Was this some kind of joke? Her estranged cousin stood before her in Reefcliff, hundreds of kilometers from Rieland. He flubbed his words with a simple grin on his face, splitting wider and wider as he tried to contain his astonishment. Carmine felt similar with one major difference: no joy rose in her heart. As Filbert blithered on, repeating how surprised he was and how he couldn't believe who he was seeing, Carmine clenched her fists. The girl she used to be wanted to run away. The woman she was now tried to hold her composure, betraying no emotion one way or the other. Deep down, a monster pulled at its rusted chains eager to lash out and wipe his stupid grin from his face.

"Carmine," Almyra called low, gripping the elf's shoulder. "Let's go back to the tower. It's getting late anyway-"

"It's fine," Carmine replied, struggling to keep heat from her voice. "I'm fine."

Almyra withdrew her hand as Carmine met her eyes for just a second. She could see the hesitation there, the worry. Almyra looked between the circle and Carmine as only one who had been trusted with Carmine’s past. Had it been anything else and she might have spilled the secret, but not this. The circle knew nothing, and Carmine doubted Almyra would break her trust and tell them.

"I think we should go-" She started quiet so only Carmine would hear, but Emmet stepped forward first.

"Who's this Carmine?" He asked, giving Filbert a curious frown.

"This is my cousin," Carmine explained, her words measured. "We haven't seen each other in a decade."

"A decade, and one!" Filbert added. "I thought you were dead. Where have ya been?" His eyes darted over her cheek, down her neck. Carmine recognized the reflexive shock. "Those scars are pretty, uh, big-"

Carmine grit her teeth, lifting her collar over her cheek before facing her circle. "As you might have guessed, we have some catching up to do. I'll see you later at the tower."

"You sure?" Adelaide asked; choosing now of all times to be perceptive, damn it. "We could all meet your family. You've never-"

"Not now." Carmine insisted. Her sudden sternness caused surprise to ripple through her circle, but she didn't care. If they felt something was off, so be it. This was her business. "I'll introduce you later, Filbert and I have a lot to say to each other, I'm sure."

"She's right, I got a wagon full of questions," Filbert added. Carmine huffed beneath her collar; she didn't need his support. "Ya'll seem like fine folks, I'm sure I'll meet ya later."

"If-" Almyra stuttered. "If you think you'll be okay…"

"I am." Carmine answered, her voice clear, level, and all too calm. "Go back. I'll see you tonight."

"Very well," Adelaide acquiesced, nodding to Filbert. "Until next time young sir."

"Sure thing, miss," Filbert answered. "You have a good evening."

Carmine watched her circle leave, ignoring their unease and backward glances. She turned to Filbert, fixing her eyes on him. "What are you doing here, Filbert? Where is your father? You're quite far from Rieland."

"Suppose you're right about that," he answered. "By the way, I just use Fil now. Filbert is a bit, uh, childish to my ear."

"Right." Carmine tried not to sound too dismissive. "Your business here, again?"

"Sorry, got a wandering mind I'm told, ever since- ah," he raised a finger, "almost did it again. After the storm, you know the one that drowned our fields? The town needed some folks to run supplies from other regions to help us out. Since the storm, uh," he paused for a moment casting a wary side eye at Carmine. "Since the storm struck your house and burned it down, uncle Alan wasn't around to lend his horses to the caravans no more, so my dad stepped up. He rebuilt the old family house, and took over for your dad."

"Did he?" Carmine replied, blood boiling in her veins. She crossed her arms tight together to hold them back.

"Oh yeah!" The stables were fine, all our family's horses were okay."

"That might be the one piece of good news I've ever heard about that night." Yet she didn't smile. They were my family's horses, she thought, not "ours."

"Yeah," Filbert shook his head, looking down at his hands, "there was a lot of bad news that night. Pa said a lot of folks got hurt trying to put out that fire."

Carmine blinked. Filbert's droning faded from her ears as her head grinded towards her cousin. "What did your dad tell you?"

"Uh, well… he doesn't like to talk about it," Filbert turned and flinched as he saw the glae burning a hole in between his eyes. The reins tangled in his hands as he faced back forward. "B-but, he talks about some nights after he, uh, drinks a little too-"

"What were you told, Filbert?" Carmine asked again, insistent, her mask slipping.

"I…dad said your house got hit by lightning during the storm. The headman organized a group of people to help out, but by the time they got there your house was already burning. Folks tried to help, but they ended up needing saving themselves. Some even died. Dad said they couldn't save any of you. I…I thought you were dead, Carmine." He looked at her again, and despite the anger slipping into Carmine's face, she could see his furrowed brow, his soft eyes, the genuine concern for her. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked to the road ahead.

"I almost was," She grumbled. He didn't know. He wasn't responsible. Carmine's fingers dug into her arms, barely containing her turmoil.

"I don't mean to be rude, but your scars, the headman has 'em too. They tried to save you-"

"No, Filbert." She cut him off. "They didn't."

"Then…what did happen that night?" Filbert stared at her for an answer, but Carmine paid his question no mind, staring out of the cart in contemplation.

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"Where is your Father,?" She asked again.

"At a bar," he answered, urging the horses to a faster trot.

"Take me there," Carmine ordered, pulling her hood over her head.

Filbert drove them to the other side of Reefcliff, closer to the city’s road entrances. This side of town had less crowds and less business than the port, but it did have a wider collection of inns and taverns. Despite there being a good dozen around, Filbert steered towards one called Respite Keep. He parked the cart outside and hitched Bandit and the other horse to a post. As Carmine started to climb down he raised a hand between her and the tavern.

"I'll go in and get him," Filbert said. "He's not the best at holding his liquor. I'll try to get him straightened up and we can sort this out, okay?"

"Fine," Carmine replied with a single terse word. She grit her teeth behind her lips, and nodded for Filbert to get going. He whispered his thanks and pushed through the front entrance. The door wobbled in and out of its frame, barely holding together. A small push is all it would take for it to fall off its hinges.

Carmine barely waited half a minute before she followed after. A few dozen conversations buzzed in her ears; dock workers discussing work, strongmen using booze to dull their pain after friendly bouts, drunks betting their coins away on games of chance. Carmine sifted through the drivel, voice by voice until she caught one she recognized.

"Dad, put the beer down and listen to me," Filbert's voice carried from the bar. Carmine homed in on the direction, her feet already carrying her towards it before she could even think.

She saw his face. "Uncle" Greg. His hair had thinned over the years, and wrinkles lined his face, but it was still the same face from that night. The same face that stood with the rest of them. She approached Filbert from behind without a sound, her footsteps lost in the revelry.

"Fil, my boy, d'you deliver the lumber? 'Course you did," Greg clasped his son's shoulder. "Come on, son, have a drink."

"Dad, no. You need to sober up right now." Filbert pulled a glass bottle away from his father and placed it on the bar. He didn't notice Carmine took that same bottle in hand.

"We're leaving," Filbert insisted, "Now. There's something you need to explain."

"Oh," Greg droned in drunken revelation, his glazed eyes shifting to Carmine's hooded form behind his son. "I see. I see! You're making friends without me son?"

"What?" Filbert frowned, his tone confused until he turned behind him.

And he found Carmine seething. She glared into her uncle's drunk, carefree face. A face unmarred by guilt or injury. A face smirking as if he'd never done anything wrong. As if he didn't even remember all the pain he caused.

"Oh shit, wait a second-" Filbert tried to interpose himself, but Carmine pushed him aside. She raised the half empty beer bottle and lunged with hot murder in her eyes. The bottle shattered over her uncle's face, blood mixing with beer and glass shards as he crumpled to the floor. The tavern fell silent.

"You crazy bitch!" Greg howled in pain, his fingers gingerly touching the jagged shards embedded in his cheek. "Who the fuck do you think you are."

Carmine tore her hood down and stood over the waste of human life on the floor. The blow must have sobered him up, because there was the briefest hint of recognition before his drunken bluster fell away to shame and fear.

"Carmine, what the fuck!" Filbert stepped back, his hands on his head, nearly in panic.

"Remember me now, Uncle?" Carmine snarled.

"Not you," Greg inched back. "This can't be real."

"Oh, I'm real." Carmine pulled back her sleeve, tearing off her protective bandages from her horribly scarred arm and held it to his face. The tavern patrons recoiled in the corner of her eye, but for the first time she didn't care. Her rage hyper-focused on one man. "You led that mob to us," she growled, her voice raw. "You let them kill my parents. You would have let them kill me. So you could, what, steal my father's land, our horses and then live in my fucking house!?" Greg tried to turn over to crawl away, but Carmine grabbed him by the collar and made him look her in the eye. His fear was met by absolute loathing.

“I’m sorry,” He mewled.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness.” She raised one arm high, arcing with electric sorcery. "You don't deserve to live-"

Before she brought her arm down on his neck, Filbert grabbed her by the shoulder. He pulled her off his dad with the strength of a farmland. Carmine twisted in his grip, and with her free hand, struck him in the solar plexus. His strength faded instantly as he gasped for air. Carmine slipped out of his grip, and as he stood doubled over and heaving, she aimed her spell at him.

Lightning lit Filbert's face in sparking hues, reflecting the fear in his eyes. Mere seconds ago he had no idea he’d be staring death in the face, and Carmine’s restraint already teetered off the brink.

"Not my boy," Greg pleaded from the ground. His face contorted in terror as he begged, pathetic, and soaked in beer. "Please, anything, but him."

Filbert would be perfect, Carmine thought as she faced her cousin. Greg took the people who mattered most to her, she was well within her right to do the same.

"I know what he did wasn't right," Filbert said as he straightened up, though his voice trembled. He raised his hands and offered no resistance. "I ain't gonna let it go, but he's my dad." Despite being a whim from death, Filbert's gaze didn't waver. "I ain't gonna let you kill him."

"He deserves it," Carmine growled.

"Probably."

"And still…"

"Yeah. I can’t stop you, but it's gonna be both or neither."

Carmine sneered. What right did he have to make such an ultimatum? He had a good life, from the look of it. He still had his home. She could do it. It would take a second, then a portal would take her anywhere she wanted. It would be easy, justified.

It took all her strength to close her hand and dispel the magic. She lowered her arm, simmering frustration as her mind still screamed at her to do it. She stormed past Filbert towards the door, only stopping to grab an opened wine bottle from the counter.

She forced the door aside and it swung out, lopsided. She brought the wine bottle to her lips and started down the street before she stopped at Filbert's cart. She looked Bandit in the face and his eyes followed her wherever she moved. She slid father's knife from her belt and cut him free of his harness.

"Come on," she said as she led him along. "You're still family."

Night fell by the time she returned to the tower. The Leval Institute did own a stable on its ground, so she set Bandit up with his own place to sleep before returning to her dorm. As she opened the door, only Almyra sat in the common room. She stood up, rushing over and starting to worry, no doubt.

"Not right now," Carmine raised a hand and walked past. She entered her room and nearly collapsed on the bed. She couldn't remember the last time she was so tired, but sleep was a distant fantasy. Her mind ran with the events of eleven years ago, and the matter of the day past. She'd never forget, but it had faded into the background. At school, and with Nicholos, all the pain almost felt like it happened to someone else.

Not anymore. Not after today.

Uncle Greg, the Headman, the other villagers, they were still alive. More than that, they moved on. After everything they did, they faced no consequences.

It wasn't fair.

Carmine couldn't tell if minutes or hours passed, but she snapped up out of bed. She stood by her desk, scribbling down a sigil from memory, one the exorcists didn't want her to know. It may have been incomplete, but it was a start. She dropped her blue Leval robe and grabbed a black coat from her wardrobe, along with an old red scarf.

She slipped the scribbled sigil into her mother's spell book, and tucked it under her arm. With a word and a gesture she tore open a portal in her room. Familiar scenery looked back at her from the other side and her heart beat cold in her chest.

She went home.