“So you’re saying the sword has a vengeful spirit in it.” I looked at Faith. “And it’s talking to you.”

  Faith’s jaw tightened. “Yes. How many times do I need to repeat myself?”

  Her head snapped to the side. “I said be quiet.”

  Not to us. To the sword.

  I blinked. “Sorry. It’s just—it all sounds so clichéd.”

  “Clichéd or not, it’s what’s happening.” Faith’s fingers twitched around the hilt. “He won’t stop.”

  “What exactly does he want?” I studied the open red eye on the crossguard. It stared back without blinking.

  “Revenge.” Faith’s voice flattened. “Or more accurately, he’s nagging me about it. Constantly.” She paused. “Durendal, I swear—”

  Aria bounced forward. “A revenge mission! We should help him.” Her tail swished behind her. “Come on, this is perfect. Let’s track down whoever wronged him and—”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise.” Faith glanced down at the blade. “He seems… unhinged.” She stopped mid-sentence, her glamoured brown eyes narrowing. “I told you to be quiet.”

  Aria threw her hands up. “Oh come on. It just started getting interesting.” She grinned. “Besides, whatever happened, the mortals probably had it coming.”

  I caught Faith’s expression—the slight tightening around her eyes, the way her mouth pressed into a line.

  “It’s your adventure,” I said. “Your call.”

  “Please?” Aria clasped her hands together. “Please, please, please? When are we going to get another chance like this?”

  Isabella stepped closer to the altar, brushing stone dust from her sleeve. “While I appreciate the enthusiasm, we don’t have time.” She looked at each of us in turn. “Even if we sacrificed the rest of our vacation, six days isn’t enough for proper revenge. Especially without leads.”

  Aria’s face fell. “So what? We’re just going to abandon this whole thing?”

  “No.” Isabella’s tone stayed measured. “We could return after finishing at the Academy. When we have more time to do it properly.”

  I nodded slowly. That made sense.

  “The sword’s waited this long,” Isabella continued. “A few more years won’t kill it.”

  “Actually—” Faith started, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “We still have time to reach that town,” Faith said. “See if there are any goblins. Or at least learn if Durendal’s revenge is actually justified.”

  Aria waved her hand dismissively. “Who cares if it’s justified?”

  “I care.” Faith’s voice hardened.

  The silence stretched for three heartbeats.

  I cleared my throat. “Justified or not, we won’t have time to resolve it now anyway.” I gestured toward the corridor. “A little investigation on the way to find goblins won’t hurt.”

  Faith looked down at the sword. “One last time—be quiet, or I’m throwing you into a spatial ring.”

  The red eye blinked once.

  Then the blade went still in her grip.

  “Right.” Faith turned toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  We filed back through the corridor in silence. The blue flames still flickered along the walls, casting dancing shadows across the carved stone.

  Faith led the way, Durendal held loosely at her side. The glamour remained stable now—brown hair, brown eyes, no horns or tail visible.

  “You know,” Aria said from behind me, “I still think we should just—”

  “Aria.” Isabella’s voice carried a note of warning.

  “Fine, fine.” Aria sighed dramatically. “But when we come back, I’m calling first dibs on interrogating whoever wronged the dramatic murder sword.”

  I suppressed a smile. “Noted.”

  The corridor sloped upward, the blue light gradually giving way to grey afternoon filtering through the illusion at the entrance.

  Faith stopped at the threshold and looked back at us. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  She pushed through the concealment, and we emerged onto the cliff face.

  The corrupted forest stretched below us—grey trees standing motionless despite the wind that tugged at my hair.

  “North-northeast,” Isabella said, pointing. “The human settlement should be about twenty kilometres that way.”

  Aria groaned. “Please tell me we’re flying.”

  “We’re flying.” I summoned my wings, black membrane unfurling from my back.

  Faith shifted Durendal to her left hand and extended her own wings.

  “Finally.” Aria wrapped herself around me without hesitation. “My feet are killing me.”

  Isabella was already airborne, her silver hair streaming behind her as she rose above the treeline.

  I launched myself after her, Aria nestled comfortably against me as the corrupted forest fell away beneath us.

  The red eye on Durendal’s hilt watched the ground recede.

  Waiting.

  * * *

  Twenty kilometres passed beneath us in minutes. The corrupted forest gave way to healthy green, then to farmland arranged in neat rectangular plots.

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  The town materialized ahead—walls of fitted stone enclosing timber-framed buildings with steep-pitched roofs.

  We descended behind a copse of trees north of the main road.

  “Glamours,” Isabella said, already shifting.

  The familiar pull of magic rippled across my skin as I adjusted the spell. Elven features melted away, replaced by human. I reached into my spatial ring for appropriate clothing—a simple travelling dress in dark blue, sturdy boots, a hooded cloak.

  Faith did the same, trading her current attire for practical trousers and a fitted jacket. Durendal remained at her side.

  “Here.” Isabella materialized a leather sheath and tossed it to Faith.

  Faith caught it and slid the blade home. The red eye vanished behind worn brown leather.

  Aria emerged from behind a tree wearing a low-cut blouse and a skirt that barely reached mid-thigh.

  “Really?” Isabella raised an eyebrow.

  “What? It’s human fashion.” Aria grinned. “Some humans, anyway.”

  We approached the main gate. Two guards in chainmail stood watch, spears planted beside them. One nodded as we passed. The other let his gaze linger on Aria, then Isabella, before his eyes found mine.

  He looked away first.

  Inside the walls, the town spread before us in orderly streets. Timber and plaster buildings rose two and three stories, their upper floors jutting over the cobblestones. Shop signs hung from iron brackets—a hammer for the smithy, a boot for the cobbler, a sheaf of wheat for the baker.

  No refuse rotted in the gutters. No beggars huddled in doorways. The streets looked… clean. Maintained.

  I blinked.

  This shouldn’t work. Medieval towns weren’t like this—they were cramped, filthy, disease-ridden. But here the proportions felt deliberate, almost designed. Unusual details caught my eye—a carved dragon’s head above a doorway, crystalline panes in an apothecary window, a fountain in the central square where water flowed from a statue’s cupped hands.

  How was this even possible?

  “So where are we going?” Aria peered down a side street.

  “Probably some notice board.” Faith adjusted Durendal’s sheath on her hip. “Or maybe an adventurer’s guild actually exists here.” She paused. “We should also look for a library. Or a bookstore. Historical records might mention Durendal’s past.”

  Aria made a face at the mention of library but said nothing.

  I recognized that expression. “Let’s split up,” I suggested. “Faith and I can handle the books. Isabella and Aria can check for something interesting to do.”

  Aria’s face brightened immediately. “Perfect.”

  Isabella nodded. “We’ll meet back at the square in two hours.”

  “Make it three,” Faith said. “If we find anything substantial.”

  “Three hours then.” Isabella turned toward what looked like a larger building near the town centre—probably the guild hall if one existed.

  Aria followed, already chatting about what kinds of monsters might need hunting.

  Faith and I headed the opposite direction, toward a row of shops that included what appeared to be a bookstore based on the tome painted on its sign.

  “Think we’ll find anything?” I asked.

  Faith’s hand rested on Durendal’s pommel. “Probably not in three hours.” She glanced at me. “But it’s worth looking.”

  * * *

  The bookstore occupied a narrow building wedged between a chandler’s shop and what smelled like a tannery. Paint flaked from the wooden sign—a tome with gilt edges, barely visible against the weathered grain.

  I pushed the door open. A bell chimed somewhere overhead.

  Shelves lined every wall, packed with leather-bound volumes in various states of decay. Dust motes drifted through shafts of afternoon light streaming from a single window. The air tasted of old paper and mildew.

  Behind a counter sat a figure barely tall enough to see over the stacks of books piled across its surface. Pointed ears poked through wispy grey hair. A halfling, maybe. Or a gnome—I’d never been entirely clear on the difference.

  He hunched over a ledger, scratching away with a goose quill that looked comically oversized in his small hands.

  Faith and I approached the counter.

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me—”

  “Can’t you read?” The shopkeeper didn’t look up.

  I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “The sign.” He jabbed the quill toward the door without lifting his eyes from the ledger. “Says I’m on break. Come back in an hour.”

  My eye twitched.

  There had been no sign. I’d looked at the door. Both sides of it.

  Faith shifted beside me, her hand moving away from Durendal’s pommel. She’d noticed too.

  I forced my voice to remain level. “We didn’t see any sign.”

  “Then you’re blind as well as illiterate.” The quill continued scratching across parchment. “Either way, I’m closed.”

  The muscles in my jaw tightened. I thought of Aria, of all the times I’d pulled her away from confrontations she wanted to start.

  This was karma.

  “We’re looking for historical books,” Faith said, her tone carefully neutral.

  “Of course you are.” The shopkeeper still didn’t look up.

  “Records from the last five hundred years,” Faith continued. “Anything on Durendal.”

  That got his attention.

  The quill stopped. Grey eyes lifted from the ledger to study Faith, then me, then returned to Faith with a look of profound disappointment.

  “I thought you wanted historical records.” He set the quill down with exaggerated care. “Not children’s stories.”

  “Do you have anything on Durendal or not?” I kept my voice flat.

  The shopkeeper pushed back from his stool with a theatrical sigh. “Always the same. Young fools chasing legends.” He disappeared behind a shelf.

  Sounds of shuffling and muttering echoed from the back room. Something heavy scraped across wood. A sneeze. More muttering.

  He emerged carrying a tome that looked older than the building itself. Cracked leather binding, pages yellowed and brittle at the edges. He dropped it on the counter with a thud that sent dust billowing upward.

  “Two hundred gold pieces.”

  Fuck.

  This wasn’t a library. We couldn’t just read and leave.

  And we had exactly zero gold pieces. Zero local currency of any kind.

  The shopkeeper folded his arms across his chest. “Well? Paying or wasting my time?”

  I could take it. The thought materialized with disturbing clarity. He couldn’t stop us. A flicker of magic, a distraction, and we’d be gone before he finished shouting.

  My gaze slid to Faith.

  Her jaw had set in that particular way—the expression that meant she was thinking the same thing and hating herself for it.

  “We’ll need to get the money first,” I said.

  “Mm-hmm.” The shopkeeper pulled the tome back toward himself. “Sure you will. I’ll just wait right here for you to come back.” His tone made it clear he expected to die of old age first.

  “We will.” Faith turned toward the door.

  I followed her out. The bell chimed again, mocking.

  The street outside felt brighter than before. Cleaner. Less oppressive.

  “Two hundred gold,” Faith said quietly. “Think that’s a lot?”

  “No idea.” I started walking, letting my feet carry me away from the bookstore. “But I doubt they accept soul coins here.”

  “Probably not.”

  We turned down a side street, putting distance between us and the judgemental halfling.

  “Isabella might have something we could sell,” I said. “Jewellery, maybe. Or—” I looked at Faith. “We could always persuade someone to part with their gold.”

  Faith’s eyebrow rose. “You mean seduce.”

  “I’m telling you it’s an option.” I shrugged. “Fast and easy. We don’t even need to feed. Just charm someone into generosity.”

  “Right.” Faith’s tone suggested she knew exactly what I meant.

  “Of course, we could keep looking for an actual library instead.” I scanned the buildings around us. “Somewhere that doesn’t charge two hundred gold for a single book.”

  “Assuming this town has one.”

  “Assuming that.”

  Faith’s hand hadn’t left Durendal’s pommel. The sword remained silent in its sheath, but I noticed her expression shift slightly—like she was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

  “What’s it saying?” I asked.

  “Nothing important.” Faith’s fingers drummed once against the leather. “Mostly complaining.”

  We rounded a corner into a wider street. An inn stood ahead, its sign depicting a sleeping dragon curled around a tankard.

  “So,” Faith said. “Seduce a merchant, find a library, or wait for Isabella and Aria?”

  I considered our options. The sun had started its descent toward the horizon. We had maybe two hours left before our agreed meeting time.

  “Let’s try finding a proper library first,” I said. “If that fails…”

  “We’ll improvise.”

  “Exactly.”

  Faith almost smiled. “You’ve gotten very good at improvising.”

  “I’ve had practice.”

  We continued down the street, leaving the bookstore and its grumpy proprietor behind. Somewhere in this medieval town, there had to be records that didn’t cost a fortune.

  And if not, well. I’d get the information out of someone who had access.