We arrived in town. It was definitely bigger than Lipova, with more people out and about. The first thing I noticed was that the populace seemed less… homogenous. Blonde hair and blue eyes were still the majority, but there were plenty of dark-haired people too. Brown eyes didn’t seem uncommon either.

  That was a relief. I kept the mask on anyway, because while people apparently didn’t really associate silver eyes with witches in Silesia, I still was the only one with eyes like mine.

  “You see that, Vasil? Bit more variety in hair color here.”

  “I don’t see anything, because you closed the satchel.”

  I opened the satchel a bit. ”Sorry about that.”

  “Guess we don’t have to worry about getting randomly attacked, huh?” I asked Kasia.

  Kasia was quiet. I took a few more steps before I realized she wasn’t beside me anymore. I turned back to find her frozen, staring at a wall.

  “Kasia? Let’s keep moving.”

  She didn't look at me. She just pointed a trembling finger. “Hecate... why is your face on the wall?”

  I followed her finger. It was pointing at a poster with my face on it. Not the most flattering likeness, but you could definitely see it was me.

  WANTED: DEAD

  HECATE OF ASTERIA

  BOUNTY: 1,000,000 GOLD

  One million gold… One million gold?! And not even dead or alive? Just dead?

  I remembered Vasil offered me one thousand gold for assassinating the king. This was a thousand times that. What had I done that made me worth a thousand times more than a king? I hadn’t even killed that many people! And no one important… I think?

  "Oh," I said, my throat suddenly feeling very dry. "That's not ideal."

  Kasia looked at me with wide eyes. “Not ideal?”

  Vasil peeked out of the satchel. “Oh my.”

  “Can someone tell me what’s going on?” asked Kasia.

  “Well,” I said. “It appears that they want me dead.”

  Kasia frowned. “But you knew that already.”

  “Yeah… but apparently they are offering one million gold for my head.”

  Kasia gasped and covered her mouth. “Does that much gold even exist?”

  I tried giving her a reassuring smile, but realized I was wearing the helmet and she couldn’t see my face, so instead I put my hand on her shoulder. “I sure hope so, because if it does, I’m going to take it from them.”

  Kasia stared at me with her mouth open for a couple of seconds. “You’re not scared?”

  “Of course not! The more people they send after me the faster I will get strong enough to kill Menekrates.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. One million gold was an insane amount of money, and the bandit ambush had made it painfully clear that I might have been… slightly overconfident. Still, it had been a useful wake-up call. I’d gained a level, learned a few things, and gotten a very blunt reminder that I wasn’t invincible yet.

  That was alright, though. I’d fix that. Adapt, adjust, tighten every weak point until nothing could touch me. Just keep improving until I really was an unkillable murder machine, strong enough that even one of the most powerful Archons in Graecia couldn’t stop me.

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  “Who’s Menekrates?” she asked.

  “No one you need to worry about.” I glanced around the street. “Let’s look around and see if we can find a place to get some food and rest. And some sheep.”

  People walked past without staring, which meant the mask was working perfectly. It helped that I wasn’t the only one wearing a full-face helmet. Unless people were going around randomly casting [Identify] I’d probably be fine. I felt myself relax a little, but quickly reminded myself that I was still in hostile territory and a repeat of the bandit ambush would be less than desirable.

  Berava was clearly bigger than Lipova. The houses were slightly larger and looked sturdier. Stores were scattered throughout, each marked with picture signs showing what they sold—no text, unlike Lipova.

  Maybe people here were less literate… though that didn’t really make sense, considering Lipova was smaller and clearly poorer. Kasia apparently couldn’t read either, so maybe this was just a Berava thing. Or maybe they just liked pictures better. Maybe in Lipova it didn’t matter since it was so small and everyone already knew where everything was. Maybe this place got more visitors and they were trying to be accommodating. Whatever.

  When Vasil had mentioned this was an inquisitor outpost, I'd pictured the place crawling with them. But at first glance, that didn't seem to be the case. I spotted a couple walking together, deep in conversation, but mostly I just saw regular people going about their business. The inquisitors didn't look like they were hunting anyone either. They seemed pretty relaxed. Good to know that they weren’t always in murder mode.

  Which made sense, I guess. No witch in their right mind would walk into a town known to be an inquisitor outpost, so there was no reason for them to be on guard.

  Maybe I was actually safer here than anywhere else. They wouldn't expect me. Why would they?

  I was clearly not in my right mind.

  Actually, I hadn’t really felt like I’d been in my right mind since… well. Since Perry. And the worst part was that I wasn’t sure I ever would be again.

  I’d thought I understood how the world worked, what danger looked like, what pain meant, where the lines were. But I hadn’t known anything. Not the cruelty. Not the hardness. The unfairness. Not how fast everything could break and how little anyone cared.

  Maybe I really had snapped back then. Maybe that whole stretch after Perry was just one long mental breakdown. Or maybe I had noticed it and pretended I hadn’t. Maybe that was how I survived—just keep moving, keep fighting, keep acting like everything was fine when really it wasn’t fine at all.

  And it had kept me alive. I couldn’t argue with the results. But surviving and being myself weren’t the same thing.

  Could I ever get back to who I was before? Should I want to? Did that person even exist anymore?

  I didn’t know. What I did know was that I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. People depended on me now. Kasia. Kuba. Vasil. Skelly. Even Moryana, somehow. The world wasn’t just unfair to me—it was unfair to all of them too. They needed someone to protect them, and somehow that someone had ended up being me.

  So if they were going to rely on me, then I had to figure it out. Get my mind back. Or build a new one that wouldn’t crack so easily.

  I wasn't sure I was qualified for that. But I was all they had.

  I took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. One step at a time, Hecate. Stay focused. Can’t fix your head if you’re dead.

  We kept moving through the town, and my eyes scanned the crowd, looking for anything useful. Crafters, maybe. A blacksmith. Someone who knew about runestones.

  A man stood near a small pen off the side of the main street, leaning on a fence post while two sheep stared lazily at nothing. He was older, had a beard, and his face looked like he’d spent a lot of time outside.

  I walked over. "Excuse me."

  He looked at me. “Yes?”

  "Are you here every day? Selling sheep?"

  He scratched his beard. "Market days, yeah. Why?"

  “Good. Good.” I nodded. “I want sheep.”

  “How many?”

  “Oh, I don’t know yet. Several.” I waved a hand vaguely. “Maybe many. I’ll need to think about it.”

  How many sheep did I actually want? Or need? I should have probably thought this through beforehand. Probably should have discussed it with Vasil, but I couldn’t ask a frog for advice in front of a sheep seller in a town full of inquisitors.

  The sheep seller cleared his throat. “Do you want to buy one now?”

  “Not yet. I need to, uh, prepare things. I’ll be back.”

  He shrugged.

  We stepped away, and I felt Kasia tug at my arm. “How are we going to bring the sheep back?”

  Yet another thing I hadn’t actually thought about.

  “Good question,” I said. “We’ll… figure it out.”

  Kasia didn't look convinced.

  "It'll be fine," I added. "First things first. We need to find a place to eat and maybe stay for the night. Then we can worry about sheep logistics."

  We continued walking and the town got busier. People moved between shops, and chatted loudly in small groups. Everything smelled like sweat and manure. Not my favorite aroma.

  I spotted what looked like a tavern ahead—the sign had a picture of a mug on it. That seemed promising.

  "There," I said, pointing. "Let's—"

  Someone grabbed my arm and turned me around.

  Inquisitor.

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