—LAKE—

“How did you know which direction to take?” Claude asked. “Earlier in the forest, I saw you crouching down. You just knew where to go after you touched the soil. You looked like one of the nobles' hunting dogs.”

I wanted to tell him this. “Ever since we came to Rothfield, I had a strange connection to the dark forest. You remember when the forest showed you a new path, yes? Back during the night when direwolves attacked and when we met Ember's corrupted form? The forest does the same to me. It clears up the mist little by little." I pointed to my right. “That path leads to the entrance of Mount Lhottem where we encountered Ember.”

Claude nodded, seemingly satisfied.

___

We still had not returned to the monastery. Claude caught more silvergill in the lake as I left him twice to banish Blake. Even though fishing was a slow activity, we did not realize the moon was already peeking through the branches until the wind grew cold and he couldn't see clearly through the shadows. When I went back, he was reeling back the fishing line. I had removed my cloak earlier for him to place his catch. Cold, lifeless fish piled on top of it now. We stared at them, smiling: a day well spent in good company.

Claude looked at the surface of the water, at the moon that resembled a milky dish. His fingers twitched on the fishing pole. His face, curious. “Hm. Fishing at dark isn’t really common, but maybe I could try one last time.” He considered the fish. “I realized that since it has a short fishing line, we only keep catching the fish near the surface. We haven’t caught the deeper meatier ones yet. Like catfish and trout and bass.” He was readying the fishing rod again, raising it high before throwing it as far as it could go. "Your eyes are better than mine. Guide me."

I placed my hand on his, feeling his fingers stiffen and fumble. Then we were still, looking as the clouds obscured the brightness of the moon. A moment passed. And another.

A tug from the fishing line. Claude smiled at me. I was about to smile back when whatever he caught yanked him forward. Claude stumbled forward. He recovered, gritted his teeth, and pulled back as whatever it was he snagged was pulling him toward the pool. My arms wrapped around his waist and brought him back to the grass. When the force doubled its efforts, I knew this was not a common fish.

Claude scrunched his face. I said, "Let go!"

His knuckles turned white as he tried to yank the fishing pole back. I grabbed the base of the pole with him, and as soon as I did, it glowed blue, just like the sword. It did not erupt into flames, but it seemed to be enough to stop the force pulling underwater. We fell back, colliding against one another. We caught our breaths and stared at the lake. It looked serene as if nothing sinister hid in its depths. Claude huffed, reeling the line back in. He almost dropped the lure when he inspected it. "It's warm," he told me. It laso had no dents. No fish bite or whatever underwater monster lived in the lake.

Oh. Maybe the creature was burned after all. The kindflame must have been focused on the lure. We inspected it under the moonlight, realizing that it was made from a strange material indeed if it managed to survive without any bite marks from the maws of the creature.

We looked at each other and agreed. "No one fishes at night." Which was strange because almost all our activities happened during dusk.

“Can you sense what’s in the middle of the pool?” Claude asked.

I closed my eyes and placed my hands under the water, hoping our mysterious creature did not dare swim on the shallower parts of the lake. The cool water was quiet. "I do not see anything." I shook the water out of my hand. "But we did wake something, that's for certain." I shivered. "I sense it is watching us from the depths just as we're watching it." I carried the fish, trying my cloak into a knapsack.

—GRANGES—

The villagers of Kent stopped their supper when Claude and I presented our catch. Harlan, Agate, the warriors, and the children stared at the silvergill fins poking from my cloak. I presented them to the women, saying, “Boil and salt these so everyone can eat.”

The crowd near the fire cheered. The parents pulled their children closer to the sight of the fish. They huddled together as if seeing a strange animal. Claude smiled at me, the I realized then that maybe it was the first time they’d seen a fish and the first time to ever taste one as well.

I let the women use our brass pot to boil the fish. Discreetly, I used kindflame to boil the fire. They cleaned them first in the stream and knifed the scales off. Claude helped them cut it into thick slices. I looked at how they managed, noting how and where to slice the flesh, and once I was confident I could copy them, I sat beside Claude and helped him. I gutted the fish and removed its intestines, I cut off its head and tail and sliced away the fat belly. Once we were done, we added them to the boiling water and added a pinch of salt. I checked myself for the remaining kindflame in me. I had just enough to bless their food.

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I uttered Garlmar’s name and channeled the right prayer for improving their motes, whether that be strength, defense, or resilience.

The rest of the settlers gathered in a circle, waiting for the fish to cook. I stood on a stump and called their attention. I told them about a lake, pointing in its direction. “You may fish there if you like. But only on certain days of the week. And never at night.” I stopped, looking at Woodrow and Wilbur appearing through the darkness. “The same goes for a meadow near the granges.” I held out a hand in the opposite direction. “You may graze your sheep and goats there on certain days of the week and no more. We need to let the grass recover. We need to let the fish breed and grow before we get too greedy.”

A thrill ran through the settlement. Excited mouths called to their neighbors, exchanging wide eyes and murmurs. I can almost feel the ripple of surprised tension in my chest.

“Saint Gaelmar provides!” One of the elderly women called. “He is blessing the land of Rothfield with the brothers.”

Some of them bowed their heads and prayed to give thanks. I felt their whispers crawling up my skin, slightly replenishing the kindflame I burned away. Agate and Harlan looked solemn. I stepped down from the stump and grabbed Claude's hand.

I nodded at him, whispering, “Bring a few of your farm animals here on grazing days. We'll fatten them up.” Claude's lips parted.

The designated cook announced that the fish was ready. Everyone fell into a line before the brass cooking pot. Claude, Harlan, Agate, and I helped in serving them. We dined in silence amidst whispers and chatter. The villagers only talked about the lake now. They listened to the elderly recount the tales of their youth when the bodies of water were free for everyone to use. We heard eels as long as the boat, of fish, darting through nets and breaking flimsy nets woven out of reeds. Claude and I brought fish soup in our mouths, nodding along with the rest, and feeling drowsy from the day's activity.

We were leaning against each other. I chuckled when Claude burped. He held his belly. “Ever since you came, our hungry days have become fewer.”

After supper, almost all of those residing in Rothfield monastery weaved weir baskets made out of the branches lying around the forest floor. Our thumbs hooked and pressed and twisted the branches until we made enough for a decent supper for some nights. Nights such as these.

Before we retired, I told them the rules of the lake again. I told them to anchor the weir baskets on the surface and add the scraps of fish for bait inside. Thankfully, the basic fish we caught bred easily and grew in numbers. The villagers all swore in front of me, their elders, and to Saint Gaelmar.

I walked Claude to the arched path of the monastery. He held the wooden canister containing the fish soup for Lydia and Annette. he whispered to me sleepily, “Just think of what other secrets the dark forest hides.”

—INFIRMARY—

I told Wilbur and Woodrow about what happened in the lake.

Wilbur's eyes gleamed. His mouth opened, whispering something. Woodrow and I stared at each other. We knew our brother enough to know that this was him becoming animated about something. He brought out his journals and flipped through its pages excitedly. H ejabbed a finger between somepages and tapped the sketched he drew long ago. It was a sketch of a smooth circular precious mineral.

“This is aquamarine. Almost nothing is known about precious stones except for trade and decoration, and that it is found in bodies of water." He rolled his eyes. "Nobles measure their value by their weight and shine. After we alchemists discovered that dull-looking minerals carried more value than some shiny rocks, that is. Anyway, it is long believed that aquamarine, obviously, has properties of water. If I can extract its properties somehow, experiment it a bit more, maybe I can develop potions that could aid us in battle. Or produce other elixirs for healing. The possibilities are endless! Of course... these are all hypothetical, but..." He drawled on, Woodrow and I exchanging amused glances.

"I think we can also find kelps in that lake. Used by themselves, they’re just nutritious grass, but combined with aquamarines, I can make potions from them. That's the important part. Mixing precious stones with uncommon plants makes the special potions." He looked thoughtful, staring out into the ranges from the infirmary. "It's a shame that Blake and Knox didn't allow me to experiment on other precious stones outdife of healing. He probably knew that I would use it to escape." He looked at me and shrugged.

—ROTHFIELD MONASTERY—

It felt good to have progress. The nights were peaceful; the communal fire of Kent always glowed in the night. During laundry days, they scooped up the ash from their fire and sprinkled the grey clumps during laundry days. Sometimes, we mixed in Wilbur's flowers. I sometimes looked at them from the steps of the church, contentedly observing the daily activities. When we came here in spring, everywhere and everything was grey and black. Then Gaelmar bestowed me his kindflame and life began to color these lonely fields. Now the villagers were making this place their home. Children ran around, chasing each other, playing tag, and hopping. They viewed this place as safe. They weren't scared to laugh. I heard them say that the kind brothers would protect them. They even started calling Claude their ‘brother’ too. Sometimes, when there was nothing much to do, he chased them.

The warriors did not grow restless. They fought shadow beasts from Mount Lhottem while harvesting ores. Not one has died. At first, there was such ceremony when leaving their partners to gather supplies and resources from the mountains. Now their partners would just wave them off, confident they would return, especially with Woodrow and Wilbur accompanying them. How my dark brothers managed to hide their powers-especially Wilbur-was beyond me. The warriors applauded him for it. They say, "He may look lanky, but Brother Wilbur can take several hits!" Wilbur would smile and mutter under his breath, "Well, you do pay for it through your blood."

Once a month, when the moon was full, the villagers of Kent let their blood fill our bowls. Woodrow and Wilbur would feast, with Wilbur noting their blood was healthier than before.

Wilbur checked Claude’s health again with the tiny drop of blood in the cotton. “The protein from the fish have improved his blood somewhat, but if he wishes to be strong, he, along with the rest of the Rothfield townspeople, would need continuous supply of milk and animal meat.”

Agate and Harlan met my eyes as I scanned their growing settlement. They nodded and smiled. Sometimes, Wilbur and Woodrow stood beside me on either side, admiring the goodness spreading in Rothfield Monastery.