《Paper Petals》


 Prologue

    Okay, this is it. Just like Momma taught me.


    I take a deep breath, then pick up the centerpiece of my craft, a gigantic cerulean lily I had spotted on my way home. Utilizing my claws, I very carefully wrap the end of its stem just below the petals, forming it into a somewhat oval-shaped circlet, as I very carefully tie a knot. Then, once that¡¯s done, I begin to coil the smaller flowers I had picked, all of them various shades of blue, around the base one¡¯s stalk, and before long my masterpiece is complete. I hop up to my feet, finding a deep satisfaction filling me as I place the flower crown onto my head.


    Feeling the meadow¡¯s verdant blades of grass beneath my toes, I do a little spin, the slight updraft it creates lifting the grass-stained hem of my white dress upwards as it mirrors my spiral. When I shift my feet to stop my momentum, the skirt continues to move in spite of me, coming to rest once again near my knees once it finishes its own circulation. I skip forward, enjoying the sun on my skin, doing little spins and humming to myself as I listen to the sounds of Turi¡¯s meadow around me.


    Suddenly, a gust blows against my back, and I giggle as I reach up to prevent my painstakingly crafted headgear right where it is. My ears flap in the howling breeze, it¡¯s indifferent roar drowning out everything else I might be able to hear. My eyes shoot to the left as the noise dies down a bit, where I see a familiar face in the distance pushing his cart towards the village center. I duck down, not really wanting to have my neighbor yell at me for lollygagging today.


    I stay stiffly prone on the ground as the cart passes, only rising once the rumbling of the wooden transport is far into the distance. Glancing into the distance around me, I can¡¯t help but widely grin as the truth becomes clear.


    Today, Fiora is victorious!


    I skip farther into the meadow, slowly making my way up the slowly steepening incline of the area¡¯s large hill, where the meadow begins to shift into a small weald. I don¡¯t go all the way up, though. Instead, once about halfway to the hilltop, I hear the sounds of a small waterfall in the distance, so I deviate from the trail to go towards it. A minute later, I find myself stepping out into a shallow rocky streambed, water flowing southwards against my feet. Enjoying the feeling, I close my eyes, letting the distinct noise of the area flow into my ears.


    Aside from the splashing of the waterfall, the tall grass behind me softly swishes in the wind, the leaves of a nearby tree rustling as well. A raven caws as it flies above me, landing upon a branch a bit away from me with a thunk. I feel its gaze on me, but I ignore it as I hone in on a more familiar, unmistakable noise. A beast running through the underbrush, uncaring of its presence being known. My heart begins to slam when I realize the noise is getting closer, far quicker then I am comfortable with.


    My eyes shoot open, only to see a pale green panther rush out of the bushes, immediately pouncing towards me when it catches sight of me. I yelp, ducking down as I attempt to move my feet like Pop had been teaching me, but I flub it. I slip, inadvertently dodging my assailant as I crash into the wet cobble. A chortle comes from behind a nearby tree as I sit up, grimacing at my soaked dress.


    My father steps out, proudly walking over to loom above me, his hands on his hips.


    ¡°Well, Miss Fiora, looks like you took a little tumble.¡± He leans down, picking me up into his arms as he pokes my cheek. ¡°A little birdy told me you were off exploring again, made your mother worried sick.¡±


    I immediately puff my cheeks, bonking my head into Pop¡¯s chest. Stupid Justin. I¡¯d get him back for this. My dad gives me a wink, then whistles to his familiar as we begin our stroll back home. The devious panther, Summa, purrs as she rubs up against his legs.


    ¡°I get your desire to chart the area mentally, Fiora, I do,¡± Pop mutters as we step into the tall grass, ¡°However it may seem to you, this area is dangerous. What would we do if a Fae-Beast found you?¡±


    I sigh, reaching up to poke at my dad¡¯s ears. Humans are weird, I don¡¯t get how they¡­ function without the stuff I¡¯m so used to.


    ¡°Well, regardless of that, I see you finished the crown this time!¡± He reaches up to touch my art, and I give my best menacing growl to get him to stop. Pop snorts, but does thankfully retreat his fingers. ¡°Okay then, Vicious, I won¡¯t touch. At least let your Momma see it, will you?¡±


    I nod enthusiastically, giving Pop my best smile. He shakes his head, then whoops as he suddenly jumps a few feet to the right. A gigantic dark green bear lumbers across where we had just been towards the stream, seemingly entirely uncaring to our presence. I glance up at my father to see him a bit pale, sweat running down his brow.


    ¡°Fiora, that bear,¡± He quietly mutters, very, very slowly backing away, ¡°Is a Fae-Beast. That¡¯s why you can¡¯t just come here. If I had been a bit later¡­¡±


    Pop shivers, shaking his head. ¡°Not worth imagining. Let¡¯s get home, Fiora.¡±


    As he begins to run, I don¡¯t give a response, as I¡¯m caught up in staring back over my Dad¡¯s shoulder at the lumbering Fae-Beast. It raises a paw, several inch long pitch black claws on their edge, then swings it down at a tree. It snaps like a twig, and the bear picks up the tree, which it begins to use as a backscratcher. I almost giggle at the thing¡¯s antics, but stop myself when I remember that it could probably hear as well as I could.


    It doesn¡¯t take Pop long to get near the bottom of the hill, but the sun still ends up low by the time our little cottage comes into view. I glance out onto the waves of gold across from it, wondering if the stalks of wheat would shine in the sunset if I stared for long enough. I stick out my tongue when I see Justin wave at us from out in the field, seemingly already having returned from his trip into the village. Stupid farmer tattletale.


    Clicking the little gate to our home open, we walk into the small front yard where I¡¯ve spent so much time. Technically, since Momma can¡¯t leave home, I¡¯m supposed to stay here, but it¡¯s just so BORING. It¡¯s not hard to leave either, Pop even taught me himself how to vault over the stone fence! It¡¯s obviously his fault, not mine. Wait, no, that doesn¡¯t exactly-


    My train of thought is interrupted as a divine odor flows into my nostrils, and I have to reach up to hide my mouth as I feel a bit of saliva collect. My face heats up a bit as Pop winks at me, chuckling at my reaction to the smell. Like, but who can blame me! Mom¡¯s roast beef is to die for!


    Pop puts his hand on the doorknob, twisting it as he yells, ¡°Jesse, we¡¯re home!¡± The large oak door opens to reveal-


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    That I¡¯m not in Turi; Not anymore, nor likely ever again.


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    I groan, reaching up to wipe the dream out of my eyes as I take a few moments to simply¡­ process. I apparently had fallen asleep at my desk, a habit I am developing that I really need to break. I put a bed in here for a reason, gods dammit. I glance down at the papers I had been working on, finding them completely finished despite my unintentional nap. Had I really been so tired that I immediately crashed when my work was done?


    No, wait.


    I reach over, picking up the item I had left inside the dry ink well I had completely emptied last night. Or well, nearly completely emptied apparently. I gingerly lift the incomplete white paper rose, glancing at its delightful imperfections, including the black ink stain upon its stem. Regret begins to rise in my chest as I look at the failed folds, so I simply toss it into the small box I had begun to gather my attempts in.


    I could never seem to get it as good as she always did. Maybe that¡¯s for the better.


    I push my chair backwards, grabbing my cane with my left hand, it''s simple brass handle cold against my skin, then hobble over to the window, then hesitantly push back the curtains. I wince at the morning light entering my eyes, revealing the bustling streets of New Ochre. A boy stands down on the street corner, waving a newspaper in the air above his head as he hawks them to the public around him. An ornate carriage almost runs him down, but an armored man with a absurdly large sword on his back manages to swoop in, pulling the child out of the way.


    I roll my eyes, letting the curtains fall back into place. Seems to be a normal day. I walk back to my desk, grabbing the substantial stack of papers into my free hand. I take a deep breath, then walk to my office door to step out into the hall of the building. I, as hastily as a woman who needs a cane to walk can, rush towards the closest flight of stairs. When I turn the corner that leads to them though, I inwardly grimace at the tall, pompous man strutting towards me. He proudly wears a wide variety of medals, most of which I have no idea of what they indicate, upon the breast of his royal guard uniform.


    {¡°Oh, if it isn¡¯t Fiora!¡±} The irritating man, Kellan, gives me a condescending bow, then brings his hand to his chin. {¡°You seem even more tired than normal, Madam. Perhaps I can take a load off of you?¡±}


    ¡°No thanks.¡± I mutter, then attempt to step past the man. Unfortunately, he moves back to force the conversation to continue.


    {¡°Now, that¡¯s a bit rude.} Kellan gives a fake pout as he places his hand over his heart. {¡°Let a man do his duties, I¡¯m sure your investigation into the party has hit a wall, somewhere or another.¡±}


    Reaching out with my cane, I gently push him aside. ¡°No.¡±


    He grins, walking backwards as he speaks. {¡°Did you perhaps get an interview with the victim¡¯s wife? Maybe his brother? Oh! Was it a cheating thing!? How scandalous!¡±}


    I pause and consider hitting the fool, but shake my head as I decide against it. Hitting a future grand duke was a good way to not have a life anymore. Thank you, Teacher Bianca, for that bit of wisdom. I grunt, then begin to slowly make my way up the stairs, Kellan casually going up while facing the wrong way.


    {¡°Really, though. Give me something to work with here.¡±} As we reach the turn in the stairs, the man stops, putting his hand on his hip. {¡°I need to tell something about all this to my Uncle, so he doesn¡¯t just hang the two of them. I can¡¯t just let a Duke and my friend just die!¡±}


    Rolling my eyes, I reach out, (gently) slamming the papers into Kellans chest. Flustered, he takes them and lifts them up, his eyes going wide at the documents half covering his face. He probably says something, but considering I can¡¯t see his lips, I consider it irrelevant. Asking him to repeat himself would be indignant for me.


    As Kellan rattles off the contents of my night¡¯s work to no one, I raise an eyebrow as I begin to smell a distinct yet faint almond smell, then walk over to the second half of the stairs. I begin to head up towards the scent, leaving Kellan with the papers. It¡¯s as I crest the top of the stairs the fragrances become more clear allowing me to realize what is actually going on.


    Cautiously, I pick my walking aid up, limping towards the place I had originally been going to in the first place. When I reach a turn in the hallway, press a button in the handle of my cane, slightly displacing it from the rest of the tool. I take a deep breath, then rush around the corner, allowing the rod to fall away.


    My blade sinks halfway into an unprepared black garbed man¡¯s neck, his face twisted in confusion behind a mask. The three other assassins, who were gathered at the edge of the guard captain¡¯s door, look up at me in shock as they draw their weapons.


    I don¡¯t pause to appreciate the view.


    I pull my saber free from its prison, raining crimson all over the ornate purple velvet they had decided to use for this damn floor¡¯s hallways. I pity the maids who work here, but¡­ that¡¯s what they get for working for royalty.


    What I get. Definitely shouldn¡¯t have taken this job.


    I channel the entirety of my tiny pool of mana into my good leg, then take what feels like only a single step forward. I fly through the air, slashing out in a wide arc, cutting deep into the closest one¡¯s chest. As he stumbles back, a deep red stain swiftly growing on his shirt, the other two assailants rush at me. The larger of the two, one his daggers in a reverse grip, slashes out at me with the reversed blade while the other looms behind to stab me. I don¡¯t panic, hopping backwards as I twirl my saber upwards, but grimace as I immediately find the difference in our strength is rather immense when our blades cross.


    Thankfully, I¡¯m not alone, and a transparent shield of radiant light blocks the man¡¯s second dagger from entering my stomach. Kellan uses his magic to safely pull me back a few feet, then step in between me and the assassins. Holding his sword up slightly above his head, Kellan points a hand filled with golden light up at our opponents. I take a (slightly) shaken breath as I regain my footing, looking up to see that final assassin staring at me with uncomfortably serpentine eyes.


    I stumble backwards as they suddenly appear in a puff of smoke right above me, one of their Katars aimed directly at my neck. I somehow manage to catch myself before they follow up on that blow, a rather beautiful spinning kick that slams into my midsection. I grunt in pain as I go flying into the wall, only to barely dodge a second attempt at impaling me. I let myself fall to the right as they began their next punch, swinging my saber upwards in an perhaps vain attempt to catch them off guard. Surprisingly, it works, at least somewhat. They manage to almost completely sidestep the attack, but in the process they accidently let their sleeve be slightly cut.


    I pale at the sight of the tattoo on their arm, which they immediately cover up with one of their hands as they take a step back away from me. Their sharp, slit eyes are filled with confusion behind their mask, and I immediately know that I am correct in the assumption I had made.


    I shakily use my blade to stand, watching as the assassin takes another step back, shaking their head. Before I get a chance to do or say anything else though, a fist of golden light slams the assassin into the ground. Kellan steps forward, a sinister grin on his face, as he raises his blade up above his head, preparing a strike.


    My blood runs cold, and I impulsively do something I really shouldn¡¯t do.


    I forcibly gather the residual mana from that attack into me, allowing me to rush forward one more time. I swing my sword up, parrying the grand duke¡¯s heir¡¯s blade off of its fatal course. Kellan looks at me with a raised eyebrow, cautiously keeping his blade drawn.


    {¡°Why? I could have sworn you didn¡¯t have-¡±}


    Before Kellan can finish speaking, the Assassin kicks Kellan¡¯s knee, then teleports in a puff of smoke to a window. Their eyes pierce into me one more time before they jump out, dropping down to the ground. I hobbled over, desperately looking out over the large crowd that was now moving around the capital streets. I bite my lower lip, that tattoo running through my mind once again.


    It was an incredibly unique image, a gauntlet clenched into a fist, a golden horseshoe just below its knuckles. As far as I know, there were only five people that had one exactly like it; and four of them were definitely permanently dead. Which leaves one option.


    Where have you been, Lissa? Why haven¡¯t you come for me?


    Why- Why did you leave me alone?


    I clench my fist, then sniff the air, once again picking up on that faint almond scent. I grind my teeth, limping over to the bottom half of my cane. Kellan puts a hand on my shoulder, which I shake off without even looking back to see if he is speaking. I lean down, sheathing my blade once more. There is nothing that is going to stop me.


    I would find her, and get answers.

 Chapter One

    I slam into a deep puddle of murky water, thankfully keeping my face above the surface. Shakily rising to my feet, I shiver as the sounds of ominous laughter arise from behind me. Without a second thought I dash away, putting my hands on my ears to try and deafen the noise. I glance behind me, but bump into a figure and fall backwards as I do. When I look up at who I ran into, the girl with strawberry hair and a sunflower on her straw hat offers me her hand. I take it, and rise to my feet.


    Sunlight caresses my eyes, which slowly flutter open as the strange images that I had seen while asleep play on repeat in my mind.


    Was that¡­ A dream?


    My eyes going wide, I jump out of bed and dash down the stairs with my tail wagging up a storm behind me, nearly slipping and falling over as I fly off the last step. I slam the kitchen open and leap onto my mom, who grunts from the sudden impact, rolling her chair a bit to get a good look at me.


    Pop always says that I look just like Momma, but I honestly think I look more like him. I do have her ears, tail, and claws, but the rest of me, including my blue eyes and chocolate hair, are the same as what dad has. On one hand, I kinda wish I had all of her Cagna traits or her beautiful black hair, but I know that if I did I wouldn¡¯t be staying in this house.


    Momma chuckles, patting me on my head. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you energetic this morning, Fiora?¡±


    I nod, feeling my ears flap a bit against my head as I declare, ¡°I had a dream!¡±


    Mom blinks a few times as she processes what I said, then happily pulls me into a hug as she laughs. ¡°Oh, finally! I¡¯ve been so worried about that! What a relief.¡±


    I nod, a grin wide on my face. According to the village doctor, someone who honestly kinda gives me the creeps, I have little to no mana, something that made Momma really anxious when we learned about it. Dreams rely on mana to occur, so it¡¯s a really good sign that I had one, even if it was short.


    ¡°Well, little miss, wait just a minute for our breakfast to finish.¡± Mom picks me up, rolling over to put me down onto my chair. ¡°It won''t be long, so wait just a moment dear.¡±


    I watch quietly, kicking my feet below me as Momma rolls herself over to the oven, deftly collecting mana into her hands, a faint transparent flame covering her hands as she pulls a tray of biscuits out from within. She hums as she cuts two open, putting some creamy butter and grape jam on. I wipe my mouth, as she walks over, placing the plate of biscuits before me. I immediately begin to gorge myself on the meal, savory biscuits and butter melding perfectly with Momma¡¯s special jam. Mom doesn¡¯t eat any, just watching me with a wide smile as I devour her work.


    Mom¡¯s a bit weird sometimes.


    As I am halfway through the last biscuit, I realize what time it is and I yelp, jumping out of my chair as I do. My mom simply smiles and offers me my satchel, which from the weight I can tell is now filled with a packed lunch. I toss it over my shoulder, waving goodbye as I run out the door. Nearly falling over as I dash out onto the slightly damp cobblestone road, I catch myself and begin my trek north to the village proper.


    As I run, Justin and his cart roll on by, but I just stick my tongue out at him as I zoom past him. I get about halfway to my destination when Jeela, the village chief¡¯s horse, comes running up to the side of the road to greet me. I can¡¯t help but grin, screeching to a stop as I immediately hop over, patting the mare¡¯s big fluffy head. I look around to see if anyone is watching me, then pull out the apple mom always packs for me, holding it out to the big beast. Jeela happily eats it in just a few bites, neighing in appreciation as I once again begin my journey.


    I gleefully prance past a few villagers as I enter the village square, taking my place atop the stop that marks the very center of my home. I close my eyes, allowing for the noise of the world around me to flow into my ears. First, I hear how the merchants around the square peddle their goods, I hear the squirrels and birds enjoy the morning breeze a bit farther, then as I reach the end of my range I hear some of my fellow classmates laughing as they dash through the area.


    I hear a quiet bell to the west, and open my eyes in horror.


    I¡¯m almost late!


    Fleeing, I run as fast as my legs can carry me to the very western edge of town, where a tall old building stands proud above the rest. Built of gray concrete and granite, what is now known as the Turi schoolhouse was once a temple dedicated to the god of knowledge and returners. Teacher Bianca got a hold of it somehow when she moved to the village before I was born, converting it into a palace of learning.


    I adore this place.


    Panting, I slam the doors open and rush to my seat, breathlessly sitting down as the other kids giggle around me. I take deep breaths, then sigh in relief when I hear three bells ring at the head of the classroom.


    Just in time¡­


    I glance up as Teacher Bianca gracefully moves around her desk, standing behind her lectern with a smile on her lips. Her platinum blonde hair is styled in a perfectly braided bun, a style matched perfectly by her breathtaking but very out of place lacy white and scarlet gown. Her sapphire eyes are cold and judging, and I feel a shiver when her icy gaze pauses on me, where she momentarily gains a gentle smile before she silently shifts her expression back to her typical poker face.


    Teacher Bianca was scary sometimes, with how easily she could put her mask on.


    She claps her hands, looking over everyone that was here. ¡°Okay class, after grading our last few lessons, I¡¯ve decided we need to do a bit of a lecture on returners, because it seems that the previous ones have not been enough.¡±


    All the kids behind me groan, but my ears twitch and my tail begins to wag a bit in excitement. Dad had told some of his adventurer stories last night, which I¡¯ve definitely heard like a thousand times before, but this time he had included a detail I hadn¡¯t heard before. Mainly, that the people he was partying during that particular story were returners.


    ¡°First of all,¡± Teacher Bianca mutters before she asks, ¡°Who can tell me what a returner is?¡±


    I watch as my neighbor¡¯s hand shoots up, not waiting to be called on before they answer, ¡°They¡¯re people who died and came back!¡±


    I shake my head, and our teacher frowns.


    ¡°Incorrect. A returner is a soul granted immortality by their patron god, in exchange for assisting them with their goals.¡± Bianca glares down at the boy, who shrinks in his seat. ¡°They are not someone who has died, for they simply leave to return at a future date instead.¡±


    A smug voice from behind me scoffs and retorts, ¡°Pff, that¡¯s just dying with a different name.¡±


    Brother Fred. I frown and shake my head once again, earning a glare from him and Brother Felix, who sits next to him. For some reason, the two of them look uncannily similar, sort of like twins, especially their Kagna traits. I can only tell them apart because of their dark hair, which Fred tends to wear longer than Felix. Bianca sighs, tapping her finger on the edge of the lectern.


    ¡°No, the distinction is important. Death is irreversible and is the process where a mortal¡¯s soul reenters the flow. When returners leave, there are quicker than normal ways to call them back, though it¡¯s usually restricted to those closest to their patrons.¡± Bianca loudly hums as she taps her chin. ¡°I have heard rumors that returners have the option of returning as a different person entirely, but I have no way of how you would prove that.¡±


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    A few murmurs go through the classroom at that fact, and my eyes glimmer as my hand shoots up. Teacher Bianca smiles as she points at me, and I clear my throat as I ignore a couple of glares that I feel as I ask:


    ¡°How long does it take to return?¡±


    Teacher Bianca smiles, her eyes scanning over the classroom.


    ¡°Hmm, good question, Fiora,¡± She states, then explains, ¡°It¡¯s well known that the earliest possible and most typical return is exactly five years after death, but there are examples of a returner waiting for a bit before they step back onto the mortal plane.¡±


    I nod, and I see Brother Felin¡¯s hand shoot up. Felin is the tallest of my siblings, but also the most kind. He always seems to have friends around him, yet he¡¯s also annoyingly mischievous enough to get on my nerves pretty often. I have to grudgingly admit that he is my favorite brother though.


    Felin clears his throat, then asks, ¡°What is the mortal plane?¡±


    Teacher Bianca gives a rare wide grin at that question, giving a clap of joy.


    ¡°Great question!¡± She waves a sparkling hand, creating a diagram in the air above her. ¡°The mortal plane is where we are now, the world as we know it. Mortals are born and die here, before their souls enter the flow to be cleansed and reborn into a new person. When returners leave, they step into the divine plane, but what happens there is not information that I have.¡±


    Felin smirks as he looks at me like he did something impressive, and I shrug as I give him a thumbs up. It was a good question, but we weren¡¯t competing or anything.


    I don¡¯t get it.


    The lesson then shifts to the normally planned math lesson, a totally droll set of hours where I sit there and watch as the other kids dawdle around easy logic puzzles. Eventually though, lunch comes, leaving me as the only one left in the classroom besides Teacher Bianca. She sits on the windowsill, watching the other students run around the yard outside.


    I open my bag and am delighted to see that mom made me two separate sandwiches, one of which I immediately begin to consume. I quietly moan in delight, Momma¡¯s special mustard combining perfectly with the smoked ham we got the other day. After the first suddenly vanishes, I begin to unwrap the second sandwich to freeze at a piece of paper wrapped within that I didn¡¯t see before.


    ¡®For Bianca.¡¯


    I groan, then hop out of my seat and trudge over to my teacher, who looks down at me in confusion, then does a double take when she sees the sandwich. I grimace as I hold it up and offer it to her, a warm smile stretching across her face when I do.


    ¡°Ah, Jesse is too kind,¡± Bianca mutters as she takes the divine gift out of my hands, ¡°Do give her my regards, Fiora.¡±


    I stick out my tongue and rush back into my seat, grumpily munching on the only thing left that momma sent- A bunch of carrots. I shouldn¡¯t have given the horse my apple¡­


    New lessons learned, the day continues as the other kids learn about math as I grumpily sit there regretting my decisions. Eventually, we are all dismissed, and I yawn as I drowsily pick up my bag. To my surprise however, Teacher Bianca comes up to me, leaning down to match my height as she looks into her eyes.


    ¡°Miss Fiora, could I have the pleasure of visiting your home this evening?¡± Bianca winks at me, her hands on her hips. ¡°I have a feeling that there is something your parents want to talk to me about.¡±


    I nod in affirmative, only to yelp when my teacher picks me up into her arms. I wiggle around a bit, yet find myself unable to break out of her vice grip. Really, times like this make me wonder how strong Bianca really is. She seems so elegant usually that it kinda clashes with my image of her.


    As my teacher¡¯s heels click against the stone paths with each of her steps, I find myself a bit lost in my own thoughts. I knew Momma and my teacher were close friends, but they always glazed over the details of that relationship whenever I asked about it. Stupid adults and their secrets, I just wanna know how they met.


    I blink myself back into reality as the familiar crackling of our oven fills my ears, our little cottage quickly approaching. My teacher speeds up even more as it comes into view, and in just a few seconds we arrive to the divine smell of Momma¡¯s cooking. Bianca steps inside, moving into the kitchen where to my surprise, both Pop and Momma are sitting.


    ¡°You got my message!¡± Momma rolls over as Bianca puts me onto the ground. ¡°I was a little worried Fiora would eat both sandwiches and just ignore the note I left.¡±


    I pout, walking over to dad as Bianca giggles. Pitying me, dad puts his hand on my head, which I pretend to push off, though it doesn¡¯t budge. I blow up my cheeks, crossing my arms as I give my best glare at the women happily chatting.


    ¡°She was definitely not happy about that by the way, you should probably feed her more.¡± Bianca smirks at me knowingly. ¡°Just a sandwich and some of your carrots is not bad, but she¡¯s a growing girl.¡±


    I pale and actually try to get dad¡¯s hand off as mom squints at me, but find my strength inadequate to escape Pop¡¯s now tightening grasp. Momma turns to me, her eyes narrowed as she says:


    ¡°Fiora, I told you to stop giving the chief¡¯s horses your apples. They¡¯ll get spoiled.¡±


    I huff in defiance, still wiggling around in place trying to get Pop¡¯s hand off, which for some reason makes the adults chuckle.


    I don¡¯t get them.


    Finally, dad releases me from his unrighteous imprisonment, but just momentarily before he swoops me up into his lap as Bianca sits. Mom rolls over after grabbing a tray out of the oven, putting a gigantic sandwich in the middle of the table, this time filled with warm roast beef. I nearly start drooling, before dad hands me a portion which I begin to greedily devour. Mom quietly laughs as she takes a bite, then adopts a more serious look as she looks up at Bianca and says:


    ¡°Now, we called you here because honestly, we both missed you, but we have had a few worries about a couple of things¡­¡±


    Bianca nods as she swallows, clearing her throat before speaking.


    ¡°I missed you both too,¡± She says with a smile, before asking, ¡°I¡¯m guessing the main worry is Fiora?¡±


    Both my parents nod, and I tilt my head in confusion.


    What does that mean? What did I do?


    Dad plonks his hand on my head again, scratching my ear. I grumble about it through the sandwich, but my tail, the darn traitor, betrays me as it begins to move. Pop sighs, then begins to speak.


    ¡°When we ask her about what the lessons are like, she barely gives an answer.¡± Dad pokes me in my cheek, to which I snap at his finger with my vicious fangs. I miss. ¡°Also, I¡¯m wondering if she has any friends in class, considering I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen her speak to anyone but us.¡±


    ¡°I speak to other people¡­ sometimes¡­¡± I grumble, then stick the rest of the sandwich into my mouth. I gaze longingly at the rest of the meal as I chew, and Momma sighs. She smiles at me, but I can see the worry hidden in her eyes as she says, ¡°Dear¡­ You know what we say about that. You need to meet other people.¡±


    I nonchalantly shrug, then grin as Pop hands me another portion of the sandwich. Bianca takes a paper covered in fancy looping words out of her bag, sliding it over the table to my parents. Momma picks it up, looking over it with curiosity.


    ¡°To be honest, when she¡¯s in class, she acts the same as she does outside of it,¡± Bianca states, then continues with, ¡°The other children react in a few different ways to it, which does cause¡­ minor issues occasionally. None are something that needs to be resolved immediately, but I do worry about what it could turn into if left to fest.¡±


    I grunt as dad puts his chin on my head, his voice gravely and serious as he asks, ¡°What are the¡­ issues?¡±


    Bianca looks out of the window so I can¡¯t see her face, but Momma¡¯s face says it all as she bites her lip. I only ever see her do that when it¡¯s about my brothers.


    ¡°Felin seems to see her as a rival, but the other kids in his growing friend group tend to see it more negatively.¡± Bianca shakes her head, tapping her fingers on the table. ¡°The problem is more pronounced with Felix and Fred. They¡¯re typically abrasive towards her, sometimes to the point of actions that could be considered bullying.¡±


    Everyone is silent for a moment, but I just tilt my head. I don¡¯t see why any of this is a problem, it¡¯s not like they¡¯re actually bullying me. I¡¯d hit them if they were. Dad sighs, and I hear him run his hand through his hair as he mumbles, ¡°Do I need to¡­ intervene?¡±


    Mom goes pale as Bianca looks at dad in shock, dropping her meal and slamming her palms into the table.


    ¡°N-no! Victor, they¡¯re children!¡± Bianca shakes her head. ¡°We can¡¯t force them to love Fiora, but we can try to improve their relationships as best we can.¡±


    Seemingly nonplussed, dad leans back in his chair, Momma and Bianca sharing a nervous glance. A tense moment passes before dad relents, taking a deep breath as he hugs me tightly.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t hurt some kids,¡± he mutters, squishing me a bit, ¡°I¡¯d just scare them a bit is all.¡±


    Momma narrows her eyes at Pop, which makes him raise his head and straighten his back before he stutters out, ¡°I-I won¡¯t though! I¡¯ll leave this to you two.¡±


    Looks of relief arise among the two women at the table, while I continue to munch on my third portion, which I may have pilfered from dad¡¯s plate while everyone was all angry.


    A small victory for Fiora.

 Chapter Two

    A door slams in my face as I walk into the street, a dark dread enveloping everything around me. I nurse a wound on my wrist as I trudge through the night, nothing but the moon and a distant radiance to guide me. Eventually, I stop, sitting down on a bench and curling my legs to my chest.


    How bad could one night away from home be?


    I reach up to touch my cheek, finding my cheeks stained by tears. My slacks and shirt are a bit damp as well, but mostly from my having fallen asleep in an alleyway more than anything. I look down at my right hand, finding that I had inadvertently marked my skin with the texture of the wood.


    Nothing new, in the end.


    I push myself up and I bite my lip as the memories of the day before come flooding back.


    The assassins. The men I had likely killed.


    Lissa.


    The rest of the day had been a bit of a blur, mostly from me running around towards any scent that somewhat resembled that of an almond. I started off somewhat accurately tracking the odor, running into people eating almonds or street merchants selling them, but before long, I had started losing track and making mistakes. When I finally lost track of the true nature of the target, it was beneath the light of the silver moon that I found myself unable to carry on any longer.


    I plopped down right then and there, leaving myself somewhat defenseless against those who lived upon the streets. Thank the gods a disabled Half-Kagna woman is a terrible target for potential thieves. One of the few benefits someone like me has in this damn city.


    I had been a teeny bit too caught up in the situation yesterday, all things considering. Doesn¡¯t particularly help that I completely refused to accept any resistance the guard offered me whenever I ran into them. Maybe not the best plan I¡¯ve ever had.


    I do tend to have a lot of bad ideas though. I wonder why that happens so much.


    Stepping out of the alley¡¯s shade, I grimace and raise a hand to cover my eyes. The morning sun is particularly rough on days like this, especially since I lost my hearing. I glanced out into the streets, finding that I had managed to get out of the slums right before I crashed. The final straw in my chase being particularly pointless, an illegal bakery of all things, didn¡¯t exactly help my perception of this place.


    Why even make some bakeries illegal? People down on their luck need bread as much as others do. Probably some stupid noble power plays.


    Following the street to the east, I step out onto the grand promenade the entire city is connected to. Despite the moon still being up, there are already merchants out and about, setting up for a long day of work. Nothing particularly special about anything I can see or smell, but I do decide to just walk towards the imperial palace in the north to see if anything is particularly special today.


    Carrying a couple boxes of fruit upon her shoulder, a rather heavyset human woman confidently slams them onto the ground beside a rather well dressed dwarven man. Twisting his mustache, he examines every single apple, plum, and peach the woman brought.  A set of elven and halfling kids run out of a printing press, carrying a satchel full of newspapers with them. Well, I¡¯m guessing they¡¯re kids. There¡¯s a reason that they¡¯re the ones who tend to be hired to do the hawking you need to sell papers. Humans are honestly usually kinda dumb, but they¡¯re still by far the most populous people in the country.


    Sometimes I find myself envious of them.


    As I near where one of the major streets intersects with the central promenade, I pause at the sight of a caravan rolling towards one of the public plazas. I run my tongue over my fangs, then click my cane on the ground twice before I follow behind them. Maybe it¡¯d be something interesting. Stepping onto the edge of the plaza I find a whole group of people rushing around as an imposing human woman, who wears an extravagant magenta dress, looms above the crowd atop a box as she gives orders. The most stand out feature of her though, is definitely her jewelry; Any skin that would be exposed below her head is covered in gold.


    I shake my head, then walk away. From experience, traveling merchants with outfits like that were bad news.


    I walk back out into the center of the city, heading farther north as I do. A distinct feeling of unease begins to fill me though, so I speed up my pace dramatically, at least until I can see the capitol guard headquarters in the distance. As unfortunate as it is, it¡¯s something like home.


    I hold my breath as I walk inside, peering around to see that thankfully, Kellan is nowhere to be seen. I hastily approach my office, leaning down to dig a key out from beneath the mat outside the door. I fumble with the lock, then step inside and lock the door behind me. I finally exhale, shaking my head as I do, then turn and freeze.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    {¡°You know, Fiora, you caused the guard a lot of issues yesterday.¡±}


    I bite my lip, giving a small bow to the woman sitting in my chair, behind my desk, fiddling with the ink-dyed paper rose I had accidentally made.


    ¡°Honor be to you, Princess Gloria.¡±


    The princess presents a shallow smile, her perfect heart shaped face framed by her cropped blonde locks. She pushes herself back from the desk, standing up as she slowly struts towards me. She is in her crimson military dress uniform as normal, her wildly ornate wand strapped to her belt. With one of her hands behind her back, she smirks as she twirls the flower in her hands.


    {¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s unusual for you, but we both know better.¡±} Gloria steps forward, looking down into my eyes with her emerald stare. I clench my fangs as she places the rose into my shirt pocket.  {¡°So, our faithful hound, what scent have you caught this time?¡±}


    ¡°Lost the trail,¡± I mutter, then quietly continue with,  ¡°Got caught up.¡±


    {¡°Tch, tch, tch.¡±} Visibly emphasizing the clicking of her tongue, the Princess begins to pace while looking right at me. {¡°Kellan was absolutely panicked about you, just so you know. He sent the entire force out to assist with the search.¡±}


    After a moment, she chuckles as she shakes her head. {¡°The utter fool, absolutely caught up in the wake of a uncaring dyke.¡±}


    I roll my eyes, then ask, ¡°What do you need, your highness?¡±


    {¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡±} Gloria clears her throat, then takes a more serious expression. {¡° Fiora Turi, under the terms of your contract with the royal family, you are hereby assigned the task of finding and weeding out the ¡®Omega¡¯ organization, who have been charged with the attempted murder of the Grand Duke of Gaeashire.¡±}


    Gloria continues after I give a nod, {¡°You are allowed to use whatever resources you wish, whatever methods you deem appropriate.¡±}


    Sighing, the princess moves to just beside me, all pretenses gone as she whispers, {¡°If it were my prerogative, I wouldn¡¯t have chosen you. Watch your step.¡±}


    Neither of us say anything more, and I re-lock the door behind Gloria after she steps out. I walk over, leaning my cane against the desk as I plop down, breathing in relief at being alone.


    This is¡­ an interesting situation to be sure.


    As it is, I have no idea who decided giving an independent contractor this kind of job was appropriate, nor who would benefit from my failure. My entire tenuous relationship with nobles and the guard is basically entirely a coincidence, one perhaps helped by the lessons about high society that Bianca drilled into me. Gloria isn¡¯t explicitly hostile to me, thank the gods, but she definitely has the wrong idea about some things.


    For one, I might be objectively the perfect choice to run this investigation, which makes the appointment all the more suspicious to me. Second, Kellan definitely isn¡¯t in love with me. Knew that for a fact, taking into a few things I know about him.


    Finally, and the one that surprises me the most, is that whoever passed Gloria the orders either doesn¡¯t know the true name of the organization, or intentionally held it back for some reason. It might be prudent to look into that; Both options are actually rather convenient for me in different ways, but the latter could be rather important. The end result is the same though, since it wasn¡¯t like I needed to search for the name.


    I idly take a piece of paper out, considering what I want for a second before I make my first fold. It¡¯s a bit of a situation to be sure, but I¡¯m not too worried about someone figuring out that I have a connection to the entire situation. Well, somewhat at least. Regardless of what I want, it¡¯s not impossible for someone to look into me if they send people to Turi. The people there certainly wouldn¡¯t mind telling them everything about me, that¡¯s for sure.


    Carefully selecting my moves, I bite my upper lip. There is a lot to do now, a lot of different ways for me to make progress in this situation. Finding Lissa¡­ The culprit through their smell fell through yesterday, but might come in handy later. I could get a few helpers and set them on the task of finding rumors of ¡®Omega¡¯, but I honestly wasn¡¯t too thrilled about the concept.


    Something I¡¯ve noticed is that, unfortunately including me, people simply miss things. Having an extra set of eyes helps, but isn¡¯t exactly consistent anyways. Also, people kinda suck, it can be really awkward to start working with someone only for them to treat you differently after they learn a bit about you.


    I unfortunately don¡¯t really have a choice in working alone this time. Worst case scenario, a noble or someone in power singles me out for working alone, only to force me to use their people to try and take control of the situation. If I wanted to actually get a chance to talk to Lissa, it simply wasn¡¯t going to be something I could risk.


    So that¡¯s my first step, what¡¯s next?


    Taking on my intended shape, the paper''s form is more cylindrical than the rose in my pocket. I need to look into the various groups that have entered the city recently, but that will likely be a dead end, if they¡¯re smart. A job for the helper I end up finding, I guess. If anything, it¡¯d be more prudent to look into if this wasn¡¯t an isolated event.


    I stop folding and grin, a realization hitting me. Licking my lips, I take a second piece of paper, beginning to twist it into a stem. That is going to be delightfully fun, considering the previous¡­ experience I had with it. Karma, as my mentor would put it, is a bitch.


    Doing my best to not ruin the flower, I begin to wrap it around the stem, forming a paper tulip, or at least, momentarily before I accidentally poke a hole through one of the petals. I grunt, then open my drawer to toss the ruined flower into my pile. I blink at the sight of a mysterious letter ominously sitting upon the pile of bad origami.


    Cautiously, I slowly pick it up, flipping it over finding the gauntlet of the organization ¡®Omega¡¯ printed right upon its back. I gulp, then open the letter to find- A single piece of paper, with just a few words printed upon it. Still, it¡¯s enough to make me tear up, memories flooding back.


    ¡°The eastern slums, midnight. I have the music box.¡±


    I stare at the letter for a moment, then lift it to take in the scent of whoever left it.


    Almonds, and blood.