The corn around Benedict and Shiyo, so tightly packed that they couldn’t see through to the other row, stood over ten feet tall. A local farmer had hired them to kill the monsters that had killed some of his workers. In such an environment, especially at night, Benedict understood why the workers were taken by surprise. He gripped his blade tight and cast his mind outward. His vision mattered no longer. Morighana’s power would let him see.

  There, to his left. A sharp claw moved a stalk aside and slid through. How could something so large move with such silence? Not that it mattered. With the nearest humans back at the farmhouse, locked up in fear, Benedict was free to use all his power.

  More creatures appeared. Shiyo called out their locations, and Benedict watched for them. The corn on his right rustled as a shape burst forth. Unfortunately for it, Benedict saw it and ducked while whirling his blade over his head. The monster landed with a howl and charged Benedict again, its pawed feet ripping up the ground as it leapt.

  Power coalesced in Benedict’s hand. Just before the monster struck him, he released it. Shadows swirled around the monster’s snout and blasted backward in milliseconds, forming a dark cloud around its entire head. Its swinging hand went wide, then the next went wider. Before he could strike it down, another monster came in from behind. He used the power again, and the monster careened past him, unable to see for the darkness around its head.

  Two quick, decisive strikes were all that Benedict needed to finish them. As they fell to the ground, he looked over to Shiyo. Three monsters lay at her feet, heads separated from their bodies. She wiped her brow and signaled that she was all right.

  “The blinding power was a good choice, I think,” Benedict said, watching the clouds dissipate from the creatures he had killed.

  “Surprisingly so,” Shiyo said. “Good job.”

  “The old man said there were five, right?”

  “That’s what I remember. We got all of them.”

  They went about removing the monsters’ heads and claws. The heads would be proof they had finished the job, and the teeth and claws would be valuable at market.

  “How long now until Celica finishes that weapon of yours?” Shiyo asked as they walked back to the farmhouse.

  “She asked me to come by in the morning, so maybe now.”

  “Good. I want to see what’s going on in Noctim.”

  So did Benedict. The largest city in the region had been closed off for far too long. In the pit of his stomach, he felt something dark on the horizon.

  Bright and early the next morning, Benedict walked into Celica’s shop. The artificer sat on her counter, and Amalyn was next to her. The two young women bantered, only belatedly noticing Benedict’s entrance.

  Celica waved. “Good morning!”

  “Long time,” Amalyn said.

  “Same to you,” Benedict replied. “Any good jobs lately?”

  “We found an old nobleman’s missing painting. Not a great job overall, but he paid us a lot. You?”

  “Just a few small jobs. Waiting on something from Celica before we move on.”

  “Is that all?”

  Celica grabbed a coffer from the countertop. “And it’s almost finished!”

  With her urging, Benedict drew the one item out of the coffer. It was a long tube, with a trigger assembly and magazine—or coffer—attachment together on the other. The forestock, buttstock, and grip were all it lacked.

  “I made a few improvements myself without forcing my people to learn new manufacturing techniques,” Celica explained. “See the lever on the side? Flick it.”

  Benedict did so, and nothing obvious happened. Celica directed him to look into the barrel, and there he found rifling. Flicking the lever again made it disappear. “So, you’re conjuring the grooves instead of cutting into the metal directly. That’s a way to get around manufacturing concerns.”

  “And that’s not all!” She grabbed a rod and a hunk of metal from her own coffer. “We need a way to make your bullets, right?”

  The metal glowed red when Celica held the rod over it. A few seconds after, tiny chunks popped off and floated above the counter as they reshaped themselves. By the time they fell, the metal had cooled again, and they were in the shape of small, long bullets, each one the same size as all the others. A small bit of leftover metal sat on the counter, sorted away by the spell.

  Benedict picked one up and admired it. “Impressive.”

  “Isn’t it?! I had to combine multiple sources and spells. I also looked through all the metals we had access to and did some stress testing to pick exactly the right one.” Celica continued talking about all the details of her spell long after Benedict completely lost her.

  “She’ll be on this for a while,” Amalyn said.

  “She loves her work,” Benedict said.

  “Did you hear about the swamp treasure?”

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  “I did.”

  The day after Benedict, Shiyo, and Celica had explored part of the swamp, a party found the treasure: a golden idol worth ten thousand aur. Worse, they had found it taking the opposite path Benedict had led them on. He could chalk it up to dumb luck, but it stung to miss out on something valuable.

  Amalyn growled in frustration. “With that much money, we could have eaten well and lived in the best inns for a year!”

  “Would Ordra have been able to do that?” Benedict asked.

  “Probably not, but I would!”

  “Our woodworker said the frame should be ready by tomorrow. I can’t wait to see it!” Celica said.

  “Neither can I!” Benedict replied.

  “In the meantime, anything else I can do for you?”

  “Not unless you have some unique powers for sale.”

  “I’ve focused all my efforts on my work as an artificer, so no.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’ve been to another, but I’d prefer to patronize you over anyone else when possible.”

  “You are so kind.”

  “Herander Gorbl gave me good prices, and he’s got some unique powers,” Amalyn suggested.

  “I’ll look him up,” Benedict said. “I recently saw Gariba for a blinding power.”

  The door creaked open, and all three turned. Celica’s bright smile froze, then collapsed into a look of dread. A man stood in the doorway, swaying on his feet. His tunic hung in rags; his skin was streaked with dried blood and dirt. He clutched a single slip of paper in one shaking hand, as though it were the only thing he cared about.

  “Is this… the Artificers’ Guild shop?” His voice cracked with exhaustion.

  Celica ran up to him. “It is. Are you all right?”

  “I just came for some weapons.”

  “Oh. You’re the man from Tilm? My boss told me you were bringing a delegation.”

  “Please, just the weapons.”

  While Celica walked behind the counter and dug under it, Benedict asked questions. “What’s going on in Tilm?”

  “We just have a slight monster problem,” the man said.

  “If you need a monster taken care of, we can help,” Amalyn said.

  The man looked down. “I’m not sure you can. This thing is strong and dangerous.”

  “My party has taken care of worse.”

  “Benedict and his partner saved me from a giant tree monster,” Celica said, setting a large coffer on the counter. “Your fire throwers, sir, compliments of the Artificers’ Guild.”

  As he took the coffer, the man looked at Benedict. “We are a poor village and cannot pay much, especially now.”

  “I’ll be able to talk my partner into it, don’t worry,” Benedict said.

  “My party leader wouldn’t care about the money,” Amalyn said.

  “Then please talk to your people and come see us. We’re staying at the Green Dog Inn.” The man left the store cradling the coffer under his arm.

  “Poor man,” Celica said.

  “I’m going to find Shiyo.” Benedict turned to leave. “We’ll meet you there.”

  By the time Benedict and Shiyo found the ratty back alley where the Green Dog Inn sat hunched between leaning warehouses, Ordra, Amalyn, and Kirion waited at the main entrance. The inn looked as though it had seen better centuries: warped timbers, moss creeping up the stone foundation, windows patched with wax paper. The stench of stale ale and rot drifted into the alleyway.

  “Welcome,” Ordra said.

  When Benedict and Shiyo joined the other three, the proprietor appeared. The bent old man with a hooked waved them in without making a sound. “You’re expected.”

  The lobby was dim, smoky from an overworked hearth, and half the chairs looked like they had been stolen from different taverns over the years. At a table near the back sat the man from Celica’s shop. He looked no better than he had before—perhaps worse under the unforgiving light of day. His shoulders slumped as if carrying a mountain. Beside him sat a young woman, her cheeks hollow, her hair matted with dirt. Her eyes darted around the room with the twitchy, hunted look of someone who had not slept in weeks.

  “You both look like you’ve been through hell,” Ordra said before anyone else could sit down. His voice softened on the last word.

  The poor man lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, lids heavy as though weighted by grief. “We really have. I’m Lem. This is Hana. We are all that’s left from the caravan that came here. Not long after we left Tilm, the monster attacked us, and…” His voice cracked, trailing into silence. He clenched his fists against the table, knuckles bone-white. “For the past month, it has destroyed our farmland and our guards. It’s taken our families. The town remains, but we don’t know for how long.”

  Hana, who had sat rigidly until then, snapped. Her shoulders heaved as sobs ripped out of her, raw and helpless. Amalyn slipped from her chair and knelt beside her, murmuring soft reassurances. She clutched Hana’s hand and stroked her back, but it proved as futile as holding back the tide.

  Ordra leaned forward. “Tell us about the monster. What does it look like?”

  Lem swallowed hard. “It’s like a giant spider with a single eye that stares directly into your soul. And at the ends of its legs there are… hands. Human hands, but twisted, each with claws as long as knives. It pulls men apart like dolls.” His own hands trembled. “The rest of it is thick and matted fur. Our blades bounced off the hide as if it were iron. Not even the best arrows stuck.”

  “Presumably, the fire throwers are to burn the fur away,” Benedict murmured.

  Kirion frowned. “Bertran is much closer than Lorvath. Why come all this way?”

  “We needed fire throwers from the Artificers’ Guild,” Lem replied. “And two dozen adventurers from Bertran have already died trying to kill it. No one else from there will help us.”

  A collective gasp went through every adventurer present. Even the usually impassive Shiyo raised her brows. Twenty-four hardened adventurers all lost with nothing to show? Kirion muttered under his breath, Amalyn froze in place with wide eyes, and even Ordra’s face darkened.

  “I need to see this monster,” Shiyo said flatly. Her tone carried a note of apprehension. Was she afraid, too?

  “Why is that?” Kirion asked.

  “I want to know what this thing really is,” Shiyo said.

  “Our caravan is at the north gate,” Lem said quietly.

  “Then let’s get going,” Ordra said, standing with a grunt.

  Amalyn helped Hana to her feet, brushing dirt from the girl’s sleeves. “Dear, do you want to stay here in Lorvath until this is done?”

  Hana blinked at her, stunned. “Do you mean it?” Her voice was a whisper, as if the offer itself might vanish if spoken too loud.

  “Yes,” Amalyn said with motherly gentleness. “We’ll pay for a better inn with good food and a warm bed. I’ll pick you up some new clothes too. How about that?”

  Tears welled fresh in Hana’s eyes, though this time softer, almost grateful. “That… that sounds good, Miss Amalyn.”

  “Is this wise?” Lem asked, worry cutting through his exhaustion.

  “I’m sure Celica would be more than willing to check up on her,” Benedict said. “She’ll be safe.”

  Ordra clapped his hands together with a thunderous smack. “Then it’s settled. Lem, can we head out tonight?”

  Lem nodded, relief and dread mingling in his expression. “We can.”

  “Good. Then we find Hana a place to stay. After that, we march for Tilm. Let’s kill this thing.”

  Benedict and Shiyo split from the group, weaving through Lorvath’s crooked streets. The two darted in and out of shops, picking up supplies: healing potions, rations, explosives; anything that might help take care of a giant monster. The weight of Lem’s words lingered with them. They bought more than usual, perhaps out of caution, perhaps out of a gnawing instinct neither wanted to admit aloud.

  By the time they reached the north gate, the sun had already bled into the horizon. Shadows stretched long over the cobbles, and the distant fields lay dark and silent. Ordra’s party waited with Lem, their figures stark against the fading light. No one spoke much as they set off. Benedict watched Shiyo as she stared at the horizon. Worry covered her face.