Early morning broke over Oakfield. The sun folded over field and cottage, filtering through leaves and foliage but could not dislodge the despondent bereavement of the multitude of souls who gathered over the seaside cliff cemetery.

Gray mist clung stubbornly over dewy grass and carved stone, shrouding the citizens who wore uniform black. The Abbot had been a popular and prominent figure in the lives not just of those who dwelled in Oakfield but many far and wide across Albion.

The only sound that could be heard was the rustle of the wind through vegetation and the distant toll of the town bell marking the new day.

Sparrow stood beside the hunched form of Hannah thinking of the past few days. There had been explanations and funeral rites and it had been impossible to find the right words for comfort. One look at Hannah's drawn and angry face forestalled all conversation that surrounded her father's brutal murder.
She couldn't help but notice the rift between Hannah and the monks of the Order of Light; none of them seemed interested in offering comfort or words of solace nor did they seem entirely put out at the death of the Abbot. The smallest tribute they made to their former spiritual leader was to plant the Golden Acorn over his grave.

I suppose it's a real step up for someone in the Order, Sparrow thought cynically to herself.

In the meantime Sparrow herself had no idea how to go about offering comfort to her silently grieving friend. She was too young to remember very well the death of her parents and when Rose…
Well, there were no words or enough physical presence in the world that could ease that pain. She could only wait.

It was well into late morning before Hannah finally broke the silence by bending over her father's grave and clasping her hands. By now the townsfolk had paid their respects and one by one left the cemetery until it was just Hannah, Sparrow and a handful of monks.

"I'm sorry, father," she said in a low voice "not that I broke my vow but that I didn't break it sooner. I never did fit in at this place, we both knew that. Now I'm going to make a new vow."

Hannah's voice went rough with fierce anger and grief.

"Lucien will die for what he did to you. Rest assured I won't break this one."

She stood and averted her face but not before Sparrow saw the mask of stiff anger break into red-faced tears, spilling over a face clenched in pain. Hannah walked away and put her back to the monks and the grave and stood before the ledge of the ocean, staring out to sea, Sparrow a helpless spectator in someone else's personal grieving. It wasn't an entirely comfortable feeling.

Hannah's back was ram-rod straight, rigid with the struggle to contain tremulous emotion that had no immediate outlet.

"Sister Hannah, the blessing…?"

Hannah didn't bother to turn but spoke over her shoulder, voice bitter and heated.

"You do it."

The Brother sighed and stepped up to the grave and bowed his head.

"As new life rises so shall we, as the seed returns to the ground, so do we all."

The rest of the brethren murmured similar phrases and one by one the monks emptied the grave site until it was just Sparrow and Hannah and the low rumble of waves against rock.

Hannah spun around and glared at the empty space, tears running down her cheeks.

"Is that it then!? " she spat out, slamming a foot into a loose rock, sending it tumbling down the hill.

"My father is gone, the Golden Oak is flourishing and life just…goes on as before, does it!?"

An unexpected voice answered her.

"The other monks may believe that but your eyes have been opened."

The mysterious, husky voice of Theresa seemed to come out of the air and was quickly followed by a flash of incandescent light that bloomed like a flower before dissipating.

The blind wanderer appeared, literally, from thin air and stood before Hannah and addressed her directly. Hannah started in shock, momentarily forgetting rage and tears.

Sparrow tried to keep her mouth from dropping. Nearly a lifetime of knowing the woman and she still had plenty of surprises. The hair rose on her arms, her body feeling the effects of a high level spell woven and executed flawlessly and it made her shiver. To move mass and matter between two points required substantial power and sheer skill. It wasn't something Sparrow was even remotely ready to try and didn't appreciate the blow to her pride at the glaring contrast of skillfulness in the art of Will.

Hannah fared no better at the incredible sudden appearance of Theresa. She gaped for a moment then blurted out,

"Where did you come from!? Who are you!?"

Theresa took the young woman's outburst in stride and placed her hands together lightly, non-offensively and spoke in her usual calm manner.

"Someone who can tell you much about Lucien. Where he is, what his plans are and how you can gain your revenge. If you will listen."

Hannah's face, ravaged by grief and tears, went stony with resolution and said without hesitation,

"I want to know everything."

Theresa nodded and held out a hand with a pleased smile.

"Then come with me, Sister Hannah."

Hannah smiled grimly.

"Call me Hammer."

She cast a questioning look at Sparrow and she nodded,

"Theresa can help you with what you seek. I'll meet up with you soon, I promise."

Sparrow caught the brief glimpse of Hannah's weak smile before they both disappeared in another flash of light.

'I've taken Hammer to the Guild. You've done well, Hero, you have gathered the first of the three Heroes and we are one step closer to defeating Lucien's plans. It will take some time for Hammer to overcome her grief and longer still to explain her role in Lucien's downfall. Take care of things on your end and come back to the Guild when you are ready.'

Sparrow placed a hand on Collin's head and tried to identify the cause for unease curling in her stomach. There were strange parallels in the manner of Theresa's appearance. Parallels that weren't unlike her own first encounter with the wanderer. There was also an irrational seed of guilt planted in the back of her mind that maybe it was Sparrow herself who brought destruction down upon the Temple..

We'll need her to find a reason to fight, was something Theresa had said just before they went into the cave and now Hannah had that reason.

Questions, doubts and conjecture all chased around Sparrow's head in an unsettling fashion until she pressed her fingers hard against the bridge of her nose and concluded there had been too many dark happenings in too short of a time and it was coloring her judgment.


With her business mostly concluded in Oakfield a fortnight's travel and rest found Sparrow two tankards of ale in and on one of the strangest quests she had been commissioned for thus far.

The young man before her was unlike anyone she had met since leaving the small encampment by the shores of Bowerstone Lake. Maybe it was the acrid aged ale running hot through her veins but watching the calm motion of long fingered hands wiping clean newly washed mugs made something hitch inside Sparrow's chest in a not-so-unpleasant way.

Meeting Alex had started as one of the more unusual requests she got; for a number years the farmers in Oakfield and avid travelers who went through Rookridge spoke of a recurring haunting that was becoming more frequent and more of a nuisance with each passing moon.

When the apparition wasn't moaning and spitting foul epitaphs at those who came near the overlook at the highest peak of Rookridge, it was rattling spectral chains and being a general nuisance.

Word of the Hero who came to the Temple of Light had made the rounds and eventually after several people had approached her Sparrow finally agreed to look into it. Solving a problem that didn't need brute force would be a nice change.

Vengeance, had been the sole motivation, as in the hell hath no fury kind of revenge.

The phantom lady told a story of heartbreak and woe. Her love had left her at the altar and in her grief she had taken her own life and was therefore doomed to wander the very place she had thrown herself off from, unable to let go of the terrible emotions that drove her to end her life.

So Sparrow and found and met Alex, who was not the fanged, womanizing bastard she had been so looking forward to destroying. The man who worked tirelessly in the Cow and Corset was kind, warm and deeply understanding. He thought before he spoke, fed those who came to tavern who couldn't pay for a meal and had a subtle sense of humor that Sparrow found herself wishing she could make him smile more often.

Now she was torn between her oath to the spirit and her own intuition telling her breaking this man would be like destroying a stain-glassed window.

"I haven't told anyone this before…" Alex said, continuing the conversation that had sparked Sparrow's inner turmoil.

Sparrow started and looked up into a face that was attractive in an unusual way. Alex was something like a scarecrow; he had height but not a great deal of meat on his bones. His face had a strong jaw and a nose that could plow fields but for all that there was a personality behind the dark brown eyes that drew people in.

She felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied with his intent regard so close to her. In her lap she clenched a piece of parchment as she sought to find the right words.

"I- um. I was almost married, once. I did something stupid, so stupid! We were so young, and I… I admit I panicked and did the worse thing possible."

Alex set the glass on the table and picked up another, focusing intently on cleaning. His face bitter and drawn. Sparrow let him continue, knowing already the end of the story.

"I ran away, coward that I was! I left her at the worst possible moment and she… she took her life."

He placed both hands on the bar, pressing down, almost as though trying to push away the emotion that gripped him.

"I hurt her so badly, I felt as though I could never forgive myself! It's been so long since… listen, Sparrow-"

Alex looked up suddenly, eyes luminous with rough tears unshed and Sparrow froze, as sure as he had shot her with her own pistol.

"These last couple of weeks , I never thought I could… I never thought I would deserve another chance but then I met you."

"Alex…"

"Please, listen, you need to know- I never met anyone like you. Would you please-"

He gulped a breath and asked, "I would be honored if you allowed me to formally court you."

Sparrow swallowed the hysterical laughter that threatened to close her throat. He was so intense and so earnest, waiting with lips pressed together, practically holding his breath, that she wasn't entirely certain how to respond.

Alex really was unlike anyone she had met. Sparrow wasn't a fool; she didn't need a mirror to tell her she was no dainty tripping maid that most men dreamed of. Most of the time she was a Hero, a category that placed her in a different sphere than ordinary folk and they didn't let her forget it.

Most men had treated her with weary respect, as expected from a woman who was not only a good half foot taller than everyone but also was more deadly than a dozen balverines. After you slaughtered yourself a few bandit camps, word got around.

This had separated romance into two categories for Sparrow. The first was fool hearty buffoons who treated her like a mountain to climb and conquer, which needless to say, did not end well. The other category treated her like an oncoming force of nature; to be respected but to be feared and avoided when possible.

Alex had fit into neither of these categories. When she found him working at the tavern she had got right into his face and glared into his eyes but he hadn't backed down. Over the next two weeks Sparrow was afraid she was the one becoming tame under his careful questions and solid reassuring presence.

Looking into his face Sparrow sighed and crumpled the parchment into a tight ball in her fist, then leaned forward to grasp the collar of his shirt.

"Sparrow-!"

She cut him off as she firmly placed her lips over his, liking the feel of him against her. He started in surprise but quickly returned the favor with interest.

Wolf whistles and cat calls startled Sparrow out of the kiss and she scowled at the drunken patrons, waving their mugs in the air and cackling at 'young love'.

"Er, I take it- that is, that's a yes?"

"YES that's a yes! Or do you want me to kiss you again?"

Alex let a slow smile stretch his lips as he leaned back over to Sparrow.

"Well, as a matter of fact – um, do you smell something burning?"

Letting the parchment blacken to ashes and fall to the tavern floor Sparrow didn't answer but pulled Alex closer to her.


Since first defeating Thag and collecting whatever goods he had stolen Sparrow had been slowly, over the course of the months she had been adventuring, investing in realty in Bowerstone. After a childhood of starvation and uncertainty she was determined to make a decent living while being an adventurer.

The small shambled house she owned wasn't big, wasn't fancy but had several rooms that she leased out to several tenants somewhere near Bowerstone Market.

Of course, being responsible for said property and people living therein came with its own set of challenges.

"I'll not have it! Right next to the kitchen window it was, too! Scared Mr. Pookums half to death, I will not have it!"

Lady Bucket held said Mr. Pookums in her lap and the little dog quivered in either agitation or cold. The good Lady Bucket was one of those Bowerstonians who had claim to antique royal lineage, but it was so far removed and watered down the only thing left was a title and a very small monthly stipend.

Sparrow took a deep breath and endeavored to keep a placid voice.

"Hollow men in Wells Gardens? Isn't that right next to the Bowerstone Cemetery?"

What was usually a laundry list of minor and sometimes fabricated complaints from Lady Bucket this one actually sounded credible; hallowed ground would be a fertile area for the undead creatures. Sparrow couldn't find it in her heart to be very irritated by her termagant resident , having spent the part of the day with Alex bartering alchemy supplies with the local chemist. The man certainly had a way with people.

How on earth did they get there, though? Sparrow wondered silently to herself.

"All I have to say is that you had better be responsible. An adventurer landlord must rise to these sorts of challenges." Lady Bucket stood imperiously and swept from the room but not before parting with,

"I expect my front gardens to be undead-free by the end of the day or I shall be finding another, better place to habituate."

Sparrow winced slightly as the door slammed and then burst out into laughter. Collin wagged his tail and pranced around the table where the ill-fated conference had been held.

The look on Bucket's face when she described the ghoulish face peeking in the kitchen window during tea had been priceless.

She stood and stretched then took her weapons from the chest where she kept them stored and buckled them across her back. A quick look around the small flat she lived in showed everything was as she liked it; spare, clean and nicely decorated. She wasn't there often but it was nice to know she had a bed to come back to.

People in the street greeted Sparrow as she walked towards the Bowerstone Cemetery; after recent events she had become something of a pet to the townsfolk. Sometimes citizens came to her for minor problems, usually physical things – brigands, hobbe attacks, and she had gained a small reputation for taking care of said problems.

One of the towns guards greeted her along the way.

"Ho, there Sparrow! Good timing, lass, we have a bit of a problem on our hands."

"So it's true then? Hollow men in the cemetery?"

"Afraid so; we've cleared out the cemetery best we could and we have some guards on the premise but there are so bloody many of em'! See what you can do, eh?"

Sparrow nodded and looked at the crowd of milling people around the closed gates of the cemetery.

Most looked bewildered and scared, a few seemed to have had a close encounter with the dangerous spirits; they sat bloody and shaken on the ground as their wounds were tended.

Two men caught her attention; hardly more than boys they were obviously twin brothers. Upper class by the looks of the fine tailored clothing. They stood off to the side as they huddled together casting furtive looks at the guards and whispering furiously.

Guilty behavior if I've ever seen it.

Sparrow easily flanked the two and got right behind them without them noticing.

"It was your fault!" the first one hissed "You're the one who found it!"

"You're the one who read the words, it's your fault."

"You said I was chicken because I wouldn't read it in the first place!"

"Yes, but you're the one…eep!"

The twin with the pulled back hair went bug-eyed as he finally noticed the tall, well-armed woman standing behind him grinning like a wolf.

The other twin, quicker on the uptake, blurted out, "You've got to help us!"

Both raised their fingers at one another and said in unison,

"Sam – "

"Max-"

"raised the dead!"

Sparrow raised her hands for silence and said, "What happened exactly?"

"You see, we read aloud from this book we found called the Normanomicon-"

"You're the one who found it, remember!" Sam interjected.

"Yeah, and you're the one who read – "

"Honestly, put a cork in it!" snapped Sparrow "Get on with it!"

"Right, the thing is we accidently…well…summonedafewhundredhollowmen!"

Sam spat the sentence out as though ripping off a bandage. The blank, stunned stare Sparrow gave him didn't help.

"What?"

Max sighed. "Summoned a few hundred hollow men."

"That's what I thought you said."

"That isn't all. Tell her, Sam"

"Wha-? Me? You tell her-" Sam caught the look on Sparrow's face and gulped, "Oh. All right. They also have the book."

"Only because you dropped it, you big girl."

"It leaped at me, you saw it! I could have lost an eye!"

"So you'll need to clear the graveyard so we can get the book back and send them all back to where they came from."

But Max turned to discover he was talking to empty air as Sparrow had already pushed past the gates, long sword in hand and Collin at her heels.

The two brothers watched her disappear into the unnatural fog that shrouded the cemetery then turned to one another.

"You think she can do it?"

"You better hope she can; if she can't get the book back I'm telling mum on you!"

"You little snitch! This was your idea-"

"Hardly, it was my idea! If you hadn't-"

"If YOU-"

The sounds of two imbeciles squabbling faded away as Sparrow entered the cool, misty confines of Bowerstone cemetery.