The inside of her temporary abode maintained a thin threshold between indoors and outdoors. She couldn’t feel the difference underneath her boots between stepping on the wet earth outside and the soil caked floors inside.

Everything in the shack was carved and lacquered by an inexperienced carpenter, be it wobbly chairs with varying sized legs or dressers that were naturally leaning on the walls to maintain balance.

Nora inspected a few of the faded photos that precariously hung on the walls with silk-thin strips of string, “This Ernesto must be devastated that I'll be taking over his home for a bit.”

“Do not speak his name, bruja.” The old woman spat out her words.

“What Mari is implying is that Ernesto was a part of our flock that tragically passed when the devil came down the road.” Father Vincente explained euphemistically.

“What did this wizard do? Make Ernesto an example for the rest of the townsfolk to keep in line? Fed him to the monsters that go bump in the night?” Nora chuckled at the thought, a small child cowering underneath their blanket reciting words of courage to avoid facing imaginary monsters in the dark.

Not anymore.

“Ernesto had a cousin in another town who left him with a few magical items and he gave some of them to the more able-bodied folk in town. The wizard’s just one man… just one…” Hernando trailed off as he stared into empty space.

“And where’s the rest of your flock, Padre?” Nora took a deep breath and snapped her fingers.

At once, the world layered over itself. She figured it’d be safe to look around the shack with her Inner Eye if they were far enough out of town to avoid getting spotted. Nora approached a wall that dazzled in brilliant hues of purple and blue, the telltale sign of a magical item. She’d check it out when there were no prying eyes around.

“The rest of the flock is in the church. My partner is keeping the peace right now, maintaining the threshold between our grounds and whatever the devil has done to our small town.” Father Vincente answered.

Nora clicked her tongue.

Wait.

“Your wife is a witch?” Nora raised an eyebrow.

“Ella es un angel!” The old woman yelled from her chair.

“She was four when the Schism happened.” He replied.

Oh. Oh.

“She's a tough as nails sort of woman then. Dunno why she’d turn to your brand of bullshit but maybe that's just what people in hodunk towns do.” Nora mused aloud.

“She did mention that most Incants were intolerant of the faith but still you came to us all the same. It is the Wheels Will that we can press forward and hope for salvation from the evil that’s plagued our town.” Vincente smiled at her as he picked up a broom from the kitchenette and swept the ground of dirt and dust. “Honestly I’m surprised to be talking to an Incant so young. The few wizards that have passed through town are a few years off my wifes age.”

“Liliana is nothing like you, no…” Hernando mumbled, a disjointed recall of the conversation.

Nora rolled her eyes and threw herself onto the couch, the only used surface in the room that looked like it wouldn’t crumble under her own weight.

She kicked up her legs on the coffee table and stretched out, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the extent of the problem? What kind of monster am I dealing with? I’m gonna need a heap of information if I’m gonna stand a chance to solve this problem in one piece.”

“Mari, please set the espresso to boil.” The Father asked the wrinkled bag of meat and she continued to give him the cold shoulder. At least she obliged his commands, the sounds of running water and burners clicking on a gas stove wafting a faint familiar scent of gas into the earthen abode.

“Ernesto was made an example of. Most of them were.” Hernando mumbled with his thousand yard stare in the corner of the room. “It did the worst to Ernesto though. It was like he knew. He knew.”

Father Vincente placed his hand on Hernando’s shoulder, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, Hernando. I can take over for you.” His voice was soft and pleasant as he attempted to alleviate his congregants pain.

“No, no. Let me do this Father. You’ve done so much for this town already. I can do this for you and the rest of them.” From the way he quaked in his boots, Nora wasn’t so certain he’d finish his retelling. “Ernesto was mercifully killed by braver townsfolk in the dead of night. The wizard sculpted his flesh and left it in the square for the rest of us to see, squirming and flapping about. The other men and women were spared of that fate and they’re still alive but he’s taken them. Has them like puppets doing his bidding.”

Nora lifted her hand up to pause his retelling. A spell powerful enough to mold flesh and a long term command spell. There was a gnawing sensation in the back of her mind that told her she wasn’t going to enjoy solving this problem at all.

“The devil currently has twelve of our flock under his spell,” the Father quietly thanked the old lady as he passed out tiny cups of freshly brewed coffee around the room, “And those twelve have taken their children back into town.”

Children being involved in anything an Incant did was a rather ill omen for what the rogue wizards motivations were. How much of a bleeding heart was she to ignore her preservation instincts and help these people out?

“Do you think you’ll be able to help them?” Hernando mustered the gumption to look her in the eye again.

She shrugged, “You lot are paying out a hefty amount of stars for a pest control issue but I can’t give you a clear read on how capable I’ll be able to help until I see the bastard with my own eyes.” The big unknowns for her were the wizards' level and their specialties. If he was moving flesh as her cowardly guide described, his specialty might be in that but whether he’d cast it from his bag of tricks or from within, she wasn’t certain.

“I’m guessing some of this first militia came back considering you’re around Hernando?” Nora pointedly asked. The man held firm with his gaze, silently nodding to confirm her question. “If that's the case, did anyone see the wizard cast the spell?”

“I did, among others. He…he made a show of it. Just mumbled something under his flesh and began to take his pound of flesh.” Hernando offered to her.

So it was a slotted spell. Fuck. Stuff that permanent meant she was dealing with someone at level 4 or higher. Her hardline was 5’s and they weren’t offering her nearly enough for her to break her limits if he proved that strong.

But those kids…

“My wife told me that should you require more funds, she’d do what she can to contact her delving sister and meet your costs.” The Father offered as he sipped on his warm cup of coffee.

Ah, the tempting offer of promised goods.

“I don’t know how far it’ll go but again, I need to see this wizard for myself to gauge if I’m even able to handle your problem.” And if Nora couldn’t the town was mostly shit out of luck.

“Look at her using her silver tongue to get out of helping us.” The old woman’s statement was filled with judgmental vitriol.

Nora smirked, “I thought you wanted me out of your hair, you saggy bag of flesh?” The old woman was dramatic in her response, looking at the Father in anguish for support. Or an explanation as to why they needed someone like Nora here to solve a problem their little gods couldn’t lift a finger against.

“There’s no need to be antagonistic, Miss Antierre. Mari is simply worried you’ll take the stars and run off without helping our people. Or suggest we hire someone else when time is not a luxury we can afford.” Father Vincente elaborated as he played peacekeeper.

“The AWW doesn’t let us accept payment until after the job’s done. I’m the one that incurs the penalty for helping your town out and then getting squat for the effort.” Nora spoke in half-truths. She could accept her payment early and skip town if she wrote out a contract with the Father to do so but the penalties that’d be placed on her file would be detrimental to say the least.

“We wouldn’t dream of shirking our dues for the savior of our town. I did not know you were unable to accept your payment until after the task had been completed though.”

“It’s a rule in place to alleviate the kinds of warranted fears your old lady was worked up over.” Another half-truth. Incants were powerful enough beings that taking stars from the clients was a rampant enough issue with the advent of the AWW that the rule was put in place to give the association legal prudence to hunt down registered wizards and witches who broke the rules.

“Please help us. I-I don’t want anyone else in town to feel what I felt. I was under for only a moment. I can only imagine how they feel being under for that long…” Hernando trailed off again.

The command spell. She tried to use it sparingly. She knew better than most how terrible it felt being compelled to act or perform while your mind wrestled for control.

“Look, I said I’ll help as soon as I know what I’m up against.” Nora responded in a clipped tone. “What’s this wizard's activity like? When are they moving around the town if they’re moving at all?” She rummaged through her sling bag for a pencil and a small notebook to jot down details on this ‘sculptor’.

“I’m afraid…” the Father set down his cup with a sigh, “I’m afraid that most of the townsfolk have been afraid to set foot into town for fear of getting caught in this devil’s spell. The church is stocked with enough food for the community to feed for at least another week not considering the amenities each family brought with them when scrambling to our safety. We don’t have enough beds or space within our walls to comfortably house everyone but no one’s dared set foot outside of the perimeter until today with the three of us.” Father Vincente gave

Drat. Nora pressed her two fingers on the upper bridge of her nose, the faint pang of a headache coming on.

“So y’all are totally blind. Got it.” Nora threw her items back into her bag and closed it shut. She shot up from her seated position and opened the door. “It’s been a blast but I need you all to leave now.”

“Why’s that!” Hernando cried out in a fidgety tone.

“I am curious as to your reasoning, Miss Antierre. I do not mind giving you this lodging for a time but we are rather pressed to get rid of this wizard.” Father Vincente inquired.

Nora let out a dramatic sigh, “Look, trust me, alright? I need the room alone to think and a moment to breathe. I’ve been slaving away walking under that hot sun long enough that just taking an hour to rest’ll be enough to get me through the rest of your damn task.”

And she didn’t want them around when she uncovered that curious item in the wall left behind by the recently departed.

Hernando scrutinized her with narrow eyes and she could feel daggers boring into her from the old bag on the other side of the room before the Father cleared his throat to release the tension in the air.

“I trust your judgment, Miss Antierre. If you need help finding the town or the church just give me a ring.” Father Vincente rummaged through his pants pocket and handed her a compact phone. She inspected the inside and saw the only labeled number available was his. “Let's be good hosts here and give her some privacy. We can only pray that she overcomes the evils that ail our town and answers the call our gods have given her.”

A moment later, after the reluctant townsfolk dispersed from the room and Nora checked were outside the perimeter of the building, she began to make minor preparations.

She pulled out a spool of thread in one hand and her book in the other, muttering a very familiar incantation that gave the thread strand life. It flew into the air and slithered on the walls to cover each entrance and exit, the inner perimeter of the house set to ensnare any unsuspecting onlookers should a breach occur.

Given that, she went back to the wall that glimmered with the presence of magic and felt around the wooden wall with her hands. Knocking on wood up and down the length of the wall, she found an indent so faint that to be able to see it required her to press her cheek on the side of the wall and look down at it.

With the tip of her finger, Nora teased the wooden slat out of the wall to reveal a compartment with a knife, a note, and a picture of this Burning Wheel congregation at a cook out of some kind.

‘Birds of a feather, flocking together’ the photo was marked on its back with a faded black sharpie along with a year in the 90s because she couldn’t make out if the last number was a five or a two.

How droll.

Placing the photo back in the compartment, she focused her attention on the knife and the note.

She didn’t need to tire herself out further to know that the knife was the source of magic in the wall, the handle etched with the runes ‘sever’ and ‘return’. Under the light, the curved blade shined in hues of green and purple, the blade honed to an unnatural sheen and sharpness. Nora turned to the note in hopes of finding the command codes for her newly pilfered weapon.

“If you are reading this, then I am dead and you are the wizard tasked to pick up after my mistakes. This suggests that despite my collection of magical trinkets and the support of our most able-bodied, we were unsuccessful in slaying the devil that rolled into town. I felt that something like this might have happened but I strong-armed the good Father to give our plan a chance, for the folk to rise against the wicked as written in our Sunday sermons. Do not show him this note. I’d hate to burden the man with any more guilt than the loss of this congregant and potentially others might have wrought from my inexperience. May the knife serve you in your endeavors. Its command words are ‘divare’ and ‘irturno’. Good luck.” Nora placed the note back down and sighed.

Bunch of idiots finding bravado in their little trinkets.

She contemplated expending more of her energy and time to find a delver willing to identify the specifics of the knife's keywords and decided against it, merely dropping the trinket into her back with no plans to use it.

Nora would make do with the tools in her own toolbox, not the misguided trinkets of some foolish dead man's wishes.

Finding the bedroom enticing, she threw herself into the unused cot with her feet propped on a chair.

No way in hell was she removing her shoes on a floor that’d leave the soles of her feet blacker than she was.

Her eyelids drooped underneath the cool shade of her hat and not a moment later did she find herself restfully sleeping in her fabricated darkness. Now she could probe with a preliminary investigation.