Chapter 3

The beaten snow covering the path leading to our village was dotted with shades of brown and black, the result of passing carts and horses. Amanda and Celina clicked their tongues and winced as we navigated it, carefully avoiding the particularly repugnant sections. I understood their reason for joining me—they had cast a glance at the hides I had tucked away in my satchel and quickly grabbed their cloaks. I chose not to engage them since they had not initiated any conversation with me after last night, even though Celina had risen at dawn to chop wood. Likely because she knew I would be selling the hides at the market today, ensuring I returned home with some cash in hand. They followed me down the solitary path meandering through the snow-blanketed fields, leading straight into our rundown village.

The stone homes in the village were typical and unremarkable, made even bleaker by the harshness of winter. However, it was market day, which hinted that the small square at the heart of town would be bustling with the vendors braving the chilly morning air. A block away, the aroma of cooked food drifted toward us—spices that tugged at my memory, inviting me closer. Amanda sighed softly behind me. Spices, salt, sugar—luxuries for many in our village, impossible for us to obtain. If my sales at the market went well, perhaps I could buy us something tasty. I started to suggest it, but as we turned the corner, we nearly collided as we all came to a sudden stop.

“May the Eternal Light be upon you, sisters,” declared the pale-clad young woman blocking our way.

Celina and Amanda clicked their tongues, while I held back a groan. Fantastic. Just what I needed—a day in the market interrupted by the Children of the Blessed, stirring up the locals. Typically, the village elders permitted their presence for just a few hours, though their mere existence made everyone feel uneasy. It certainly made me uneasy. The High Wiz had long ago ceased to be our divinities—they were our oppressors—and they were anything but benevolent.

The young woman raised her moonlit hands in a welcoming gesture, a jangling bracelet of genuine silver bells adorning her wrist. “Do you have a moment to listen to the Word of the Blessed? ”

“No,” Celina retorted disdainfully, disregarding the girl’s outstretched hands and nudging Amanda to walk on. The young woman's untamed dark hair shimmered in the dawn light as her clean features radiated a cheerful smile. Six other acolytes stood behind her, both young men and women with uncut hair—each scanning the marketplace for young people to harass. “It would only take a minute,” the acolyte insisted, stepping into Celina’s path.

It was quite a sight to witness Celina go rigid, her posture straightening as she gazed down at the young woman with an air of royalty. “Go peddle your fanatical drivel to someone else. You won’t find any converts here. ”

The girl flinched, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her brown eyes. I suppressed a grimace. It might not be the wisest approach, as riling them up could turn them into a genuine hassle.

Celina raised her hand, pulling back her coat sleeve to reveal an iron bracelet. The same one Amanda wore; they had purchased matching pieces ages ago. The acolyte gasped in astonishment, her eyes widening. “Do you see this?” Celina hissed, taking a step closer. The acolyte took a step back. “This is what you ought to wear. Not those silver bells to lure witches.”

“How dare you don that despicable affront to our eternal allies—” “Take your preaching elsewhere,” Celina shot back.

Two plump, cheerful farmers’ wives sauntered by, linked arm in arm. As they approached the acolytes, their expressions twisted in shared disgust. “Wizard-loving whore,” one of them spat at the young woman. I couldn’t find fault with that sentiment.

The acolytes fell silent. Another villager—wealthy enough to flaunt a complete necklace of braided iron around her neck—narrowed her eyes, her upper lip curling in disdain. “Don’t you fools grasp what those creatures subjected us to for centuries? What they still do for amusement whenever they can? You deserve whatever fate the witches inflict upon you. Idiots and harlots, all of you.”

Celina acknowledged the women with a nod as they moved forward. We redirected our attention to the young woman still standing before us, and even Amanda wore a look of disapproval.

Taking a deep breath, the young woman regained her composure and remarked, “I too lived without awareness until I encountered the Word of the Blessed. I was raised in a village strikingly similar to this one—bleak and dismal. Yet, less than a month ago, a friend of my cousin ventured to the border as our tribute to the Witches’ coven—and she has not returned. Now she enjoys wealth and luxury as the bride of a High Wiz, and you could too, if you would just take a moment to—”

“She’s probably been sacrificed,” Celina interjected. “That’s why she hasn’t come back. ”

Or perhaps worse, I speculated, if a High Wiz had truly whisked a human away to Duskarra. I had yet to meet the pitiless, human-like High Wiz who governed Duskarra, nor the witches who claimed the land with their cloaks, hats, and long, slender brooms that could transport you deep into the heart of an ancient forest. I wasn’t sure which would be more terrifying to confront.

The acolyte’s expression grew tense. “Our noble masters would never do us harm. Duskarra is a realm of abundance and tranquility. If they were to bestow their favor upon you, you would rejoice in their company. 

Celina rolled her eyes. Amanda was darting glances between us and the marketplace ahead—where the villagers were now observing as well. It was time to leave.

Celina opened her mouth to speak again, but I stepped in front of her and surveyed the girl’s pale blue robes, the silver adornments she wore, and the pristine quality of her skin. There was not a single blemish to be seen. “You’re fighting a losing battle,” I told her.

“A noble endeavor,” the girl replied with a radiant smile.

I gently urged Celina to start walking and addressed the acolyte, “No, it’s not.”

I sensed the acolytes' gaze still locked on us as we made our way through the bustling market square, but I chose not to glance back. They would be on their way soon enough, heading off to spread their message in a different town. To avoid them, we’d need to take the longer route out of the village. Once we were at a safe distance, I looked back at my sisters. Amanda’s expression was still twisted in discomfort, while Celina's eyes were tumultuous, her mouth set in a tight line. I contemplated whether she might march back to confront the girl.

Not my concern—not at this moment. “I’ll meet with you in one hour,” I said, then slipped into the throng of the square before they could linger over me.

I took ten minutes to weigh my three choices. There were my regular customers: the rugged cobbler and the keen-eyed cloth merchant who traveled from a neighboring town to visit our market. Then there was the unfamiliar: a solidly built woman lounging on the edge of our dilapidated fountain, lacking a cart or stall, yet exuding an air of authority. Her visible scars and weaponry marked her clearly as a mercenary.

I felt the cobbler and clothier’s gaze on me, recognizing their pretended indifference as they assessed the satchel I carried. Fine—this would indeed be the kind of day it turned out to be.