It was quiet on the way back to Hamel.
Even Ash did not speak. Marsh sat with his arms folded, watching the road behind us. Tom tried twice to start a conversation. Both times it died before it drew breath. It might have been more pleasant, had my mind not been turning the same thought over and over again.
There was no [System]. There were no [Classes]. There were no Roles, and there were no chains.
My gambit had been an attempt to break my leash. I had succeeded. And now I stood in a world that had never known leashes at all. It was hard to say if this was victory, defeat, or something else entirely.
The cart stopped with a groan.
"Lad, unload the wagon. You two dears, would you help him?"
"Of course," Ash answered for both of us. I let it pass.
The sounds had reached me first -laughter. Then the scents, the many, many scents. Some of those made my mouth water. I knew none of them.
Small huts of mud and clay clustered along a dirt path. The dirt path was surrounded by tiny houses, if they could be called even that. Children ran alongside the cart. They peeked in, saw me, and didn't so much as break stride as they kept running.
"Old man Tom! Did you bring them?" Their voices were high.
I had only ever seen human children through a spell, and demon children had been far more vicious. Those would not have been laughing so.
Marsh stepped out first. He'd had a strange look to him since the battle. Did the fool think I did not notice his gaze? Occasionally, I would meet it. He would shrink back, then attempt to stare at nothing at all.
Ash stepped out second. She stopped at the edge of the cart and held a hand out towards me. I stared at it and huffed.
"No."
Ash retracted it and moved out of the back of the cart. The two began to lift the boxes and pile them one by one. I stepped out too. It was good to get my feet on the ground again, away from the contraption.
Hamel was nothing.
It was a handful of mud huts with thatched roofs. The dirt paths were turned to muck. The wooden wall would struggle to keep out a determined rabbit, and it ended in a gate that did not dare earn its name. There was no watchtower, and there was no garrison. There were no defenses at all that I could see.
If this was a village, I dreaded what they called a hovel. These villages had been far more fortified in my time.
My gaze lingered.
It lingered on dried flowers hung from a doorway. On lanterns glowed through shuttered windows, casting warm yellow light onto the mud. On an old woman that sat beneath an overhang, watching the sky as if it were something worth truly looking at. A child ran past me, chasing another, and neither so much as glanced my way.
I had ordered villages like these burned. Dozens of them -perhaps more. I had never walked through one.
"Hey." A strong hand shook me. It was Ash.
"What?" I snapped. I did not know why I did.
Ash frowned at me. "He's offering us a place to stay with him. I would accept, but I thought I would ask you first."
I looked past her at the bumbling merchant. He was currently directing Marsh to carry a large box towards the nearest of the tiny huts.
"You expect me to stay here?"
"There are bushes instead, if Your Majesty prefers those. There's likely even a stable."
I glared at the girl and finally nodded.
Ash moved away from me, ran up to the stack of boxes, and picked four up at once without breaking stride. Marsh looked like he was struggling with one. I followed behind them. The boxes were piled high. I picked one up, channeling the barest of mana. It was light. The Hero could have carried ten of these if she'd wanted to.
I set it back down and moved closer to the hut as I gazed around.
There was a smell here that the forest didn't have, and it made my nose curl. Ash stepped back out of the hut, ran past me, presumably to get more boxes.
"Oh, you must be her friend!" An old woman said, her head peering out past one of the now un-shuttered windows. "Lily? We don't get many of your kind around these parts, but you see a few."
Right. That fool had given me this absurd moniker. This was yet another diminishing of myself, as if the rest wasn't enough. "That is not my name, woman. You address-"
"Right, right. Lysanthia." The grandmotherly woman smiled, and when she did, I could barely even see her eyes. "Come inside, dear. You don't want to catch a cold now, do you?"
Did this fool truly not see the difference between us? She must have at least seen the [Dark- the Darkness Binding. Then something else filled my nose. That earthy thing I had smelled when I'd first stepped in. It made my mouth water. I smelled the air.
What was that?
"The stew's nearly done. And there's bread -my Tom brought the good flour back," she said.
"Come in, come in. Before the chill gets worse."
I regarded her for a moment longer. Then the scent hit me again, richer now, and closer.
"Very well," I said, and walked inside. "Let us see this 'stew'."
The inside was no more impressive than the outside. It was a single room, barely large enough for the few pieces of wooden furniture that filled it. Two doors led out of it. There was a table with five chairs and a hearth against the far wall, where a pot hung over a low flame. Shelves were lined with jars and dried herbs I didn't recognize.
It was cramped and warm. The air was thick with that scent. It clung to everything. A rug lay across the stone floor. It was old, its colors long since faded.
"Come, dear. We were just about to eat." The woman pointed sagely at one of the chairs.
I stared at it suspiciously.
Marsh appeared from one of the two doors. "Ma, you're really kicking me out this early?"
The old woman laughed as she made her way over to the pot. "Come now, we both know you'll leave when your belly's full in the mornin'." There was something odd in the tone. "Let the young lasses have a roof over their heads for a few days."
Marsh grunted and met my gaze. His face twisted first. I raised an eyebrow, and his face lost some of its color.
"F-fine," he said, moving over and slotting himself down on one of the seats.
I knew etiquette well enough. The strongest sat at the head of the table, and that was what I made for. I sat down and stared at the fool boy who was staring at me.
"What?"
"That's-" He raised his hands and looked away. "Never mind."
Ash came back in then, carrying five of the boxes this time. I couldn't see her face past them, though she didn't seem to struggle at all. Heroes were good pack mules, if little else.
She set the boxes down. "Is there anything else I can help with, Auntie?"
"Oh, no, dear," the woman said, turning away from the pot. "You've done more than I ever asked. That shameless husband of mine made you carry these in. You must be tired. Come now, sit down."
Ash smiled and moved towards the table. She took a seat next to mine. It was a small acknowledgement of my place above her.
"Tsk," the elder woman muttered. "That's not quite right."
She pulled up her sleeve. There was a marking there, a single dot that glowed a faint orange.
I frowned and leaned close. Small trickles of flame poured from the woman's hands, attacking the pot. They were gone a few seconds later. I hadn't been the only one watching. Ash had leaned in close too.
This power was something to do with those symbols, obviously, though I had never seen them before. This marking was different from the one on the adventurer, which doubtless explained its different effect.
Marsh cleared his throat. "I've been sitting on this, but I have to ask. What marks do you carry?"
Ash went still beside me. I felt her leg press against mine under the table. That was a warning; I could tell by now.
"Marks?" she said lightly.
I turned to regard the two of them.
"We, uh…we have…" The Hero floundered.
"You don't have to share," Marsh said. "But after what I saw with those wolves…" He shrugged. "I'm just curious." His gaze was steady and sharp, even if his words had not been. It reminded me of Seryth.
"They're nothing remarkable," Ash said. "We're just experienced."
Marsh studied her and then me.
"Marsh, dear," the old woman said, her tone tight. "Don't bother the guests."
"But Ma, they're kind of off, don't you think? They killed a pack of wolves like it was nothing! They must have some fancy powers or something."
Ash raised her hands in front of her. "Friend, it wasn't that impre-"
"We do not have them."
The table went quiet. Ash's hand found my arm under the table. I ignored it. I pulled the battle dress from my right forearm. That was where this boy and that old woman's marks had been.
"There, human. Now do you see?"
It wasn't just Marsh who was staring. The old woman was too. The silence went on long enough that I heard the fire crackle.
"That's not possible," he finally said. His voice was strange.
The woman had gone very still. She set down the ladle she'd been holding and looked at me -not at my arm, but at my face, as if she were seeing me clearly for the first time.
The expression on her face was one I had no name for. It was certainly not one I had ever seen on the face of a Demon. No, perhaps Zera had made that expression once.
"Oh, child," she said softly. She stepped over and pressed a hand against my shoulder. It almost made me flinch.
"I'm so sorry."
"No marks at all?" Tom said again over supper. Why did he keep repeating himself? The answer wouldn't change.
He kept looking between us the way one might look at someone missing a limb. I ignored him. The stew was far more worthy of my attention.
The stew was different than the rabbit had been. There were more flavors and so much more texture. I was sure some of the food was made from plants and herbs, though surely neither could have tasted like this.
On my demand, the woman had revealed it had rabbit meat, but it tasted nothing like the rabbit I'd had just yesterday.
"Dear," Martha said gently. "That's your third bowl."
I did not dignify this with a response. I was on my fourth. It was, so far, a better meal than any my chefs had ever made for me, and it came from this meager woman's even more meager skill.
"I'm sorry for hiding it," Ash said. She hadn't touched hers yet. Her bowl would make an appropriate tribute.
"No, no, it's just…" Tom shook his head. "How?"
Ash shrugged helplessly.
"Pa," Marsh said quietly. "Something's not right about them. You saw what they did to those wolves. That's not normal, not for anyone without a Sigil, at least."
"Marsh." Martha's voice was firm. "They're guests. And they saved your life not three hours past."
Marsh clicked his tongue and went to silently eating his stew. He had made comments like those before, staring right at me. They were petty provocations. I did wonder where he'd suddenly found the spine for them.
Had the food not been as engaging as it was, I might have been inclined to teach him the consequences of his stray jabs.
"It's…a long story," Ash said. "In truth, we do not know much of these marks you speak of."
Tom shook his head. "Don't know about them? I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing before. Even the orphans receive theirs by six." He looked like he was about to say more. He didn't.
"They are given?" I finally asked. "They are not attained naturally?"
That was how the System had worked.
The man nodded. "Aye. The…First Inking. It happens every three months. We're not too far off from the next one, if you both…" He paused and shook his head. "Anyway, I'm sure you have your reasons for it. Must have made life damn hard for you, though. You can't do much of anything in a town or a city without a mark. Is that why you two are out here?"
"S-something like that." Ash had finally started to claim her stew.
Just as I'd finished mine. Was that on purpose?
The rest of the meal passed by in silence. That damned brat kept shooting me strange looks. Each time I shot them down, he would settle and then look at me again when he thought my mind was elsewhere.
If he was trying to pick a fight, he was slowly but surely succeeding. Tom was a fool who talked more than he ate. Twice I considered reaching for his bowl. Both times, Ash's knee found mine under the table.
The old woman I could make the least sense of. She asked questions and then ignored the answers. She refilled my bowl without being asked. She touched my shoulder when she passed behind my chair, briefly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I did not know what to do with any of it.
These humans made no sense to me at all.
"If you need anything at all, just knock." Martha paused at the door. "We're right through there." Her name was Martha. I had learned it over dinner and had committed it to memory before I'd meant to.
"I feel bad about Marsh. Will he be alright?"
Martha waved a hand. "He'll stay with a friend. He'll be off to the city by first light, knowing him." She glanced between us. Something crossed her face. "Just try to keep it down."
Ash stiffened. I made a note to ask her why later. I suspected I would forget.
Martha turned from Ash and looked at me. "And you, dear. If you need any more food, I've set it out for you."
I crossed my arms. "That will be quite alright, human."
She smiled. "And I left you both a change of clothes. Try 'em on tomorrow. You can't go around everywhere walking in armor."
Then she was gone, leaving the two of us alone.
It was hardly a room at all. It had a single bed and a small table. There was another beaten down rug on the floor.
I moved over and claimed the bed before the Hero had a chance to. She was staring at me as I lounged. It was more comfortable than the bed of leaves had been. That much I could admit to.
"You shouldn't have told them," Ash sighed.
"What are you speaking of now?" I drawled.
"The marks. You shouldn't have told them we didn't have them."
"And why not?" I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "For a Hero, you are rather duplicitous."
"That-" The voice paused. "We would have told them eventually. When we understood what it meant, at least."
"It is pointless human nonsense, no doubt."
Ash sighed. She stepped forward and began to strip off her armor. I would have done the same, had I not been in haste to claim the bed.
"A thousand years," Ash murmured.
I did not think she was speaking to me.
"Nine hundred and eighty four," I said out of force of habit.
"It didn't feel real until tonight. The marks. The way they looked at us." She drew a breath. "It really is all gone. They didn't even seem to care about…" Ash gestured vaguely at my horns.
"Did you think I was just boasting?" I said, my voice projecting all of the confidence I did not feel. I might have gotten a curious look or two, but there had been no fear.
Ash shook her head. "That's not what I meant," she said. "It's just…all of our lives. Our deeds and our stories. They're all really gone, aren't they?"
"I suppose so."
"Perhaps the world is better for it," Ash said. She moved over and took one of my pillows.
"What are you doing, Hero?"
"I need at least this to sleep," she said, moving over to a spot on the floor.
For a moment, I almost felt bad. Just for a moment. There was a single lantern in the room, and it burned dim.
I finally huffed and began to strip the armor, layer by layer. The Darkness Binding- just the Darkness Binding now, I reminded myself. There was no System to name it. Now, perhaps I could call it whatever I wished.
When it was off, I lay there in my undergarments. The bed was nothing more than straw and cloth. It was one of the more comfortable things I had ever felt, though I had had finer bedding before.
Well, there was that other thing in the forest. I banished the thought.
The room was dark save for the single lantern. I lay on the bed. Ash had taken a pillow and settled against the far wall without complaint. The quiet stretched.
"Hero."
"What?"
"Why did they feed us?"
Ash did not answer immediately. "What do you mean?"
"The food, and now this bedding. That woman would not stop filling my bowl." I stared at the ceiling. Now that the rules of fear were not at play, perhaps human rules were. "What do they expect in return? I am aware of your customs -you offer coins and such in exchange for services. Yet I did not see any such exchange. I do not think you have coins." I paused. "What do they want?"
"Nothing."
"Do not be absurd." I turned on my side to face the wall where she sat. I could barely make her out in the dim light. "Everything has its price. Power demands tribute. Shelter demands service, and so food must demand-"
"Lysanthia." Her voice was quiet. "It's kindness. That's all it is."
I waited for the rest. I waited for the condition. It did not come.
"I pity you," she said instead.
I opened my mouth and closed it.
"Do not dare to use such a word, fool," I said. "I have cut down your kind before. It was I who pitied them."
"If you say so."
My anger broke almost as quickly as it came. That was strange. Something else settled in my chest -a stone of some kind. The silence stretched again. When I broke it, the question surprised me.
"What will you do?"
"Hmm?"
"You are no longer a Hero," I said. "There is no System. There are no quests. There are likely no more Demon Queens to slay. There is no Role pulling you forward." The words came out more clinical than I had intended. "What is there for you?"
She didn't answer. She didn't answer for so long I almost thought she had fallen asleep.
"I don't know," Ash said quietly.
There was another pause. Then, in a softer voice, she said, "I do not think that's a bad thing. Perhaps…that's how it ought to be, Lily."
I turned that over. The words made no sense…no sense at all.
And yet.
Wasn't this what I, too, had wanted, after a fashion? I had wanted it, but had never truly thought it would be in my grasp.
"Do not call me Lily," I whispered. "You know what I am."
"I know what you were."
I should have had something sharp for that. Some response that would remind this girl exactly who she shared a room with. The Demon Queen who had ended Kingdoms. The one who had slain two Gods. Nothing came.
The lantern flickered. Outside, something creaked and then went still.
Oddly, I found it harder to sleep that night than I had in the forest.