There was no delicate way of handling the situation. Ferris charged forward, throwing herself in-between Castellar and her sister. "Stop! Stop it!" she barked at the boy in a hushed voice, pushing him aside.

Although he could've afforded to be gentler himself, she wasn't angry with him, not really. He had no clue what Ciara was reacting to, much less why. She'd had no reason to tell him as it was a very rare moment's panic.

Ignoring the skeleton's bewildered glare, she knelt in front of her sibling and lifted her chin. There was a brief struggle as the younger girl fought back. "Ciara, it's me—it's your sister! We're alright, everything's ok!"

It took a while to calm her back down enough to where she stopped trying to push herself away. Ferris held her hand and patted her on the back, trying to return her to the present. The eldest shifted her position along the earth and urged Ciara to lean her head against her chest, doing what she could to block the child's view of the village.

"We're ok..."

Castellar's shadow fell over the pair. "What's wrong with her?"

Again though, Ferris didn't answer. Ciara still hadn't yet returned to her right state of mind, possessing her sister's full attention. The timid pats became soft strokes along her spine. Ciara's breathing steadied and Ferris tugged her deeper into her arms.

Unfortunately, they didn't have minutes to spare. Castellar called to them once more, this time to attention. Ferris followed his gaze skyward just as a large, dark blur came into view through a hole in the canopy above. It was a ways off, but its shape was still familiar enough to make her blood run cold: The avian that had attacked them once before.

They scrambled into action. Ferris dragged Ciara with her further into the cover of foliage, nestling down behind a gnarled tree. Castellar chased after them and summoned a magic bullet into the palm of one hand, keeping it low to the ground to avoid the light giving away their position. The trio pressed close to one another to make themselves as small and unseen as possible until the threat could pass.

Ferris bit the inside of her lip. Just how relentless could these people be? Was that seer orchestrating the search, Valda, really powerful enough to trace their path this flawlessly? And to what end? Even if they did make it safely over to the Monster Kingdom, she somehow had plenty of Monsters already on her side. How long would this hunt go on?

Only when the beastly bird's shape completely dipped from view did Castellar edge out of their hiding place. Pulling his hood over his head, he began to scale the tree for a better view. He stayed there only for a short moment before climbing down. "I think he's gone somewhere to the other side of the village. We need to move."

She looked at Ciara and was relieved to find that her sister had recomposed herself. The latter was silent and fearful, but very much present—alert to the danger that had returned to them a third time. The group retreated, taking the long way around to the long-awaited path out of the area.

It was cold and sticky, so sticky...

While she couldn't keep herself from shaking, it was a miracle that she could even walk. Well... maybe 'walk' was too generous. Hobbled. She hobbled down Mollendale's overcast streets, stumbling over her own two feet and leaning against walls for support. She had conquered the shock, but not the injury itself, and was now desperately moving to find someplace to recover.

But where could she honestly go...? Back to the hideout, back to Ciara only to scar her by the sight of herself? To their only living family, who they'd run from months ago? To the other street rats, who knew only how to look after themselves? To the lord, to the guards, to her neighbors, to her old friends...

To no one, for anyone who would truly want to help her couldn't and anyone who could help her wouldn't. There were enough eyes around her now to be more than enough proof of that. They'd made a way for her, parting like a silent sea to look on from both sides as she made her way through town. She gritted her teeth, fighting the desire to scream at all the sickening bystanders that watched the sad spectacle she'd become. She'd already screamed enough. Her throat burned just as much as her useless arm had. All she could do to combat their worthless, pitying glances was fire a disgusted snarl back.

Everything was sticky.

Her face was sticky from tears. Her clothes were sticky from blood. She tried bundling the bottom of her tunic around the wound, but it had already soaked through enough to leave a small trail with each step. Worse than that, it was rapidly getting colder.

She hadn't actually gone all that far before her aimless wandering led her into a dingy alley. She hadn't meant to turn there, but she was losing her sense of direction and her legs were ready to give out. She tugged a shirt from a nearby clothesline just before she collapsed and once again tried to stop the bleeding. The cream-colored fabric soon became drenched in a bright crimson.

It was attracting flies. The fearless insects buzzed around her not matter how often she swatted them away. It was as though they were toying with her, playing with their food before it keeled over. As the realization of her ever-weakening state dawned, she coughed out a harsh, broken laugh.

Why?

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy—!

She growled, the last bit of her strength manifesting in a fierce kick against a tall barrel. A dry, frustrated sob rose from her throat. Why did it come to this? Why did she have to be punished like this? She never wanted to steal, but if stealing now made her a sinner, then may the ones who stole from her first burn twice as fiercely in the world thereafter!

Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed a small boy peeking through the window of the building to her right. As soon as she raised her head his way, he ducked and took off. Somehow, she could hear the rush of tiny footsteps over the fierce hammering in her own skull. Whether he ran to get help or get away from her, she didn't know.

She didn't want to die—couldn't die… If she did, what would happen to her sister? Ciara was waiting for her. Nevertheless, she didn't have the energy to stand no matter how much she tried to muster it.

She couldn't die.

Ferris opened her eyes to a starry sky above. The embers of their campfire were still dimly burning, so she couldn't have been asleep for too long. She woke up to a bad headache and her arm clutching her chest. The pressure of five intact fingers steadied her pounding heart.

Having fled from the village at a breakneck pace, the trio tired themselves out quickly. That bird could still catch them—and nearly had, if Castellar's plan to split off hadn't been so effective. They'd moved about five minutes apart from each other, Ciara on Castellar's back and his pack shielding Ciara. From the sky, it was likely that they looked more like two people travelling separately than a group of three, especially with their dark cloaks shadowing their forms. With any luck, they'd also put some distance between themselves and anyone else chasing after them.

Ferris smiled ruefully, remembering that afternoon's events. Her dream this time wasn't some undecipherable vision, but a clear, harsh memory of one of the many ways she'd died. What awful timing… She didn't need this. Thankfully, they were even rarer than Ciara's fits, but she couldn't let herself get caught up in them now, when she had to keep her mind clear for the both of them.

She felt a pair of eyes drilling into her.

Her sister fast asleep at her side, Ferris rolled over to see Castellar sitting on a rock hardly two meters from where they laid. Even if she hadn't caught him staring, she had the feeling he knew she'd woken up as soon as she did. His white pupils were as vividly piercing that night as they were when they'd first met.

Now though… there was a softer glow to them. She hated the thought of it, but she just couldn't recognize the same venom that she'd been introduced to. The girl knew that, to him, she was nothing more than a job, a nuisance. They weren't—would never be—friends and she took comfort in their honest aggression toward one another.

She didn't want his pity any more than she did anyone else's.

The two eyed each other mutely in the dark before Castellar echoed the same question he'd asked hours prior, "What exactly happened back there? What's wrong with your sister?"

Despite the way her lips curled and eyes narrowed, his ugly words put her strangely at ease. Alright. Maybe you can't feel pity after all… There was nothing wrong with Ciara, not in the usual sense. No one her age could go through what they had unaffected, so really, maybe Ferris herself was the damaged one. The elder sister glanced at the youngest one more time, to make certain she was still asleep, before answering, "Ciara is afraid of fire."

Not of hearths or campfires; she'd long gotten over those. However, any flame much larger than that could make her freeze up just as she had back in the village. The skeleton gave Ferris a stern look as she explained that much to him, folding his arms across his chest.

"You didn't think it was important to tell me such a weakness before now?"

"I didn't think it would be a problem."

"Well, it was!" he huffed, straining to keep his voice low as he fought off his annoyance. His brows furrowed, "You can't hide something like that when it could put us in danger. What If something caught fire during any of the fights we've been through, or what if she had a fit in any of the towns we've crossed? How can she react that severely in the first place?"

"Remember the Conflagration?"

Castellar stilled. Ferris pushed herself up into a sitting position, waiting for him to respond, but he didn't. He knew exactly what she was talking about—there was no way he couldn't know—but there was hardly anything that could be said. As the full implication of that single word fell over him, his eyes widened in sudden clarity.

The Conflagration was an extremist group that had plagued the Two Kingdoms for a number of years. They got their name for two reasons: The first being that they had mostly consisted of fire Monsters and the second that they claimed they were igniting some great change across all of Ebott. They were fighting for Monsterkind, who had, for too long, agonized against the Humans at their borders. In reality, they were nothing more than thieves and murderers.

If you were Human, whether you frequented the highest courts or the lowest slums, you were an oppressor. Even if you a Monster, if you so much as lived two doors down from a Human, you were a traitor and an enemy. And because of this, the Conflagration believed that they had every right to take everything away for you: Your crop, your home, your loved ones, your life. They set fires to whole cities and claimed to do no harm. They killed and called it justice—because, of course, Monsters are made of compassion.

They were such a problem that both of the royal families had to unite against them, sending out countless knights to take them down. Now that she thought of it, it was possible that Castellar's father played a role in expunging them. The Conflagration's campaign of terror had piqued and then swiftly burnt out about a year ago. Sadly, it wasn't before their attack on Mollendale.

"Ciara and I were together when they broke into the town," Ferris explained, brushing the dirt off of her pants. It wasn't a story she normally shared.

In her head, she could play back everything from that day in horrifying detail: The chaotic haze of smoke and fire; once familiar paths blocked off by the still burning remains of buildings, or the members of the Conflagration hunting the streets; the blood, the dust; her neighbors lying still on the ground; a single Monster physically changing into a demonic beast right before her eyes after taking something from one of the bodies.

"Our parents were technically mages, but they weren't very strong. They couldn't do many basic spells, so they just worked a small bit of land by the woods. Our family knew about magic plants, so we were kind of like apothecaries." She began drawing shapes in the dirt with her fingertip. "They found us, but they couldn't fight the Conflagration… Ciara watched them burn up."

Several seconds of exhausted silence passed. One of the last remaining pieces of blackened wood collapsed as it was seared in-half. Castellar leaned forward, looking away for a moment as he rested his arms against his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. Ferris continued drawing pointless shapes.

When she looked up at him, she could tell he had questions. It was a while before he pieced his thoughts together enough to ask just one of them. "Did no one take care of you after that? The lord or the church…?"

"We lived with our aunt. For a while," she replied. "She wasn't a good person. She never liked magic, so she didn't like us taking after Mom and Dad. She took us in, but she wanted me to marry fast—I kind of think she wanted to get the bride price as soon as she could. I couldn't leave Ciara alone with her, so we left."

Sometimes, Ferris still saw the bruises, even if they had faded away a long time ago. Maybe it was the grief or frustration of having two more mouths to feed in a bad year, since she didn't recall anything particularly awful about her aunt before they'd moved in with her, but she knew it was no excuse for how they'd lived. The beatings that had escalated. The cruel words said. Ferris was able to keep most of that ire onto herself, but it wouldn't have mattered if she married. She would only escape one fate for another, leaving her sister to endure the first in her place.

"Maybe she was right though, in a way," she admitted aloud for the first time. If she married, maybe she could've tried to take Ciara with her after all, or fought for what little they had to inherit that managed to survive the fires. If she had just held out for a little longer, just until she was officially seen as an adult…

But she was stubborn. Ferris took her aunt's insults and threw them back at her. She was too headstrong to make a good daughter, much less someone's wife? She became even more abrasive. She would never be beautiful? She traded her dresses for hand-me-down pants and shirts. She had a boy's face? She chopped off her long hair so no family would look at her twice. It seemed right at the time, to ruin any chance of marriage and joining with another house, but the hunger they faced after they escaped their aunt made her think twice.

Though normally cold and unmoving, even the skeleton seemed disturbed. All he could say though was, "That's foolish… You're foolish, you're a kid."

She just shook her head, "I'm twelve. I don't know how things are in the Monster Kingdom, but that's the earliest age we can marry." A cold wind had started to pick up. Ferris drew herself closer to the embers to take what little warmth they had left to give. "So, even if I can't become a decent mage, maybe I can at least make myself useful enough to wed decently."

Or at least leech off a rich man with no standards, she thought, maybe a merchant. Still, she kept that much to herself. She wasn't going to be picky anymore, but she didn't want to give Castellar even more of an excuse to call her out for being shameless.

He didn't. Instead, he murmured, almost as if though pained him to utter the words, "You will become a great mage…"

"You say that as if you're the seer here."

"Maybe I'm not, but I know it," he cleared his throat, "So, enough with your stupid ideas and get back to sleep. There's another long day ahead."

With that, he stood only to find his own patch of earth to lay on across from her, turning away to face the more exposed side of their camp. Ferris stared at him before pulling her cloak tighter around herself and doing much the same, pillowing her head with one arm. It got quiet again.

She had just closed her eyes when Castellar asked one last thing in a soft voice that was almost impossible to pick up, "Do you hate them?"

By now, most of the Conflagration had been rounded up, imprisoned, and executed. Any remnant of it must've been hidden if some dark, secret part of Ebott no one other than the Devil himself could find. There wasn't anyone left for her to hate, so she understood the greater context: Did she hate Monsters?

She might've, had she been Ciara's age during the attack and therefore had a smaller view of the world. If their parents weren't mages or if she hadn't grown up knowing about magic. If her own kind had shown a little more mercy, or if the Monster Kingdom had completely ignored the Conflagrations' actions. The thirst for vengeance was strong and very much real. It was so easy to lash out.

To Ferris though, the world was filled with hideous beings of all sorts, and she learned fast that lashing out just made her tired.

"No," she answered in barely breath of a whisper. "I don't."