Page 47 of Where Darkness Falls

“I don’t know all the details,” the poor man blabbers, “but I can tell you I saw a woman in our village yelling at them. Her skin was a glowing aura. She was covered in blood with the look of death in her eyes. Then she held out her arms and rivulets of… light? Yes, that’s it. Light seeped from her, and she disintegrated the men surrounding the captain into ash.”

I slide one of the coins toward him, which he greedily stows away in his pocket. “Do you know why she was angry?” I ask.

One of the waitstaff rounds the corner, collecting the tankards left by the patrons who left hastily. Once she retreats to the washroom, he glances around, leaning in closer. His next words are barely above a whisper. “They say the captain ordered her entire family—all eight of them—to be executed for hiding her ability,” the man replies, shaking his head. “Some of them were children. A tragic fate, if you ask me.”

Riordan, Virgil, and I share a wary glance. We never voice our opinions on the decrees of the king. As long as Domnhall is at the king’s side, bloodshed will continue to flow like rivers. Murdering innocent people for the sake of power never bodes well for any party involved. Yet Tiernan is so obsessed with power that he’ll do anything to achieve it. His cruelty knows no bounds, and his paranoia worsens by the year. If I hadn’t been at the war front for the last ten years, I’d be in the same position as the soldiers stationed in each town and village.

I’d have no choice but to obey.

I swallow the anger that threatens to erupt, then pass the next coin. “Do you know what happened to the captain, or why he wasn’t killed in the same manner?” I ask.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Laisren enters. He takes long strides towards us before taking a stance next to Virgil. The poor barkeep trembles at the sight of us, a small bead of sweat perspiring on his forehead. Stories of my cadre have reached even the southernmost region of Malvoria. I’m sure the stories told are ones of bloodshed and death, highlighting the vicious things we have been ordered to do. The residents will never know we desire the same as they do—peace.

It’s better this way.

It’s easier to get answers if they believe we’re depraved.

I slam my fist into the counter. “Do you know what happened?” I ask again.

He shakes his head, focusing on me once more. “I’m sorry, High General. I-I was hiding after that point. No one really knows what happened to the captain. We all hid in fear that she might harm us as well. By the time anyone was brave enough to venture back out to the square, he was a bloody heap,” the man replies, exasperated.

“Here,” I say, sliding a fourth coin into his clammy fingers. “An extra coin for your troubles. I have one final question for you, though. Do you know who the woman is that murdered them?” I ask.

He shifts slightly, as if unsure if he should answer.

Emotionless, we stare at the little man.

“Well?” Laisren says, impatiently.

The barkeep sighs deeply. “I personally don’t know the lass, but Ives, our evening barkeeper, does. H-He’s the one that told me her name.”

“Which is?” I growl.

“Maeva,” he replies. “The woman’s name is Maeva Cale, and I can tell you where she is.”

The flower shop.

This is where Maeva Cale has resided since last week, according to the barkeep. He claims the only time she’s left is to raid the tavern for more bottles of ale. Everyone in town is afraid to enter the shop, worried she might harm them. Yet, she doesn’t have a history of violence according to the barkeep. Until a week ago, everyone thought she was a Null. Apparently, they were wrong.

I tsk.You’ve made this too easy for me, Maeva Cale. You should’ve ran when you still had the chance.

I square my shoulders, placing my helmet on my head. “Don’t let your guard down for a moment. If what the barkeeper says is true, she could be easily provoked,” I command.

They nodin agreement.

My shadows curl deep within, wanting to unfurl from me. I tamper them down, allowing my mind to only focus on my target. Though I’m adept at both swordsmanship and wielding my ability, I prefer to use my sword—a more honorable fight. However, if this woman is foolish enough to use her ability, I’ll gladly allow my shadows to work. Hopefully, just the sight of the four of us will be enough to keep her from reacting rashly.

As we stride through the front door, a tiny bell chimes, announcing our arrival. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of stale ale and tangy iron mixed with the sour scent of withering flowers. The putrid smell causes my nose to wrinkle as I observe the shop. The main floor is in disarray. Broken vases are scattered and tables have been overturned. Along the walls, the arrangements that I’m sure were once beautiful are beginning to wilt.

It’s quiet, except for the faint snores coming from deeper within the shop. Waving my hand forward, we move as a unit. As we near a large wooden desk, the snoring grows louder. I round the corner quickly and what I see catches me by surprise. A beautiful woman with matted strawberry hair in a dusty blue dress leaning against the wall, surrounded by at least a dozen empty bottles of ale. She’s covered in dried blood from head to toe, the deepest shades along her skirt. Since she’s still breathing, I can tell the blood isn’t her own.

“Holy Celestae,” Riordan coughs. “Does she not believe in hygiene?”

Indeed, the stench of her uncleansed body is horrendous. My guess is that she hasn’t bothered to bathe since the incidents. I walk closer, my eye catching on the pendant around her neck.

The Dragon’s Flame.

I gently nudge her foot, and her head shifts slightly to the left. No signet tattoo graces her body.

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