Page 19 of Daughter of Shadows and Ash

"Thank you, my daughter—" His voice broke with emotion, "she is the only family I have left. That bow is not enough of a payment for what you did."

I slung the bow onto my back and turned to face the man. Sheltered from the prying eyes of the community, I released my shadows, allowing him to see me clearly. "This war has already taken enough from everyone. I won't accept payment for defending an innocent." I took a step past him but he thrust a meaty hand out.

"Wait," he hurried to a tall shelf, bringing down a short black roll of cloth, "these are my finest daggers. Obsidian from the mage's mountain, please take them." He presented the bundle to me, and I accepted it with hesitation. I examined one of the blades, its deep black surface gleaming as it settled perfectly in my hands. "May they keep you safe in your travels."

I inclined my head in thanks and slipped out the back of the forge. Whispers of "Death's Wraith" rippled amongst the people around me, my new daggers a comforting weight against my body.

The assassin could lead me to Johan—the monster who had razed my village and stolen Maël from me. My heart clenched at the thought of him, but I pushed the pain aside. There's no room for weakness now.

You're getting close,Maël's voice echoed in my mind. A constant reminder of my lost love.Be careful, Lor.

"I know," I muttered to myself.

The town fell away behind me as I melted into the forest's embrace. Each life I took added another weight to my conscience, another shadow to my soul. The whispers of "Death's Wraith" followed me like a curse, but the memory of that girl's relieved face made it bearable. I'd chosen this path—becoming the monster they feared to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. At least Maël's voice, whether phantom or memory, anchored me to who I once was. That innocent girl who dreamed of more than vengeance was gone, transformed by necessity into something darker, deadlier. As the shadows welcomed me home, I could only pray that somewhere, somehow, Maël would understand what I'd become.

Chapter 13

Ireached Bridgedale with minimal trouble. Okay, I got turned around a couple of times, but some nice merchants helped me right myself. My days were consumed by endless riding, while nights were spent foraging and reading by firelight. The solitary book in my possession made me ache for my modest library back home. I couldn't reasonably ask the merchants if they had one for sale—I needed to conserve my coin for what lay ahead.

After crossing over the border of Sunneva, I realized two things. First, Sunneva's obsession with solar imagery was suffocating. Phrases like "Sunneva, Kingdom of the Sun," "Blessed by the Sun," and "Sun Blessed" were everywhere. This tiny town was practically drowning in brilliant golden orbs with dazzling rays in all styles. I shuddered to think what the capital might look like. The thought of a sun-shaped capital with a golden castle made me chuckle despite myself.

Second, I noticed that Sunneva's fortunes were significantly better than Esmeray's. My experience of Esmeray was limited to the small settlements bordering the woods, which marked the boundary between the two kingdoms, but the contrast was already apparent. Esmeray's towns were modest, withsurrounding areas bearing scars of destruction. Blackened ruins dotted the landscape like festering wounds, while broken fences and abandoned fields told stories of lives hastily abandoned. Some villages near the woods had been entirely wiped out by the war, leaving the inhabitants weary but clinging to hope for an end to the conflict. This Sunnevan town appeared marginally better off, with most of the surrounding farmland relatively unscathed. Shop signs had faded under the relentless sun. Ironically, the only elements untouched by this dullness were the golden sun emblems plastered across the streets, benches, fountains, and bridges. They gleamed with a golden radiance, a constant reminder of the symbol they embodied.

I pressed on along the path as the sun began its descent. Golden light bathed the town square in a hazy glow. I spotted a baker's stall getting ready to pack up for the day. My stomach growled at the sight of a solitary muffin on display. The baker regarded me with an impatient arch of his brow, clearly wanting to finish cleaning up and close shop for the day.

Rummaging in my pocket for coins, I asked, "What's the price for that muffin?"

"Two silvers," the man replied curtly. He watched me count out the coins onto his stall, arms crossed. He gave me a solemn nod in acceptance.

I grabbed the muffin and surveyed the square. "Any recommendations for a good ale around here?"

He pointed down a distant road. "The Sunlit Tankard's down that way". "It's a bit rough, but they'll leave you be if you don't cause trouble." The baker wiped his hands on his flour-dusted apron and lowered his voice. "Mind the regulars near the back wall—they're fond of their dice games and don't take kindly to strangers watching too close." He gathered his remaining wares, that warning hanging in the air.

While the sun's rays still painted the sky, I searched for a vantage point near the tavern's alley to observe my contact's arrival before our meeting. I found a sturdy crate wedged between two buildings, perfectly positioned to give me a clear view of the tavern's entrance. Keeping to the shadows, I summoned the darkness, concealing myself as I settled onto the crate. From this hidden vantage point, I watched the tavern while forcing down the disappointingly bland muffin. The dense, dry crumbs felt like sawdust in my mouth, each bite more tasteless than the last. The alley stayed quiet at first. As twilight deepened, patrons began trickling in. The crowd filtered through—working girls, off-duty guards, the occasional rough sort, but no one with my target's distinctive gait appeared.

As darkness claimed the sky, I rose and stretched, attempting to calm the nervous fluttering in my stomach. Approaching the door, I let the darkness fall away, bracing myself for whatever lay beyond. The sharp tang of stale ale and pipe smoke drifted through the weathered door, mingling with bursts of raucous laughter from within.

Chapter 14

My gaze swept across the tavern, taking in the sight of long wooden tables filled with a diverse crowd. Soldiers shared ales after a grueling day, their armor emblazoned with the blessed sun, while courtesans from the local brothel wove between tables, their artfully styled hair catching the lamplight.

My fingers absently traced the ends of my dark hair. Despite my own reluctance to use feminine charms, I couldn't help but admire their grace—even if I could barely manage a simple braid.

Before that night with Maël, I'd never given much thought to my own appeal. My heart ached thinking of him. His training-tousled hair, the way his muscles moved beneath sun-kissed skin—everything about him seemed to call to my touch. All this time, I'd believed he was destined for another, when in truth, those captivating smiles were meant for me alone. He was truly mine in every way that I was his. Time lost to silence and misunderstanding, our future ripped away before we could claim it.

I thumbed the ring around my neck as I approached the bar. A burly man lumbered over, his expression suggesting I wasalready trying his patience. I lifted my chin, determined not to show any sign of weakness.

"I-", I didn't even get to finish as he grunted and dropped a key in front of me.

"Second door on ye right, I wouldn't keep 'em waiting if I were you," he said gruffly, already turning away to tend to his other patrons.

His demeanor brought Geralt to mind—all growl and no grace. I sighed as I took the key from the counter and headed towards the staircase. I paused at the door, noting the empty hallway and the unusual silence. The lamplight cast shadows in the hall, and I fought the urge to draw them to me, to hide me from what awaited inside. But they'd already witnessed my shadow tricks—there would be no easy deception tonight.

I slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung inward to expose a dimly lit chamber, illuminated only by a crackling fireplace. The room held little: a small bed hugged the far wall, while two wingback chairs faced the hearth.

In one chair lounged a figure with fluid elegance, their limbs arranged with calculated indifference. They observed me with undisguised interest, shadows dancing across the hood they wore.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show," they drawled, voice dripping with equal parts arrogance and indifference. I approached, they remained perfectly still, studying my every movement.

---