It was earlier than she usually awoke, the sun not even crested above the horizon as Priscilla peeled the stupid sling off her because she needed to get out the sweat soaked dress and undergarments. Her shoulder protested with each movement and she had a hangover headache but pain didn’t slow her down, not when it couldn’t even compare to how Illnyea will suffer – may suffer if Priscilla dragged her feet. She couldn’t just accept Illnyea’s suffering as an inevitability.

  She slid on an outfit that she could travel in, a simple pair of dark pants and a sky blue top with a sharp johnny collar. Thick socks and boots slip on easily, as did the sheath for her dagger around her hips. Priscilla eyed her armor but decided against donning because it would be too difficult and shoved it into the spatial pocket in her pack. Her hair refused to go into a neat ponytail and Priscilla couldn’t find the green ribbon she was searching for, so Priscilla gave up on that with a growl.

  The stupid bright red sling lay on the bed and Priscilla wanted to chuck it into a fire and watch it burn to ashes.

  But when Priscilla went to grasp it, Kavil’s face flashed through her mind, and she hesitated.

  He was so earnest, so concerned for Priscilla’s health, giving her special instructions last night on how best to sleep with the sling. Kavil hadn’t tried to force her to wear it, only suggesting gently with a wide smile. If her disobedience was the reason why it slipped off his face after working so hard for him to be happy, then Priscilla would be a huge fucking hypocrite.

  “Fuck having a god damn conscience,” Priscilla muttered angrily as she reluctantly put the piece of shit sling back on. It was awkward to do but she managed well enough even if she swore in frustration every two seconds. When it was finally on, Priscilla’s frustration had reached a boiling point and all she wanted to do was get on the road back towards Illnyea.

  “Are we leaving the village already, master?” Asha asked.

  “If I can convince Sulaiman to get a move on, then yes,” Priscilla said as she hauled her pack onto her bed.

  “But you were meant to get answers from the divine’s chosen’s aunt today,” Asha said. “You said she knew of me, and last night I could tell how much you wished to speak with her about that. Has that desire changed?”

  Priscilla paused, fingers stilling on the straps.

  That was a good point, but an antsy energy buzzed in her veins, one that urged Priscilla to leave as soon as possible to return to Illnyea. Priscilla’s desire for answers warred with her desire to make sure Illnyea was safe, and it only took a moment to figure out which was stronger. To decide what truly mattered to her.

  Illnyea’s safety came before anything else.

  If Priscilla could not protect her, then the title of sister was an empty one that Priscilla should never have accepted.

  As if sensing Priscilla’s resolve, Asha spoke again.

  “Master, what happened in your dream that makes you so afraid?”

  Priscilla’s body twitched violently.

  “Nothing,” Priscilla said quickly, averting her eyes like that would do anything.

  “You’re lying, master,” Asha said simply.

  Priscilla bit her cheek to keep from snapping something she’d regret. Asha was coming from a place of concern, that much was clear from their bond. Asha didn’t deserve Priscilla’s anger when all the artifact had done was ask a question and rightfully called Priscilla out for trying to lie when their souls were bonded.

  Even if Priscilla could tell no one else, Asha deserved the truth.

  “I watched my sister die,” Priscilla whispered, her breathing coming quicker just imagining it, “and there was nothing I could do when she called out for me.”

  A beat of silence passed and Priscilla almost regretted speaking, but she pushed that regret away because there was no taking the words back.

  “How did she die?” Asha asked, voice soft, just barely audible.

  Priscilla flinched.

  But Asha wasn’t trying to be cruel, that much Priscilla knew. There was only concern and a deep desire to help.

  She wet her lips, afraid that saying the words may cause her to cough up blood, but Priscilla could not be a coward when she had promised Asha last night that she would its friend. Those were not words that Priscilla said lightly. She may have been drunk, but the feelings were genuine, and offering friendship without trust meant they had been only empty words.

  “A magical overload,” Priscilla said and the punishment did not come. That fact took a moment to sink in, and Priscilla let out a shaky breath.

  “Did you see what caused it?”

  “She was in a forest and she was afraid of something,” Priscilla’s words came tumbling out, “like it had been chasing her for a while. She tried to run but she fell and then the overload triggered and she was at the center of a magical explosion.”

  Asha was quiet, contemplating Priscilla’s words.

  “I know this was a dream,” Asha said slowly, “but is this something you truly fear will happen?”

  “I do,” Priscilla said, “and it’ll happen soon, within a month–”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Priscilla’s words were cut off with choking blood and reflexively brought her hand up to catch it before it spilled onto the bed.

  The dark liquid soaked into Asha, sinking deep into the artifact’s current fabric surface. Rage bubbled up in the bond as the blood slowly disappeared from sight. Priscilla watched with morbid fascination, wondering just where her blood had gone.

  “Master,” Asha began, voice dark and ragged, “I beg you to tell me of the god that causes you to suffer so. They plague you with dreams and then punish you for speaking of them – this torture cannot be allowed to continue.”

  “Asha,” Priscilla began, though she wasn’t sure how to explain the two things weren’t connected. “I know I called it a god’s punishment but that’s only because it’s the only way I knew how to describe it. And the dream I had – that’s, well…”

  Priscilla faltered.

  When faced with Asha’s rage, Priscilla’s first instinct was to downplay the nightmare to make her artifact not worry about her too much.

  But the words wouldn’t pass her lips as Asha sensed what Priscilla was about to do, and the artifact’s discontent spiked.

  “Please do not lie to me, master,” Asha begged. “Please do not hide your pain because you don’t wish to distress me – it is too late for that. The moment I realized you felt true fear from that nightmare, I could not simply ignore it because your unhappiness is something I cannot abide.”

  “All I wish for is your safety and happiness, master,” Asha said softly, “and I cannot protect you if I do not know the truth, or the closest to the truth you can say.”

  Priscilla bit her cheek, trying to keep herself together. She didn’t know what to do with the swell of emotion inside her, didn’t know what to do with the tears rolling down her cheeks, nor what to do with the sudden ache she had to see Mr. –– again, the last person who had truly cared for her before Asha.

  There were a million thoughts swirling within Priscilla’s mind but one shone brightest, cutting through the chaos.

  “I wish you had a body so I could hug you, Asha,” Priscilla choked out. The glove tightened on her hand and Priscilla leaned her face against it as she began to cry in earnest, expelling the mess of emotions and pain that had been plaguing her since she awoke.

  Asha was a steady, silent presence and Priscilla, rather than trying to hide her fear or appear stronger than she was, finally let down the final walls between them. The touch of Asha’s soul to Priscilla’s was featherlight at first, and then once Priscilla’s soul leaned into the touch, nuzzling closer, Asha became bolder. Being comforted on a soul level was an experience unlike Priscilla had ever felt before and words couldn’t encompass the sensation – like she was being wrapped in a heated blanket in the middle of a snowstorm, like Asha was running its fingers through Priscilla’s hair as it lightly scratched her scalp, like being brought into the light of day after being trapped in darkness.

  It was everything at once and each sensation was one that helped slow Priscilla’s heart rate a little more, had her breaths come out a little more even, and dried her eyes.

  The sun had just peeked through the window when Priscilla felt like she could speak again.

  “I don’t know if I can ever tell you the whole truth,” Priscilla said, her voice raspy, “but I’ll try, for you, Asha.”

  “That’s all I can ask for.”

  Priscilla took in a deep breath, steadying herself.

  “I have knowledge I am not meant to have,” Priscilla said, picking her words as carefully as she could, “and that knowledge… influences my decisions because I don’t agree with what I know. I was given a warning to go along with fate’s plans, but that was never an option for me with what I know. If I share my knowledge, intentionally or unintentionally, with others it will get me punished.”

  Asha considered Priscilla’s words, and Priscilla could nearly picture the artifact turning the sentences over in its mind, searching for hidden meanings in the words that she couldn’t say.

  When Asha finally spoke, it was with a graveness the artifact rarely had.

  “Do not speak the answer aloud so you are not punished,” Asha said firmly, snarling out the last word, “but, master, do you have knowledge of the future?”

  Priscilla held her breath, shocked Asha had guessed so close to the truth, or as close as anyone could get without them guessing she was from another world.

  “I see,” Asha said, sounding contemplative. “Was this village’s fate to be destroyed by the lunatics then?”

  Priscilla didn’t know how to respond but that was enough of an answer for the artifact.

  “I am glad that my master does not bend to fate’s whims,” Asha said as pride slid through the bond, “and if your sister’s fate is to suffer an overload, I know that we can change that as we have changed this village’s fate. Was it a month you said?”

  Numbly, Priscilla nodded.

  “I know you wish to ride to her side, but may I suggest you wait for at least a day, perhaps two?”

  “Why?” Priscilla asked, though she found she wasn’t as against the idea now that she had calmed down.

  “You cannot fight the tides of fate by yourself,” Asha said, “and if I remember correctly, your sister had left on her own travels before we left, so we will have to travel long and hard to catch up with her, which will be more difficult with your injury. There happens to be an expert in the divine nearby who has already promised you answers. You may not be able to speak of your troubles, but it seems fate is no match for a mighty legend killer like myself! I have no blood fate can wring from me nor do I even have a mouth!”

  “Are… are you sure?"

  “If you cannot speak, I will be your mouth. If you cannot grasp something, I shall be your hand. Should you find yourself weak, master, then I shall be there to be your strength.”

  Priscilla sniffled but didn’t actually cry, blinking away the wetness.

  “You have such a way with words, my lovely little Asha,” Priscilla said in a choked voice and Asha preened, a sparkle running over the glove’s knuckles.

  “I aim to be the best for my master!”

  “You’re the best artifact a girl could ask for,” Priscilla said, staring at Asha with fondness she didn’t know how to articulate. But lucky for her, Asha could feel it and sent its own fondness for Priscilla right back at her.

  “Alright, we’ll stay here for a few more days,” Priscilla said as she pushed herself back to her feet, “and I’ll let Sulaiman know our timeline so we can restock our supplies.”

  “And the divine’s chosen?”

  Priscilla hesitated.

  “I’ll let him know we’re leaving,” Priscilla said, “but the choice to follow us will be his and his alone.”