Mom's gentle humming drifts up from the kitchen, wrapping around a melody I've known since childhood. The familiar tune carries hints of lavender and rising bread, but something feels different this morning as I blink away sleep. Maya's bed sits empty beside mine - unusual for my sister who normally burrows deeper under her quilts until I coax her awake. Her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Whiskers, lies abandoned among tangled sheets.
A faint unease settles in my stomach as I make my way to the kitchen. Morning light pours through the window, painting our wooden countertops in honey-gold where fresh bread cools in neat rows, filling the air with warmth and the subtle tang of yeast. Mom works at the counter with practiced movements as she works the dough with practiced hands. Maya perches at the table, unusually still, her eyes fixed on the window.
"Where's Dad?" I ask, noting his empty chair. "I thought he didn't have patrol duty today?"
Movement flashes in the corner of my eye - the back door swings open before anyone can answer, bringing with it the crisp morning air and scent of fresh herbs. Strong arms sweep me up, pulling a startled squeak from my throat. Dad's warm laughter fills the kitchen as he spins me around, pulling me into an impromptu dance that sends heat rushing to my cheeks. With a final twirl, he sets me down, leaving me sitting right there on the kitchen floor, laughter bubbling up despite my wounded dignity
"Just gathering mint and sage for my tea," he says, holding up a small bundle as I scramble to my feet. "Can't waste a beautiful morning." He drops the herbs into his waiting teacup before turning to the window with exaggerated stealth. "Now, my dearest assistant, shall we conduct our morning security inspection?"
Maya's face brightens as she looks up from her breakfast - the first real smile I've seen from her in weeks, since worry became our constant companion. Dad's familiar game still draws out her laugh.
Dad tiptoes toward the window with exaggerated stealth, "Eastern front secure," he announces with mock solemnity, peering through the glass. "Though I must report a highly suspicious sparrow. Been eyeing our bread for at least three minutes now." His playful muttering about dangerous butterflies and squirrels plotting elaborate acorn heists fills the kitchen with Maya's giggles.
"What's really happening, Father?" Maya asks suddenly, her fingers twisting in her apron strings. The laughter fades from her voice. "Why are they coming here?"
Dad's expression gentles. "Remember Grandmother's stories about the Guild healers? How they saved her village during the fever outbreak? While the Church counted tithes in their towers, the Guild shared their knowledge freely." He pauses, something darker crossing his face. "Your grandmother would have been one of them, if the Church hadn't banned women from studying healing arts. The Guild remembers things the Church wants us to forget."
"May the Void take those sanctimonious vultures," Mom snarls, her hands pressing into the dough with sudden force, leaving deep gouges. "Strutting around in their black robes, marking people like cattle, thinking they own our very souls."
"Mother!" Maya gasps, spine straightening.
"They're here!" The words burst from Mom as she rushes to the window, flour dusting the air in her wake. "Just coming around the bend - those silver insignias..."
Dad pulls his boots on by the door, but pauses. "We should offer them dinner," he says, trying to sound casual. "Show proper hospitality. The Guild appreciates old customs."
Mom looks up from drying her hands, brows furrowing. "My dear, food doesn't grow on trees you know," she starts, but her protest melts into a smile. "Though I suppose I could prepare something special with what we have..."
Dad pulls on his boots by the door, adjusting his sword belt with careful movements. "I'll try to hear what's happening," he says quietly. "The Church's grip loosens when real power arrives." He winks at me. "Keep watch from the window, but stay back. Maya, make sure your sister follows instructions for once."
Maya nods solemnly, already dragging me toward the window. Mom joins us, twisting her apron as we gather to watch. The village square fills carefully, like water finding its level. Witnesses in their black robes try maintaining order, but their commands waver as the Guild approaches. Even their hollow eyes seem uncertain now.
"There he is!" Maya whispers, pressing closer to the glass. "By Elder Sven's house!"
"Where?" I scan the growing crowd until Mom points.
"Just there, near the oak tree," she says softly, her fingers worrying at her apron. "Oh, they barely looked at him..."
Through the window, I spot Dad moving between groups.
Elder Sven meets them at the village center as High Executor Thane approaches, but his usual authority falters when a Guild member steps forward. The way Thane's shoulders drop, how his staff lowers inch by inch, tells us everything we need to know - a reminder that power needs no declaration.
The Witnesses fade into the background, their dark robes merging with the shadows. "Look," Maya whispers, ducking behind me before peeking out again. "Even Brother Cedric's backing away."
Two figures peel away from the main group without ceremony. One of them turns toward our window - a majestic woman wearing a hooded robe, her armor beneath not the crude steel of village guards but something more elegant, intricately embroidered with silver patterns. Though her face remains hidden beneath the hood's deep cowl, her presence fills the space. Maya ducks behind me with a squeak, but the scholar's hidden gaze slides past us with such complete disinterest that I wonder if she saw us at all.
Dad crosses the square with a warm smile, gesturing toward our house. But the scholars move past him as though he's made of nothing, leaving him standing for a moment with one hand rubbing the back of his head before squaring his shoulders and turning toward where Elder Sven still speaks with the main group.
"His ears always get so red when he's embarrassed," Maya giggles nervously from behind me, and she's right - the flush spreads across his neck like sunrise.
Mom's attention never leaves Dad as she watches him waiting at the edge of Sven's discussion. The Guild members gradually disperse throughout the village, leaving only one woman deep in conversation with our Elder.
"Come on," Mom says, her voice carrying a mix of concern and determination. "Let's see what news your father brings."
Dad returns sooner than expected, the tension in his shoulders betraying his smile. Maya shifts eagerly while Mom steps closer, flour still dusting her hands.
"They sent more Guild members than anyone expected," Dad says, running a hand through his hair. "The inn's completely full. Sven's been muttering about it - says they never make these kinds of mistakes."
"They must have their reasons," Mom says softly. "Did they say anything about why they're here?"
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"Not much, at least not openly." Dad's gaze drifts to the window. "But they're not here just for a friendly visit. Sven offered to host some of them himself, but they barely acknowledged him."
Mom's expression tightens. "Then we have time to prepare," she says, her voice carrying that quiet strength I've always admired. "Edwin, we'll need more wood brought in - enough for a proper feast if needed. Julie can help you stack it while Maya helps me in the pantry. These aren't ordinary travelers we might be hosting."
The morning air carries a chill as I follow Dad outside. Near the old well, the two scholars stand close together, their attention fixed on the worn stones with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. One points to markings near the base that I've never noticed before, while the other makes careful notes in a leather-bound book. Something about their focused examination reminds me of the way Grandmother used to study certain places in the village, as if seeing things the rest of us couldn't.
"Julie! Time's wasting!" Dad calls softly from the woodpile.
I gather an armful of logs, glancing back at the well where the scholars remain in quiet discussion. Inside, Maya and Mom's voices carry from the pantry.
"The honey doesn't go next to the vinegar," Maya insists.
"Then arrange it yourself," Mom replies, warmth in her voice.
Their familiar bickering should bring comfort, but something about those scholars and their interest in our well leaves me uneasy. Whatever brought the Guild to our village, it's more than a simple visit.
I hurry to help him, but can't stop glancing back at the well where the scholars remain in quiet discussion. Inside, Maya and Mom's voices carry from the pantry:
"The honey doesn't go next to the vinegar," Maya insists with familiar stubbornness.
"Then arrange it yourself, clever one," Mom replies, warmth mixing with worry in her voice.
Their gentle bickering should bring comfort, but something about those scholars and their interest in our well leaves me uneasy. Whatever brought the Guild to our village, I know with certainty that it's more than a simple visit.
When the sun begins to set, Dad adjusts his collar and heads out again. "I'll see if there's any word about the lodging arrangements," he says. "Won't be long."
Mom, Maya and I finish putting the house in order - straightening chairs, checking the pantry one last time, making sure everything gleams. Maya insists on rearranging her collection of pressed flowers three times before Mom gently takes them from her trembling hands.
Voices drift through our window as darkness falls. Dad's familiar tone carries clearly: "Just up ahead. My family has already prepared..." He pauses, closer now. "The accommodations are... modest at best."
Mom rushes to the door, Maya and I close behind. Through the deepening twilight, I see Dad approaching with two figures. The woman from this morning glides beside him, but my attention fixes on her companion - the one who makes my breath catch in my throat. I understand immediately why everyone who saw him today kept their distance. I don't know why, but I can't look at his face directly - it hurts, like staring at the sun, as if a mad artist tried to capture divinity in flesh.
His short, spiked white hair catches the fading light, glowing faintly like it’s been dusted with frost. His face is sharp, with a jawline so precise it feels unreal. He is tall and his frame is strong, every muscle carved and defined, with faint markings on his skin. And his eyes—bright, cold, and piercing—make my chest tighten. It feels like they see through me, peeling back my thoughts layer by layer.
There’s something about him that makes me want to shrink back, but at the same time, I can’t look away. He’s dangerous, that much is obvious. The kind of danger that doesn’t need to shout or threaten—it’s simply there, in every inch of him. And yet, there’s something magnetic about him too, something that makes my heart pound with a mixture of awe and fear.
The air around me feels heavier, as if it’s thickened with his presence. My legs tremble, and a wave of dizziness crashes over me. My vision blurs, and before I can stop myself, my knees buckle. I pitch forward, the ground rushing up to meet me—until I’m caught mid-fall by something unseen. I’m suspended in the air, weightless, a strange silver light curling around me like ribbons of smoke.
“Careful,” the man says, his voice smooth but commanding. His hand doesn’t move, but I can feel the force of his will holding me upright. The silver ribbons pulse faintly, like a heartbeat, before gently setting me back on my feet. My legs still feel like jelly, but I don’t fall again.
“Julie!” Mom’s voice cuts through the haze as she rushes to me, gripping my shoulders. Dad is close behind, his expression torn between shock and concern. “Are you alright? What happened? You look so pale!”
I nod quickly, forcing a weak smile. “I-I’m fine. Just... dizzy for a second.” My voice wavers, but I hope it’s convincing enough.
The man—Asch, I think Dad called him—steps closer, his piercing gaze locked on me. “Miss,” he says, his tone calm but oddly intense, “are you sensitive to fluctuations?”
I hesitate, my heart pounding. Fluctuations? Is that what he calls whatever just happened? I don’t know what he means, but I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak. “Yes,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe?—in his eyes before he steps back. “Hm,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Interesting.”
Mom and Dad exchange worried glances, still fussing over me, but I barely hear them. My mind is racing. Sensitive to fluctuations? No, that’s not it. It wasn’t the air or the dizziness. It was him. His presence, his power—it’s overwhelming. Dangerous.
I glance at Asch again, pretending to steady myself against the doorframe, but inside, my thoughts are clear: He’s dangerous. Too dangerous.
After a moment, Asch steps back, his posture stiffening slightly, and I sense a subtle shift in the air. There’s an unspoken understanding between him and Dad. He waits, still as a statue, until Dad gives a slight nod, granting permission.
"Enter," Dad says, his voice tight with restrained authority.
Asch finally steps across the threshold, and with a single glance at the woman beside him, he commands, “Gwen, follow me.”
The woman, hooded and unreadable, steps forward without a word. Her voice, when it comes, is soft yet filled with unquestionable respect. “Yes, my Lord.”
She follows him inside, and as they both enter fully, the door closes behind them with a quiet finality. Asch takes a moment to survey the room, his gaze sharp, almost as if he’s taking measure of everything and everyone in it.
I stand frozen in place, my body stiff, my mind racing. Mom keeps a steadying hand on my shoulder, offering silent reassurance, while the two guests settle in. Dad, standing near the door, gives them a courteous nod. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. This is my daughter, Maya.”
I remain silent, watching the scene unfold before me, my heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty and caution. I need to stay calm, I tell myself, but how can I when everything feels so... off? The weight of Asch’s presence still lingers in the air, and I know—without a doubt—that I have to tread carefully from here on out.
Maya, with her usual enthusiasm, jumps onto Asch, exclaiming, “Hooray, some friends of Grandma!” My mind spirals into a whirlwind of confused thoughts. Friends of Grandma? What is she saying? I can’t stop staring at Asch, his face impassive, while the situation slips out of my control.
The woman beside him stiffens immediately, her tone turning cold and threatening. “Step away from Lord Asch, child of—” She is abruptly cut off by Asch, who, with a swift motion, charges his middle finger, holding it steady with his thumb before releasing it. The sharp, resonating snap echoes through the room as it strikes the woman’s armor, causing her head to jerk back slightly. The force of the impact is so powerful, it’s clear it could have easily shattered a metal plate.
At first, Maya hides her face slightly, turning toward Asch as if trying to avoid looking at the woman, her small frame stiffening with a hint of fear. But when the sharp snap of Asch strike hits the woman, she slowly peeks out from behind Asch, her expression softening as the tension in the room dissipates. Forcing a smile, she nods. “Yes,” she says, her voice a little shaky but determined.
With a reassuring smile, Asch turns to Maya, who looks a bit confused but still trying to regain her composure. “Friends of Grandma? Then you’ll have to tell me all about her adventures later, okay?” Gently patting her head, he pulls her away and sets her down, while Dad, visibly mortified, hurriedly apologizes.
Mom and Dad exchange a quick glance, maintaining a careful distance from our guests - so different from Maya's innocent approach. Though they try to hide their unease beneath polite smiles, I can see the tension in their shoulders. While his presence made my knees weak, Maya showed no sign of alteration. Am I seeing danger where there is none? Or is there something going on with my sister?