It had been an exhausting week for Ani. So much so that she had wished for her wounds to heal slower so she could spend more time asleep.

Upon reaching the borders of Truweld, she had fallen unconscious. When she woke up, she was laying in an excessively soft canopy bed with pink silken drapes. A Barym residence, she’d later find out.

The servants tended to her, and though she could tell some of them looked down on her because she was a Hound, they hid their disdain well enough. The residents of the house were more accompanying. Especially the fourteen-year-old daughter, a delightful little thing named Fidelia, who had provided the spare bedroom and visited her often to hear her stories.

The other visitors, however, were less delightful. Members of House Inquell came daily, asking questions about her encounter with the Worldrender. They were pushy, blunt. They clearly didn’t believe her and weren’t bothered about showing it. She had never had so much direct interaction with the Foretoken in her life.

Despite that, she remained cordial, almost simpering. That meant excessively saying things like “please,” “thank you,” “sorry,” “my lady,” and “my lord.” One of the most important things to learn in life, she always thought, was how to tuck one’s emotions inside of oneself. There was no point in being pushy or rude and demanding to talk to a Forespeaker.

On the sixth day, she was visited by a High Herald, a tall, beautiful woman with an imposing air. She strode into the bedroom, her arms clasped behind her back, and the door closed behind her. Ani’s eyes drifted down to the rapier at her side. The hilt was silver with wreaths of gold trailing along the guard. Was it ornamental?

“I apologize, my lady,” she said immediately with an embarrassed smile. “I would curtsy, but…” She gestured at the bandages on her arms. This had been her leading line for the past few days. It showed that she minded her manners and elicited sympathy from the listener. The bandages no longer had any medical use, but she kept them on for show.

“No matter,” the herald said, her mouth in a hard line and her gaze penetrating. From that simple exchange, Ani felt a rush of apprehension. This was a woman who also knew how to tuck away her emotions and to a frightening degree.

“I am High Herald Shana Inquell. I am in charge of the investigation into your claims.”

Investigation? That made it sound as if she was the victim of petty theft. Still, they had sent a High Herald. That made her feel more confident.

“We take any information about the Worldrenders very seriously,” she continued, “and we have concluded that your claims are insubstantial.”

Her confidence was squashed just like that. Despite that, she tucked away her immediate anger and frustration, and after a moment, she spoke with a measured tone. “May I inquire into how you reached that decision, my lady? I understand that my claims sound absurd, but that does not change what I witnessed that night.”

Something shifted in the woman’s gaze and she studied Ani’s face for a moment. “Very well. Over the past six days, we have done a thorough investigation and have identified three reasons for our conclusion.

“One. You possess an abject lack of credibility. When you were taken in at the border, House Barym pulled a transcript of your family records from the Ai’hallen Library. Orphaned at thirteen, family died of unknown circumstances.

“In light of your unfortunate past, we entered the 3rd ward and questioned your neighbors and anyone who might know you. They described you as a pleasant, quiet lass, and claimed that you were working at an inn in the 7th ward. However, none of the innkeepers recognized you by name or description.”

Ani had expected some form of this, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Being a Hound was a further strike against her. The Hounds were an underground organization, and though some Fortoken families hired them, they were largely disdained for stirring up trouble in the other plantations and risking confrontation with the Worldrenders.

There were only twelve people who really knew her. Nine of them were now dead. But there was still hope. There was the person who had rescued her from the flames and brought her back to Truweld.

“What about Gallus?” she said.

The High Herald nodded. “There is Gallus Barym.”

She started. He was a Foretoken all along?

The surprise must’ve shown on her face. “Fidelia Barym is his niece,” the herald said. “He asked them to take you into their care.”

They had worked together for over a year, but she realized she knew very little of this quiet man. In retrospect, there had been plenty of clues. He was often the most well-informed, providing them detailed updates on the Foretoken families. Hounds came from a variety of backgrounds, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to have a day trade. Gallus, though, had never spoken of anything but the books he was reading.

Once, she had offered him a few quarter-pittens to get her any information on a rare atlas that had less than a hundred volumes printed. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but a few weeks later, he had brought her the actual atlas. More shocked than overjoyed, she had paled at the thought of how she’d pay him, but all he asked for was the Nulerian necklace that she’d found on a decaying corpse during their last hunt. It was too glamorous to be worn, a locket of gold embossed with little joy jays, and she couldn’t figure out what it did, so she’d be more than happy to make the trade.

“That brings us to the second reason,” she continued. “Gallus Barym testified that he saw nothing that pertained to the Worldrenders. He agrees that a human committed murders against other humans, but that merely suggests that one of our kind has sold their lot to an Overseer.” Her voice became cold. “Not unheard of.”

Ani kept her face emotionless, but she felt more and more hopeless. Was the herald trying to suggest something? They said they had done thorough research on her family. Surely, they knew or at least guessed at her past.

“In earlier conversations with my soldiers, you asserted that you saw the human – self-identified as Lydos – use Worldrender powers. You further claimed that you had seen the powers in the past but refused to elaborate on how or why. You have neither supporting witnesses nor concrete proof.”

She paused, waiting for Ani to object. She didn’t.

“Third: the idea of a human with Worldrender powers is unfathomable. The Worldrenders have avowed to exterminate humanity. It is unclear why one would be collaborating with a human, but that is a much more reasonable claim than the former.”

“It’s unfathomable, but not impossible,” Ani said firmly. Now that she had heard the reasons, she would contest. “With all due respect, my lady, I know what I saw. Perhaps a Vivineer who has managed to do the impossible?”

It was a wild guess but a possibility nonetheless. One of the greatest questions among the Vivineers was the question of how Worldrenders obtained their powers. They had never been able to obtain a body, living or dead.

“Don’t misunderstand, young lady,” the High Herald said frostily. “You have brought an invaluable source of information. It is possible that the Worldrenders could use human spies. The most recent person with the name Lydos was a merchant born thirty-three years ago, but we are actively searching for more leads.

“However, that is the conclusion of this investigation. There is nothing to debate. You are lucky to escape punishment. It is illegal to cross the borders without approval, and furthermore you have endangered humanity with your actions. Your words are already spreading throughout the wards, inciting a wave of fear and catastrophizing. Fortunately for you, Forespeaker Barym has appealed to clear you and young Gallus of your crimes.”

“And for that, I’m very grateful, but...”

The High Herald opened the door. “If you have further information, please consult House Barym. We have decided against monitoring your actions, but if you are discovered illegally exiting the borders again, you will face a heavy punishment.”

She exited. Ani listened to the sound of her boots receding down the hallway, and when all was quiet, she slammed her fist against her pillow. Again and again and again: Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes. She had come to warn them only to be treated like a criminal.