“We have to keep moving.” Kat urged them, although it had been hardly a day since Willem had woken. “Best start before halfday. It gets hot down here in the south.” Willem watched as the soldier rolled rations and clothes into a cloth pack. He had seemed eager to start moving again in the hopes of returning to the Capital, even though they could not have possibly stayed in this village for more than three days.

Willem had been rehabilitating with what little time he had been given. With a short cap fitted over the stump of his foot and a new wooden leg that was carved from some of the redleaf trees around here, he was getting used to walking on his own once more. Balance proved a precarious thing to maintain, especially now that he lacked the coordination of his other leg. Too many times he intended to take another step, only for one limb or another to fail him, and he found himself facing the sky with a strange swelling in his head.

There was a knocking at the door as they prepared to set off, and Kat answered it curiously.A young woman was standing behind nervously, homely and warm with an expression of nervousness. In her arms was bundle of clothes that, upon closer inspection, seemed to hold a young babe. She was rocking it gently, the child evidently asleep.

“P—pardon me,” she stammered, her face going beet red upon seeing Kat’s figure in the doorframe. “I—is this where the c—channeler is staying?” She fidgeted awkwardly, playing with her fingers until it seemed as though she was rocking herself instead of the baby. She noticed Willem in the back of the room, making out the Maes that covered his face, and her expression nearly went white as stone from shock and terror. Kat gave a gentle smile and nodded, letting the woman continue.

“I—um, w—we just had a—a…” she stuttered, her voice slowly dying away as she grew more and more embarrassed until finally she had to look away. “A child.” she finally managed, her voice little more than a squeak. “A baby girl. Mila.” Her chest was heaving at this, her face slick with sweat, as if she half expected to be beaten just for introducing her child.

“Congratulations.” Kat beamed, leaning over to take a look at the sleeping girl. “Is she healthy?” he asked, and the woman nodded hurriedly.

“A—aye. She was squalling louder than my husband.” she proclaimed proudly, before stopping awkwardly, as if realizing what she had just said. Her body stiffened in mortification before Kat laughed, and then some of the hesitation seemed to rush out of her. She smiled softly, her gaze turning once more to the girl who had just seemed to have woken up.

“Hello there,” Kat waved, sticking out a gloved finger to shake her chubby hand. He turned to the girl’s mother then, asking, “So then what brings you and Mila here?”

Her mother once more went rigid, swallowing hard as she worked up the nerve to speak. “W—we were h—hoping that the channeler here might—of course, if you aren’t too busy—might be willing to—to bless our child.” she finally managed to get out, going still as a statue at the end with embarrassment and something like fear. The baby, as if sensing her mother’s predicament, immediately began to wail loudly. This in turn prompted the woman to shush her loudly, shoulders shaking like she was about to break out into a sob.

Kat looked pleadingly at Willem and he was stunned for a moment. Bless her child? He hardly knew how. The only thing he had ever done was burn the skal’va, and this was nearly the complete opposite. How could he possibly dare to do such a thing with a life at stake. Yet as Kat continued to stare at him and his gaze turned to the wailing girl with her chubby fists, he felt his expression soften.

“Aye, I can try.” he spoke softly, and her gaze suddenly snapped up to meet his, disbelief covering her face. Her throat bobbed a few times, her body entirely still as she seemed to process what he had said.

“T—truly?” she gasped out finally, as if not daring to believe it. Willem merely nodded slowly, fixing his gaze on the crying child.

“I’m not much good at it, but I can try.” he repeated, walking over awkwardly, his wooden limbs clacking on the ground. He held out a hand towards the child, and he saw something indiscernible flicker across the mother’s face as she saw the crippled fingers. She pulled the child back instinctively at the sight before realizing what she had done, immediately dropping her gaze with her shoulders trembling.

The child, for her part, stopped crying as Willem came near. She looked at his hand curiously, grabbing at it with fat fingers before letting out a happy squeal. “Hello.” he greeted under his breath, smiling gently as she giggled. Then, knowing that he would have to deliver on his promise, he closed his eyes.

He knew not what it meant to bless a child. Give her strength? Give her intelligence? He knew not how to do those things. He could have her grow up healthy—but would that of itself be a blessing? He could try to give her beauty, but he knew not how to do any of those things. Magic, he decided finally. Magic had almost a mind of its own; if he used sent magic into her with the intent to bless her, it would work on its own.

Calming himself, he reached inside himself for the strands of magic that lay in the pit of his stomach. They were fewer since they had left the Gates—even these days of recovery were not enough time for his magic to fully replenish. And so he had found himself pulling on the strings of magic, lips moving almost of their own volition as he drew the strength up through his limbs to his fingertips. His heartbeat slowed to an impossible degree, matching the beat of the earth around him, that age-old, timeless heartbeat.

Purple ribbons bloomed out of his fingertips, all the onlookers silent as he worked his chant. It spiraled out and danced through the air, swirling around the child. Her mother was trembling in terror, drawing back her arm whenever the magic neared as if afraid to let it touch her. Kat watched in fascination, staring at those purple ribbons and their gentle, pulsing light. Willem saw none of it, however, his eyes closed and his lips moving in a murmuring chant. He knew not what he was saying; it felt instinctual and natural, rolling off the tongue as he drew out more and more of his magic.

Bless this child, he commanded, sending the magic into her. The ribbons began to sink into her skin, and her smile suddenly faded. May she grow up healthy. The girl began to cry, more and more ribbons sinking into her chest and limbs. May she be intelligent and strong. Her mother was seemed to want to pull away, to tear her child away from this magic, but fear and hesitation held her still. May her beauty blossom like a flower that radiates throughout the land.

The magic gathered above her heart, burning hot with a searing heat underneath the bundle of cloth. It seared into her flesh a brand, a black pattern not unlike the Maes. Of its own volition, the magic burned onto the girl an ornate flower, impossibly intricate and ornate. Her wails grew louder as this happened, yet it was hidden by the cloth that swaddled her, none of the others able to see. Purple magic sank into her bones and flesh, spreading a gentle warmth out from her chest. Slowly, the child’s crying began to cease, her expression growing relaxed as she swiftly fell asleep.

Willem was breathing hard as he opened his eyes, unsure of what he would see. Sweat covered his face as he drew back his arms, grateful to see the girl apparently unharmed and sleeping soundly. Yet he found the mother staring at him with hopeless fear and confusion, her expression utterly terrified as she stood rooted to the ground. Her lips began to quiver, and before either Willem or Kat could say anything, she took off towards the town.

“Wait—” Kat called out, but she was already gone. He swore loudly, shutting the door after her. “What happened?” he asked Willem, not unkindly.

Willem could only shake his head, breathing hard from the ordeal. “I sent the magic into her, and I told it to bless her. I don’t know why she started to cry, but I think it worked.” He stared at the door blankly, gathering the storm of emotion that had swelled within him. “I hope it worked.” What had happened? What went wrong?

Kat clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, you’ve a good heart. I’m sure you didn’t hurt her.” he comforted before picking up the rest of their things, heading outside. He was gone for a few minutes, coming back inside only to find Willem in the same stunned position, unmoving. “Come on, we’ve more to do today than mope around.”

Those last words were enough to shake Willem out of his trance, and he began to shuffle outside, his gait uneven and awkward from the wooden limbs. Yet he could not wipe away the look of terror that had been on the mother’s face, nor the strange sensation of guilt that filled him from seeing it. What did I do? Was I expecting something else? Aye, that must have been it. He had been imagining the girl with a glow of gold around her. He had been imagining the mother breaking out with a smile, her eyes beaming and tears streaming from her face as she bowed profusely, thanking him. He had been expecting success and praise, achievement and pride. He had forgotten that he was an incompetent and a cripple.

The thought bittered him as he walked outside, finding Kat and Norus affixing their supplies to a wooden cart. Two horses knickered impatiently, grazing on the patchy grass as they waited. “Are those ours?” he asked, stopping to examine the beasts. They were short and stocky, evidently workhorses built to plow fields for hours without pause. Shaggy hairs ran down their muscled legs, their manes longs and coarse.

“Aye.” Kat replied, loading their packs of supplies onto the cart. “We bought them from some of the villagers for three gold apiece, and the cart here too.” he grunted out with a huff, finishing and clapping the dust off of his hands. Norus was busy saddling one of them, struggling to keep it steady as if twitched and bustled.

“There’s only enough space for you to ride in the cart,” Kat explained, ”So we’ll be in front on the horses. We’ve got rations and supplies that should last us to the Capital, and the trip shouldn’t take more than two weeks at most.”

“What about the Outlands?” Willem asked, remembering the voice that had spoken to him. Come north to meet my king, it had told him.

Kat paused before frowning. “There’ve been strange rumors about the Outlands recently, after King Alerick died. Farmers nearby have been complaining of missing livestock, and we haven’t heard from the diggers that work in the mountains. It’s probably too dangerous to head into them, but the Kingsroad passes by the Twisting Spires.” He shrugged noncommittally, turning around to straighten his back. “We can see when we get closer, but I wouldn’t advise you to go there.”

Willem frowned turning his gaze north towards where the voice had asked him to come. A king to the north. Feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach, he made his way onto the cart with a huff, turning south back towards the Gates where they had came from. A corpse to the south.

And a cripple in between, he remarked dully as the two soldiers mounted their horses, preparing to leave Whitestone Village.