The swordsman with the large blade strode towards Jack’s mother, who was hiding amongst the twisted roots of a fallen tree while shielding little Zia with her arms. Her eyes, wide with terror, shifted between the brute and her son.

  The man’s seven-foot, rust-encrusted sword was being dragged through the soil with a sound like bone grating on stone. His gaze was fixed on Jack’s mom. “Hand over the ear, and I’ll let the girl live.” His voice was low and guttural, like rocks grinding in his throat.

  Jack opened his mouth to scream for his mother to run, but no sound escaped his lips. His lungs were filled with stone. He tried to reach for his bow but his limbs refused to move. Paralysed, he watched on in helpless terror, trapped in a body that would not obey, while the cruel nightmare unfolded like a cursed play.

  The swordsman was in no rush. He hacked through the tree roots, each strike of the rusty blade sending splinters and blood-red sap flying. The roots writhed like snakes, bleeding ink, whispering nonsense in Jack’s ears, words in ancient Elven he couldn’t comprehend but still understood.

  Failure… Liar… Murderer… Useless…

  Behind him, Polly’s voice rang out from somewhere unseen. “Don’t worry, Mom. Big, brave Jack the goblin slayer will save you. Yes. Won’t you, Jack? No?” Her voice was sing-song, lilting with mockery, but it was distorted, as if she were speaking underwater or through cracked glass.

  Jack tried to turn towards his sister, but couldn’t move. He could feel her presence looming over him, yet her body cast no shadow.

  “I want her cast iron skillet… the good one,” said Kyle, the rat-faced rogue, who crouched by the fallen tree. He wore a valet uniform several sizes too small, the ridiculous hat drooping over one bloodshot eye. His throat was slashed wide open, yet he was very much alive, grinning as blood gushed out in a fountain that sprayed the wildflowers in brilliant, impossible colours… vivid blue, searing orange, a shade of red that seemed to grin. Giant bees collected the blood like nectar, all the while humming a discordant tune.

  The rat-faced rogue drew Jack’s own white oak bow and nocked an arrow that resembled a sharpened quill. A large mechanical dragonfly landed on the tip of the rogue’s drawn bow. Its wings vibrated in sync with the rogue’s count. “One… Two… Three…” he chanted in a childlike voice.

  No! Jack screamed inside his head. It’s me you want! Me! Please!

  Kyle turned, grinning wider than any man’s face should allow. “Four… Five… Six.” He laughed and released the arrow.

  The arrow sang through the air like a harmonious choir while morphing into a flaming snake. The arrow struck Jack’s mother in the gut with a sickening thud and a burst of blue flames. She crumpled to her knees, gasping, her fingers splayed against the bloody, pulsing wound. Her eyes found Jack’s and pleaded for help.

  But Jack remained paralysed. I have to save her. I have to. He tried to run to her, but his feet had melted into the ground like a candle on a hot stove. I have to save her. I… He looked down and found his legs were roots, twisted and buried, blood-red sap oozing from scarred bark that used to be skin.

  Little Zia had vanished, erased like a chalk drawing wiped clean as if she had never existed at all, as if she had never been part of the family.

  The swordsman stepped closer and raised his flaming sword high. “Was it Viscount Daelrath who sent you?” he rumbled, lowering his face to Jack’s mother. His breath turned the air black. “Speak while you still can!” he demanded.

  Then, with a swing almost too fast to follow, he brought the burning blade down. The sword whistled, then bit. Jack’s mother’s head fell to the earth with a soft thud and rolled to his feet. Her eyes blinked three times.

  The large swordsman laughed so loud the floor vibrated. “You’ll be fine. Most of the pain is in your head.”

  “Run, Jack,” his mom’s severed head screamed as thousands of spiders crawled from her mouth. “Run!” The spiders merged into two humanoid forms that disappeared behind him in jerky movements.

  Something grabbed his arms and lifted him into the air. Jack still couldn’t move or scream, and even his mind refused to form full thoughts. Mo… Wha… Ple… Mo…

  Two copies of the male inquisitor were holding him aloft. “Confess your sins before the Gods, boy.” The two male inquisitors said in perfect synchrony. “Hmm… multiple classes. Town Fool and Blood Mage.”

  Another identical male inquisitor stepped in front of Jack; his eyes glowed a golden hue. “Guilty!” The inquisitors skin glowed with golden runes.

  The other inquisitors echoed the judgement. “Guilty.” A thousand identical voices echoed in his mind. “Guilty!” The words turned into runes that morphed into burning fire that coated every inch of his body. Jack still couldn’t form coherent thoughts. In an instant, every nerve screamed in agony as he felt his body turn to ash and flake apart before being blown into the void of nothingness. The last thing to remain where his eyes, which rolled on the floor before an inquisitor stepped on them!

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  Jack woke with a violent jolt, drenched in sweat and clutching his bedding as though the world would end if he let go. “Not again,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he checked he had a face with his hands. “Not again.” His chest heaved as he buried his face in the bedding, stifling the sobs so he wouldn’t wake the others. “It’s not real… just a dream. Everyone’s safe,” he muttered, though the images still burned behind his eyes.

  After a few minutes, he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and washed the sweat from his body. He ached from yesterday’s battles, the tension of the dream compounding the pain.

  He groaned as he crawled back into bed, hoping for a few hours of peace before morning.

  ***

  When Jack woke a few hours later, he felt like an old army messenger who’d been tasked to run an urgent message through the night. “Ow. My body,” he groaned, forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “Just gone six in the morning,” he muttered. “Why do I keep waking up so early?” With a resigned shrug, he got dressed and sat at his desk to craft another spell scroll. He needed the coin.

  Despite feeling sore, he wasn’t going to waste the day. Having been reminded of the existence of training facilities at the Adventurers Guild, his plan was to pick up his items from the washhouse, visit the spell scrolls shop, and spend an hour on archery training.

  Before all that, he had to have breakfast and test the waters with his mother regarding archery training. The subject had been put aside due to Jack’s injuries, but he was certain his mother wouldn’t have forgotten.

  Less than two hours later, Jack was at the kitchen table with Polly—his sister was awake before nine for once—and Zia, eating a delicious breakfast of pastries, cream, and fruit. Their mother was still tending the oven to complete an order for one of the Lundun businesses she supplied.

  “So, why’s this called a cornetto and not a croissant? It looks like a croissant, Mom.” Jack took a bite into the golden baked cornetto topped with fresh cream and strawberries he’d been examining. To his untrained eye, it looked like a croissant. He groaned with delight, “Hmm… that’s delicious.”

  Zia nodded in agreement as she too took a second, much bigger, bite of her cornetto, not caring what it was called. The sweet crescent-shaped pastry was stuffed in her small mouth; the fresh cream spilt from the pastry’s sides and down her chin.

  Polly was silent, too busy enjoying her breakfast.

  Anna laughed. “You need to take your time, little one, or you’ll lose most of the cream.” She glanced at her son, “The differences are a croissant is made from puff pastry, making it flaky…” she paused to take something out of the oven, “…while a cornetto uses a richer dough that’s not as flaky, and has a softer interior with a crisp exterior.”

  Jack nodded while taking another big bite. “It’s really nice. We should have these every morning,” he half-joked.

  Zia nodded while licking the cream from her chin and fingers. “It’s really nice,” she mimicked Jack in an almost understandable mumble.

  “What are your plans for today, Jack?” his mom asked.

  He swallowed the bite of cornetto and said, “I plan to practice my scribe skills and later check out the Adventurers Guild’s training areas for archery practice.”

  Polly scoffed. “I hope they have barn doors for you to aim at.”

  Jack ignored the insult. As soon as you are out of the house, I’m gifting your room some spider egg sacs. He gave his sister a smirk.

  Their mother sat down in front of Jack. “After what happened, you still plan to learn to use a deadly weapon?” She looked concerned, and the laughter lines around her eyes had become more visible. “You’re a scribe, Jack. Not a warrior!”

  “A boring scribe,” Polly added.

  “Not now, Polly,” their mom retorted.

  Polly went back to eating her breakfast in silence.

  “I know, Mom,” Jack smiled, “but what happened has made me more determined than ever to learn to defend myself.” He looked at his sleeping younger brother in his cradle. “What if we were all out on a hike with Dad and a…” he paused to look across at Zia, who was still enjoying her cornetto breakfast, “…and something happened?”

  His mom forced a smile. “That shouldn’t happen.” She interlaced her fingers together in thought. “Your dad only ever takes us to safe areas.”

  Jack nodded. “Where I went to practice archery is supposed to be safe.” He again looked at Zia, not wanting to upset her. “Well, you know what happened… I’ve heard the King’s Army is recruiting Apprentice Scribes. It will be a while before I reach the apprentice level, but what if I have to spend time in the army like Dad had to?”

  Young people were conscripted into the army for a couple of years. The only reason Jack avoided conscription in his past life was a combination of being badly scarred, travelling, and spending most of his time living away from people like a hermit. Also helped that the Kingdom’s officials believed he died in the fire that burnt his home to the ground, so they weren’t aware he was an Apprentice Scribe.

  “Hmm…” his mom said, but before she could continue, Jack interrupted.

  “It’s only the Adventurers Guild training area, I’m not planning any more trips to a forest to practice now that I know there’s a much safer option. I just want to be fit and capable of defending myself and the people I love.” He gave his mom a smile.

  Polly scoffed but kept quiet despite the look on her face suggesting she had a good insult ready.

  Jack continued, “I’ll store my bow and dagger somewhere safe where small hands can’t reach them.” He’d already considered this. His dagger could be kept out of reach on his bookshelf, and the bow and quiver stored on a hook, high on the wall in his room.

  His mother frowned. “I don’t like it… But you are an adult now, and we have to let you make your own choices… and mistakes.” She gave him a stern look. “If I find any of your deadly weapons on the floor or within a child’s reach, I’ll…” She paused before continuing, “…I’ll cook them in my oven on full power.”

  Jack laughed at the threat and the image of his mom stuffing his dagger, bow, and quiver in the oven; she had a huge oven, so they would all fit.

  “I’m not joking, Jack.” She frowned at him. “One time and they’re all ash.”

  He nodded. “I understand, Mom. And I appreciate your trust in me.” He stood, groaning a little from his still-aching body, and gave his mom a hug, which she returned.

  Seeing a hug, Zia joined in. She had sticky fingers that managed to only find Jack’s clothing.