It was snowing heavily outside the old tavern. Through the cracked glass windows, which creaked ever so slightly with every passing gust of wind, the three mercenaries could see they would be stuck in the village for the time being. It wasn't an inconvenience though, for their target stood merely meters away, occupied with entertaining the old folk who came to hear her stories.

  They called her a famed storyteller; "Asfa of Khargath" was her pen name. But in truth, her name wasn't "Asfa" but "Osha," and she hailed from "Kerridy," not "Khargath."

  When Captain Veno had announced their assignment, Eujal, the youngest of the group, couldn't believe it. His first combat assignment would be to slay a highly respected individual. A celebrity. He had to make the best of this opportunity. After all, the Zhardokhan weren't easy to please. Veno, who had embarked on many missions and succeeded in every one of them, was a mere grunt compared to the other established mercenaries, some of whom ended up taking charge of formidable battalions.

  "She's pretty, isn't she?" Harlan whispered, his eyes focused on the palmed tankard in his possession.

  Eujal rolled his eyes, turning to face the red-haired Osha. She stood at the center of a raised platform near the heart of the tavern. She was pretty, to be fair, with rare blue eyes and a curvy build. Her pale hand pressed dramatically against her throat as she imitated a man suffocating to death. Evidently, her story had reached a critical point. The old folks cheered and laughed, a sound that felt like a roar thanks to the tavern's acoustics. Then, with a dramatic whirl and flurry of hand movements, she displayed an imitation of a man being blown to bits. The audience roared to life once again, louder than before.

  "Ugh, they're way too loud…" Veno groaned, his scarred hand pressed against his expansive forehead. His cheeks held a visible blush. The captain wasn't known for his ability to handle strong drink.

  Harlan laughed at the sight of the captain, turning to bump his elbow into Eujal's ribcage. "Look at the sight of him! He'll be in no stable condition for tonight's activities. Am I right, boy?"

  "You may be right," Eujal muttered.

  "Cheer up, now! One day you will be old enough to drink. You best wait for that day and cherish it when it comes!" Harlan exclaimed, clasping his hands around his freshly refilled tankard and guzzling the contents in a sordid manner. Then, clarity consumed his face. Eujal's eyes widened.

  "Since the captain overestimated his strength, we'll wait until after midnight to strike," Harlan declared, his brown eyes fixed on the storyteller. "It would be foolish to take her on without Veno's strength."

  "Is she that powerful?" Eujal asked.

  "You bet. She's one of those sparkers we've been told to avoid."

  "What's her spark?"

  "Words," Harlan grumbled, his fingers rhythmically drumming against the wooden surface of the table. "She speaks and her words just become reality."

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  The words were unsettling. Eujal looked down at the wooden table and let his eyes trail over the intricate knots. A sparker, huh? He had never seen a sparker in person before. His parents used to tell him stories about sparkers and how they possessed strange powers. He wondered how her powers would work. Would she just say a sentence and his head would pop off? Or would his entire body burst into flames?

  He had a feeling that he wouldn't like to find out.

  Veno barely recovered from his drunken spell by the time midnight came. The snow was still coming down heavily, seemingly more than before. Eujal struggled to persevere through the frigid winds and the biting sensation of snowflakes whipping against his face. He didn't know how long they had been marching. All he knew was that the wind was picking up and the cold was becoming unbearable.

  They had finally made it. It was the only house on the outskirts of town. It wasn't a particularly large building—in fact, quite modest, standing at a mere two stories tall. Made entirely of wood, it had a single chimney protruding from the center.

  "She's staying here, right?" Harlan asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  "Yeah," Veno confirmed, the remark barely audible. He was still suffering from the effects of his binge drinking.

  Eujal gulped nervously. Before they had begun their long walk to this house, Veno had given them a lengthy lecture on all the information they had about Osha. Her spark was based on spoken words. She had to chant a command for her powers to work. There were certain conditions for her power to take effect, such as naming a target and giving it a specific command. However, her commands couldn't affect living things and were restricted to inanimate objects.

  Veno's example was, "May that sword crumple like paper." If the command was issued properly, the sword would be crumpled up like a ball of paper. However, if the command was not issued properly, the sword wouldn't be affected at all.

  These conditions gave them confidence. All they had to do was ambush her and restrain her mouth. Then, they could kill her.

  The plan was to make sure she was asleep or busy doing something else. Harlan and Eujal would enter the building and search for her. Once they found her, they would restrain her. Then, Veno would finish the job.

  The wind began to strengthen. It felt like the snow was slicing through his flesh. His body shook with discomfort. But what annoyed him even more was how much of an inconvenience the weather was to their plan. The strong winds made the door creak and groan. If the door was opened, the roaring winds would be loud enough to let the storyteller know that something had opened the door.

  They had to be quick.

  Veno seemed to know this. His bottom lip remained bit as he rested his hand against the front door. He took a deep breath.

  Then, with a heavy grunt, he slammed his body against the door. The wood splintered and snapped as the door swung open. Harlan and Eujal bolted forward, their weapons drawn.

  The interior was surprisingly spacious, the ceilings higher than expected. A wooden staircase was located to the right, and a hallway stretched beyond the foot of the stairs. A kitchen was located straight ahead, a sitting area to the left where a fireplace burned brightly.

  The woman wasn't in sight.

  Harlan darted for the staircase, bounding up the steps in an impressive fashion. Eujal followed.

  They had barely reached the second floor when they heard a feminine gasp. Harlan charged ahead, his footsteps thudding against the wooden floorboards.

  Eujal saw the flash of red hair disappearing into a room at the end of the hallway that opened up on the second floor. Harlan was fast to pursue her. Eujal wasn't far behind.

  But before Harlan could enter the room, a voice rang out.

  "May this quill explode upon impact."

  Something hit Harlan in the forehead. There was a flash of light. The floor beneath him trembled. Wooden shrapnel and debris flew. Eujal was thrown back. He hit the ground, groaning in pain.

  Eujal lifted his head. His ears were ringing, but the sound was slowly beginning to fade. His eyes scanned the room. The wall and ceiling were covered in scorch marks and debris. And there he was, Harlan. Or what was left of him. His upper body had been completely blown off.