The forest of Avelynd held a vast history of human inhabitants that span for thousands of years. Towns and cities rose and fell with the passing of time, but people had their way of leaving their presence even long after they had gone. One of these such places was a mine that had been emptied of its treasures and abandoned.

Abandoned, that is, until the thieves moved in.

They took the long and dark shafts and dressed them with wood floors, painted walls, and stolen artwork. The end result almost looked regal.

And Valerlanta hated every bit of it.

They could try to cover it up all they wanted, but Valerlanta could not help but be bothered by what lurked under the wrappings. It was not just the way that sound carried down in the depths, or even the chill that the stone walls always seemed to hold.

For her, it was the lurking of the shadows.

No matter how many candles or torches they lit, shadows always lurked in the corners. Shadows that reminded her that if those flames happened to go out, she would be plunged into suffocating darkness.

The grandest of all the pretty wrapped rooms belonged to Nymven, leader of the thief’s guild.

The office was covered in grand curtains, carefully detailed golden statues, over-brimming chests of treasures, and more weapons than an armoury. All stolen, of course, and now proudly displayed as trophies of his feats.

He reminded her of a raven, in a way. Nymven was cunning, quick, and had an obsession for collecting shiny things that was a stronger draw for him than any drink or other pleasure the world could offer. These traits alone helped him climb the ranks of the thief guild, and earned him the respect of everyone who followed him.

Now, however, he was at a loss for what to do.

Nymven paced back and forth, his arms crossed in front of him and his fingers tapping irritably. The rage seemed to radiate from his body and create a horrible pressure of weight that threatened to smother her each time he passed by.

Valerlanta dared not move an inch from where Gudwen and Opaklen left her. Not even as she shivered in her rain-soaked clothes.

“You disobeyed me again,” Nymven snarled lowly. It was clearly a statement, not a question, but she hesitated, wondering if he expected a response.

When the silence lasted, she dared to open her mouth. “I just —”

“You were supposed to stay here. You are never to go out alone.”

“Father, even the children go out alone. I am an adult!”

“The children,” he snarled, turning to face her. His finger tapped her on the bridge of her half-masked nose hard enough to make her flinch. “Do not have to worry about the things you do.”

No matter how many times he pointed that out, that always managed to sting like pinpricks under her skin.

“It has been years. Surely they—”

“The older you get, Valerlanta, the more you will look like them,” he said the last word, them, with such venom, that again she flinched and felt a flush of shame.

If only she was someone else. If only she was his daughter by blood. They both had green eyes, but that was pretty well where their comparisons came to a swift halt. Even his hair was fiery while her own was blonde; a fact she once tried to correct once as a child by rubbing orange foods in her hair.

Her shoulders dropped. “It is not like I have blue skin or bug eyes. Won’t people just assume it is a coincidence?”

Nymven sighed heavily, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his temples. Her father often invented masterful plans — some of which took years to act out — yet with his adopted daughter he was overwhelmed. “We have had this conversation many times. You know what my response is.”

“It is not worth the risk,” she said from memory, quoting him right down to his tone.

“Exactly so. It is not worth the risk.”

“But—”

“Enough! Tell me what you saw. Say it out loud what you saw in that room all those years ago.”

Valerlanta opened her mouth and closed it again, hesitating.

“Say it.”

“I do not see why—”

“Because clearly you need to remember, and maybe speaking it out loud and hearing your own words will make it real for you again! Say it!”

Valerlanta suppressed the need to grit her teeth and instead took in a long breath. “The room had people hanging by their feet with their bodies cut open and buckets to catch their blood.”

“Exactly. They were draining them! And do you want that to happen to you?”

“No, of course not! But I do not like being caged, either!”

“Caged! Ha! You are being dramatic. This is hardly a cage, it is simply a temporary inconvenience for you, Valerlanta,” he said. “Once I am sure you know enough, once you prove yourself, I will not hold you back. Besides, I am not saying you must stay, you just can not leave alone.”

She could feel herself deflating.

For the first time, she moved, and that was just to slump down into the chair behind her. Despite her trying not to, Valerlanta turned a hand over. Upon her fingertips, many old scars marred her skin.

A raw flash of anger burned at the sight of those marks, as if everything was somehow their fault. Both the scars and the past haunted her in the form of invisible chains. They held her in place, keeping all her dreams only just out of reach.

Worst of all, the scars had another trick.

As she stared at them, the shadows of the room squeezed closer.

Her knee bounced as her foot tapped anxiously.

‘Why does this place have to be underground? Couldn’t they have built in the trees?’

Nymven knelt down in front of her and took her hands, squeezing them. His felt much warmer compared to her damp and chilled ones. Under his touch. she could feel his own scars, though his were more raw - more violent. The brand of a thief seared onto his skin when he was younger than her.

“It is not forever, Valerlanta,” He said. She looked into his eyes and believed them. She always did. Even as the years went by and his red hair started to grey, she still believed him.

Valerlanta forced a small smile. “Right, well. I suppose I will be punished, correct? What is the bad news?”

“Tomorrow you will go with Dyleik, Ruwen, and Tifale on a mission.”

Valerlanta felt her mouth fall open. “The children?”

She tried to pull her hands away but he held them in place.

“They need guidance, and you need patience. Dyleik is in charge, and you must do what he says.”

‘No.’

This could not be happening.

There was no way this was happening!

Her cheeks and ears burned impossibly hot as the shame hit her.

Valerlanta felt a swirl of emotions, most of them dark and angry. “A child will be in charge…of me?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, standing up. “That is what happens when you disobey orders, Valerlanta. You never do as I ask, and you barely even try at the missions I give you, if you even go at all.”

“Because you never give me anything but the simplest tasks! I can do more, father! Let me try!”

“More? How can I believe that when you can’t even do what you have now? You are behind on your quota! Do you know how that looks when my own daughter is behind? It reflects on me as bad as it does you.”

Valerlanta reached for her bag. “But father I—”

“I do not want to hear it!” He snarled and her hand dropped, leaving the orb where it hid. “Go on the mission, Valerlanta. Please! Just listen for once.”

When she didn’t say more, just sat there still as a statue staring at him in utter shock, he sighed. Leaning in, he pulled her into a hug, and held it even though her arms stayed at her side.

“Someday I hope you understand why I do all this.” He said softly.

Someday.

Someday she would understand.

Someday she would be free.

All things important were always pushed into her future and never in her grasp.

“Yes, well, I had better go,” Valerlanta gently pushed him away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Mission to get ready for and all that.”

She could feel him watching, so she went with a straight posture and a bland expression. Inside, she felt a war of emotions.