Nope. No sequel planned. As I said earlier, we already reached the end of the story: the epilogue was just that. A short epilogue. This is what really happened.

And, yes, I admit I need a beta reader. There isn't too much left, but next project will surely see me ask for one.

Edit: And yes, this is why I need a Beta reader. Thinking there were Nine, rather than Seven, Ghosts and not bothering to go back and count. That is exactly what a Beta reader should be able to catch.

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Four days travel west and north of Rabona, there is a small hamlet with an inn. Its only reason for existing is to serve as a stop for pilgrims and traders to and from the city. In this direction, however, to the long-dead region of the North, barely any traffic comes. Back before Pieta had died, traders and travelers of all reputations had stopped, and the hamlet had been viable, and houses of rest and pleasure had been available for the proper coin.

Now, however, there is only one inn, and it is lucky to have a half-dozen customers a night. That is probably why the inn keeper is so happy to house seven mysterious guests, and so willing to overlook their strange habit of wearing their rain cloaks inside. He has seen his share of nuns and covenants: he must know that they really aren't a group of sisters who have vowed not to show their faces in public. But their coin is good and their requests meager, and so the owner is happy to give them what little they ask for.

Not that any of them care what he thinks: they would be just as capable of staying outside. But being able to stoically tolerate the rain didn't mean enjoying to, and so no one had objected to the suggestion of staying at the nearest inn after a long day's journey. Besides them, the inn was empty besides a man and a woman, spouses, in mourning black coming from a funeral in Rabona. They approached no one, and no one approached them, content to leave them in the privacy of their grief.

Just as the first of them is about to leave for her room, doubtless hoping that the sooner she falls asleep the sooner the next day would come, the door to the inn opens. The sound of rain pouring quiets what little chatter among them there was, and all cast an eye at the figures who walk in. It is a small, wet, and surely tired family; all four are wearing cloaks as complete as the Seven's.

It's clear from the broad sword and the even broader shoulders that are hidden under the cloak that the father is the most threatening protector. But a more careful look shows that he is favoring one arm over the other, and that he likely couldn't use his weapon if his life depended on it. By his side are two smaller figures; the smallest cloak has a small girl's hand gripping his, while on his other side a small and thin figure is standing far too close to the father to be threatening to anyone. That boy, judging by the sword, is nothing more than a tall child, regardless of the size of his weapon. Even a cursory scan for radiant yoma energies would see nothing from them.

Stepping forward to the innkeeper is a young and attractive woman. The only one to lower her hood, everyone can see her reassuringly natural brown hair and blue eyes, and her face is young and attractive. "I'd like a room with two beds, please," she asks the innkeeper, and her voice is soft despite the sword that she, too, has strapped to her back under the concealment of her cloak.

"Certainly," the man says. "That will be…" he trails, pretending to think. Even though he has seen more guests tonight than in some weeks, that is no reason not to make money off of them.

"Will this be enough to cover a light dinner and breakfast sent to our room?" she asks, holding up two golden sticks that glimmered in the Inn Keeper's eyes.

"Of course," he says, eagerly taking the sticks. Before he can hand the keys, though, the man is racked by coughs, nearly bending double inside his cloak even as the thin son carefully supports him.

"Is your husband sick?" asks the Inn Keeper. "Madame Meg is the local apothecary, I can have someone run over and get her..." he offers. Greedy as he is, he is also compassionate for the health of his guests.

The young woman startled slightly at his first words, but shook her head. "No," she said. "He was injured recently, and the rain hasn't done him any favors. A good dry night's sleep should help him," she said, though she too looks slightly concerned.

"I'll have a few towels and a spare tunic sent up to your room," decided the Inn Keeper. "Here's your key; it will be the last room at the end of the hall; that one is connected to the fireplace, which should warm it up a bit." The Seven, on the other hand, had taken the first rooms at the hall, so as to leave with less commotion early the next day.

The brown-haired woman would never know about that. "Thank you," she said sincerely, and gladly took the key. Without any further word, or even a glance to the other guests, she hurried to the man and took the opposite side as her child. Though the man tried to wave her off, she batted the hand away and gently took his shoulder, and together she and taller child helped the cloaked man up the stairs.

After the family vanished from sight and the sound of their door opening and closing echoed downstairs, the first of the Seven stood up and excused herself for the night. She was the one who had the most interest in arriving at Rabona, and was the most impatient. She paid the family down the hall no thought as she drifted to sleep with a mix of hope and expectations.

Five days later, she and two others of the Seven would race past the hamlet without a thought and with no interest in resting. They would not realize until much later that the family had stayed a week in that inn when the man succumbed to illness from the rain, and that the young woman refused to allow him to leave until he recovered.

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Double edit.

People keep going "shouldn't the Seven have sensed Clarice, Miata, and/or especially Priscilla?" The answer is no, because they didn't put anything more than a cursory sweep into it. Which is exactly what they would have needed to sense hidden/suppressed yoma energy; if the Organization's Eye can't even sense Priscilla's power until in direct contact, despite certainly having scanned for yoma energy before arriving, then it's clear that you have to put active effort into detecting hidden/suppressed yoma like Priscilla's or Clarice and Miata on the yoma suppressant.

Why would the Seven have done that? Claymore's don't travel with (sick) grown human men, which Raki clearly was. Claymores don't have brown hair, which Clarice clearly did. Claymores don't cling to men like little children (which Miata did), and when was the last time there was a Claymore as small as Priscilla? Never. Had the seven done a thorough yoma search, they could have found out. But they had no reason to: the group didn't look like Claymores (Clarice), act like Claymores (Miata), or radiate yoma energy (Priscilla).

Instead the Seven kept to themselves, ignored others so long as others ignorred them, and even Clare was too impatient to get to Rabona to look around. That is the irony and moral of the chapter: if you want to find someone lost, you need to openly look for them. You can't disguise yourself with cloaks and ignore everyone who doesn't stand out, lest the same happen to you.