Author's Notes

We got a lot of late reviews for the last chapter, so here's what I'm gonna do; I'll be answering the reviews for chapter 5 here, and the others at the end AN, so as to not halt your reading by much. :)

So, then, Reviews!

GiggiEba, Yeah, he is. He's not working for him, per se, but yeah. When Lila says she wants something, its best not to assume she wants something else, or there could be bruise- ehm, consequences. :P

ScarOfHerobrine, eh, it's fine, don't worry about it. :) Thanks, I do love describing scenery. It's something I'm good at, if I do say so myself. Heh, let's hope not. Hopefully he won't. Perhaps... that is yet to be specified. Heh, I'm glad you liked it!

ThinMint, Yeah, he just doesn't stop. And Trudy doesn't like him, but let me put her actions into perspective; if you helped a demon take over your hometown, would you try to go back if he failed? Do you think you'd be welcome? Yep, there's lots, actually. Smoke is not inherently tied to fire demons (psychological ones, for example, don't have solid elements and can turn into smoke to move across long distances easily). Maybe. Yeah, that's true. Heh, I'm glad you liked that bit! :D Heh, thanks. Well, you won't be dying any longer! And thanks for your support!

That took longer for me to answer than expected... not that I mind, however!

And now, on with the story!

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Eba's POV

I walked down the street towards the iron mason's shop, avoiding anyone and everyone's gaze. I wasn't sure if my clothes looked right, or if the description I gave the mason yesterday matched what I actually wanted. I don't know if he even understood my mumbling, or if he would actually take my petition seriously.

Not that I would admit it, but... I guess I was suffering from... some sort of demon withdrawal. Blight had always eased my worries and backed me up, had pushed me to speak my mind. The only reason I knew how to fight was because of Blight. And now I had to relearn how to do everything else without him.

I tucked my hair behind my ears, peeking into the mason's shop. The man was nowhere to be seen. I stepped inside, looking around. Swords, tools, armor pieces and other trinkets were hung up on the walls or placed neatly on shelves. I walked closer to admire a small locket when the iron mason walked through the back door.

Almost jumping out of my skin, I walked over to the man. "Uh... h-hello."

The mason smiled. "Good day, miss. What can I do for you?"

I rummaged through my hoodie's pockets, coming up with a note. "I-I... asked if you could... make a sword for me..." I mumbled, handing him the slip.

He nodded, reading the scribbles on there. "Yes, I remember that. I'll go fetch it for you."

"Th-thanks..." I whispered as he left.

The man came back with a long item wrapped in cloth. "Here. Take a look, make sure I've got it right."

I nodded, untying the lace keeping it neat and unfolding the navy cloth. Inside was a sheathed rapier, its hilt not quite what Blight's had been like, but close enough. That was probably my fault anyway... The weapon breathed as I removed it from its leather confines, a sharp sound that rang all over the small shop. The blade itself was almost identical to the sword that Blight made for me with his rot-sand when needed.

Taking a few step back, I waved the sword experimentally. It was heavier than Needlepoint, but not entirely uncomfortable. The hilt was fine despite not looking or feeling just like the old one. The mason smiled. "I take it you're happy with it?"

I nodded, hiding the little smile playing with my lips under my drawn hood. The man placed my new sword carefully in its sheath before re-wrapping it. "That will be twenty gold coins," he said, pushing the blade towards me.

My hands rummaged through my pockets again, coming up with the exact amount. Weapons weren't that necessary in the city. They were more an expensive commodity. I walked back over to the locket that had caught my attention as the man counted the money. "H-how... how much for the locket?"

The iron mason looked up. "Seven gold coins," he answered, placing his earnings in a small box.

I picked it up tentatively, inspecting the locket. It was thin and diamond-shaped, flat on one side and curved outwards on the other. Intricate designs framed the base structure, wrapping around and ending with a lovely silver chain at the top. My hands dug through my pockets again. "I'll take it. I-If it hasn't been spoken for," I hurried to add.

The man smiled again. "No, it hasn't been spoken for."

"Oh... okay." I walked over, handing him seven more shiny coins. My fingers burned where the cold metal had touched them, since I wasn't exactly wealthy at the moment.

The man nodded, putting them away. "Have a good day, miss. Pleasure doing business with you."

"L-likewise," I mumbled, tucking the little trinket gently into my hoodie's right pocket and picking up my sword.

I took the long walk to the outskirts of the city, one I had traveled a lot with Blight. It was hard to find anything for him to rot in the streets, so we frequented the little forests that sat near Globe Chapel City. I wandered towards one of the clearings my demon and I visited the most. It had a couple of tree stumps, some wildflowers here and there, and not much else.

Placing my new sword gently on top of a stump, I took off my hoodie and breathed in the cold forest air. I felt a little better now, away from all the hustle, noise, and strangers from the city. I untied the navy-wrapped package for a second time, picking up the weapon and its sheath. Suddenly remembering something, I rummaged through my hoodie's pockets again.

Using Needlepoint, I had never needed—not even considered—wearing gloves because it just felt so right and comfortable to weild it. As if it were molded specifically and expertly for my hand. But now that I was using a different weapon, I had the foresight to have some gloves made, knowing it'd probably hurt my hand to use the new sword otherwise.

I drew the rapier, enjoying the ringing sound it let out. I stared at it for a moment, frowning. A smile bloomed on my face as I swung it playfully. "I dub thee Piketooth!" I exclaimed happily, aware of how silly I was being and feeling relieved that nobody was watching.

Shrubbery and plantlife fell before me as I continued playing with my sword. An embarrassing amount of time later, I finally calmed myself down and rolled my shoulders, getting ready to practice. The tournament, as announced officially by lady Cassidy according to the newspapers, would begin in two months. So I had about one, discounting workdays and such, to get ready. Admissions weren't open just yet, so I'd have to wait for that.

I chose a thin sapling as my first opponent, standing a few meters away from it. The little tree was more or less my height, about 5'10, with branches that stretched haphazardly out. Blight had often commented on how I did much better as an offensive fighter than I did a defensive one.

'And that's a problem,' he'd tell me. 'If you face up against someone or something stronger, your defensive game will be what saves you. You need to be able to not only fight well, but defend yourself too.'

I couldn't exactly defend myself from a stationary opponent, so instead I had planned on practicing more offensive moves, hoping that phrase about the best defense being a good enough offense was true. I began with simple front-thrust attacks, which consisted on parrying any oncoming swipes and pushing forward.

I spent a while doing that, putting extra effort on my speed. Since it was heavier, my Piketooth was more difficult to swing. Once done, the little sapling had a few branches missing, and most of its leaves had fallen to the ground. I moved on, feeling bad for torturing the young tree, and started practicing avoidance moves, which would be very helpful.

According to the rules, it was considered cheating to warp during a match in the tournament, so dodging and stuff would be very useful. Most endermen proffered not to fight, so there's no common fighting style. Like, skeletons prefer using ranged attacks or swift close-quarters melee. Creepers use tricks and explosions, spiders also use tricks plus melee, and so on.

That having made clear, it meant that I would need to learn a lot of moves to dodge, parry and counter the various fighting styles of my opponents. The task seemed daunting. I had borrowed a book from the public library about combat. It had a lot of diagrams and words, and a few explanations that took a minute to figure out.

I'd flipped through half the pages in the book before setting it down to practice a few of the counterattacks. I felt silly practicing this on my own, since I wouldn't be able to tell if I did it right without an opponent. My sword became less unwieldy the more I became accustomed to it, but my hands were getting sore.

A few hours in, I set my sword down and plopped onto one of the stumps. The sun had passed its apex, now sailing calmly back towards the horizon. I massaged my hands together, grimacing at the pain. The gloves certainly helped, but they didn't save me from getting hurt. I was exhausted from swinging Piketooth around for so long as well.

I slipped into my hoodie, going over to pick up my stuff. I fiddled with the twine for a moment before managing a solid knot that kept my new sword in place, tucking it under my arm and taking a look around. The clearing was peaceful and quiet, cast in shadow by the sinking sun. I walked back to my apartment, drawing my hood and keeping my head down once I reached the city.

The receptionist at the Sapphire Apartments building looked up at me with a smile. "Hey, Eba."

A tiny smile was all I could manage. "Hi, Annie."

I considered Annie a friend, despite not getting to see her much since she spent the great majority of her time down here. She noticed my sudden lack of confidence almost immediately, but dropped the subject when all I did was avoid it. The receptionist walked around her desk, taking the navy package from me.

"How're you- hoo, this is heavy. What is it?" she asked, staring at the cloth bundle in her arms.

I tugged at my hoodie's sleeve self-consciously. What would she think about my buying an expensive weapon? "I-It's a sword." I mumbled.

Annie—I think she's a skeleton, I'm not sure—raised an eyebrow. "Really? May I see it?"

Still not looking her in the eye, I gave her a small nod. The receptionist placed my sword on her desk, unwrapping it carefully and revealing the sheathed weapon. She drew Piketooth halfway, admiring the hilt and slender blade. "It's beautiful. Where'd you buy it?"

"Umm..." I began tugging at my other sleeve. "A-at the iron mason's shop. Th-the downtown one," I added.

Annie nodded. "Are you going to participate in the tournament?"

"Y-yeah," I murmured.

"Have you inscribed yourself yet?" she asked.

I shook my head and mumbled an answer. "Inscriptions begin in a couple weeks."

"Oh." Annie sheathed my Piketooth, wrapping it back up. "I could help you practice if you want," she told me.

"Really?" I asked, blinking incredulously.

"Well," she began, looking a little unsure. "I'm not that great at fighting, but a lot of people are going to be entering the tournament. So, if you want my help, just say so."

I frowned, considering her proposal. "But... don't you work every day? For most of the day?"

Annie shrugged. "I could ask someone to cover for me."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Of course," she assured. "Between us, you're the only patron here who's any kinds of nice to me. I think of you as a friend, so why wouldn't I offer to help?"

I hid myself behind my hood sheepishly, feeling flattered. "Th-Thanks... I could use some help."

Annie smiled back. "Alright. Just tell me when and where."

I hummed in agreement. "Maybe... tomorrow? Just wait... wait for me here, and uh... I'll take you with me to where I like to train... okay?"

"Sounds good," the receptionist answered. "I'll be here, then. As always."

"Y-Yeah," I murmured. "Bye... see you tomorrow..."

The elevator ride was as smooth as always, taking me to the sixth floor of the apartment complex. I walked. Over and knocked on my door, giving Blight a few seconds to hide himself before entering. Only when the door shut behind me did I realize that my demon wasn't here waiting for me. The large apartment felt, as it usually did now, much too large for just me. I could deal with it's size when Blight was with me, but now... I felt small.

I heaved a sigh, dropping Piketooth on the dinner table and flopping onto my purple couch, simply staring out the large window that practically made up an entire wall. What was the point of such a wonderful apartment when... when I was the only one who lived here?

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Thomas' POV

Word about what happened In Stockton's house spread quickly. By the time Sophie and I walked back to the village, the rumors had reached every corner of every home. We were greeted by a dozen or so people, asking to see or begging for help. I was torn apart from my friend by the tidal wave of questions, and eventually led against my will into a house.

A woman took my hand, tears drifting down her cheeks. "Please," she whispered. "Help my son. He hasn't woken up in days. Please."

I blinked, unsure of what had happened, and turned around. A small boy was lying on a bed, shivering every now and then. His skin was too pale to be healthy, and despite the apparent cold he was suffering, sweat left trails leading down his forehead. The crowd that brought me here went silent, anticipation and hope lighting their curious gazes.

I turned back to the frightened mother. "I'll... do what I can," I muttered. "But I'm not a doctor."

"Oh, thank you," the woman breathed, hugging me tightly.

I gently unwrapped her hands from me, walking over to the boy. He looked worse up close, wan and tired, his skin hugging frail bones. I heaved a sigh, not feeling great about this, and placed a hand on the child's forehead. Eyes closed, I focused on doing what I had done with Stocks, and felt warmth travel from the top of my head to the tip of my fingers, and into the sick boy.

It took a minute, but eventually, I felt him stir. The child blinked, still looking sick but at least now awake, and craned his neck to take in his surroundings. "M-mom?"

Whispers broke out from the crowd as his mother ran up and hugged him. 'It's a miracle' was thrown around as someone pulled me out of the house. It was a young boy, looking as desperate as the mother had been. "Can you help my dad?" he asked. "Mom says he's in a coma, that he hurt himself in the mines. Please help him, mister."

It felt weird to be called 'mister' when I still considered myself no older than he, but I agreed despite my confusion. Everything was just whirling past. "O-okay. Take me there, then."

The kid smiled, dragging me away to the other side of the village. More people asked for help as we ran past, but I couldn't even bring myself to answer when my head swam wildly the way it was doing right now. Nothing quite made sense. We came to a stop in front of another house. The boy threw open the door, bringing me inside and towards a small room.

Inside was a woman, washing a man's face with a damp cloth. "Ma," the boy called, "I found someone who says he can help."

His mother blinked slowly, suddenly looking hopeful. "Really? Can you bring Earnest back?"

I stared at the man lying on his bed. His breathing was the only indication that he was alive. "I'm not sure," I mumbled. "But I'll try my hardest."

"Please do," the woman begged. "We miss him."

With my heart pounding from the whirlwind of activities that had gone down in the span of five minutes, I took a few steps closer and repeated the process. It took longer, but suddenly, the father drew in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. Squealing in delight, the woman cradled him close. She peppered him with kisses while the boy jumped with joy.

I walked quietly out of the house, being stopped before I could sneak away by the horde of people harassing me so. I tried to answer as many questions as possible without getting dragged away again when out of the blue, Javer and Sophie showed up.

My friends pushed through the crowd while coming over to me. The alchemist-in-training held out his hands, keeping everyone back. "Hey, all of you, quit it!"

"Give him some space!" Sophie called out.

Their words were drowned out by more questions from overly desperate people. Javer groaned, taking a vial from his coat's pockets, and smashing it in the middle of the crowd. Pink smoke billowed into the sky, causing everyone to cough their lungs out and take a step back.

"Now do we have you attention?" Javer cried. "Could you people act decently and calm the hell down for a moment?"

Everyone went quiet, staring at the three of us. "Okay, you need help," Sophie began. "Just... don't swarm or try to kidnap Thomas! What do we do whenever there's trouble in the village?"

The crowd shuffled around for a moment. "We help each other," a man answered.

Javer nodded. "Right. And we do so in an orderly fashion, not dragging people all over the place. So, just... calm down. We're going to help everyone, okay? Just wait a moment."

Both Sophie and the alchemist-in-training turned to look at me. "The floor is yours, Tom," the blonde encouraged.

I heaved a sigh, walking forward. Unsure of what to do, I just stared at everyone while I considered my options. A young girl was wringing her hands together, eyes round with worry. I gestured for her to take a step forward, kneeling down. "What do you need?"

The little girl hung her head. "It's my granpa," she whispered. "He's sick. Could you help him?"

Swallowing a tired sigh, I nodded at the girl and stood up with an outstretched hand. "Lead the way."

She smiled, taking my hand and walking me down the cobblestone path. She led me around a few turns, eventually stopping in front of a relatively big house. The big crowd, of course, followed us at a distance. The little girl opened the door and brought me inside. The house's interior was rather simple, almost empty, with only a painting hanging from the wall and a few furniture items here and there.

The girl then brought me to a room that only held a bed, a nightstand, and an unlit lantern. A frail old man lay in the bed, looking almost peaceful. The slight shivering, and the way he clutched at the bed covers revealed that he was indeed sick. I walked over, not really sure what I was meant to be doing. This situation reminded me a lot of old man Stockton.

I turned to look at the girl. "Uh... do you have an apple, by any chance?"

She blinked, confused for a second, before nodding. "There's food in the pantry. And apples."

"Could you get one for me?" I asked.

The girl nodded again, running out of the room. She came back a few moments later holding a smooth red fruit in her hand. "Here."

I took the apple from her, turning back to look at the sick man. His eyes suddenly twitched, and opened a crack. The girl walked up to him. "Don't worry, gran'pa. He's going to help you."

The man heaved a labored sigh, nodding at the little girl. I tentatively took his wrist, placing his hand atop the apple which I held in mine. "You need to eat this, sir. Alright?"

He almost laughed, but it looked like he was missing the strength to do so. Once again, I closed my eyes. That strange warmth traveled down my arm, some of it sleeping into the old man while the rest passed into the apple. The fruit's skin turned smooth I'm my hand after a while, and I opened suddenly very tired eyes to see what had occurred.

The man looked surprised, sitting up slowly. He stared at me, then at the golden apple I held. "Take it," I told him, placing it in his hand.

He blinked, bringing the fruit closer. "Thank you," he croaked, taking a bite of it.

I nodded, wandering out of the house. My limbs felt heavy, as were my eyelids. I left the house, closing its door behind me. "Well?" Sophie asked.

"I helped them," I replied with a shrug.

Javer smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Great. One down, twenty-seven more to go."

I sighed, staring at the group of worried people. They needed my help, I had no choice. Sleep could come later. "Form a line..."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

I flopped onto my bed, holding my head in my hands. I spent most of the day walking from house to house all across the village, helping folks out with this or that. I made a few golden apples, woke a few people up, did some manual labor and even helped an old lady fix her garden. I was beyond exhausted. Even if I wanted to, I probably wouldn't have been able to get up.

Someone knocked on the door, and I couldn't help but groan. The wooden slab clicked and was moved aside, revealing a familiar head of yellow curls. I blinked up at Sophie's gentle smile. "You doing okay?" she asked, sitting at the edge of my bed.

A huff was the only answer she got for a minute. "Not really," I muttered after a while. "I'm just... so, so, very tired."

Sophie hummed. "I'll bet. I think that was the entirety of the village we visited in a single day."

"Felt like we did it twice," I grumbled.

"Maybe," Sophie said thoughtfully. "But hey, you managed to help a bunch of people out."

Despite the tiredness of my limbs, warmth and happiness flooded every vein in my body. "Least there's that," I mumbled with a smile.

Javer suddenly opened the door, followed by the Healer and another man whom I didn't recognize. He was tall and beefy, wearing a simple button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, brown pants and dust-caked old boots. "Hey, guys," Javer said. "We kinda need to talk."

I sat up, groaning with the effort. "Alright. Good afternoon to you," I nodded at the Healer and the other man.

"Likewise, my boy," the elder answered. "This is Burnham, in charge of all mining operations."

"Nice to meet you," the other man said. "Thomas, was it?"

"Yeah," I breathed tiredly, not liking where this was going.

The Healer noticed, chuckling to himself. "It it's evident that you're in no mood for workarounds, so we will get straight to the point."

Burnham took a step forward. "It's the mines."

"What about them?" I asked.

"We've been living off mostly our crops and wandering trader deals," the Healer began. "But that means we go through our food reserves bit by bit. We need to reopen the old mineshafts so we can have another source of tradeable items."

"And to open the mines," Burnham continued, "we need to clear 'em out and repair every support, not to mention set up new ones."

"So you need our help," Sophie concluded. "To kill whatever's in there and do everything else."

The man shrugged. "The rest of the miners will be repairing, replacing or setting up supports. But yes, we need you to clear out all the monsters that have surely nested there."

My face twisted in a desperate frown as I turned to the Healer, then at Javer. The alchemist-in-training shrugged, looking as if he was excited by the task simply dropped on our shoulders like an anvil. "That's what you get for becoming famous."

"Why am I famous?" I asked, getting up and stretching.

"First for dying and coming back, then for helping everyone with their illnesses and whatnot," Sophie answered instead.

The Healer smiled. "They're correct to certain extent, my boy. But you can't tell us that you and your friends are not capable enough when we've already seen you take on trapped temples. This should be no harder than that."

"We'll give you maps, tools and weapons to help us out," Burnham told us. "And I'm afraid that I won't be taking no for an answer."

Sophie blew a raspberry out the corner of her mouth, getting up beside me. I sighed, rubbing tiredness from my eyes. "Okay, then. When are we going in?"

"Right now," the Healer answered. "This is a problem that we want solved as soon as possible."

"Figures," I muttered. "Lead the way."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"You sure we can't..." a yawn escaped me before I could finish. "Do this tomorrow? When we're ready and well-rested?"

Burnham smiled. "It's best we deal with this sooner rather than later."

I heaved a sigh, adjusting the strap for both the pickaxe hanging from one shoulder and the sheath for an iron longsword hanging off the other. My tired shoulders sagged under their metallic weight. The mining party was made up of me, Sophie, Javer, Burnham and three others, all of us equipped with a few pieces of armor, tools, weapons, and a map of the mineshafts.

I was given a leather gauntlet for my right hand, an iron shoulderpad for my left side, and a golden shinguard for my right leg that has seen better days. Sophie got an iron chestplate and boots, plus a shortsword and a pickaxe. Javer got a flimsy dagger as well as his pickaxe, something he was not happy with. Even worse was the armor; he'd only been given a leather arm and shinguard.

I stared into the horrendous opening carved on the side of a hill. Cobwebs were hanging from its roof and trailing down the walls, a red flag that warned us of what could await inside. Burnham placed a meaty hand on my shoulder. "This is the biggest one we ever dug. Goes all the way down to bedrock, something we still have not managed to break through."

"Is it really necessary for us to start from the biggest mineshaft?" I asked.

The miner smiled. "Go big or go home."

I heaved yet another sigh—possibly the tenth today—and looked over to Sophie and Javer. The alchemist-in-training was digging through a burlap sack, bringing out torches, rope and other materials, with the blonde helping him count. I raised my hand until their gazes locked on to me, waving them over. Javer threw the sack over his shoulder, following our friend.

Burnham clapped his hands together. "Ready, you three? We're sending you in first, since you're the ones clearing the way. We'll be following a few ways behind, got it?"

The three of us lined up in front of the terrifying stone maw. I nodded at Burnham, but we still didn't move. "Just like old times, huh?" Sophie muttered.

"Just like old times," I breathed. "Uh... J?"

The alchemist-in-training looked at me around Sophie's head. "Hmm?"

"Could you... try to refrain from... making attempts on our lives like when we raided the jungle temple?" I asked with a smile.

Sophie giggled, and I earned a mock glare from Javer. "Fine. Since you asked so nicely, I'll try. Not making any promises, though."

We chuckled together, and, as we always had long ago, Sophie put an arm around our necks as the both of us placed a hand on her shoulders. Holding each other like that, the dynamic trio wandered into the unknown tunnel that threatened to drown every day of sunlight in eternal, heart-stopping darkness. By myself, I probably would've given it a second and third thought before going in. But with my friends, the malicious shadows did not seem threatening in the slightest.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

3rd Person POV

A man wearing a vest lined with various colorful bottles walked into a house while muttering to himself. He shuts the door quietly behind him, making sure all six locks are in place before turning his back on it. The inside of the building held great contrast against its simple outside. It was dark, gloomily lit by strange green lanterns, with a variety of different chemicals, books, utensils and workstations strewn haphazardly all over it.

The man sat down on a squeaky wooden chair, heaving a sigh. A shape moved in the corner, lifting its head. "Well? What was all that about?"

"Th-the village folk caught wind of the boy's abilities," he answered. "They dragged him all over the place so he could heal or otherwise help them."

"Has anything new revealed itself?" the shape asked.

The man shook his head. "No, no I don't think so. At least not that I've seen. What about you?"

The shape huffed. "I don't have time to be watching him twenty-four seven, Miron. But no, I have yet to see something else. When is the next wandering trader coming in?"

"Mm... tomorrow afternoon, I think," Miron answered, checking a calendar stained with purple and green.

"Ask your apprentice about the book," the shape told him. "If he doesn't know about it nor have another copy, then we'll have to search his house."

"We'll?" the man repeated. "I don't think I should be looting Javer's house. What if I get caught?"

"Then we'll simply have a talk with the boy," the shape answered with a shrug, walking closer. "It'll make our job easier. One way or another, we will get the book."

A worrisome thought suddenly came to Miron's head. "How... how would you get the book's location from Javer if he refused to tell either one of us?"

"Don't worry about that," the shape answered dismissively. "That is only my concern. Keep your eyes on the prize, Miron," it urged. "Is this not what you have been looking for your entire life? Isn't—hypothetically speaking, of course—the life of a single boy worth golden touch? Think of the possibilities, Miron."

The alchemist's eyes went strangely misty. "I... guess you're right. One life is worth that of many I could help with such a gift..."

The shape nodded. "Now you see? I will only have to... question your apprentice if all else fails."

Miron sighed. "Alright. I'll ask the next trader what he knows. If that doesnt work... I suppose we'll have to do it your way."

"Good," the shape said with narrowed eyes. Its malevolent emerald gaze suddenly lit up. "I have a theory I would like to test... see you around, Miron. Keep your eyes on the boy."

The shape went up in dark-green smoke, drifting up to the roof and out a broken chimney pipe. The smoke left very slowly and in great volume, drifting towards the unused apple orchard that lay to the south. Miron sighed, staring a small mound of papers on his desk. There were barely-readable scribbles on there, listing the various means of obtaining the book from Javer. A new addition was written on there, the alchemist could see a couple of letters not in his handwriting.

The alchemist walked over, taking a slip of paper from the pile. Ransack, the list began. Interrogate. Torture.

Are the means not offset by what we could gain, Miron? the note ended, in bold green letters. The man looked up, not knowing how to react. Miron believed it to be his friend. It would never harm Javer intentionally, would it? Would it? Would he?

Miron swallowed, sitting back down on his squeaky chair. The note's words bounced around on his head. Are the means not offset out by what we could gain? ...He didn't know. There was suddenly nothing he knew for certain.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Author's Notes

I had a lot of trouble finishing this one. I was short 1k words, and so was forced to fill it in with lots of the same stuff, which I didn't like. But, alas, I'm—while not entirely happy—alright with how it turned out. :D

So now, before I sign of, Reviews! (Part II)

GiggiEba, for chp 4; Sarah's Garden, well, I don't remember putting Fred in anywhere important, and Dragoon was originally from KOW, so... Thanks for the support!

ScarOfHerobrine, for chp 3; The Announcement, heh, yeah. So she won't be depressed. Yeah, that'd be a nightmare. Heh, don't worry about it. :D

ScarOfHerobrine, for chp 4; Sarah's Garden, heh, I take it he's not on your good side? The Golden Touch, of course. Heh, alright. :P

Right, so, this is four more reviews from the same person I'm answering. Due to that fact, I shall dub this; ThinMint's Section!

For chp 1; Memories, Yep, better late than never. Heh, I'm glad you liked it! And feel free to ask any questions; might lead me to inspiration enough to write another To Answer A Question one-shot. :) Uh-huh, although technically everyone saw it. :P

For chp 2; The Meet-Up, that'd be very sweet of you, and I'm sure it'd help her lots. Well, a lot of people were kind of burned or hanged because they were thought to have a demon, so... Yay! Although she's really only back every time the gang meets, but whatever. Heh, I'm glad you liked it!

For chp 3; The Announcement, Yeah, let!s hope so. Yay for Simon (and Blight)! He made a promise to Javer, who has technically been his friend for longer. Can't really just up and leave... I'm beyond flattered. :D

For chp 4; Sarah's Garden, no, but he feels like he can't go back just yet. Yep, that's exactly why (totally not just something I thought'd be funny as a character trait and then managed to add a reason for), and that's true too. Yay, gardening! At least now she'll have something to do other than being floppy. :P He should be. I'm glad you liked it!

Geez, this chapter's almost 6k words long and just because of the reviews... that's awesome.

Anywho, thank you all for your time and support! Have an awesome day!

~ LeMafiaKreb