Nathan danced beneath the sword's arc, his shoe slamming into the man's wrist with a sickening crack. The blade clattered to the ground, but the man staggered back, yanking another weapon from his inventory—a serrated dagger this time. His allies circled like vultures, but Nathan ignored them. His focus narrowed to the sneering face in front of him.

  "You really think you'll walk out of here?" the man spat, feinting left before lunging. Nathan sidestepped, the dagger grazing his ribs. Hot blood seeped into his shirt, but he didn't flinch. He'd fought through worse.

  The man pressed the attack, driving Nathan toward a jagged outcrop of rocks. "She was Harrowed Hand, and we put her down for it!"

  Nathan faltered, the words hitting harder than any blade. "What did you just say?"

  "Your sister. The one you've been searching for? Found her speaking with another Harrowed Hand member. Didn't even try to deny it."

  That… didn’t make sense.

  “You're lying. My sister is—"

  “Dead, now. And you will be, too.”

  The harpoon in Nathan’s hand trembled. "You killed her?"

  "Put her down like the traitor she was," the man said. "She begged at the end. Kept saying you'd come for her."

  Nathan lunged. Not at the man's throat, but at his knee. The barbed tip punched through leather and flesh, and the man screamed, collapsing onto one leg. Nathan yanked the weapon free, spraying crimson across the dirt. Before the man could react, Nathan was on him—a knee pinning his chest, the harpoon's edge hovering a hair's breadth from his eyeball.

  "My sister was alive," Nathan muttered. "All this time... and she was Harrowed Hand?"

  The man writhed, panic dilating his pupils. "Y-you should thank us! She betrayed everything!"

  "WHERE?” Nathan pressed the harpoon deeper, drawing a bead of blood from the man's brow. "Where did you kill her? Where is her body?"

  The man's bravado shattered. "East gully! Past the broken oak! She's there with the other one we caught. Just... just let me go!"

  Nathan didn't move. For a heartbeat, the clearing held its breath. His sister—alive all this time, part of the Harrowed Hand, and now... dead before he could even find her

  He slammed the harpoon's blunt end into the man's temple, knocking him unconscious. He rose, scanning the crowd.

  "Anyone else want to tell me about my sister today?"

  Silence.

  He shouldered past them, the man's sword now tucked into his belt. Their eyes followed him, but no one dared lift a blade.

  "I'm going to find her," Nathan said. "And then I'm coming for Bree. And none of you will die quick."

  Nathan's thoughts spiraled in circles. His breath came in heavy, deep gasps, and he felt like he was going to collapse. But he needed to see. He needed to confirm for himself that this was some kind of terrible mistake… or if his sister was really dead.

  What if they were telling the truth? What if his sister really was part of the Harrowed Hand? But then again, what if Silas was right? What if the Harrowed Hand wasn't all that bad, and this was all a great misunderstanding?

  But they still executed someone. At least, that's how they put it. Was that the only option?

  Lying on the ground was a body. A familiar body. Blonde hair, her back facing out. A stab wound directly through the chest. To the side was the body of Silas, the old man. The blood still hadn't dried yet, soaked into the grass and dirt.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Nathan was frozen. But he had to confirm it for himself.

  He reached out and pushed the body onto its back.

  He collapsed to his knees.

  She was dead. His sister. The woman he'd spent three circles trying to find… and he never even got to say goodbye.

  He was going to kill them. It didn't matter if they were right. It didn't matter if she was Harrowed Hand or not. In that moment, Nathan decided he was going to kill every single one of Bree's men. Then he'd finish off Bree herself.

  Wrong color.

  Nathan froze.

  It wasn't the first time he'd heard something like this—just brief, disconnected thoughts that weren't his own.

  "I've lost it," he muttered.

  Not sister.

  "What are you talking about?" Nathan furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. "I think I would recognize my own sister—"

  Eyes. Look.

  Nathan hesitated. The command was simple but insistent. He reached out for Sarah's eyelids and pried them open.

  "I don't see what I'm looking for—"

  He froze.

  Her eyes were brown… but…

  "It's not the right shade," Nathan muttered.

  Fake blood, came the whisper. Not real.

  Nathan zoomed in on the blood. He rubbed a finger against it and lifted it to his eyes.

  "Can I…?" he said. He used basic inspect. [False Blood]

  "What the hell is going on?"

  He perked up and stood to his feet. He looked around in a circle.

  "Who are you? Are you one of the Wanderers?"

  No wanderer. Here. With you.

  He shook his head. He had to stay focused. Who cared if he was going crazy? Who cared—

  As he finished turning in a circle, he felt a strange sensation in his arm. A faint wiggling, like something shifting beneath his skin. He froze, his breath catching.

  Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve.

  The plant arm—his arm—was moving. The half-black, half-white rose attached to it gave a little wiggle, its petals trembling slightly.

  The sensation was unmistakable now. The voice was coming from the flower. The rose bobbed once, a simple movement that seemed almost like acknowledgment.

  "Are you... talking to me?" Nathan asked, staring at his arm.

  Yes. Help.

  "Did you... did you see what happened here?" Nathan asked, gesturing to the bodies.

  Not real sister. Wrong inside.

  Nathan felt his arm twitch again, the vines tightening briefly around his shoulder.

  "What do you mean, 'wrong inside'?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady while talking to his own limb.

  No... sparkle. Different.

  And just like that, the rose curled in on itself, petals closing tight. The presence in his mind faded, like a candle being snuffed out.

  "Wait," Nathan said, staring at his arm. "Don't go to sleep now! What do you mean by 'different'? How are you even talking to me?"

  No response. The flower remained closed, dormant.

  Nathan groaned in frustration. "Of course. Just when I'm starting to get answers."

  He stared between the two bodies. He remembered back when he'd first talked with Silas, the man's face had flickered like a television screen. An illusion. Could this also be an illusion of some sort?

  Nathan wasn't sure. But he was fairly certain this wasn't his sister, at the very least.

  "But then... why would someone do this? Why fake a body?"

  And how did they get the picture of his sister in the first place?

  The Wanderers have to be involved in this, they're the only ones who know what my sister looks like to this level of detail.

  His eyes turned back toward his arm. The rose remained tightly closed, unresponsive.

  Nathan felt a chill run down his spine. Having a sentient plant attached to him that came and went as it pleased was unsettling.

  He turned around and started walking toward the city. He and Bree needed to have a long conversation to figure out what the hell was happening. He held his hand up and made a fist. Wind exploded from behind them before settling into a gentle breeze.

  To his surprise, the rose suddenly unfurled, its petals stretching out as if reaching for the wind. He felt a ripple of something—excitement? wonder?—emanate from it.

  "Oh, you're awake now?" Nathan said. "Care to explain what's going on with these bodies?"

  But the flower was already closing again, petals folding inward as the brief moment of awareness faded.

  "Hey!" Nathan snapped his fingers near the flower. "Don't fall asleep again! I need answers!"

  The flower remained closed, unresponsive.

  Nathan's left eye twitched. "Unbelievable."

  He continued walking, muttering curses under his breath. As the city came into view, he glanced down at his arm again.

  "I don't even know what to call you," he said, though he didn't expect an answer.

  He continued toward the town, frustrated by the plant's sporadic consciousness. He needed to focus on what to say to Bree, to get to the bottom of this fake body situation.

  He was nearly at the town's edge when the flower suddenly stiffened against his arm.

  Danger. Below!

  "What—"

  A split second later, he sensed something approaching from below the ground. He jumped to the side as a spiked pillar of earth exploded where he had just been standing.

  Nathan's jaw dropped. He knew only one person who could do attacks like that.

  "Nathan!" a woman shouted. "You're going to pay!"

  Nathan dove to the right as another pillar erupted where he had been standing.

  "Bree! What the hell are you doing?"

  She stepped out of the dust created by her earth pillars. Her face was twisted, pure rage filling her eyes.

  "I'll kill you," she said. "You murderer."