Manuel clenched his hands tightly to prevent them from reaching for his coat pocket. The coat swung forward and backward as he moved, the dance causing the gold nugget which he had stolen to touch against the side of his abdomen occasionally, reminding him of its presence.

He was jittery and his eyes loomed around the place, looking for anyone who might be observing his strange behavior. Manuel had always been more cautious and nervous than Lena in doing things that were against the law. But he had to do it, if he wanted to survive and live a mundane life, and forget all about the murderous heart that was thirsting for revenge which he had possessed before.

There was barely anyone out on the streets, with only a man or two passing by every few minutes. Tall shadows of the large buildings which lined the street, surrounded him and Manuel was a dark matter, almost invisible among them. The clouds were a darker shade of mist around the area, unlike the main street, but they were enough for Manuel to make out the path and the reference points he had noted down on his previous trips.

As he walked a few miles more, he finally reached the junction he was looking for. A long pole stood in the turn and a street sign hung atop it, the letters in bright bold. A raven was perched above the street sign. Manuel stopped short and his eyes flashed as he looked at it. His heart beat faster as he stared at its eyes, so very similar to Jardex.

Manuel stuffed his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling cold. He didn't want to think about Jardex, he tried his best not to, but there was not a single day that passed without him reminiscing about his dragon, who had died protecting him.

Lena's mother, Mora, had advised him not to dwell on revenge and live a hidden and peaceful life in the town, but the death of his family and losing Jardex were all constant thoughts that could never be erased from his heart. He wondered how it would be if he were like Lena, who had lost her memories and forgotten all about her father and dragon.

"Faster!" a voice resounded throughout the junction. Manuel shook himself out of his reverie and glanced around, his eyes moving like lasers.

He could hear the distinct sounds of boots pressing harshly against the stone pavement. He moved behind the pole and blended against the shadows, making sure the floating clouds didn't pass by him and reveal his location.

Manuel instantly recognized the troop as soon as he laid his eyes on them. It was the village guards. A few of them shouldered a wooden palanquin which had a deep carving on its front. The seal belonged to the village chief and Manuel's eyes widened as he glanced at it. Anything involving the village chief always meant trouble. He was known for his unforgiving and psychotic nature and he and Lena tried their best to do their line of work far away from the path of his guards.

The troop seemed to be heading towards the weaving house. Manuel followed them at a safe distance, momentarily forgetting about the heavy weight in his pocket. As they reached a distance, the whole troop slowed to a stop. The palanquin was placed on the floor gently and one of the guards slid the door on its front, before stepping back with his eyes cast to the ground.

A fancy leather boot made out of leopard skin was the first thing that Manuel could see. It left a lasting impression on the wet mud as its owner stepped out completely and into view. Manuel glanced at the village chief, Nazim, whose lips twitched into a lopsided grin, darkening the glow of the night.

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Nazim held out his hand and one of his men stepped forward, sounding a loud horn. The sound reverberated and echoed across the streets and Manuel witnessed the sudden turning on of countless lamps and the rush of panicked villagers out into the open.

Manuel's eyes gleamed with recognition as he saw his aunt Mora, and his cousins, Manson and Manon. He fell into the crowd that was moving past him and let it wave him over to them.

The village chief scanned the gathering around him and stopped when his eyes reached Mora, who was jammed between two women who were looking at the scene with curiosity. Nazim signaled his men with the raise of his hand and smirked. Manuel didn't miss the way Mora's breath hitched, almost as though she was expecting his arrival. A stout and fierce looking man stepped forward from his troop and grabbed Mora by the neck and slammed her against the wall.

Manuel's jaw slacked. Why was the village chief targeting his aunt?

Manson placed a hand on his arm and Manuel turned towards him with an inquisitive look.

"What's happening?" he asked, clenching his fingers tightly as the color left his aunt's face. His cousin, Manson, leaned against him for support and buried his face into Manuel's neck, hot tears soaking his coat.

"He visited our house two weeks ago and offered a cart full of gold for selling Lena to him. Mother refused and..." Manson broke off.

The man flung Mora onto the rain fed ground and glanced at the village chief. Nazim raised an eyebrow and took a slow but calculative sip from the wine that had been offered to him.

Mora cautiously lifted herself off the ground and stood on her knees. She broke into coughing fits. The stout man decked her on the back of her head, and she lost her balance, her head stopping inches away from Nazim's polished shoes. Nazim's grin widened. He yanked her by her hair and positioned her at his eye level.

"You can't keep your daughter with you forever," he growled, "I will take her by force if you don't cooperate."

A golden tooth shone from within the dark abyss of his mouth and Manuel could not help but want to put a fist through his face. Nazim dropped Mora down and placed his feet on the back of her head. Manuel took a step forward, huffing in anger at the way his aunt was being treated but was tugged back by Manson. The rim of his eyes was red, and he shook his head at him.

"Take Manon inside the house and stay with her. I'll bring Mother home after all this is over," he said, softly.

"You know he'll whip her," Manuel argued.

"I know, but I don't want Manon to see that," Manson said, giving him a firm look and nudged Manon's fingers into his hand.

"But what if he kills her? You know how crazy..." Manuel sighed, knowing that Manson wouldn't change his decision anytime soon. He was stubborn, just like Lena.

Manuel found Manon glancing at him with a curious expression that mirrored her sister Lena's. Even though she was only five, Manuel could see the similarities between them. Her long hair was braided into small knots and she twirled a finger through it as her hands trembled from the cold. Manuel pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, the gold nugget no longer his priority. He bent down to her level. "What is it?" he asked.

"Who is that man?" she asked, pointing a finger at Nazim. Manuel scooped her into his arms and pulled her close.

"Do you want to stop by the shop?" he asked, dodging her question and walking towards their house which was only a couple of miles away.

Manon stared at him and then sunk her neck into his shoulders. "No," she said, pressing her head further into the fabric of his shirt.

A loud cry pierced the air. Manuel shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around his sister. Manon squirmed.

"That sounded like Mother," she said. She struggled to break free from his arms, but Manuel held on.

"It's not Mother," he said sternly. Manuel did not like lying to her; she was like his own sister, but he did not want her to witness her mother getting whipped. He increased his pace and shut his ears when the second scream was heard.