《Elsewhere》 Lies of Flesh Prologue Lies of Flesh
"A bruise should fade. It should rise, bloom in its swollen violence, then retreat. Its memory is lost in healing. That is its purpose."
Laughter crashes against the tavern''s walls, spilling over wooden tables where men and women lean too close, voices slurred with drink and drawl. A hand slams down in jest. A coin slides across the counter, a glass returns. A flute hums low in a damp corner, jumping to the flick of a bard''s fingers, padding the silence between words. A melody meant to fill. A sharp gray drags through the contour of the air¡ªsilent, stark. The breath it finds does not return. The bard¡¯s fingers falter, a single note dwindling too long; quiet unmet in the wake of their slack listener. A chair shifts, wood scuffing stone, but none turn to look. The music resumes, the hum of voice swells, drowning the cold in something desperate, something loud. Every gesture, every flap of the lip serves to mask the truth of what they mean. Who they are. They drink, they touch, they laugh, eyes prudently weighed¡ªwords settling just above the surface. One does not stray too close, for a tender dark awaits. Among eaten song and gnawed mirth, she sits. She turns her right hand over, eyeing its skin as if something other than bone lay beneath. It still feels that way. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. It is marked¡ªwritten in the ink of brittle red, dry now but still speaking. Scripts of pain too numerous to bear reading. Her gaze, shaded in a mire-green, snakes along a scaled memory. The chair wobbles beneath her, one leg splintered where it meets the ground. Her weight shifts, pressing the fracture deeper into the wood. Her foot drags across the floor, slick where the stones should be dry. Such things are fleeting. Remnants of why we hurt. Reminders of how we heal. Some marks still raise where the blade ran shallow. Others sink where the knife buried deep. A wrist hardened by an old fracture, set poorly, healed worse. Her fingers curl. Her gaze falls differently. "This one lingers." The tavern stills. Voices wane to a hush, laughter thinning, notes no longer following its curve. She feels it then. Her eye shifts. Not to the body. Not to the blood. To the man at the table nearest her, fingers curled too carefully around his glass. To the woman by the hearth, eyes flicking once toward the fallen before lowering again, lips parting just enough to sip her mead. To the bard, who''s flute lay buried still in the pucker of their lips. Not all wounds belong to the wounded. Not all pain is so kind. Though it does not mark our skin, cannot tender our limbs¡ªwe wear it so. In the words caught between our teeth. In the desire buried beneath our eyes. Her fingers ease over its grip, blood warming her palm. Dry ink wetted again. "In the truth¡ªpried free." I. Beneath Stone A fingertip traced carved stone, coating its print with moonlit dust. The hermit¡¯s lips parted, but no sound came. Their hand hovered over grooves where time had long since whittled meaning from their edges. Smoke curled around their knuckles, twisting from the pipe hanging forgotten between their fingers. As the cold fumes billowed along the cave ceiling, their finger pressed into the stone, steadying. The pipe¡¯s embers flickered a soft glow, catching the edge of a weathered page somewhere behind them. Their voice, at last, followed. ¡°¡­Dust.¡± The word stretched quiet. The hermit raised the pipe to their lips and took a slow drag. Dust lifted. They brushed at the first inscription, sweeping away lettered grime. The hewed lines felt deeper beneath their touch. Smoke thinned. They spoke again¡ªcertain this time. ¡°A gust of¡­¡± The words took hold. The cave seemed to shrink, its walls retreating into shadow, and as their finger moved, the world around them stilled. ??? A gust of stale air stirred long-settled films of dust thickset upon the rocks below. Surrounding, a profound silence seemed to hang in the air, its weight seeping into the very essence of the space. Such disturbance felt unnatural, as if an affront to the sacred hush bestowed by silence. Another gust hove near, setting grime to waltz in swirling eddies, unable to cling to the rubble. Muffled groans echoed from deeper within.
Emberlight caught in their eye as they lingered on the next phrase. Their voice dipped lower into the passage. ¡°Blasphemy, mounding.¡±
Rusted chains strained against their bond. As if bark of coiled trees long-rotted, their outer skins peeled, age-soured dust wafting up an overdue sigh of relief. Intertwining links creaked in anguish, pulling against unyielding stone which itself bore the scars of many a struggle. Grooves deep-carved, punctures gaping, cracks jagged marred the rock, their wounds reaching toward the stalactites plunging from the gorge above. Tugging tumbled down into crumbling and sparking, rumble after rumble resounding as of thunder pent within the earth. As witness to the bound storm, the earth quivered in convulsion. ¡°Let me out!¡± A voice reverberated throughout the draft, fierce with rage, yet tinged with despair. The groans escalated into defiant shouts¨Cthe mounding rumbles into merciless pounding as mist rose like smoke of a forge. They pulled, yanked, tore at the fetters until fire coursed through their limbs. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Anguished wails lay muted by the crushing din, echoing feebly as the pounding began to intensify. ¡°Why must I remain here!?¡± Dust heaved as if a sandstorm. Boulders cascaded like meteors. ¡°Why do you damn me to this place!?¡± With a thunderous crash, the dust finally found rest upon shattered rock, ¡®neath which broken links of chain clawed their way out, aged and begrimed. Yet loosed from the filth below, the chains found their glow, slick with a heat of their captive¡¯s own creation. The chains began to reform, shackling a scalding hiss upon the motionless limbs within their clench. Now reattached to an unscathed wall, every stinging rattle of their links a mockery. And there, riddling the prisoner¡¯s limbs, were written tales of futile toil, for the chains bit deeper where they bound. A torment born of ages. After a momentary pause, the prisoner¡¯s words reverberated once more, dripping with an air of humiliated defiance. ¡°Enough!¡± Their voice began to quaver, cracking helplessly into an entreaty most piteous. ¡°You want of my agony, an example?¡± The words rang out, laden with chastened fury. ¡°You covet my strength?¡± As they spoke, their cadence slowed, gradual revelation clouding their visage. ¡°Take it,¡± the prisoner spat out after a pause, closing their dirtied eyes tightly. As these words left the prisoner¡¯s mouth, ghostly light spurned from within their chest. Jettisoned from their body, it set forth. Fleeing into caverns deep, buried in shadow alike a trick of the dark. Lasting absence flickered through the prisoner''s countenance, as if their offering had been¡ª
¡°¡­rent from their grasp,¡± the hermit said, their breath parting a window through smoke. The embers of their pipe burned weaker now, casting a weary shadow through the haze.
After a moment¡¯s silence, words began their spill, void of their anchor. ¡°You can wrest away my power, but you may not rob me of my will.¡± ¡°In your possession is merely an asset¡ªa script! My freedom is now assured, but what have you?¡± Their words were despondent, deluged in the drift of their breath¨Clost to all save stone, silent as it was. ¡°Hear me!¡± ¡°Your foul contract will be torn asunder, and I will be returned!" The final echoes of the prisoner¡¯s declaration lingered in the air as if dripping along the fractured ground¨Ctheir slithering streams only severed by the sound of chains mending themselves, golden light receding into their cracks. ??? The hermit exhaled, running a hand over their face. Their pipe had gone cold. Half-heartedly, their fingers drifted over the last lines of the plaque, thumb hovering over the final phrase¡ªbut their gaze had already strayed, drawn further down the cave¡¯s entrance. There, resting atop a floor of shattered stone¡ª A lone chain, broken in two. Their pipe slackened between their teeth. Their gaze flickered. A quiet, almost imperceptible sound escaped them, ¡°¡­Huh.¡± Their thumb stilled. A moment passed. Their eyes traced the dust-laden inscription beneath their hand. The letters seemed sure now¡ªtoo sure, as if they were carved within the hour. Something moved in their expression¡ªrecognition, moonlight lidding their eyes. Their breath grew unbidden, sending cold ash parading through the air. But then¡ª ¡°I must be mistaken.¡± They closed their tome. Papers fluttering as they were tucked away, fresh ink drying in the cold air. The leather strap tightened. A pack was slung over one shoulder. A careful glance at the inscription¡ªonly the inscription¡ªbefore leaving it unfinished. Their footsteps faded into the dark. The wind followed. The cave settled. Sound stilled. Light waned. Cold ash hung, waiting. The inscription remained, its edges cast dark against the moonlight. Bleeding through the grime. ¡®Ter-thi li¡¯ihk an¡¯¨­hn.¡¯ ¡°Silence reigned once more.¡± II. The Way Things Are It was as dark a night as any¨Cstars dotting the sky like pinpricks through a sheet. With nary a hint of wind, a dewy aroma lay stagnant in the late-night calm. In the still of the hour, the sky betrayed an aberration. A ribboning light, shimmering silk threaded through fallen dusk. Despite its brevity, the night lay unsettled. Moved not by wind¡¯s caution, the clouds vacated the light¡¯s course, painting a clearing into the sky. Its glinted grace danced only a heartbeat wherever it passed, foliage trading whispers in its wake. Still air lending no competition, it cushioned itself beyond horizon¡¯s gaze. Below, a lone ember flared, smoke of a pipe dispersing into a sky that had torn itself open. Beneath the dark of their shadow, some blades did not rise again. ??? For reasons unseen, the skies held her gaze captive. Though a deep bruise stained the ether¡ªa scorn, final as the sun¡ªthis no longer served to lure her eye. Yet, her gaze did not waver. Even so, gradually, her intention waned and she surrendered to the gentle tug of an awaiting slumber. Unbeknownst to her, what her subconscious had warned her of was now plain to see. Beyond her window, far into the night, a ripple of light unspooled, tacking the darkness aside and creating a void amidst clouds that seemed to avoid its presence. Though, the scant clouds did linger, forming a faint halo that obscured the vision of any outside its attention. Amid her reverie, a faint note swelled in her skull, slipping through the gaps of her perception as would a whisper of wind through an open palm.
She could not see it¨C¨Chow deep the bleed of the dark bore beneath the light.
She willed her eyes open, but the night sky did not greet her. Her fingers pined for the window, trailing an ache in its wake. Too firm a border to reach through. Though her form begged rest, her limbs yet curled, nails faintly tapping as though to seize what lay hidden somewhere in the confines of her head. Too dull, too deeply buried beneath the blanket of her eyelids to make sense of.
It would not set her free.
She shifted, breath quickening, an urgency surging in the race of her blood¨Cin the letter of her thoughts. Something was slipping. Something she wanted.
It would not set a blaze upon her ashes.
Through the haze of her dreams, her lips moved. Shaping a question she could not voice. A note she could hear no longer. The silence answered nothing, but it would suffice. ??? Without warning, the calm shattered. A strange glow cleaved through shadows that decomposed, skulking into place where they did not belong. Her eyes were now open, though she couldn¡¯t recall when that happened. She wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°Still with us?¡± The voice was familiar, a sound that meandered like shifting silt. She would have asked their name, but that came naturally. Eron. His silhouette was more suggestion than form, a chill staggering beside his every stride. Lugging furled nips of ice through wetted field, his sleet-flecked irises leered over her. ¡°Us?¡± She spat into the passing wind, more out of habit than inquiry, scanning over the vacant scape that offered no rebuttal. Shaking her head free of the spell she¡¯d found herself in, she caught her stride, hurried footsteps jostling for space with his that hadn¡¯t paused for a moment. ¡°Such naivete ill-fits you.¡± Eron sighed, his breath nearly lost to the wind. ¡°Lapse again, and...¡± Words close enough to graze¨Cthe cut of a blade she¡¯d felt before. ¡°Speak louder, would you?¡± she called over her shoulder, her hurried prints underfoot betraying such caution. Intent clear in the set of her jaw, she barely glanced back. Eron¡¯s gaze trailed behind her, the edge in his eyes dulling as if it had lost its chance. He pushed forward, hands biting through the air¨Cvaulting through a tangle of vines with the precision of someone used to chasing shadows. Or rather, of one whose shadows raced at their heels. His voice drifted after her, quieter, but creeping near. ¡°You always knew when to keep your distance.¡± Towers of scaled bark flittered past her view, branches shearing tattered starlight that clung like sap to their trunks. The air thickened with the scent of dewed earth and pine, each breath drawing in the weight of his presence. ¡°Depends,¡± she muttered, whispers too faint to carry far. The film of sweat on her back was cooling quicker than even hasted wind could make up for. Freezing. ??? ¡°¡ªaline.¡± The rows of forest pulled in response to the word. ¡°Maline?¡± The sound came again, sharper. Probing. Tugging threads loose. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Maline!¡± Everything fell. ¡°You¡¯re still in bed.¡± The voice sang contrasting notes¨Cstrong, but softened by worry. Her confusion began to clear as her eyelids lifted, the room brightening into familiarity: unadorned walls, a faint scent of honey. Her home. ¡°Are you alright? You never¡­¡± The figure¡¯s words rained yet relentlessly upon her, though now, it carried a new note. One of care¡ªa refreshing shower. The voice belonged to her older brother, waking her up for the day. Or what remained of it. As she cleared her mind, she cast her gaze over to the nearest window, where its wooden frame was left tepid from retreating light. The sun was already on its due course toward dusk. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, taking care to order her words, ¡°I must have overslept.¡± Her voice was slightly fatigued, deepening the burrows between her brother¡¯s brows. Clad in a weathered cotton shirt and loosely fitted brown trousers, he seemed exhausted. The fabric of his shirt strained against his shoulders, damp with the day¡¯s wear as if molded by the sun. His clothes looked to have been washed repeatedly, yet a hint of grime remained in their creases. Concern cloaked his face, his lips weighed further with every moment. He reached out, brushing the back of his hand against her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re pale,¡± his voice held genuine worry, each word measured¨Chand lingering as if trying to reassure himself. ¡°Did you dream of something? A night terror?¡± "Pale." She pinched her cheek with a faint smile, though her fingers quivered from the exertion. "I suppose I could pass for parchment these days, hm?" The quip was brittle, thinner than she''d hoped, but it gave her something to say. He didn¡¯t return her smile. His eyes, dull blue¡ªclouded with exhaustion, studied her as if she were a riddle. Unnerved, she let her fingers fall from her face, meeting his gaze with a weak smirk. ¡°With that look, I would guess you were ill in my stead.¡± She bit her lip, her eyes wandering as if searching for the right words to ease his concern. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just¡­ a bit tired.¡± She gently removed his calloused hand from her forehead, her bed letting out a weary creak as she sat up. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t pay any mind to it, Gabe. I don¡¯t feel terrible.¡± Rubbing her eyes and taking in her brother¡¯s condition, she strained from speaking further. His skin bore the forced hue of sun exposure, a pale bronze sitting in contrast with his facial features. He had stark black hair which, despite its untamed strands, held evident signs of care along with his hands. Marred by toil, but meticulously scrubbed clean. ¡°You missed work,¡± he said quietly. Maline stiffened. ¡°I missed¨C¡± ¡°Don¡¯t fret,¡± he interrupted, raising a hand. After a short pause, he sat down on her bed and began to explain, ignoring the groaning of her bed frame. ¡°Well,¡± he started, ¡°Yes, you did.¡± ¡°I was a bit confused when you didn¡¯t show, but you needn¡¯t worry. There wasn¡¯t much punishment¨C¡± ¡°What do you mean, ¡®wasn¡¯t much¡¯?¡± she interrupted, her voice cutting through his explanation in haste. ¡°What happened?¡± Another pause stretched between them. Gabe¡¯s jaw clenched, his lips pressed thin. His gaze met with his sister¡¯s, though he didn¡¯t speak. ¡°It¡¯s better that you don¡¯t know,¡± he spoke, his cadence uneven. ¡°That I don¡¯t know what?¡± Her gaze hardened, scanning him over with narrowed eyes and a tilted head. The words landed heavy between them, Gabe¡¯s shoulders slacking. ¡°Alright,¡± he relented, but his voice faltered. Slowly, as though weighed down by the act, he peeled the shirt from his back. Maline¡¯s breath hitched, the sight tightening a knot of dread in her chest. Minutes elapsed, her hands faltering, tracing a maze of patterns along her brother¡¯s skin as if a cushion of air repelled her fingers. As if twine, haphazardly strewn about atop a field, thin lash marks cabled in and out of his skin, warped flesh peeling back into scabs. ¡°Who was it?¡± Maline uttered, the weight in her chest pressing harder than her voice let on. Sighing, Gabe lamented, ¡°Again. It¡¯s better that...¡± He stammered, reordering his words, ¡°It¡¯s the way things are. You know how absence is rewarded at the Count. It¡¯s the way things are.¡± He said it again, as though repeating the words might make them easier to accept. ¡°What more is there to tell?¡± She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± he said firmly, reaching for his shirt. His movements were deliberate. Haste would only invite more pain. ¡°Better me than you.¡± Maline¡¯s gaze dropped to her hands, which sat still in her lap. Her eyes wandered, searching for words to say. Words that meant something. ¡°Am I really so feeble?¡± Her voice was weaker than she intended, her hands sitting idle. She opened one, then the other, as though testing their strength. "Surely, there¡¯s something I¡ª" Her breath faltered, the words slipping away. A part of her already had an answer. Gabe watched her in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable, though his posture was telling. At last, he began putting on his shirt. ¡°In that condition?¡± he said, pulling the fabric over his shoulders, ¡°I doubt those mitts of yours would do any damage.¡± His lip twitched, a smirk nearly prevailing over the scowl that had taken up residence on his face. Nearly. ¡°Besides,¡± he continued, ¡°mind your manners.¡± ¡°I¡¯m tougher than you care to admit,¡± she insisted, crossing her arms. But Gabe was already moving, tucking her further into bed. ¡°Tell me,¡± he said, his voice softening under a weight he rarely let show, ¡°what does it matter? We barely have enough to get by. We can¡¯t afford another slip.¡± He paused, pulling his hands together as he adjusted his collar, stalling for breath that had briefly caught in his throat. ¡°You remember, yes? As do I, as do they. Our Lords aren¡¯t prized for forgiveness.¡± He knelt by her bedside, his hand resting lightly atop her head. His calloused fingers smoothing down her disheveled hair. ¡°You don¡¯t win these battles, sister. Not here. Not like that.¡± Their eyes caught, but Gabe¡¯s stare did not relent. ¡°Survival is victory enough.¡± ¡°I was only saying¨C¡± Maline stammered, trying to explain herself. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Gabe interrupted, letting the verdict linger in the air before continuing. ¡°What could you have done? Fought? Earned a matching set of lashes? You¡¯d have done no one any favors.¡° Maline hugged her knees, her chin resting on the curve of her arms. "I should have¡­" The thought trailed off, her body nearly sinking into the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, but no solace came in the dark. ¡°I know,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Just¡­ be realistic.¡± "Maybe it¡¯s time I saved up for a saber, then," she muttered, the words half-hearted. Her hands clenched the blankets tighter over her knees, focus drifting along their threads. Standing and clearing his throat, Gabe resumed. ¡°You''ve always been stubborn." ¡°Says you,¡± she shot back, though her tone lacked bite. Clicking his shoe on the ground a few times in silent thought, Gabe swiftly changed topics. ¡°You¡¯ve already slept half the day away. You¡¯ll need rest, strange as it is. "Now, I¡¯ve still got a few things to do outside.¡± ¡°Be well,¡± he said, reaching out to tweak a stubborn tuft of her hair that refused to lie flat. ¡°Be well,¡± Maline mimed mockingly after him. Her fingers laid the hairs down with practiced care as her stare clung to his every move. Her tone tapered off as the door closed. She had already fallen into a slumber before his footsteps could fully recede. The forest came again, though it did not stir. It loomed. Watchful. III. Days Disjointed Amber light brushed the windowsill, weighed over its edge and pooling into the overgrown grass outside. Maline woke tangled in sweat-damp sheets, her limbs slack but her breath full. Thoughts snagged, hooked too slowly into a fading scene. Whatever words her dreams offered, she could hear them no longer. For a moment, she didn¡¯t move. The world spun too violently when she did. As dusk began to flee, she tried removing her woolen blanket and pushing herself to sit, her legs dangling from the end of her bed frame. The act of rising only worsened her weakness, quickening her breath and threatening unconsciousness. A dull ache prodded at the back of her eyes as she swallowed, blinking sluggishly at the room. The effort drained what remained of her strength, and she fell again against the mattress with a groan. From her skewed vantage, the room tilted in ways that defied sense. Chairs stood rooted to the ceiling, candles burned downwards. She pressed her eyes shut until the world righted itself, rolling over on the bed and staring at the short nightstand on her right. There, candles¡ªshorter than she remembered them¡ªflickered quietly, their wicks charring in pools of liquid wax. A deep inhale steadied her. She forced herself up again. This time, she succeeded, though her knees proved unreliable beneath her as she shuffled toward the hallway. She glanced at her brother¡¯s door, ajar, and saw him sleeping soundly inside. Smiling faintly, she eased the door shut before continuing toward the bathroom. Morning would come soon, and she wasn¡¯t ready. For what, she wasn¡¯t entirely sure. ??? The room was austere, pared down to essentials. On the left, a small water basin rested beneath a wall-mounted spout, its surface worn but functional. Above them hung a mirror, tarnished, even curved by time. Maline¡¯s hand soon found the grip of a metal handle emerging from the clump of valves on the wall. With a practiced tug, the pumps engaged, and a thin stream of water trickled from the spout, pooling in the basin. Picking at the specks of chipped paint on her palm, she glanced at the basin''s inner markings¡ªconcentric circles etched into the metal, each marking a measured volume. The water in the basin barely reached the second line. Crossing slowly to a cabinet, she retrieved a few papers and a quill¡ªbarely succeeding. Her fingers fumbled slightly, her grip less certain than usual. She flexed her hand, rolling her shoulder as if to shake her joints into gear. On the sheet, rows of records tracked daily water usage, each entry labeled with a date and time. Her finger skimmed down the list until it reached recent figures. The numbers swam for a moment before settling into focus. Planting the sheets onto the wall, she wrote ¡°two cups¡± beside the latest date: Gale¡¯s sixth. Tiandi, sunset. She replaced the paper and quill, tidying up with brisk, practiced movements. Tedious, yes¡ªbut necessary. Every half-month, she and her brother submitted their logs to the local Lord, who calculated their dues. Those caught falsifying their records faced punishment, ¡°severe as deemed necessary¡±, as was neatly pressed onto the sheets handed out on renewal. Dipping her head down, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her muddy green eyes studied her own face, but no answers broke skin. Scrubbing the bed scent from her head, she arose refreshed before letting the water drain. Like her brother, she bore high cheekbones and an upturned nose, features somewhat distinctive to their lineage. Her stark black hair, cropped to her shoulders, framed the same lighter undertone of bronze to her skin, the same stature that made her brother tease her for being small. Something felt different. She frowned. Her brother¡­ Her thoughts snapped back to him. Before leaving earlier, he¡¯d mentioned he had work to finish outside. That wasn¡¯t unusual¡ªboth of their days often stretched well into the evening. But now? Now, it was barely past dusk, and he was already asleep in his room. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Her reflection blurred, her focus shifting inward as she thought. He wouldn¡¯t take the day off. He couldn¡¯t. Not after being reprimanded so recently. He¡¯d be called back to work immediately. Her gaze drifted to the cabinet. She opened it again and retrieved the water log, her damp fingers smudging the ink beneath her touch as she flipped to today¡¯s entries. Her eyes traced the numbers carefully, her pulse quickening. The times didn¡¯t line up. There were no records of water usage when he¡¯d arrived home¡ªnone at all, and yet, he¡¯d been clean. Too clean, given the way their weeks track mud and dust through every corner of these rooms. Her heart thudded as she checked the day before. Nothing unusual. Trailing her finger up and down the page, ¡°Aledi: Two cups¡­ Sonnedi: Half cup¡­ Tiandi: Three cups. Ample rain.¡± Two days ago. Tiandi. There: an entry near evening, logged under her brother¡¯s name. She glanced back to today¡¯s date. Tiandi, again. No, that didn¡¯t track. "Today would be Barccidi, the week¡¯s end, then¡­" Her fingers began to crumble the edges of the page. Her mind fought the conclusion, but the ink wouldn''t rub away. "I¡¯ve missed two entire days. But how?" she asked shakily¡ªhad she really been asleep for two days? What had happened? Why couldn''t she remember? That would explain the weakness in her limbs, the fog in her mind. But it raised more questions than answers. Had something happened to her brother? Her breath hitched as panic surged in her chest. Hastily, she shoved the paper and quill back into place¡ªbut paused, her breath unsteady. No, this wasn¡¯t normal. She gripped the basin¡¯s edge, holding her head, forcing herself to breathe. Finally, she darted from the room, the mirror trembling slightly on its hook. ??? She stopped. With a gasp, her hands shot to her temples. It splintered. Her head¡ªsomething was coring out the deepest recesses of the bone. The pressure grew unbearable. The white of her skull sought her thoughts, closing inward, hold strengthening by the moment, creaking need through her ears. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, her vision rippling. The room in her sight tilted violently, and the dull beige walls of the house deepened to a dark chestnut, rich, alive, red. Her lens bled outward, the droplets of her fractured sight rejecting the light they once took in. She blinked, desperate to reset her vision, but the scene only refracted, blending as if being rendered. She wanted to raise her hands to block the chaos from sight, but they took hold of her scalp instead. She had to break it open herself. The pain, it would end, then. It would not have her. She called out, her voice breaking as her body swayed. ¡°Gabe?¡± The sound was small, fragile, wrong, but it jolted him awake. He sat up, heart thudding at the unfamiliar tone in his sister''s voice. He threw the blanket aside and stumbled into the hallway, blinking against the dim light. ¡°Maline?¡± he called, his voice rising with alarm. There she was, crumpled on the floor, her body trembling violently as she stared blankly at the wall. Cold settled in his chest, and for a moment, he froze. The sight of her¡ªso still¡ªparalyzed him. He forced himself to move. Taking an unsteady step forward, he faltered again. What if he couldn¡¯t help her? What if something was wrong¡ªreally wrong? ¡°Maline?¡± His voice cracked. He closed the distance between them and crouched down, his hands hovering unsure before him. Was she conscious? Was she¡ª Then it came again. ¡°Gabe?¡± The sound was strange¡ªthin, detached, and stretched too long, as though the word itself had lingered in the air beyond its time. A shiver crawled up his spine, but he shook it off and leaned closer. ¡°Mal, I¡¯m here,¡± he murmured, his voice softer now, though it trembled like his hands. He slipped his arms around her, peeling her grasping hands away from her head. She felt cold, her body still shaking against his. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m here. I¡¯ve got you,¡± he whispered, though he wasn¡¯t sure who he was trying to reassure. He swallowed any questions. For now, all he could do was hold her. IV. Candlelight Warm light pooled in shallow, flickering rings across the wooden table, stretching shadows where the siblings sat; the entrance to their home, and their dining area. A faint shiver rustled the blanket draped over Maline¡¯s shoulders, its corners shifting in the dim light. She sat curled across from her brother, knees drawn tight, chin resting atop them. The blanket swayed over her head in a futile attempt to remedy her trembling. Despite herself, she spoke in rapid succession, battering Gabe with a torrent of questions. ¡°What happened? Did they hurt you again?¡± Her hand emerged from the folds, reaching for the blanket as if it were a binding she could undo. ¡°I¡¯ll take a look at you¡ªlet me find some bandages¡ª¡± The words tumbled out, pitching higher with each word, slipping past her lips faster than she thought to contain them. If she didn''t let them, she felt that the silence would keel her over. Gabe waited. His hands rested loosely in his lap, fingers barely moving except for the slow, absent tightening of one knuckle against another. The silence stretched, weighing into the darkness underneath the blanket''s shadow until Maline¡¯s voice stumbled to a halt, having ran their course. ¡°Maline,¡± His voice settled into the void that Maline felt hers should have filled, ¡°let¡¯s worry about you for a moment, alright?¡± She flinched at the suggestion. The candle-cast shadows seemed to still, her wide, glassy eyes emerging, searching his face. By the look in them, he figured she¡¯d agreed. He let out a slow, emptying breath. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± His voice was soft, curious, as his eyes sifted through every expression cycling his sister¡¯s face. A shift. Not in the air, but in the way Maline¡¯s fingers curled over the woven threads. Such a question seemed heavier than she expected. Her gaze drifted downward, toward her knees, as if the answer might be hidden there. ¡°I¡¯ve been so tired¡­¡± she admitted at last. ¡°More than ever, really. Today, after I woke up, it felt like... like something had drained all the strength out of me. Just¡­ gone.¡± Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as if the memory were already fading. Lost in a place deep within the grain of the wood. ¡°I was trying to check on you, and then... everything just blurred together. It¡¯s all so¡ª¡± Gabe¡¯s jaw tensed, muscles feathering along his cheek. His fingers flexed once, twice against his knees, before stilling. He let his eyes drift to a candle flickering on the far side of the room. ¡°What about earlier?¡± he asked after a pause, his voice low, mechanical. ¡°That must¡¯ve been¡­ uncomfortable.¡± Maline scrunched her shoulders with a sharp inhale, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, slower this time. Her thoughts wouldn¡¯t move. ¡°I don¡¯t know." The answer fell from the her lips, landing like a loaf of bread upon the table. ¡°It hurt. But not just pain. There was something else, too.¡± Her fingers tightened around the blanket, nails pressing into fabric. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to call it.¡± Gabe watched, silent. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before his lips curled into a small, reassuring smile. The tension in the room eased just a little, and the tilt of Maline''s eyes softened in response. ¡°Tougher than I care to admit, you say¡­¡± he repeated, a teasing lilt in his voice that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. Maline¡¯s face darkened into a scowl. A slow tension winding back into her limbs served as warning enough. Sensing imminent danger, Gabe straightened, clearing his throat as he hurriedly adjusted into his seat. ¡°Alright, alright. To answer your questions: Lord Marshall let me off since I managed to finish most of our workload. And with the Duke¡¯s visit coming up, they¡¯re being a bit more lenient. For now.¡± The faintest sigh escaped Maline''s lips, her head lowering as her grip on the blanket loosened. Gabe seized the moment, his tone lightening. ¡°I made you some tea this morning. It¡¯s gone cold by, now, but¡­ still interested?¡± She nodded, albeit tentatively. ¡°Could you put some¡ª¡± ¡°Only a teaspoon,¡± he cut in, his look knowing, ¡°you¡¯re not feeling well.¡± Maline let out something between a breath and a reluctant laugh. Gabe rose, the chair creaking softly as he moved toward the hearth. ¡°Fine,¡± she said softly. ??? On the stone counter beside the stove, a wooden cup sat in waiting. Its light-birch surface, polished smooth, had long since vented out its last traces of warmth. Inside was a liquid, an emerald tinge peering over its edges. It was called Meadow Tea, distilled from auxiliary herbs commonly found in nearby plains. An affordable recipe; its aroma was pleasant¨C¨Cmalty, but did not venture. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Beside it, a ceramic pot cradled thick, amber honey. Its surface had hardened slightly at the edges, where it had been left open too long. It was one of Maline¡¯s rare indulgences, carefully saved for years before she could afford it. Gabe dipped a teaspoon into the golden liquid, watching as the thick amber thread caught the light and coiled around the spoon. Slightly more than a teaspoon, but he stirred it in anyway. He stirred, watching the color shift into something richer, hazel where the honey dissolved. He stood, as if the swirling liquid had more to offer, but only for a moment. Shaking his head, he tidied up, wiping the counter clean with the edge of his sleeve before returning with the cup in tow. ??? When he set the cup beside her, Maline barely acknowledged it. Only a fleeting, distracted smile accompanied the turn of her head. Her attention was fixed on the blanket, now folded neatly in her lap. Her fingers traced its pull as if something were trapped in the threads. ¡°I made this one for you,¡± she murmered, weight tapering her words. ¡°You were so cold. I had to¡ª¡° Gabe frowned slightly, the memory something he did not wish to return to. ¡°I know. But we¡¯ve got a closet full of them. Is it wrong to use one as a towel for my sister?¡± Maline shook her head, struggling to shape her thoughts. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that. I just¡­ we never stop. We don''t get to. You don''t get to." "We¡¯re always working, you¡¯re always¡ªalways taking the brunt of everything.¡± She looked up at him then, her eyes lidding with unshed tears. ¡°Every time, Gabe. Every time.¡± Her words held firm, familiar, even. Alike her brother¡¯s response. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way,¡± he said simply. ¡°Do you think I¡¯d ever let you come to harm? I¡¯ve felt this way since the day we got here, Mal.¡± ¡°¡­You can¡¯t really mean that¡ª¡± she began, her voice cracking. She closed her eyes again, trying to¡ª Gabe raised a hand to gently cut her off. ¡ªthink. ¡°Mal,¡± he said, his voice settling over hers. ¡°I¡¯d rather it be me than you. Every time.¡± The room shrank. Candlelight swayed, throwing long shadows against the walls. The yarn her fingers suddenly felt colder, tighter. "Gabe!" Maline¡¯s voice broke in the quiet, sharp with anguish. The sound startled the quiet, allowing her room to order her words. ¡°How do you think I feel?¡± Her voice shook, fighting to hold steady. ¡°You go to work in pain. You take beatings. All because of me! How am I supposed to just accept that?¡± The fabric twisted in her grip, pulling taut. Her knuckles paled. ¡°I want to protect you. You¡¯re my brother.¡± The voice shattered entirely, breath marred by choking coughs, voice slipping into ragged sobs. The sound rattled her chest, her voice straining to a rasp as she doubled over, candlelight flickering along the sides of her face. The creak of a sliding chair drowned in her sobs; Gabe came closer, his sleeve rustling against the table, but no words came. He said nothing. Her shoulders felt too light, too cold. She shuddered once, then stilled. Gabe''s fingers curled into a loose fist against the table. Maline let her eyes rest, laying her head in the cradle of her folded arms. Gabe waited until the trembling of her hands waned before gently nudging the cup closer to her. Maline sniffled, her head still buried in her arms. Minutes passed, and she rose, wiping her eyes. She sniffled again, looking down at the tea, then back at Gabe. Her lips pressed into a line, but she pulled it closer. Though the tea was already prepared, she took the cup and began to swirl the amber liquid inside with a slow draw. She took a puff of air to it blowing at the cold liquid as if steam would soon warm her eyes. Shivers ran across its surface in delicate rings. She took a slow sip. It was bitter. Cold. Though, when she swallowed, something tickled at the back of her tongue¡ªfaint, buttery¡ªalmost warm. Honey. She could tell he¡¯d added more than a teaspoon. Amidst the sounds of her stirring, she led on with a weak voice, ¡°It¡¯s just, you know how I feel. I don¡¯t get how you can be so sure about this.¡± Her attention grew unfocused while stirring. A long silence passed as Gabe composed a response. When he managed it, his words weren¡¯t as clear-cut as he would have liked. ¡°There¡¯s a lot I want to say,¡± he said, folding his hands atop the table. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m trying, Mal. We¡¯re trying. None of this is your fault. It¡¯s all my¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± Maline interrupted, ¡°Not again.¡± She pulled her gaze up to meet his, her expression softening as the firelight flickered between them. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. I don¡¯t get you,¡± the phrase was cut short by a deep inhale, her hand cupping her cheek, ¡°but I can¡¯t stomach any more crying.¡± She was almost finished with her tea. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ thanks.¡± Gabe said, letting out a sigh as he pushed himself up, his hand briefly flicking across his face. Maline''s sips grew shallow as Gabe stood, stretching. ¡°Where are you going?¡± she asked, setting the cup down. ¡°To bed,¡± he replied, gesturing to his door, still ajar. ¡°Market tomorrow. We need bread.¡± Maline¡¯s gaze wandered down onto the blanket again, ¡°Right, I woke you.¡± Scoffing and turning away, Gabe replied, ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s Barsiddi. I¡¯ll get enough rest regardless.¡± The light click of her cup against the table reached his ears again. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you!¡± she called after him. He paused, glancing back with a small smile. ¡°Okay.¡± I. Fled and Found The wind split at her back. She twisted before the strike could land¡ªbarely¡ªthe pressure of it skimming her ribs, cold as a blade¡¯s flat edge, thin as the air against her sweat-slick skin. She pushed off the ground¡ªbad angle. Foot too far forward, knee too stiff. Momentum out-pacing balance. She didn''t fight it. Let the fall take her, let her shoulder slam into the dirt, pebbles grinding against her spine as she rolled. The taste of bitter red beneath her tongue. A sting of black soil in her nose¡ªdamp rot. Up. Springing upright before her pulse could catch up. The trees blurred as she vaulted through the undergrowth, bare feet slipping over damp roots¡ªmoss slick, leaves slapping against her legs¡ªthe cold breath of the earth snaring for hesitation. The moment she slowed, it would know her again. She couldn''t have that. She dropped low, fingers grazing the damp earth, mud set between her nails. Then, a push, her calf burning as she vaulted through a rotten log. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, misting against the dark. Eron matched her stride. Unhurried¡ªpacing. She spun, tracing a curve of steam as she ducked between jagged pillars in a corridor too tight, too fast. The movement jerked her damp hair against her cheek, strands catching at her lips. A boulder loomed ahead¡ªno time to go around. She planted a foot against it, the impact biting into her heel, launching herself sideways. Palm scraped against rock¡ªskin torn, blood lost. She left a streak behind. Not intentional, but it was there. A mark. She felt him before she saw him. His breath wouldn''t leave a trail. "Why do you run?" His voice wasn''t strained. He wasn''t running. Too close. Too close. Her palm found the rough scales of a gnarled tree as she spun past, fingers¡ªheels cutting in¡ªgouging as she leapt, knees drawn. Her fingers moved instinctively, chipping symbols into bark as if edging for tree sap. Shallow, jagged lines cut into wood¡ªanother mark. The tree shuddered like a struck limb¡ªtremor sinking through the roots¡ªbut she was already gone. A breath later, it fell. Frost feathered from the gouges she''d left , seeping through the wood in ghostly veins. The brittle sigh of something turned hollow. The trunk caved inward, fibers shattering into pale silvers, flaking into glinting dust that gusted away as wood met soil. For an instant, it felt as though she had felled it. And maybe she had. But she knew better. A footstep on splintered bark. It wasn''t enough. Closer now. The air behind her stilled. Leaves whispered, then chattered. Raindrops met skin with a brittle snap. Slow. Each movement gilded. Her eyes cooled¡ªsight pleating¡ªthough, she wouldn''t let an eyelid fall. His gaze prowled the dark. She jumped. The cliff¡¯s edge retreated underfoot too fast¡ªher stomach lurching. Nothing to grab hold of. She flailed, her body stretching beyond what her bones allowed. The wind howled in her ears as her weight pulled against the sky, grasping, crawling about her ankles like spider silk. The dark was growing near. Her bow. She twisted midair, yanking a thread of twine with her teeth, breath short, throat raw. Once¡ªtwice¡ªuntil the curve of her sway locked into place, bowstring taut as her breath. Her mouth opened, though her lungs were empty. She flicked her wrist, notching an arrow in one practiced motion, pressing the bow¡¯s limb between her teeth, steadying. She drew the arrow back, its inscribed length pressed against her paling cheek. The string hummed. Blood flaked against old ink, staining the script buried in her knuckles. The letters tensed¡ªpooling into creases like second skin. Her fingers tightened around the nock. She blinked, eyes scouring the ridgeline above. Her breath stilled, her sight cleared. Nothing. He wasn''t there. ??? It was a relatively clear day out, the incessant winds scattering clouds like errant sheep. The sun beat down without relent, a burn that rode on the tail of the air. As expected of Gale, the height of the bright months. The siblings were out on a stroll this morning, walking a path toward the market. The air felt thin, but the warmth underfoot promised the heavy heat of the hours to come. The roads they traveled were paved with sun-warmed stones, their edges scoured smooth by the wind as if bone of weathered sandstone. The pair veered toward the outer edges of the road as they approached a bustling lane. Their movements were habitual, careful. The middle trail was set aside for carriages, merchants, and those too pressed for time or too full of purpose to acknowledge the rhythm of the city, a rhythm Maline had learned to distance herself from. A merchant strode past, his retinue moving in brisk formation, handing out papered advertisements as they wove through the foot traffic. In their wake, the papers scattered the ground like autumn leaves. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. One such caught Maline¡¯s eye in passing, its headline loud even in print: "The Count Beckons: A New Era Arrives!" She scoffed under her breath, flicking a stray paper aside and brushing past a knot of townspeople crowding a storefront. Gabe''s lip tweaked, though his eyes kept forward. Maline¡¯s steps wove cleanly through the scattered papers, but Gabe¡¯s boots found them with every stride, pressing ink into stone. She noticed¡ªbut made a point of looking away. ¡°The stench,¡± she muttered, swatting at a stray Grenfly. ¡°I¡¯ll never understand the appeal.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an acquired taste,¡± Gabe replied, oddly terse. ¡°To each their own.¡± Maline feigned a scandalized look, tilting her head to eye him up and down. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡ªyou¡¯ve had a taste?¡± She stepped across him as they walked, angling her head up. When he didn¡¯t answer, she pressed on, grinning. ¡°Well, if Tonem cuisine is so delightful, why don¡¯t¡ª¡± Before she could finish, Gabe¡¯s hand found her shoulder, yanking her closer just as a carriage wheel rolled past. She staggered, barely catching her footing¡ªonly to find him doubled over, laughter shaking his frame. ¡°Really, you should try¡ª¡± he wheezed, struggling to get the words out, ¡°...try it sometime.¡± ¡°Oh, cut it out.¡± She spat with a roll of her eyes, grabbing his collar to pull him forward. The streets were densely flanked by wooden buildings, though occasionally a stone-pillared structure¡ªlikely governmental¡ªbroke this uniformity. If it were not necessary, this would likely not be the case. Those affluent held higher privilege in where to do business. After crossing a few intersections, Gabe turned to his sister and asked, ¡°Would you want to visit the institute? We can see if they have any spots open.¡± He looked on with expectation, ¡°The year¡¯s end approaches; you might secure a place for next year.¡± Maline briefly lagged in her stride. Gabe understood their situation better than anyone. He would know that there was no way they could afford something like that. While they walked, her gaze shifted from the pavement to her brother. ¡°No, that¡¯s fine.¡± Seeing Gabe''s dispirit in his expression, she jested, ¡°Have you come across a fortune? We could buy ourselves a manor if that were the case.¡± ¡°Besides," she continued,"all of the attendees are wealthy. I certainly wouldn¡¯t fit in. I figure it¡¯s too late for that anyway... I¡¯m almost seventeen.¡± As they¡¯d nearly reached their destination, Gabe accepted her reasoning, but insisted, ¡°If you were forty, I¡¯d still ask this of you. There are positions open for the gifted, and I¡¯ve every confidence that you would fare well.¡± Maline chuckled at his comment, her voice carrying a hint of playful sarcasm. ¡°Do you think me a scholar? I¡¯d be butting heads with twelve-year-olds who know more than me. It would be an utter embarrassment.¡± She playfully nudged her brother''s shoulder as they strolled, their destination now just a few buildings away. Maline sighed, ¡°I never understood why you never took classes yourself. I would consider you the gifted one between the two of us.¡± He went quiet at that, and they walked in a shared silence. They came to a stop near a building that could not be distinguished from others at first glance. It was made of wood of a familiar shade and had a dulled sign hanging from a nail embedded above its entrance, ¡°Aunt Polly¡¯s Bakery.¡± The two siblings took in the aroma wafting from the building in glee. ¡°I could recognize this smell from anywhere,¡± Maline said, taking in a waft of air. This was their standard bakery that they purchased bread from. They usually abstained from the more luxury products, partly due to their cost and that they were only made at certain points during the month. Maline was the first to move, eager, almost impatient. She didn¡¯t wait for Gabe to open the door this time. ¡°They must be baking caramel tarnocks today!¡± she exclaimed, her voice rare of such lightness. A splintered jumble of wooden planks prodded at her fingertips. She would have winced at if she were unfamiliar with its touch. The door opened to a busy room. Chairs were set up near the entrance for anyone waiting for their orders, which was rare as most visitors had already made appointments. A counter divided the front room, showcasing pastries and baked goods. Some items were sold out, marked only by their labels. Lanterns hung unlit on the walls, ready for the late-working staff. Behind the counter stood a lady whom the siblings knew as Aunt Polly¡ªa woman whose presence had always seemed to fill the room with an easy kind of affection. She was a middle-aged woman with a plump figure. Her hair was a deep brown, matched by her eyes. Her freckled face creased into a wide smile as she bartered. She didn¡¯t need to ask names; her customers were regulars. Donning a green apron with a simple white garb underneath, her hair was tied in a bun under a hair net. Walking in, Aunt Polly caught sight of the pair, signaling something to an employee in the back room. Although this was not the first time the brother and sister pair had been here, they still marveled at the experience. Taking a discreet look into the baking room just behind the counter, Maline whispered eagerly, ¡°I knew it, they¡¯re making tarnocks! I smell cinnamon¡­¡± Gabe gave a slight smile, failing to hide his anticipation. After waiting for a while, it was time for the siblings to pick up their order. ¡°Wait," Maline asked, her eyebrows quirking in surprise. "Have you already placed an order?¡± Gabe''s incredulity made her smile. ¡°Of course¡­ It was one of the tasks I attended to before I woke you.¡± ¡°Ah, if it isn¡¯t my favorite duo!¡± Aunt Polly chirped meaningfully. Maline¡¯s laughter chimed lightly in the air as she responded, ¡°As if we didn¡¯t hear you say that to another pair but a moment ago.¡± Gabe¡¯s smirk grew into a smile as he observed the two. ¡°We¡¯re here for our order. I believe I made it around two days ago.¡± Feigning forgetfulness, Aunt Polly joked, ¡°How could I forget? You ordered two loaves of potato bread, yes? They¡¯re all ready for you.¡± As Polly recounted his order, Gabe looked sideward at his sister, sensing no disappointment. Relieved, he thanked the kind lady and waited for her to retrieve his order. When she returned, she had two loaves of bread wrapped in thin layers of brown paper. ¡°That¡¯s right, two loaves of potato bread,¡± She said, carrying these with one hand, as her other was behind her back. Her expression was laden with poorly concealed glee. Then, with a flourish, she produced another bag, placing it down with a dramatic flair. It held items that the siblings recognized as two caramel swirl tarnocks. There even seemed to be cinnamon sprinkled on top. They were named as such due to the preparation method used during cooking. Smoked at a carefully measured distance from flame, they took on a char that flaked while eating. ¡°Who said that you two weren¡¯t my favorite? I practically melted the caramel myself!¡± Polly said, somehow observing the two as her smile narrowed her eyes. Maline was struck with immediate surprise, as was her brother. It had to be known that this gesture wasn¡¯t a small one. The tarnocks were a kind gesture. Generous, but difficult. Maline knew well how costly they were. Just as she had saved for years to buy honey, the cost of these materials had driven the pastries¡¯ cost skyward. Their earlier anticipation was one of yearning, not expectation. They could not fit items like these into their budget. ¡°Pol¡¯, we can¡¯t,¡± Maline protested gently, though the sweetness of the gesture made her heart flutter. ¡°We know how expensive they are.¡± Aunt Polly¡¯s face fell dramatically. ¡°You wound me,¡± she teased, clutching her chest as if the refusal had inflicted a mortal injury. Gabe tried to pick them up and give them back to her, but she shielded the whole order with her arms. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re not taking them, then perhaps you can retrieve your order some other day, hm?¡± Aunt Polly said, smirking with squinted eyes. After a few moments of half-hearted resistance, Gabe relented, and Maline, too, allowed the pastries to remain, thanking her. There was no sense in protesting further. ¡°The more you eat, the longer life gets.¡± Aunt Polly chimed as they turned to leave. On their way out, Aunt Polly¡¯s voice called after Gabe, ¡°Now that you¡¯ve robbed me of my precious pastries, I need more customers! You¡¯d better bring a partner next time!¡± Maline burst into laughter, her brother widening his strides as he turned, embarrassment evident in his expression. ??? Once outside, Gabe sighed while shaking his head, ¡°She can be quite a handful sometimes.¡± "Handfuls¡± Maline countered, nudging the bag in her brother''s cradle. The pair continued walking, making their way home. ¡°We could go home, or take a slight detour¡­¡± Gabe insisted once again, referring to the institute. Maline was going to refuse this time, too, until she saw the look of what could only be described as utter supplication on her brother¡¯s face. She couldn¡¯t help but reluctantly nod in agreement. Perusing the goods of a nearby store through a window in order to hide his smug expression, Gabe assured, ¡°Good choice! It¡¯s not far.¡±