“Good morning,” says the kind woman as she prepares a meal and sets the table. “You look…” she pauses, a surprised expression plastered on her face. I grab my hair, stroking it as I look away. She wasn’t expecting a roluk.

“H-hello,” I mutter with as much ‘gusto’ as I can. The air in the room doesn’t relax fast enough, another second passes with awkwardness threatening to make a permanent home in the time. “I-I’ll be leaving now…” I turn on my heel and go straight to the door.

“Wait a moment,” she says, walking unusually quick towards me. “Here,” she places a piece of bread into my hand, “I don’t know how much our rations will be but thank you. Thank you for protecting the supplies.”

The bread feels unusually heavy in my hand, like a brick one size too large. It doesn’t fit. It’s softer than the kind I usually eat, fresher too but it feels like if there was even a slight distraction, something that took my attention away from it for a second, the bread would fall to the ground, dirtied and unfit for consumption. I unsteadily cup it with both hands as if it were a gift from someone important to me. A thin smile appears on the woman before she turns around. I want to reach out to her, tell her that I didn’t do anything to protect the supplies, tell her that if someone attacked, I’d have run away, that all my courage yesterday was fake and for nothing.

But I can’t muster the voice for it. I remember the rumble in my stomach as I woke, the void in there right now. I need this, I need this even if I don’t deserve it. If I want to find out the truth and why I woke up alone in the forest, I have to accept help anywhere I can get it. I tentatively take a bite, unsure if she’ll change her mind and take it back. She never does.

Outside, I see I’m not the first person awake. Despite the winter, killing their crops and preventing more from being grown, the villagers still wake bright and early to take on the new day. From a distance, the village seems like any other with its hard-working people milling about, preparing for their daily routines. However, upon closer inspection it’s clear their cheeks are sunken, their eyes a bit heavier, their lips a few licks from cracking, and their bodies a gust of wind away from disappearing.

A man and a woman animatedly chat with an adventurer, the spear wielder, Christopher. The man throws his arms out, gesturing wildly, before pointing in the direction of a couple of houses. The woman grimly nods, her eyes closed. Christopher’s shoulders rise and fall, the spear shifting in his hands. In the next instant, he storms off to where the villagers pointed, the man and woman instantly reaching out for him, a small cry comes from the woman but he doesn’t stop. They turn to each other before hiding inside their little home.

My feet carry me closer to him, words on the tip of my tongue wanting to fly free. An odd feeling I don’t remember ever having since I woke up, save for when I met Iris and Elis and that one boy. A quick glance to my right and left show that some of the other villagers, as well as the surviving adventurers and guards, have caught of whisk of the growing situation. Christopher stops in front of the Elder’s house and raps his knuckles against the door three times over.

When it doesn’t open after a few seconds, he does it again. Again. Again. His hands reach up for the umpteenth time, a small mark left where he did it before, until he hears a rattle of the lock and knob on the other side of the door. Elder Ghertan, disheveled, a hat on his head, rubs his eyes barely bothering to glance at the spear-wielding adventurer. “What is it?” he asks in irritation. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Morning,” he answers. “Now, when are you going to hand out those rations? I thought they were supposed to be handed out yesterday. The villagers are starving.”

“Yesterday? Starving? Don’t you think they’d be here themselves if they didn’t get their share of the delivery yesterday? The only person here who I see is starving is you. You starve for attention, for the gratitude of the people for your “good deeds”. In the end, all you’ll end up doing is wasting the supplies because you’re demanding too much.”

“Then you’ll at least let me see how much of the supplies we brought are left, won’t you?”

The Elder’s eyes widen, his mind clearly at work to come up with something to say. He spares a glance over his shoulder, in that instant, Christopher pushes open the door. The Elder jumps back and throws his arms up in defense. However, Christopher ignores him moving further inside to where the delivery was stored, a good chunk of people huddle around the door eager to see the outcome.

I can’t see over them.

Moments later, there’s yelling and screaming, the two remaining guards rush in. The Elder’s house quickly fills with adventurers and a couple of the more curious villagers. The guards hold Christopher back, one pulling on his arm, the other pushing against him at the waist. The Elder lays on the ground with his daughter beside him keeping his head off the floor. Blood drips from his nose and from Christopher’s fist.

“S-Stop!” one of the guards yells. “This won’t end well! It’s not worth it, son.”

“Where is everything? Where did you hide them?”

The Elder’s daughter helps him to his feet. He staggers but she keeps him upright, her lips pressed into a thin line. He wipes the blood from his nose, “I stored them! What else was I supposed to do? Leave them here? Are you completely mad? You must be. That stranger you brought in yesterday started raving right after all you left.”

“Don’t you dare try to change the subject and shift the blame! Where are the supplies? If you refuse to speak up, Elder, I’ll tell everyone in the village you’re planning to hoard it for yourself,” Christopher threatens, shaking off the guards. “Let go of me. I won’t kill him.”

The Elder looks at the crowd now by the entrance of his door, his face getting paler by the second. A few of the villagers whisper among themselves until their voices grow louder, louder to the point where the Elder can’t ignore them anymore. His daughter leaves his side, “The supplies,” she says. “They’re stored below in the cellar.” she points to the cellar door just a couple of feet away.

The two guards exchange glances before opening it. Someone rummages inside, their words barely reaching us. They enter and moments later, pull out the survivor from yesterday, raving mad. His fingernails are broken and the skin around his eyes bloody and peeling. His ears are torn slightly, a sight that makes me almost puke, covered in blood.

“What did you do to him?” one of the guards asks, some angry disgust coming through. “You locked him down there?”

The Elder shakes his head, “I did not such thing. When I woke this morning the lunatic was gone from his bed. You may accuse me of hoarding the supplies but do not accuse me of torture nor anything of the sort!”

Silence fills the room, save for the survivor’s weeping. Eyes shuffle around with nary a stare to accompany it. As much as the Elder seemed to be lying about hoarding the supplies, no one seems eager or able to bring themselves to accuse him of antagonizing the survivor. The crowd shifts a little and I stumble as it moves me easily.

Emerging from the mass of bodies is the skilled and worn-looking bowman. He sets his gaze on the survivor, assessing the damage occurred from his bouts of delusions and ravings. His fingers brush against the bandages at his side but he looks to the Elder, “When we went to the mines yesterday, we encountered monsters called listeners. They were strong, killed a lot of us, but I don’t think they were the cause. What did he say after we left?”

The Elder sighs and beckons his daughter for a chair. Once he’s sitting down comfortably he begins, “That man said something about a monster, completely black, so dark they could see it move in the mines. When they shined a light on it, he said it was like staring into the void. The monster was-”

“Ahhh! Help me! Please help me! It’s coming. It’s coming for me!” the deranged man grabs onto Dorian’s leg, clawing at him as tears mixed with blood rolls down his cheeks. Dorian shakes him off and he falls to the ground, whimpering like a child. He tries nibbling on his nails but once he realizes he doesn’t have any left, he clamps down on his fingers drawing more blood.

Dorian hands his bow to a person in the crowd. He wrestles the man’s fingers from his mouth and rigidly says, “Keep going. Tell us all that you know.”

The Elder wipes the sweat from his brow before continuing, “As I said before that blubbering idiot interrupted me-”

“Get to the point.”

“I was,” he hisses. “He kept saying it was like a man.”

“No no no no.”

“Ow!” Dorian pulls his hand away with bloody teeth marks.

“D-Demon,” the madman says as he pulls Dorian’s hunting knife out and impales himself.

“Why does this have to happen so close to the festival?” the captain of the guard paces around the lightly decorated room, his hand stroking his goatee. Two papers lay on his desk, separated from the large stack, with orders to send out hunting teams, the line at the bottom of both without a signature. “Herald had to look into it without sending for reinforcements didn’t he,” the captain mutters.

“If that’s all captain, I’ll be taking my leave,” the scarred adventurer says with a slight bow of the head.

Before he reaches the door the captain speaks up, “I’m going to put out a quest tomorrow, A-ranked, it’ll most likely disappear fast with the money I’m going to place on it. If any of you want to join right now, you’re welcome to regardless of your current position in the guild.”

The scarred adventurer rejoins the line. The others don’t make a move to leave, much to the captain’s relief. He looks at a piece of paper pinned up to the board near his desk and then reaches for two on his desk. “I’m going to put all of you down for the hunting party.”

A nasty feeling runs up and down my back, “I-I…” The captain’s eyes snap to me narrowing warning me to choose my words carefully. Even as light shines through the windows and knowing that these adventurers around me are kind, I feel unable to breathe, to defy his wishes.

An A-ranked mission? I’ve never taken on anything more difficult than a D rank. I was completely useless at the mines. I couldn’t hold my ground, I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. If the entrance wasn’t a straight shot, then I would’ve run head first into a wall. But… If everyone here is going then I’ll be okay, right? If I’m the only one who chickens out, what will they think of me? I know a few of them were bothered by what happened at the village and what we saw at the mines. If I leave, will some of the others leave too?

There I go again, cowering to other people and convincing myself to go down the path of least resistance. This is fine, isn’t it? Who’s going to judge me? Everyone here is strong, they’ll find the monster, kill it, and I’ll be able to collect another reward I haven’t earned…

I wonder if they will take on this quest…

“Is there something you wanted to say?” the captain asks, walking over and staring down at me. I feel the others’ eyes as well.

“I-I can’t,” I manage to say. “I-I’m weak... I’m sorry.” I can’t help what happens next. I turn and run out the door in embarrassment, shame, weakness, and because I’m afraid that the longer I stay in there, the more likely I am to change my mind.

“You can collect your reward at the guild,” he says.

There’s a knock on the door and a second later, Cecily comes in, staff in hand. She places it against the wall and offers a reassuring smile. “I was worried when a couple of adventurers came to collect the reward money for delivering supplies and you weren’t with them. Luckily, a co-worker of mine said you left the staff for me.”

“I was tired,” I reply with a half-truth. “Y-You don’t need to worry about me. I-I’ll go on a new quest tomorrow.” I run my thumb over the pages and keep my head down so she doesn’t see through me.

“Well, if that’s how it is. I’ll leave the staff here for you. It’s no good for someone like me who can’t use magic anyway. Have a good night, Ellar.”

“You too…”

I stare at the door expecting, perhaps a bit worried, she’ll knock again and come in but she doesn’t. With my back planted against a wall, I face the only entrance to the room. I’ve already shut the windows and closed the blinds. Now, it’s just me and the last book. I’m three-fourths of the way through, will I finish it before I fall asleep?

A part of me wants to, the part that craves the stories of adventure and the brave but the other, more rational parts, want to fall under a spell of drowsiness and wake up to the bustle of the town and light of a new day. These things, however, aren’t up for me to decide. Around an hour passes and I finish the last page of the book. I reluctantly close it and place it on top of the other two.

The pillow isn’t nearly as soft nor is the bed as comfortable as the one at the village but somehow, luckily, I slip away from reality and into my dreams...

I startle awake and quickly push myself into the corner using the blanket to shield me from whatever might be in the room. It’s cold but not to the point where I can see my breath, though I can’t be sure of that either, I can hardly see a thing in here. It takes a couple of minutes for me to calm down after having that dream.

My first instinct is to fall asleep and wake up like I had hoped. I lay on the pillow trying to ignore my anxieties as best I can. Time passes but I don’t feel any closer to sleep than I had when I woke. While I’m wary of leaving the room, a rumble in my stomach along with my inability to fall asleep sends me out the door and into the streets of the town looking for an open food place.

It’s surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. The town is alive, even at night, similar to the city… What city?

It’s a quick transaction, a couple coppers for a piece of bread and a little meat but I eat it carefully like it’s the most expensive bread and meat I’ve ever had. I told Cecily I’d take on another request tomorrow but I’m not sure if I really believe it. I want to, but I might lock myself up in the room again.

Snow fell this morning and although the temperature didn’t seem to rise, most of it has disappeared off the streets. My eyes are drawn to the sky. The stars look less numerous than last time I looked but the moon seems larger, so close to being full. If I was back in my home village, I wonder if they’d let me celebrate this time.

A cold wind blows kicking up thousands of snowflakes and sending an ominous chill down my spine. The surrounding buildings aren’t familiar to me, though the architecture is clearly the same, the houses are a tad shoddier and the shops don’t have as much flair as the ones in the middle of the town. I retrace my route but it’s longer than I remember.

How long did I spend looking at the sky?

On the top of one building is a human-like figure, not meant to be there on the slanted roof. The moonlight shines especially bright against the figure revealing no apparent color except black, like a void. Monster. The monster is the first thought that comes to mind. It came into the city to kill more people, to feed. I aim to run away but as the figure turns, I notice the silver lines.

What’s a person doing on the roof?

The person looks to the sky, as entranced as I must’ve been when I wandered this far away from the middle of town. No one else seems to have noticed him and if they have, they don’t say a word, perhaps just as curious about him as they are worried about his intentions. Even in my limited time here, there are dozens of places better for stargazing though some might be heavily guarded.

The figure stands and his head darts around, searching the streets below. He sweeps over the street and instantly snaps onto something and he disappears just as fast, vanishing like a shade. I keep staring at the spot on the roof expecting the figure to reappear.

“What are you doing out here?”

I jump and turn to face the voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Patrick raises a hand in apology. “I saw a girl with blue hair wandering around and I thought it’d be you. What were you looking at?”

“A-A person was up there…” I point.

“Up there? Seems unlikely but okay,” he shrugs it off. “Are you planning to go back to the guild or something? I enjoy going out a night sometimes too but it’s not something a girl should really be doing alone, especially not where it looked like you were going.”

“I-I got lost…” I admit. “I was hungry so I bought some food.”

“Oh. Well, if you’d like, I can show you the way back to the guild.”

I quickly accept his offer. I trail a few feet behind him a little more conscious of everything than before. While I haven’t actively been avoiding him and his group, I haven’t been welcoming of them either. Yet, here he is to lead me back to the guild.

“We saw you yesterday,” he says. “You were at the gate with a bunch of other adventurers. We thought about grabbing your attention but you guys left before we could. We were a little bit worried since some scary dudes were with you but I’m glad things turned out okay.”

I don’t respond.

“Well, you don’t have to take on those quests by yourself. If you need a party, feel free to call on us anytime. We’re still looking for one more member, you know?”

I know what he’s asking, what he’s looking for but I don’t know if I can accept it. I don’t have the heart to reject their invitation either. If I do, would they leave me alone, to fend for myself until I’m lucky enough to encounter some other group looking for another member?

I choose to remain silent.

Nearing the guild, we hear a scream nearby. Patrick looks at me and immediately runs toward the direction of the sound. There it is again, a part of me wants to run to the guild and lock myself in my room and try to fall asleep, the other, most likely inspired by the books I read today, nags at me to follow him.

Patrick stops in the middle of the street, I slow down and catch my breath. He’s surprisingly fast, doesn’t even look tired.

“What the…”

If I was closer, I’d probably lose the small meal I just had. Even from a distance and working under low light, I can tell from Patrick’s disgusted expression, the twisted leg, and the blood staining the ground that someone’s been killed.

Patrick’s arm quivers and he carefully calls out to her. “Ma’am?”

No response.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

No response.

“I’m going to call for help.”

Patrick looks to me and points in the direction of the guild. The woman’s leg seems to move.

“P-Patrick,”

He stumbles and falls, hurrying to pull out his dagger. I strain my eyes to look at the scene that’s unfolding, something I can’t make out from this angle but it’s as clear as day for him. My breath catches in my throat. The shadows move-no, something completely black moves, reaching out from the corner and gripping the edge of the building. The bricks break under its strength. I try to run, but I’m too terrified to move.

It’s here. That’s it. That’s the thing in the woods. The monster I was scared of. It has to be. Nothing else would make me feel like this…

I see a breath from the corner of the building. The monster, its face is right there. What if it sees me? What if it recognizes me?

And then, I hear Patrick’s shrill scream, “S-Stay back!” He can’t hold the dagger in his hand still.

I unsteadily raise my hands in preparation to cast a spell but I can tell it won’t work. I can’t focus. It’s going to round that corner, it’s going to kill Patrick, and then it’s going to kill me.

“Over here!”

A light crawls along the buildings on the other end of the street. I hear footsteps from the direction of the guild too. The monster lets go of the side of the building and its hand shrinks away. Patrick drops his dagger.

“Don’t move,” one of the guards says. He stiffens as he sees the body. “What the hell?”

“D-Demon,” Patrick cries, “A-A demon…”