Madame Gavora’s shop rose into sight at the end of the street and Vaela quickened her pace. Hermit and Surah talked behind her, their words a dull chatter. Adyr trailed at the back of the group, silent since they’d left the church. Vaela’s stick tapped along the street with controlled urgency, echoing her pounding heart. Had it really only been a day? Just yesterday she had been at the counter, restocking supplies, helping Timura prep for her big presentation. Then, fending off the robber, going to the church, fleeing to Timura’s meeting, running into Hermit, fighting in Hoops and almost dying… It didn’t seem real.

And now, this was it. The day she’d dreamed of–finally setting off on her own adventure. A lump rose in her throat and she blinked a few times. Only yesterday, she’d been in another world, another life. And who knew about tomorrow?

She waved Hermit, Surah, and Adyr to wait outside the shop. This was something she had to do on her own. She pulled open the door and the rush of familiar smells swept through her. Dried herbs with the bitter undercurrent of the preserving mixtures. She wouldn’t miss it–the strange customers, the smell clinging to her clothes, Madame Gavora fussing at her. Vaela swiped a hand at her eyes and stepped inside.

Madame Gavora looked up from the counter. She inhaled sharply and her ample frame nimbly skirted the corner of the table. “I was worried for you, child, you’ve no idea!”

Vaela winced and fiddled with her stick. “Sorry, I should have told you I wouldn’t be in.”

Madame Gavora hurried to her and stopped a few paces away, eyeing Vaela’s chest. The fabric of her tunic was torn, a red blossom where the Ice Shard had stabbed into her. Madame Gavora’s lips pressed into a thin line and she spun away. She waved a meaty hand. “Come.”

Vaela took a step without thinking, then stopped herself. “I-I can’t. That’s what I’m here to tell you.”

Madame Gavora didn’t give any indication she’d heard Vaela. She returned to behind the counter and rummaged through a drawer. Vaela sighed and walked through the store to her. No quick goodbye like she’d hoped.

Madame Gavora dropped a box full of bandages, tinctures, a sharp knife, needle and thread, a mortar and pestle, and a variety of dried leaves. She plucked a few leaves out and ground them in the mortar, adding some water to form a paste.

Vaela rested her stick on the counter. “I’m okay. I don’t need any of that.” She grabbed Madame Gavora’s hands. “Listen, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Madame Gavora pulled her hands away and snatched the knife. Vaela shied back and Madame Gavora wagged the knife at her. “For you tunic, girl.” She waved her closer. “Come now.”

It’d be easier just to let her work. Maybe it’d distract her. Vaela walked around the counter and pulled a stool up next to Madame Gavora. “I’ve always appreciated what you’ve done for me. Letting me work here and all.”

Madame Gavora cut an opening in Vaela’s tunic, then wet a cloth and dabbed at the cut. Vaela hissed and Madame Gavora tutted at her. She smeared the ointment over the cut while Vaela squirmed. After she finished, she sat back to admire her handiwork. “There. Now go to the supply room.”

“I’m trying to tell y–”

“You need a new tunic. The supply room.”

Vaela threw her hands up and crossed the store. She pulled open the supply room’s door. Bottles filled the shelves as well as all manner of foul-smelling substances. A stack of tunics of varying sizes were tossed over a large container of eyes and Vaela pulled out a tunic that looked like it would fit. She threw her bloody tunic to the ground and pulled the new one on. It had an acrid scent that Vaela knew better than to ask about.

“Bring me the belt on the right.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Vaela rummaged through the chaos and found one end of a leather belt. As she pulled it out, glass clinked. Sewn into the belt was a piece of leather with six small pockets, each holding a corked vial. Four of the vials were full of a red liquid. Blood. She thrust the belt away, holding it at arm’s length like it was a snake.

Madame Gavora walked up behind her. “Put it on, child.”

Vaela faced her, trying to read her face. “What is this?”

Madame Gavora took the belt and wrapped it around Vaela’s waist. “Always getting into trouble, since the day I met you.” She cinched the belt down tightly and fastened the buckle.

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Vaela loosened the belt a notch. Girl’s gotta breathe.

Madame Gavora stepped back and smiled. “I knew you’d leave one day.” A lump formed in Vaela’s throat. Madame Gavora shook her head with a chuckle. “An adventure. Such ideas, stuck in your head.” She stepped past Vaela and rummaged through the closet. “Well, someone has to keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself. And besides I’ve got Surah and Hermit.”

At the mention of Hermit, Madame Gavora spun. Vaela winced. Yeah, she’d be skeptical if she’d heard that, too. Madame Gavora grabbed Vaela’s arm, her grip almost painful, and she forced Vaela to rotate a step. She tapped the filled vials, now resting over Vaela’s hip, one at a time. “Fire, for warmth. Sight, to see trouble before it sees you. Strength, to run–not to fight. Healing, may you never use it.”

Tears prickled the back of Vaela’s eyelids. Not the quick goodbye she wanted. She wouldn’t miss it, Madame Gavora’s fussing, not one bit. She threw her arms around the woman and held her tight. Madame Gavora wrapped her in a warm embrace and sniffled. After a few moments, Madame Gavora cleared her throat and turned back to the closet. She’d spun quickly, but Vaela had caught sight of the tears dotting her cheeks.

Madame Gavora cleared her throat again and busied herself digging through the accumulated junk in the closet. She threw a cloak out of the way and purred. “Yes, here they are.” She pulled something out and faced Vaela.

In her hands were a sheathed sword and a shield, large enough to cover Vaela’s chest. She hesitated, then thrust them at her. Vaela hesitantly accepted the items. They were lighter than they looked, though the sword had a weight beyond its metal. To wield it, the acceptance of killing another person. Vaela held the sword up and arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said giving a weapon was a foolish man’s idea.”

Madame Gavora tutted and wagged a finger. “I said a stick wouldn’t keep you safe. But metal, ah…” She tapped the shield. “A woman knows metal can keep you safe.” She placed her hand over Vaela’s hand on the sword and squeezed. “Stay safe, child.”

No more running. Vaela pulled away and walked back to the counter. She’d learn how to fight, how to defend herself and her friends. She slung the sword on the counter in front of her stick, the oppressive weight dropping away. The notch on her stick faced upward and she scooped it up. The wood was so much lighter–natural in her hand. An extension of herself. And she’d rather tap through streets than carve through flesh. The dead priest’s body flashed through her mind and her grip tightened. She wasn’t a Forger–she was a Charmer.

She faced Madame Gavora and lifted her stick. “This suits me better. But I’ll take the shield.”

Madame Gavora’s gaze pierced through her for a moment, then her expression relaxed to relief. Even… pride.

Vaela looped her arm through the shield and thwacked her stick into it. The sound cracked through the small store and Vaela willed her eyes clear of tears. “One day, I’ll be back–and I won’t need this. Or that.” She jerked her chin at the sword. “But for now… thank you.” Her throat constricted, choking any more words away. Madame Gavora’s eyes glistened and, for once, she had no motherly advice. No more fussing over her.

Madame Gavora folded her into a hug and Vaela let her hold her for a long moment. Didn’t she know Vaela had an adventure to get to? The stick and shield clattered to the ground and Vaela threw her arms around her.

After a minute, Madame Gavora’s arms slid away, leaving Vaela’s shoulders cold. Vaela wiped her face with a sleeve and knelt, retrieving her stick. She slid the shield back on her arm–the protection of the cold metal felt flimsy compared to the warmth of Madame Gavora’s arm.

Vaela strode out of the store, leaving all the jars of strange fluids behind her.

Out in the sun, Hermit, Surah, and Adyr stood together, talking amongst themselves. They looked up as Vaela stepped out. She swiped a sleeve at her eyes and dared any of them to say something.

Surah enveloped her in a hug and she fought back a sob. He leaned down to her ear. “She only had one shield, huh?” Vaela snorted and her throat loosened. Surah released her and grinned. “I mean, we can’t all block maces with our arms.”

She took the shield off and thrust it to him. “Here, you big baby.”

He held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t want to take your big goodbye gift, I’m just saying.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed to his chest. He shrugged and grabbed it. She rounded on Hermit and pointed her stick at him. “Where we going?”

He walked up to her. “You’ve met one of the Twisted.” He leaned down until their faces almost touched. “Now, for one of the Created.”