my cloak, but the seashell is in the shadow pocket, so I can't feel it. Then I remember I shouldn't tell him about the seashell, so I pretend I’m just itching my side. 'Yeah. I think she's having a word with him and making sure everything's okay. Like going to the doctor and getting a checkup. It'll hurt but feel better later."

"Doctor?" he asks.

"Healer," I correct myself, remembering what the soldiers said about calling a healer from their church. That would’ve been interesting to see. If they didn't believe in Evil Spirits, how would they have dealt with this situation?

"Oh," says Rory. "We don't get many healers. They say we're a lost cause."

"Why would they say that?" I frown. That's why he didn't run to them in the first place for help.

"Because we ain't got no money."

Of course, I think bitterly. Of course, it would be like that. Different world, same greedy bastards. We're quiet again, and, thankfully, the screaming and crying from inside has stopped.

"Umm, if you're ever in any trouble again, you can always come see us, okay?"

His face brightens. "Really?"

"Yeah. You can come up the hill if you want. Just look for the lighthouse. You can’t miss it. Ma'am Kivuli only looks mean, but she's really nice."

"Okay," he says nodding. He smiles but he twists his lips to the side like he’s afraid to smile. "I will. Thank you."

Gosh, he's so polite despite his circumstances. I wonder about that stunning woman in the photographs. That must've been his mother. What happened to his family for him to end up in this situation?

He sniffles, looking down at his boots. His shoulders start shaking, and even though his face is fully healed now, I can see the ghosts of the marks, and I wonder when he'd last been held.

Kids needed hugs, right?

Oh god, I have to hug him, don't I?

"Rory," I whisper hesitantly. "Would you like a hug?" Do people ask for hugs? Don't they just go for it?

He sniffles and nods again, not raising his eyes from the ground. His bottom lip quivers, and he seems hesitant too, but when I awkwardly raise my arms, he slides over and hugs me. That's when he starts sobbing.

His entire body is shaking so much, and he's squeezing me so tight. I ruffle his wet hair, tears coming to my eyes as he cries loudly, like it's the first time he's been allowed to cry in ages, and now he finally can.

Now I know how Jia felt when she'd hold me. Like I’m keeping something precious safe. Like I’m a safe space. I’m a safe space for someone who needs me.

"It's alright," I whisper gently, echoing what she'd always say to me. "I'm right here. I’ve got you." I rub his back and hold him tight, and even though the message for comes up, I ignore it.

I realize I don't really mind hugs. I've just rarely ever had a reason to hug someone that wasn't Jia. And it's different with children. It's different when someone's innocent and sweet, and they're hurting so much, and all you want to do is be there for them. And I guess it's even more different now that I'm supposed to be mayor. I hold him as long as he needs me to.

After a while, he raises his face from my shoulder, covered in tears and snot, but I don't say anything. His eyes are so shiny and hopeful and startlingly green. Vividly. Like they're emeralds, and I've seen those eyes before.

He wipes his face on the back of his hands, which he then wipes on his overalls, and tells me about his Ma, the woman in the photographs. "She'd fought in the war," he says. "I was a baby, so I don't remember..."

He tears up again, and I want to wipe them away, but I don’t think I’m ready to do something like that yet, so I listen. He tells me how his father started to drink, and his sister ran away, and he'd been alone trying to hold everything together. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing would grow, and nobody would help them.

"It must've been hard," I whisper.

He nods. "But I had Beauty. Ma's favorite. And Tuck over there. We sold the others." He motions to the round beast I saw before. It waddles around the corner of the house and plops onto a puddle, still tied to the porch. It must’ve been camouflaged in the dark this whole time.

"You don't have anyone else? Aunts or uncles? Cousins?"

He shakes his head. "Just me and Pa now."

Okay, I have to ask. "Your sister. Is her name Mia?"

The way his eyebrows shoot up, my heart breaks again. "Yes! Do you know her? Have you seen her? Is she okay?"

This boy's worried about the sister who abandoned him? And what kind of sister walks out on a younger brother like this? To suffer like this?

I feel even more mad about Mia and her troop of bullies now, but given what I'm learning about her family life... I guess she'd had it hard too. Ugh. It's all complicated and messy. "Yeah," I tell Rory. "She seems like she's doing well. And she has friends keeping her safe."

He smiles when he hears that. I thought maybe he'd be mad, but he smiles like a huge weight’s been taken off his little shoulders. "Could you tell my sister, I miss her? If you see her again?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I will. I promise."

"Pointy promise?"

"Pointy promise? What's that?"

He grins and holds up a finger like he’s pointing at the sky. "You have to hold your hand..." He wraps his pointer finger around mine and makes a shaking motion, and at this point, I'm ready to kidnap him. Take him back to the cottage and away from this nightmare and make sure he has everything he wants. I want to tell him about my world, how we'd call it a pinky promise and use our pinky fingers. I want him to grow up happy and strong.

"I pointy promise," I say. It sounds so silly, but it's so cute, and I wish I had silver or something to give him.

"Oh, and will you come visit me?" he asks. "I like you."

Heat rises to my face. "I like you too," I tell him softly, ruffling his hair. "Of course, I'll visit."

"Pointy promise?"

"Pointy promise."

[Mayoral Quest: Integrating the Farmlands]

[Progress: 2%]

The notification throbs inside my head, and I blink repeatedly, trying to make sense of it. But I’ll figure it out later, when I’m home and I have my notebook. As the rain slows down to a drizzle, Beauty trots over to us. Her brown fur seems to shimmer in the lantern light, and she neighs softly.

"Hello," I whisper when she comes close. Her eyes are rainbow-colored, shifting and vibrant. That's so fitting for a unicorn. I almost swoon; childhood excitement rushes up like a current. "Can I...?" I ask, raising my hand.

Rory nods. "If she wants you to."

I hold my hand out to Beauty. She bows her head, lowering her long brown face so that her eyes seem to stare right into mine, and when my fingers touch her gorgeous mane of hair, she makes a gentle sound that reminds me of purring. I stroke her wet white hair, feeling a nub on the center of her forehead that must be her horn.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her. "I wish I was as beautiful as you."

She snorts gently, and her breath is warm and sweet. A tingling sensation travels up my arm, and Beauty lowers herself, her eyes out of focus like she's about to fall asleep. Rory rubs her neck saying she must be tired.

But a moment later, I've acquired her, and she springs back up and licks me. I laugh. A genuine honest laugh as her soft tongue flicks the side of my face and my ear, and Rory laughs too. It's a sweet moment. It feels so innocent and detached from the horrors inside the house, and I want this warmth to last forever.

As Rory promises to teach me how to ride Beauty the next time I visit, Kivuli comes out of the house, carrying a large sack. Judging by the clinking sounds, she must’ve collected all the bottles.

"'Take this to town tomorrow. You can sell the glass." She rests the sack heavily on the porch. She raises her arm into the air and stretches, her cloak flowing behind her. "Quest complete," she says. Then she looks at me. "You didn't get anything like that, did you?"

I shake my head. I mean I did get something, but I’ll tell her later.

"Where's the seashell?"

"In my pocket," I say.

"Good."

She turns to Rory. "I've sorted out the drinking too," she says softly. "If there's any more trouble, ring the bell, and I'll see to it, okay? But I think you'll be alright."

He wipes his eyes and hurries to his feet before bowing deeply. "Thank you, Madam."

I notice there's dried blood on Kivuli's knuckles. But I don't say anything. I don't think Rory saw that, and she hides her arms beneath her cloak.

"Come, Samiya. The rain seems to be letting up. We'll walk home."

I almost groan. My legs are so tired, but the way she said home... When was the last time I'd walked home with someone? When was the last time I’d looked forward to going home?

Rory offers to take us, but Kivuli explains that I'm new around here and need to learn the land. And it would be dangerous for him getting back alone at night.

Quietly, I pull Kivuli to the side while Rory stares at us. "Why can't we... why can't we take him with us? Away from this horrible place?" I think about the Wraith; that might be just as bad too, but at least he wouldn't be stuck here.

"We can't," she whispers. "It would give the Gilded Church an excuse."

"What?"

She shakes her head. "They'll call it a kidnapping by witches. Rile people up. We'll get hung, and Rory will be stuck right back here."

"So there's nothing we can do?" I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling awful about leaving him here, even if Kivuli had straightened out his dad's drinking.

"For now," she says. She hates this too. But if there’s really nothing we can do...

"It's okay, Rory," I say, moving toward him. I hug him again, squeezing him hard. In the short bit of time we've spent together, he's become like a little brother to me. "You can come visit us whenever you want to, okay?"

"I will," he whispers. He hugs me again like he doesn't want to let go, and then another pointy promise later, he picks up his lantern and prepares to go inside.

He offers it to us, but Kivuli says we'd only attract unwanted attention, but I figure she wouldn't take away a source of heat and light from him. He waves as we walk away, and I rub Beauty's head again she trots up to say goodbye. Then we're past his house, walking up a muddy road with much nicer farms on either side.

I realize I'd had my hood down the entire time around Rory. My hair... it's wet too, so you can see more of my scalp, but I don't really mind, I think. I hadn't felt so self-conscious or worried. I just wanted to help. I hope Rory will be alright.

I glance back, but he's not on the porch anymore. The farm looks even more sad and lonely now that the Ember Slime's gone. And the pig like creature snorts in the mud.

"Come visit us whenever, huh?" says Kivuli. For a second, I think she might be mad that I'm offering up her cottage like that. But she doesn't sound mad. She sounds like she's teasing me.

I blush. "I thought he could use, like... you know? A safe space."

She doesn't say anything. But, somehow, under the hood, I can tell she's smiling that small smile again.