A gaping maw hovered inches before my face, eager to taste my soft, inexperienced flesh. I recoiled. It all seemed to happen slowly. My red beard followed the momentum of my dodge just as a string of spit whipped against my cheek.

How bad is a wolf’s breath? It’s a question I had never asked myself in my life — at least in the five years of it I could remember — but could now safely say that it was terrible. Horrible. Foul as certain things revealed by melting snow, with the same sickly sweet as some meats spoiling in the sun. It was warm. It was… moist.

Teeth clashed. They missed my face or neck, whichever the beast aimed for, and a smile of pride and relief flashed on my face. It disappeared as fast as it had come upon the realization of the jaw tightening on my forearm. I lay there dumbfounded for a moment, staring at the situation with nothing useful sprouting in mind.

The wolf latched on, gave its haunches a slight crouch, and thrashed its maned head from right to left countless times, rending the flesh on my arm like a sharp knife scraping ribbons of kindling from a log.

I let out a shrieking cry. I’d never felt anything so painful, and the shock of it paralyzed my body, and worse, my mind. It took me far too long, but I’d finally remembered the heavy iron wrench at my belt. I reached down with my hairy, shaking hand and drew it slowly to keep my plan hidden from the wolf. Whether the bast’s deduction skills were sophisticated enough or not, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to take the chance.

Blood gushed from my wound and ran down my mangled arm. The wolf’s yellow eye locked on to the ground. It paid no attention to my actions, so I sped them up. I pulled the wrench from my belt, raised it as high as I could while lying on my back, and brought it down upon the wolf with every bit of strength I had.

Crack! The wolf let go and stumbled backward, stunned. A wound opened up on the peak of its skull. A small stream of blood flowed through shaggy fur past its nose and to the ground.

Something else exited the wound. A number. Eight. It emerged from the gash and floated toward the sky before disintegrating into millions of little yellow specks of dust. I’d seen small white numbers appear from wounds before. Who hasn’t? But never large and yellow.

I didn’t have much time to think about it. The wolf darted toward me, snapping its blood-foamed jaws. I rolled to avoid the attack. I pushed myself to my feet but fell back to the ground half-way through the process. I’d foolishly leaned my weight on my injured arm, not thinking clearly in the heat of the battle.

The wolf was on me before I could make another attempt. It snapped at me, and I avoided it. It snapped again, and I narrowly avoided it. It was only a matter of time at this pace before the beast would regain its grip, likely onto a fatal part of me this time around.

I turned and ran, but my legs grew heavy after only a few steps. The bleed exhausted me. I had no choice but to stand and fight the beast. I halted and spun to face the wolf. It had followed me, but at a safe distance. You’re hurting too, aren’t you? It paced back and forth, stalking me with its wild yellow eyes and taunting me with a pink, foaming snarl.

My iron wrench gleamed in the sun as I thrust it before me. The wolf wasn’t the only one who was going to brandish its weapons in this fight. The wolf let out an almost demonic bark. I flinched but stood firm as fear reared its ugly head. Every bone in my body urged me to run, but I’d tried that already. In my current injured state, running meant certain death.

I stared my enemy down and thought of all the damage the wolves had caused our town. These creatures had been the source of nearly every headache the small farming town had endured in its history. The citizens of Goldmill lived a peaceful existence free of any outside attackers. The town didn’t even have any designated guards from the capital, as it would have been a waste of resources. But there were always the wolves. And now they’d taken my sister.

Mayor Nubb was always quick to repeat his claim that the wolf problem had been eradicated. The townsfolk praised him for it. People were much more at ease foraging the outskirts, thanks to the mayor’s promise. Mothers were more lenient when it came to their children’s play boundaries, my mother, among them. My sister was gone. She hadn’t responded to our worried calls. The only sign of her we’d found in the field had been a tattered strand of her green woolen dress blanketed by a mangy tuft of fur. Either the wolves had returned, or the mayor lied about their disappearance in the first place.

I was no adventurer. I was a simple dwarf, with a simple life, the lone dwarf in a town of humans. The call of adventure was always present deep inside me, but my mother and sister needed me. At that moment, however, I was an adventurer. I needed to put an end to this wolf so that I could continue my search for Dara.

The wolf charged, interrupting my slow gathering of courage. Left with no other choice, I roared and met its charge. It snapped its jaws, hungering for my neck. I parried its dripping maw with my wrench. A white number two drifted from its wound. It was weak now. It stared up at me with large, almost domestic eyes. I came close to pitying the beast until I thought of Dara and the danger she was in.

“You should’ve stuck with stealing livestock,” I said to the clueless wolf. “You will regret harming my sister.”

I raised my wrench and crashed it down upon the wolf’s head. I hit it in the exact spot as the first wound I’d given it. A small white number four floated from the patch of blood. It wasn’t large or yellow like the first blow, but it seemed to do the trick as the wolf staggered for a moment before falling to the ground, lifeless.

With the fight over, my wounds took the opportunity to announce themselves to me. My legs shook and ached, my head pounded as if my heart had moved upward, and my arm… my arm hurt more than anything I’d ever felt before. Mother told me that I only remembered the last five years because of a head injury. I didn’t remember it happening, but I couldn’t imagine it hurting anywhere near as much as my arm did after that fight.

Thankfully, the pain didn’t last long. Something happened beyond my comprehension. The bleeding stopped, and the flayed ribbons of flesh swayed and moved until they’d found their way back to where they belonged. It took only an instant before my wound fully closed and looked as though it had never been there at all.

A heavy woosh swept over my head, like a passing bird. I looked up to find nothing but clear skies—that is until a small puff of cloud appeared above me while the rest of the sky remained clear and blue. It followed me in whichever direction I stepped. Loud crackling came from deep within it, and ground-shaking thunder followed. The thunder prompted the cloud to explode into golden rays of light and revealed a massive golden number two shining bright above me. I’d only ever seen numbers above people or beasts that’d been wounded. I was the opposite. My wounds had disappeared magically, but there I stood with a number above my head—a number whose size dwarfed any that had come from the wolf’s wounds.

The number disappeared as soon as it had come. I was left alone in the open green meadows with none but the dead wolf to witness what had occurred. I lingered in silence. I should have been on the move, searching for Dara, but the relief of surviving the fight had flooded my mind with so much emotion that I was unable to get a handle on my thoughts.

The wolf’s body faded and disappeared as corpses tended to do. Something shiny lay where the wolf had been. I crouched to inspect and squinted my eyes to protect against the piercing reflection of the sun on its golden surface. I reached for it, slow and careful. The way my morning had been going, I fully expected the item to summon another wolf somehow to bite at my wrist again upon touching it, but the thing was so alluring that I couldn’t help myself.

I touched it. Nothing happened. Still expecting the worst, I crouched there frozen for a while with my finger resting on the item, just waiting and sweating. My eyes darted from left to right, but the glare from the object made everything dark as night beyond a few yards in any direction.

Convinced that nothing new was coming to eat me, I focused on the item. My headache worsened from the powerful beams of light radiating from whatever it was. The longer I gazed, the harder it was to look away. It was as if the item had spawned ghostly hands to clutch my attention. It pulled me closer.

Both hands gripped the thing now, desperate to keep a distance between me and it, but the force kept pulling. My eyes were inches from it, yet I could still not make it out through the blinding beams. The tip of my stout nose poked its surface, and everything stopped.

The world was visible again, and my eyes were no worse for the wear. The green meadows that surrounded me regained their color, and Goldmill sat quiet and nestled at the root of Sweetlilly Hill as it always had. The item remained, free of obscuring lights. Nothing more than a book. A skillfully crafted, leather-bound book with brilliant gold trimmings, but still just a book.

I sat in the grass and let out a sigh. With the emotion of the fight, the odd number over my head that followed, and the intense storm of light when finding the book, it seemed like I hadn’t had a moment of rest for clear thinking all day. When one finally came, it was pushed aside in an instant at the thought of my sister, still lost.

I pocketed the mysterious book and jumped to my feet. Nothing mattered as much as finding Dara. I inspected the area, searching for tracks or anything that could steer me in the right direction. The grass where the fight had taken place was nothing but a mess of blood and fur. It took a while, but I finally found the tracks the wolf had made on its way into the fight.

I wasn’t a proficient tracker by any means, but anyone could’ve followed the trail of disturbed grass through the massive wild field. It led me toward a nearby patch of trees. The trail ended near a large boulder that jutted out from the ground.

“Dara?” I called but got no response.

I approached the boulder and skirted around it. The rock had a deep indent, almost as if it were carved out by some massive tool. A little girl lay still on the floor beneath the stone shelter. “Dara. Are you alright?” I knelt beside her and touched her face. She was warm. Too warm. I supposed it was better than her being too cold.

I brushed her hair from her motionless face. Her red hair was the only physical trait we shared. I put one hand beneath her neck, wriggled the other under the small of her back, and lifted her. I followed the wolf trail back home. She didn’t weigh much as a ten-year-old girl, but the fight with the wolf had drained me of most of my energy, despite my wounds healing magically.

Dara whimpered and moved around in my arms. She opened her eyes and looked into mine. A short bout of fright calmed into a smile of relief. “You found me.”

“Of course, I did.”

The fear returned to her. She swiveled her head in every direction. “The wolf?”

“I took care of it.”

She looked at me, furrowed her brows, “are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?” She said. “How did you kill a wolf by yourself?”

“It wasn’t easy,” I said. “Found a nice book, too. We’ll check it out when we get home. I’m sure Mother will be relieved to see you.”

“I hope I’m not in trouble,” she said.

“You won’t be,” I laughed. “Mayor Nubb is the one who’ll be hearing from Mother.”

She fell asleep in my arms, and I brought her home safely.

* * *

Mother had dumplings boiling when we got home. She dropped her kitchen tools and ran for us the moment I brought Dara into the house. Our home was just outside the town of Goldmill, so the walk back wasn’t as long as it could’ve been.

I loved dumplings. Mother would whip them up whenever I was having a bad day. Apparently, she’d never left my side while I recovered from my head injury. I didn’t remember any of it, but I believed it.

I lowered Dara to her feet and kept my hand between her shoulders just in case she hadn’t the strength to stand on her own. Mother approached, crouched before her daughter, and buffeted her face with kisses. She looked at me, almost eye-level despite crouching. “Thank you, Billington.”

“I’d do anything to help her. You know that.”

I moved across the room and sat at the kitchen table. I let out a sigh as I dropped onto the chair. I hadn’t gone through anything like the wolf fight in the entirety of the five years I remembered and was glad to be home.

The golden book lay deep in my pocket. I fished it out and set it on the table. Much of the glow was gone, but the golden trimming caught the light that spilled in through the open shutters. I opened the book while Mother continued to look over her daughter, searching for any injuries or wounds I might have missed.

It was empty. Hundreds of thick, yellow pages and every one of them bare save for the first. It read: Diary of Cosette.

Who or what is a Cosette? It didn’t matter. I closed the book and pushed it aside as Mother set a plate of steaming dumplings before me. She sat across from me, and Dara sat to my side. “Dara tells me there was a wolf. When we saw that bit of fur, I’d hoped it was just a coincidence that it was there.”

“I took care of it,” I said. “She’s here, and she’s safe.”

“That damned Nubb,” Mother said. “The mayor shouldn’t be going around spouting lies about certain threats being eliminated when they clearly aren’t. Billington, I want you to go to town tomorrow and tell the mayor what happened.”

“Very well.”

With my father dying sometime before my head injury, it was up to me to be the man of the house. It would have been nice to have a father teach me such things, but we must thrive with what we are given. I had no memory of my father though I was confident he was a dwarf. Mother was a human, and no human male is short, hairy, or stocky enough to make sense otherwise.

We finished our meal, and Mother stood facing the basin full of soapy water and dirty cookery. “Enjoy your dumplings?”

“Very much.” It was the fourth time she’d asked the question since we’d started eating, but she tended to repeat herself occasionally. “Ground boar and herbs is your finest filling.”

I looked down at the golden book for just an instant before looking back at her. She lunged at me with fear-stricken brown eyes. “I spent so much of my worry on Dara that I’d forgotten about you. Are you alright? You look awful.”

“Thank you, Mother,” I said with a touch of sarcasm. If she thought I looked bad then, she would have likely fainted at the sight of my mangled arm before. “I’m fine. I took care of the wolf. It barely touched me.”

She wasn’t convinced. “That damned mayor. Lying to us like that. To think that there’re still wolves prowling around out there.” She shuddered and returned to her basin.

“You don’t need to worry,” I said. “I handled myself pretty well. I wish you’d have seen it.” There was no way I was going to tell her any unfavorable detail of the fight. I looked at the book again. It kept pulling my attention. “I did find this. What do you think of it?”

“Did you enjoy your dumplings?”

I stared at her with a blank expression and shrugged. “Yes, very much. Thank you.”

* * *

Dara trailed behind me as we made our way to Goldmill. I’d suggested that she stay home, but she’d insisted on coming along. Mother had agreed with her. It didn’t matter too much as it would be a short trip into town just to warn the mayor about the possible reemergence of the wolves. I brought some of the leftover dumplings just in case we decided to stay a bit longer and wanted lunch.

“Try to keep up,” I called back to my sister.

“You’re going too fast.”

She rarely listened to me. Even saving her from becoming a wolf’s meal wasn’t enough to become an authoritative figure in her life. There was nothing I could do about it. As long as I kept an eye on her, she would be safe, and that’s all that mattered.

We passed through the small gated entrance of Goldmill. The creaking of the gate’s door echoed through the tranquil dawn-lit town. A few citizens wandered the streets, but most were already posted at their places of business. Little to no change had come to Goldmill during my five years of memory, and I knew the place like the back of my hand. Mister Hamm stoked the fire at his smithy, Mister Hyde inspected a large skin that’d been stretched on a rack overnight, Miss Flora tended her colorful garden, and the rest of the familiar faces I’d seen countless times worked on the same tasks they’d done countless times more.

A shabby old wagon stood lopsided before Misses Hooke’s tailoring shop. I wasn’t sure how pressing my business with the mayor was, but it couldn’t have been so urgent as to stop me from aiding a fellow citizen. I crouched beside the lower side of the wagon, wrench in hand, and went to work on it until it was sturdy and level. I’d repaired so many things during my time in Goldmill. It had almost become compulsory.

“Come on,” Dara said. “Mother wants us to tell the mayor about the wolves.”

“I know. It never hurts to take a bit of time to help others.” I stood up, tested the integrity of the wagon, and nodded, pleased with my work. We proceeded toward the town hall.

Sheriff Gunn leaned against the wall beside the mayor’s front door. He was the only man in town who wore chainmail. No one else wore anything thicker than leather. There was no reason to. He’d brought the mail suit with him from some faraway city. The sheriff wasn’t from Goldmill, but he’d appeared when the town’s wolf problem had been at its worst and was the main factor in dwindling their numbers.

He signaled me with a wave, I approached. “I heard you took care of a wolf.”

“Yes, sir,” how did he know? “Wasn’t easy, but that mongrel won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“You’ve done the town a great service, adventurer.”

I glanced over both shoulders. Why did he call me that?

“Your reward,” Gunn said with a downturned fist held before him.

“No need,” I said. “I love this town. I don’t require gold or silver in exchange for helping out.” I looked down at Dara. “I had my own reasons for taking on the wolf.” I smiled, but he refused to move. His fist hung there, waiting with intense patience to drop whatever it held into my hand.

“Your reward,” he repeated.

“Fine.” I put out my hand, and he dropped a couple silver coins that jingled onto my palm. I pocketed them and nodded an awkward thank you. “Is the mayor in?”

“Mayor Nubb would like to speak with you,” Gunn pushed himself off the wall and opened the mayor’s door.

I nodded in thanks again and turned to crouch before Dara. “You’ll have to wait out here.” I walked in. Dara followed.

The small waiting room was empty and bare of any decorations. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all constructed from the light shaded wood that could be found all over Goldmill. There were two small wooden rocking chairs and a shelf with nothing on it, each made from the same light wood. The only color in the room came from two door handles. One on the main door, the other on the door that led into the mayor’s office, both made of polished wolf femur, painted the color of straw.

I stopped before the second door. “Dara, please wait in here while I speak with the mayor.”

She looked up at me and smiled. “Come on. Mother wants us to tell the mayor about the wolves.”

“You’ll never listen to me, will you?” I couldn’t help but smile. I messed her hair and knocked on the mayor’s door. I entered once I heard a muffled grunt that kind of sounded like “come in.”

Mayor Nubb’s office was a desk and a chair nestled in a crowded cubby at the end of a large, open hall about my entire house's size. A couple of stairs led from the hall portion to the office. The walk there was awkward, but the mayor seemed used to it. He’d flicked his eyes up from whatever he was reading just as we’d entered and let them fall back to his desk for the remainder of our walk.

I didn’t know when the right time to greet him was, so I just kept my mouth shut and let him speak first. Atop the stairs were two vacant chairs beside the mayor’s desk. I wasn’t sure whether to sit or not, so I just stood there like a fool, hoping Dara would behave.

“Billington!” Mayor Nubb jumped from his chair. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, even indoors, which cast a shadow over his friendly face. His eyes were wide and blue, dark in the shade. His long nose was tipped with a shiny red blotch, and his chin was patched with salt and pepper bristles. He shook my hand. “What can I do for you?”

“G’day, Sir,” I said. “My little sister here went missing yesterday.”

He didn’t react.

“My mother and I searched for her and eventually found evidence that a wolf had taken her. I followed the clue further and indeed found a wolf. I slew the beast and found my sister in a den.”

He looked around the room aimlessly. His smile almost seemed to widen despite my story not warranting one. I waited. Perhaps he was just processing what I’d said. He did nothing.

“Sir?”

“Wolves, you say?” He spoke so suddenly I nearly jumped back in shock.

“Yes, Sir.”

His face finally soured to match the mood of our conversation. He turned away, slightly slouched. “That’s impossible. We solved that issue when Gunn first arrived.” He scratched his chin deep in thought. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. Strange happenings have been reported recently. Strange things related to…” He glanced at Dara and me, shook his head, “never mind. Well, Billington, Goldmill is in your debt. Not only did you kill one of those monsters, but you brought the issue to my attention early enough to prepare for anything further.”

Chatter picked up from outside. Dozens of voices sprang up, each more bothered than the last. The mayor looked past me. “What’s going on?” I said.

“There’s a commotion stirring outside,” Mayor Nubb said. “I’d better take a look.”

Dara and I followed the mayor down the stairs. The mayor moved with long, hurried strides, difficult for my dwarf legs to keep up with. We exited to a street full of familiar citizens. Their voices were clearer once outside. “Oh my goodness,” one woman said. “What could’ve done this?” Mr. Hyde’s distinct voice said.

The source of their worry rolled into town from the same gate I’d entered through. Tired horses pulled a line of ten or so wagons through the gate. The wagons were laden with injured men, women, and children, all covered with bloodied blankets. A few men walked alongside the wagons, each with a farm tool in hand and frightful eyes.

Mayor Nubb pushed through the crowd of Goldmill citizens and held his arms out in a welcoming posture. “Greetings, travelers. Who are you? What happened?”

One of the men at the head of the line belted his sickle and knelt before the mayor. “Dear mayor Nubb. We seek refuge in Goldmill. We were run out of our village by the Dark Lady.”

A spattering of “Dark Lady?” crept through the crowd of Goldmill citizens.

“What is your village, traveler?”

“Our village was Pepper Dam, Sir,” the man said, “until the darkness came.”

“When did this happen?” The mayor asked.

“Not two days ago,” the man said. “Those of us who were able to avoid being seen gathered the injured once the dark ones left.”

“Who or what are these dark ones?”

“They looked like men and women,” the man said, “but no man or woman could do what these creatures did. They were garbed in purple, the color of the Dark Lady, and they killed at will. They took nothing. They weren’t there for loot or riches. Only blood.”

The mayor was silent for a moment. He shook himself from it. “Bring your injured to the church. We will tend to them.”

“Bless you, Sir.” The man bowed his head, then led his horse forward. The others followed.

The citizens of Goldmill parted to let the wagons pass. Their worried muttering had only increased since the man and the mayor’s exchange. Dara tensed beside me. I held her close.

“Mother?” She said.

I looked down at her, then in the direction of her eyes. Mother walked through the gate, carrying a face of concern. I waved to signal her. She came toward us and settled at my side. “What are you doing here?” I asked her.

“I saw the wagons roll past the house,” she said. “They were going towards town and I wanted to see what it was all about. It didn’t look good.”

“It isn’t,” Dara said, leaving me and clutching onto her mother’s leg.

My eyes locked with an injured woman on the wagon before me. She reminded me of my mother. She had an arm wrapped around a young girl who resembled Dara without the red hair. It was a haunting image. I looked back at my own family and made an internal promise that whatever happened to the poor souls in the wagons would never happen to my mother or sister.

“She’ll come here soon enough,” one of the injured men in a cart said. “I have a cousin from Berrywater. They were attacked a few weeks before us. She’s coming this way. She will stop at nothing!”

Mayor Nubb whispered something to sheriff Gunn then approached us once the wagons had passed. He stared into my mother’s eyes with a stern look on his red face. “It’s time we tell him, Matilda.”

Sheriff Gunn rushed to the shouting man. He held up a hand and mumbled something incoherent. The man silenced, and the wagons continued toward the church.

“No!” Mother raised her voice. No one in the crowd cared. They were all occupied with their own worries and speculations. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“We’ve kept it from him long enough,” Nubb said. “Look around you, Matilda. Times are getting strange and dangerous. The world needs him.”

I exchanged a look with Dara. She seemed just as confused as I was.

“Very well,” Mother said. “I suppose I always knew this day would come.”

“What are you talking about, Mother?” I asked.

Mayor Nubb spoke first. “You need to set out and put an end to the Dark Lady.”

I nearly laughed from the sheer absurdity of his statement. “What? Why me?”

“It’s time I tell you the truth,” Mother said.

“Truth about what?” I asked. “Is it about my father? I’ve got a good idea that he might be a dwarf.” I looked down at myself. “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Your head injury…” Mother trailed off.

“I know,” I said. “You don’t have to blame yourself. I don’t remember what happened, but whatever it was, I know it wasn’t your fault.”

She took a deep breath and tried again. “Your injury was a lie.”

My lips parted, but no words came.

“There was never an injury.”

“Why can’t I remember anything before the last five years?”

She stepped forward and wrapped cold, shuddering fingers over my right hand. “Five years is all you’ve lived.”

I tilted my head like a hound to a whistle.

“You…” She inhaled sharply, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“Mother…” I draped our clasped hands with my free hand. “Tell me.”

“You are not my son.”

Dara gasped. I stayed silent, staring into my mother’s eyes, hers brown, mine blue.

“I don’t understand,” I finally said, though being a dwarf speaking to his human mother should have given me a clue.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Who are you? I mean, why am I here with you?” I couldn’t find the right way to ask the actual question that burned in my mind, but it eventually came out. “Who am I?”

“I didn’t lie about your name,” she said. “You are Billington. But I didn’t name you. Neither did your father. You don’t have a father or a mother.”

“But…” Wolves, golden books, wagons from another village, and now all of this, I was at a loss for words.

“You were spawned by God, five years ago,” Mother pulled her hand from mine and straightened her posture. “You are an adventurer, Billington.”

I laughed. Her face was stern.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “Why would I stay here for five years if I were an adventurer. They’re always on the move, traveling the world. They get stronger. They adventure! That’s where they get their name unless I’m missing something.”

“You were meant for great things,” Mother said. “But I came along and ruined that for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was wandering in the meadow one morning, about five years ago,” she said. “I was attacked by a hornet the size of a rat.”

I remembered that morning.

“You spawned at the perfect time,” she said. “You appeared no more than two yards before me, intercepted the charging hornet, and fought it off. I was so grateful for the help that I offered you dumplings. You loved them. I invited you to shelter beneath my roof for the night. You accepted. The next morning, I made you more food. You loved it. This cycle continued until—well, now.”

“Are you sending me off?” I broadened my shoulders, a bit defensive. “You don’t want me here anymore? Was it the fight with the wolf? It won’t happen again.” I pulled out my wrench. “I can go around town repairing things instead. I’ll find some other way to contribute. I promise. No more wolf fighting.”

“You were meant for so much more than this small town,” Mayor Nubb said. “I don’t know what your true purpose is, for I know very little of the world of adventurers. One thing I am certain of is that your purpose is greater than fixing up old wagons or whatever else this town has to offer.”

“But Mother…” My hand had retreated into my pocket to grope the golden book. I couldn’t ignore the rush of excitement that the thought of leaving on some sort of adventure was giving me, but I couldn’t leave them behind. “What about you? I can’t leave you two alone with all this.” I pointed to the receding wagons. “Despite everything you just said you two are still my family. My mother, my sister, nothing will change that.”

“Billington,” Nubb said. “I would not reveal this to you if I didn’t have to. The Dark Lady’s attacks are getting closer by the day. We just happen to have a dormant adventurer here. I had no other choice. We need you.”

It was a lot to process at once. Not only was my family not really my family, at least not by blood, but I was one of the fabled adventurers, spawned by God to protect the world and its denizens. How was I expected to do anything to stop the Dark Lady? I wouldn’t even know where to start. There were many other adventurers already out there. Ones who knew what they were doing. Why couldn’t we just let them take care of the threat while I stayed in Goldmill to protect the village?

“Hurry, Billington,” Nubb said. “You must leave with haste. There’s no telling when the Dark Lady’s evil will reach our town. Its victims are already here. The rest won’t be far behind.”

Dara and Mother stared at me with tears in their eyes. I didn’t want to leave them. It was for a good cause. A dangerous cause, but it would only be worse if I stayed. I met the mayor’s gaze and nodded.

* * *

Goldmill was well out of sight behind us as we walked along the well-trodden road through the rolling meadows that had been my home for the five years I could remember — rather, the five years I’d lived. Mayor Nubb had escorted me out of town after my tear-filled goodbye with Mother and Dara.

“Beware those garbed in purple,” he said. “They are the Cult of the Ann. They praise the Dark Lady and do her bidding. I suppose I should admit that I’ve known of them longer than I’ve let on. I didn’t want fear to run rampant through our village. I hope you understand.”

I nodded. I could understand his keeping it from the citizens but not doing anything about the problem at all.

“Seek out Fandor,” the mayor said. “He is a wise wizard and lives in Brookdell. He’ll know what to do.” The mayor embraced me suddenly and held me by the shoulders. “Your home is counting on you, Billington. The world is counting on you.”

He let go and made his way back toward Goldmill without waiting for a response. “Fandor. Brookdell.” I repeated the words and continued down the road. A sign that read:” Now leaving Goldmill County” slouched just off the packed dirt. I took a deep breath, read it a few more times, and managed my first step beyond the boundaries of home.