Days passed since the attack on Oakenford.

  The town square still smelled like ash. Every morning I woke to the scent of it, clinging to everything.

  People were trying to salvage what they could. I'd see families out there every day, hauling away debris, replacing burned boards, patching up holes. But honestly? Most of the buildings were too far gone. They'd have to tear them down and start over.

  A lot of people left. I'd watched them pack up their lives onto wagons, their faces empty and defeated. Where they went, I had no idea. Maybe they had family in other towns. Maybe they just needed to be anywhere that didn't remind them of that night.

  But most chose to stay. To rebuild. This was their home, they said. They weren't going to let Drakmoor drive them out.

  Today was the ceremony for the fallen.

  I kept to the back of the crowd in the town square. Didn't feel right standing up front, not after what I'd done. The bodies were laid out in neat rows, wrapped in white cloth. Too many rows. Way too many.

  A priest spoke. Something about eternal rest and the gods. I wasn't really listening. The words felt meaningless compared to all those bodies.

  The families stood around them. Some crying. Some just staring at nothing. A priest was talking, saying something about the gods and eternal peace. I wasn't really listening. The words felt empty compared to all those bodies.

  People kept looking at me. Some would catch my eye and nod. A few came up after the priest finished his speech.

  "Thank you for saving my daughter."

  "We'd all be dead without you."

  One guy actually tried to hug me. I let him, awkwardly patting his back while he cried into my shoulder.

  I never knew what to say to them. You're welcome? No problem? It felt wrong, all of it.

  Not everyone was grateful though. Some people kept their distance. I'd catch them staring from across the square, their faces tight. One mother yanked her kid closer when I walked past, like I might snap and attack them. An old man actually made some kind of warding sign at me.

  Couldn't really blame them. They'd seen what I could do.

  Hell, it freaked me out sometimes.

  The ceremony dragged on. They read out names. Each one followed by silence.

  When it finally ended, people started moving their dead to the burial grounds outside town. I stayed put, watching them go.

  The living carrying the dead.

  I left before the procession reached the burial grounds.

  Walking through town felt different now. People moved aside when they saw me coming. Some smiled. Others just stared. A few pretended they didn't see me at all.

  I made my way back to the guild hall. Or what was left of it.

  The building had taken damage during the attack. Part of the roof had collapsed, and someone had boarded up the broken windows with spare planks. Inside, adventurers sat at the remaining tables, talking in low voices. The usual energy of the place was gone, replaced by something quieter and heavier.

  Aditya was sitting near the corner, cleaning her sword. She looked up when I walked in.

  "Hey," she said.

  "Hey."

  I sat down across from her. For a moment neither of us spoke. She just kept running the cloth along her blade.

  "How are you holding up?" I asked.

  She paused, considering the question. "I don't know. I keep thinking about it.” She looked at me. "About you. Watching you kill those soldiers...”

  "Does it bother you?"

  "Should it?" She set the cloth down. "They would have killed me. They would have killed everyone. You stopped them." She shook her head. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out how I feel about all of it."

  I understood that. I was trying to figure out the same thing.

  Then someone sat down beside us with a grunt. Garrick. There were bandages wrapped around his arm and across his chest, disappearing under his shirt.

  "So how are you two doing?" he asked.

  "We should be asking you that," I said. Aditya nodded beside me.

  "I'm fine. Just a few scratches."

  "Scratches," Aditya repeated flatly. "You can barely walk."

  "I can walk perfectly fine."

  "Does Leah even know you're here?" I asked.

  Garrick smiled. Too innocent. "Of course she does."

  "You're lying."

  "I'm not lying."

  "Yes you are.

  "She's going to kill you when she finds out," I said.

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  "She won't find out if you don't tell her," Garrick said, pointing at both of us. "Besides, someone needs to keep the guild running. Can't do that from a bed."

  "Pretty sure you can't do it with broken ribs either," Aditya muttered.

  But seeing him like this, arguing with us like everything was normal, I felt relief wash over me again.

  The day after the attack, I'd searched for Garrick. My stomach had been in knots the entire time, terrified I'd find him among the bodies laid out in the square.

  Instead, I'd found him at the healer's tent, sitting on a cot with bandages wrapped around his ribs and left leg. His face had been bruised, one eye swollen nearly shut, but he was breathing. Alive.

  "Demecillo," he'd said when he spotted me, trying to sit up straighter and immediately regretting it. His face had gone pale. "Ah. Bad idea."

  "Don't move, you idiot."

  "I'm fine. Just a little banged up." He'd managed a weak smile. "Heard what you did out there. The whole town's talking about it."

  "Yeah, well." I hadn't known what to say to that.

  "Thank you. For saving us. For saving me."

  Now, watching him work despite his injuries, I shook my head. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

  "It's a gift," Garrick said cheerfully. Then he winced, pressing a hand to his ribs. "Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea."

  "You think?" Aditya said.

  The door to the guild opened. I looked up, expecting another adventurer.

  It was one of the mages from the Crown Guild. I didn't know his name. Young guy, maybe early twenties, wearing the formal robes that marked him as guild staff rather than an adventurer.

  He scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. Then he walked over, weaving between tables, and bowed.

  "Lady Demecillo," he said. "Lord Nicholaus requests your presence."

  "Lady?" Garrick raised an eyebrow at me.

  I ignored him. "What does he want?"

  "I wasn't told the details, my lady. Only that it's urgent."

  "Stop calling me that."

  "My apologies, Lady Demecillo."

  Aditya was grinning now. "Lady Demecillo. Has a nice ring to it."

  "Don't you start."

  =====

  "Lord Nicholaus, Lady Demecillo is here."

  "Send her in."

  The mage opened the door and gestured for me to enter. I stepped inside, and he closed it behind me.

  The office was simple. A desk covered in papers and maps, a few chairs, shelves lined with books and reports. Nicholaus sat behind the desk, looking better than he had that night. His face had more color, the exhaustion less pronounced. But his left arm was still gone, the sleeve of his shirt pinned up neatly.

  "Apologies for disturbing you, Lady Vera," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

  I sat down. "Please don't call me that. Just Vera is fine."

  Nicholaus shook his head. "A mage as strong as you should be respected. The title is appropriate."

  I sighed. Clearly nothing I said was going to change how he addressed me. "Fine. What do you need?"

  Nicholaus leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment. Then he folded his hand on the desk, his expression serious.

  "I want to talk about your abilities," he said. "Specifically, that armor form you took during that night."

  I tensed. Of course this was coming.

  "What about it?"

  “I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

  He paused. "I need to know what it is."

  "It's my ability," I said carefully.

  "That much is obvious. But what kind of ability? Is it a transformation? Summoning? Some form of enhancement magic?"

  I met his gaze. "I can't tell you that."

  The words came out firmer than I expected.

  I was surprised at my own tone, but I couldn't back down now. Not about this. For my sake, for my survival, I needed to be firm about this.

  Nicholaus's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. "Can't? Or won't?"

  "Both."

  Silence filled the office. He didn't look angry exactly, but there was a weight to his stare that made my skin prickle.

  "You understand," he said slowly, carefully, "that the Crown Guild keeps track of all its members and mages across the continent. It's our responsibility to maintain records. To know who has what abilities."

  He paused. "Especially abilities of significant power."

  "I'm aware."

  "Then you understand why I need this information. We can't have unknown threats wandering freely. It's a matter of security and safety."

  A threat. He was calling me a threat.

  Anger flickered in my chest. "Is that what I am to you? A threat?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "You just implied it." My voice came out sharper now. "I saved this town. I fought beside you. I killed Gorvain. And now you're threatening me?"

  "I'm not threatening you, Lady Vera. I'm explaining the situation."

  "Sounds like a threat to me. What are you going to do if I don't tell you? Kick me out of the guild? Report me to someone? Lock me up? Kill me?"

  "None of those things."

  "Then what?"

  He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He looked tired suddenly, older. "I'm trying to protect you, believe it or not."

  "Protect me? By interrogating me?"

  "By making sure you're properly registered. By ensuring that when other guild branches ask about you, and they will ask, I have answers to give them."

  He met my eyes. "You made quite an impression during that battle, Vera. News is going to spread. People are going to want to know who you are, what you can do. And if I can't provide that information..."

  "What?"

  "Then they'll assume the worst. They'll think you're dangerous. Something that needs to be contained."

  "So help me help you. Give me something I can put in the records. Something that will satisfy the guild without revealing everything."

  "Why should I trust you?"

  "Because I haven't reported you yet."

  I bit my lip, thinking. He had a point. A frustrating, logical point.

  I stared at him, my mind racing. What could I say that wouldn't give everything away? What could I tell him that would be enough to satisfy the guild without revealing the truth about my power?

  Nicholaus must have seen something in my face because he laughed. Not mocking, just... understanding.

  "I get the frustration," he said. "Believe me, I do. I've been through the same thing."

  I perked up. "Really?"

  "Of course." He glanced down at his missing arm, then back at me. "My mana sight isn't just something I talk about freely. There are... complications that come with it. Things people don't need to know."

  He didn't elaborate further. Didn't explain what those complications were. But the way he said it, the weight in his voice, I understood. He had his own secrets too.

  "So you get why I can't just tell you everything," I said.

  "I do. But what I said before still stands. You need something on record. Something that makes sense to people who will ask questions." He leaned back. "So give me a version of the truth. Something that protects you while keeping the guild satisfied."

  I sat there for a moment, thinking. He was right. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Word would spread. People would ask. And if I had no explanation at all, they'd make up their own. Probably worse than the truth.

  I took a breath. "Alright.

  I took a breath. "Alright. But you have to promise this stays between us and whatever official record you need to file."

  "You have my word."

  I hesitated, then called Virel forth. Just a small piece, letting it flow out of my arm and pool in my palm. The black organic matter shifted and writhed, forming into a small creature about the size of a cat. It had no distinct features yet, just a blob of living darkness.

  Nicholaus leaned forward, his eyes widening slightly.

  "It's a monster I tamed during my travels," I said, keeping my voice steady. "It's capable of transforming into armor. Bonding with me to enhance my abilities."

  A half-lie. Not quite the truth, but not completely false either. Virel was a monster. It did bond with me. I just left out the part about creating it, and about its abilities that was way deeper than turning into armor.

  "A symbiotic creature," Nicholaus murmured, watching Virel shift in my hand. "Fascinating. I've heard of such things but never seen one."

  "It's rare," I said quickly. "Most monsters can't form this kind of bond."

  "And the tendrils? The claws? Those are all from the creature?"

  "Yes."

  He studied Virel for another moment, then looked at me. "And you're certain you can control it?"

  "Completely." That part, at least, was true.

  I wasn't sure if I'd made the right choice. But at most, this was the most reasonable and believable explanation I could give. A tamer with a rare monster was unusual, sure, but not unheard of.

  Better than the alternative, anyway.