— Professor Ian Featherstone, “The Codex for the Undead,” page 184
One part of Emily’s morning routine was running a winding mountain trail. It wasn’t too far, only taking Emily from the training grounds to the lake and back. The challenge came in how many slopes there were to conquer. Over the last year, she had gotten faster and faster at it, until today, when she was confident she had bested her previous record.
When she returned home, she braced herself against the front door with one hand, her forehead damp with sweat. Her heart was pounding against her chest like a galloping race horse, and her senses felt like they were all on edge. She only needed a moment to catch her breath. She needed water. Lots of it.
Shoving the door open, she stumbled inside and immediately headed for the kitchen. But as she moved, something on the floor caught her eye. A letter. Someone had slipped it under the door. The envelope was thick and well-sealed with wax. The emblem stamped into it was unfamiliar, but the name scrawled across the front made her pause.
Jonathan Grimshaw.
She raised an eyebrow and took several long, deep breaths. That was Mina’s husband, right?
Emily didn’t think too hard about it. She set the letter on the kitchen counter and downed a glass of water. Then, she poured another. And another. Only when she no longer felt like she might pass out did she call upstairs. “Mina! You’ve got a letter.”
A few moments passed before Mina came downstairs. She was dressed in a white, long-sleeved nightgown. Her snow-white hair was frizzled and unkempt, and she stared back at Emily with half-lidded eyes.
“Oh, sorry,” Emily said. “Is this a sleep day?”
Mina inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “It’s fine,” she grumbled and snatched the letter from the kitchen counter. The moment she turned it over in her hands to read the front, her body stiffened.
“I found it under the door,” Emily said before taking another long sip of water.
Mina broke the seal and started skimming the contents quietly.
Emily sat at the kitchen table and stared at her, waiting for some sort of reaction or response, but none came. Mina kept her face straight, but her fingers betrayed her. They curled, crumpling the paper slightly.
“What’s it say?” Emily finally asked.
“Nothing important,” she replied after a long pause.
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Nothing important?”
“It’s just an invitation.”
“Oh? To where? A party? Dinner? Is it a special contract?”
Mina said nothing in response and simply handed the letter to Emily. It was handwritten, unlike most letters Emily had seen, which were almost always typed these days.
Jonathan, my trusted friend,
It is of dire importance that this letter reaches you safely. I apologize for my lack of correspondence over these last few years, but times have been tough since the attack on Serenity Gardens. I am pleased to say that things have finally started turning around, and the place we once called home is finally moving on. That brings me to the reason for this letter.
I understand that you are far, and I understand if you do not wish to return, but we are nearing the anniversary of the attack. We have held a memorial every year since, and I apologize for not sending an invitation sooner. This year, however, I would be honored to have you back in our company. It has been too long since we last spoke, and I am cordially inviting you and your wife to join us for the festivities.
— Henrik Schwartz, Chief Knight of Serenity Gardens.
Emily looked up. “Who’s Henrik?”
“An old friend of my husband.” She paused. “Before Nathan and I met, he was a cordwainer. But when the time came, he took up arms. He defended Serenity Gardens from a vampire attack.”
“Was he a monster hunter too?”
Mina scoffed tiredly, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly unless he needed to. He was just… a brave man. A foolhardy, stubborn man.”
Emily hesitated. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. After a moment, though, she cleared her throat and continued. “So… he knew this Henrik guy?”
Mina nodded. “Lived with him for some time.”
“And he’s inviting you to this… what, some kind of memorial?”
“An annual requiem. Those who fell in that attack.”
Emily skimmed the letter once more. “Are we going?”
Mina shook her head and turned to head back upstairs. “It isn’t our concern.”
Emily gave her a skeptical look. “It kind of is, though. The letter was meant for your husband. This Henrik, he doesn’t know that he's gone, does he?”
Mina paused on the first step, letting out another tired sigh. “No.”
“Wouldn’t it be good to go tell him?”
“We have more pressing matters.”
“You mean training.”
“Yes.”
Emily huffed. “Mina, come on. You can’t seriously think—”
“I do think,” Mina said sharply. “I think about what’s necessary. What’s practical? And right now, our focus should be on ensuring that you’re ready when the time comes. Wasting our time on some memorial service I have no connection to won’t bring us any closer to that goal.”
“It might,” Emily argued. “You never know.”
“We’re not going, Emily.” There was no room for debate in her tone, but still, Emily pressed.
“I’m just saying, a break now and then wouldn’t kill us. I haven’t seen much of Ageria outside of Peccatum, Cresthill, or Pillio’s Watch. This Serenity Gardens place sounds nice. If they’re throwing a festival, it might be fun.”
“It’s a memorial.”
“With festivities,” Emily added. “You know, like the Winter’s Waltz that Lord Elric Dainford held. I thought it was fun.” And it had been. It was apparently a tradition in Cresthill to hold a festival during the winter. Emily didn’t participate in it too much, but it was a grand event where everyone dressed in extravagant gowns and spent the entire night dancing and playing games around the valley.
“Emily—”
“And what if there are monsters in the area?” she added. “Could be a good training opportunity, right?”
“No,” Mina said, staring daggers at her.
“Alright, alright,” Emily said with a sigh. “Fine.”
Mina rubbed her temple and started back upstairs. “If you want a break, take one now. When you’re done, I want you in the training yard running through your exercises.”
Emily soaked in the tub of warm water, letting the heat soak into her aching muscles.
It was her favorite thing to do after running the mountain trail. Hell, it was her favorite thing to do after training in general. The heat did wonders for her aching and sore body, and she couldn’t imagine surviving this long if not for the warm baths.
Emily let herself sink lower, the water lapping at her shoulders. She tried to drown out her thoughts, but they were too busy lingering on the invitation. Something about it sounded so enticing. Not just that Mina’s husband was somehow involved with it, but it just sounded like something fun they could do. She didn’t want to spend every day training until her legs gave out.
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She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about something else, but it was impossible. The more she thought about going to a festival to just take a day off, the more intoxicating the idea became, even if it was just for honoring the dead. She remembered stories her father had told her about when he would ride through towns and cities holding parties or parades, and how the air was filled with the scent of roasting meat and fresh pastries.
What would be the harm in going? She exhaled, sinking lower into the water, watching ripples distort the ceiling above. She already knew Mina wouldn’t change her mind. But Emily wasn’t sure if she could let this go either.
When Emily reached the training yard later that day, she found Violet waiting for her.
The girl was sitting cross-legged beneath the shade of a stone overhang. A book rested against her lap, and a fine tea set was arranged beside her on a short stone wall.
Emily didn’t mind Violet being around. If anything, she preferred it. It was comforting, in a way, knowing she had a quiet observer. During breaks, they would talk, or, more accurately, Emily would talk, and Violet would listen and respond with her notebook. Sometimes, Emily wondered if Violet enjoyed watching her train, or if she just liked having something to do.
Still, she smiled as she called out, “Morning!”
Violet looked up from her book, her purple eyes catching the light in a way that made them seem almost luminous. She set the book aside, reached for her notebook, and with a flick of her fingers, her pen lifted and scribbled across the page before she turned it around for Emily to see.
‘You’re here earlier than usual.’
Emily rolled her shoulders with a stretch. “Maybe I’m finally getting responsible.”
Violet raised an eyebrow, which was partially hidden behind the mask, but Emily could still tell from the way her eyelid lifted. 'Responsible? You? Since when?’
Emily feined surprise. “Yeah, I’m capable of being responsible, believe it or not.”
‘When did you go to bed last night?’
“That is… irrelevant.” She crossed her arms, fighting the heat creeping up her cheeks.
‘You were up late reading the book I lent you.’
Emily struggled to hold back her grin. “Okay, fine, it’s captivating. Could've warned me about the part where they’re alone in the forest, by the way.”
Violet giggled mischeviously. ‘I’m not judging you for staying up late reading something so scandalous. But I am judging you for not resting’
“Oh, please. You’re the one who handed me that book. What’s your excuse for being out here so early, huh?”
Violet’s pen hesitated, just for a moment, before scribbling; ‘Maybe I wanted to see you.’
Emily’s heart did a little flip. “Oh, is that so? You wuv me, is that it?”
Violet’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she glanced away. ‘No, I just enjoy watching you trip over yourself. That’s my entertainment.’
“Why are the tiny ones always the meanest?”
Violet gave her a look, one that might have been smug if not for the soft amusement in her eyes. She stood, dusted off her purple dress, and stepped closer to Emily.
“Woah, woah,” Emily stumbled back with a laugh. “I was kidding!”
The notebook flew from Violet’s hands, and her pen scribbled onto the page: ‘If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t bother being here.’
Emily paused as she read it, heat creeping up her neck.
Violet then pointed toward the training yard, gesturing for Emily to step onto it.
Clearing her throat, Emily tried to recover. “You know, maybe I should just take a break today. We could go back to your house and maybe read more of that book together—”
Violet rolled her eyes and telekinetically flicked a small pebble into the back of Emily’s head.
“Ow! Alright, alright, I’m going!” Emily laughed and started with her warm-ups.
She ran through basic footwork drills and weapon sequences. Then came the real challenge: balancing along the pendulum, dodging the swinging log while maintaining her footing.
She had gotten better at it over time and felt like a dancer as she moved across the balance beam. Even if there wasn’t an audience, she imagined one watching her, studying her movements like how she studied Mina’s. In her mind, she was performing for a crowd, not just Violet. Maybe there would be real performers at the festival. Would they dance? Juggle? Tell stories?
She shook the thought from her head and moved on to sparring with the damaged training dummies. Patches of straw jut out from where Emily had made each incision. When she had first started practicing with these, she had painted the carotid artery onto the dummies to help her better visualize where she needed to strike. Mina had given her an anatomy book to study, but it wasn’t as easy to recall the exact position of the artery, especially when there were so many other distracting pictures.
Mina would usually be here by now, watching her like a hawk, correcting every flaw in her stance. But today, Emily only had Violet to keep her in check, and judging by the quiet intensity of Violet’s gaze, she was doing a lot wrong.
Emily sat crosslegged across from Violet, with an open tome in her lap. Not too long ago, Mina had acquired an older book from Outer Peccatum detailed the art of elven glyphs. It was a form of magic Emily hadn’t even known about, but it was centered on storing magic into a single space that, when disturbed, would errupt with whatever element had been placed. The elves were the only ones to use them, according to the tome, due to their requirement of immense concentration and need for magic. Of course, Emily couldn’t even focus right now.
She stared at the ground between the two, and followed the instructions in the book, tracing patters in the stone with her eyes. Nothing was working.
‘You seem distracted,’ the floating pen scribbled into her notebook.
Emily sighed, walking over. “Yeah, you could say that.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “I don’t think I’m going to make any progress with this this today.”
Violet titled her head. ‘What is bothering you?’
“Nothing important. We got a letter this morning. Some invitation to a memorial in Serenity Gardens. I thought it sounded fun, but Mina wants no part of it.”
At the mention of the name, Violet tilted her head slightly. ‘A letter from Henrik Schwartz?’
Emily blinked. “Uh… yeah. How’d you know?”
‘I received one as well.’
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are you going?”
Violet shook her head. ‘Both Karaline and I would like to, but unfortunately, Serenity Gardens is a fair distance from Cresthill Valley. It would be many weeks of traveling. Karaline’s responsibilities to the valley dictate she needs to remain here.’
“You knew Henrik, then?”
Violet nodded. ‘It is a long story, but Henrik and his wife Kasia lived with my father before I was born. Karaline was his apprentice. When my parents passed away, Karaline took me in, and together, they set out for Serenity Gardens. It was a safer place for someone like me.’
Emily felt a sharp pain in her chest. She had never really asked Violet about her past before, and Violet rarely offered details. She didn’t think it was appropriate to ask, especially after learning the history of halfbreeds.
‘For a time, it felt like home. But it was attacked, and we had to leave. Karaline brought me here, far enough that she thought I would be safe. I would like to return one of these days, but Karaline’s responsibilities to the valley outweigh my desires. It is—’ The pen ran out of room. The notebook flipped to a new page, and the pen continued. ‘—not right for me to put the needs of the valley above my own.’
Emily wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She admired Violet’s quiet strength, and seeing the way she carried herself despite everything stacked against her was inspiring. But still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for her. “And you’re just okay with not going?” Emily asked. “Just like that?”
Violet nodded again. ‘What I want does not always matter. Sometimes, I must put the needs of others above my own.’
Emily frowned. It sucked that even Violet wanted to go, but couldn’t. But the more Emily thought about it, the more an idea brewed in her head. “What if… we’re closer than you think?”
Violet tilted her head.
“Mina’s stagecoach is technically closer to Peccatum than we are.”
‘Mina has never been one to do such favors. Especially ones that involve ties to her family.’
“But Karaline also wants to go, right? You and I will never convince her, but maybe she could.”
Violet stared for a moment before shrugging. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask her.’
“Then let's go right now!” Emily said. “I wanna take another break anyway.”
Violet crossed her arms. ‘That’s irresponsible…’ The pen didn’t have time to finish its sentence before Emily pulled Violet along.
Together, they hurried to Karaline’s house, where they found her sitting in her kitchen with an arrangement of gears, sprockets, bronze pipes, and scattered plates before her. Her mechanical arm was in pieces. The steel sleeve that connected to her shoulder was still intact, but the rest of the prosthesis had been completely dismantled. The exposed inner workings were an array of spinning gears, coiled wires, and small pistons. It looked far too complicated for Emily to ever comprehend.
Karaline glanced up as they entered, smirking. Her chestnut hair was a mess, and a faint bruise bloomed on the side of her neck. “I know ye can’t tell, but I’m wavin’ to ye,” she said, lifting the stump of her missing arm.
Emily snorted. “Making some adjustments?”
“Aye, ye could say that.” Karaline picked up a screwdriver and jabbed it at the tangled mess of metal on the table. “Definitely didn’t break it or anything.”
Violet, standing just behind Emily, let her notebook drift into Emily’s peripheral vision. A moment later, words scrawled themselves across the page: ‘A woman was over last night. They must have been working hard on something together, because all I heard last night was heavy banging—’
Before Emily could finish reading, Karaline snatched up a hammer and hurled it at the notebook. The heavy tool struck the floating pages with a thunk, sending them clattering to the ground.
“OI!” Karaline barked.
Violet gave Karaline a judgmental stare.
Emily barely held in her laughter. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Damn right ye didn’t,” Karaline grumbled. “Nosy little shite.”
Emily smirked. “So… how did you break it?”
Karaline cleared her throat and focused intently on twisting a gear into place. “Wee bit too much strain on the gears,” she muttered. “Happens sometimes.”
Violet’s book floated back into the air, and her pen started scribbling furiously.
Karaline squinted at her. “Ye even think about writin’ another word, and I swear I’ll weld that bloody book shut.”
Violet gave her a look before closing the book.
Karaline muttered something under her breath before shaking her head. “Aye, never mind that. What can I do ye for? Fair warnin’—if yer here to get somethin’ sharpened, ye’ll have to come back later. My one good hand’s a wee bit busy at the moment.” She gestured to the scattered pieces of her prosthetic.
“No sharpening today, promise,” Emily said. “We actually wanted to ask about something.”
Karaline raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That so? ‘Bout what?”
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