The tavern matron led them to a room on the third floor, pointing out a communal lavatory down the hall and a washroom with a basin and cold-water pump across from it. Once the door shut after her, Serel peeked out from where she’d been tucked close against Vera’s side and quietly began taking in their surroundings.

  The room wasn’t much compared to their accommodations in Sablewatch Hollow, but Vera found it cozy enough—rustic, with a slanted ceiling of dark beams fitted over carved bone, a simple bed with a wool-stuffed mattress, a nightstand, a chair, and a small shuttered window overlooking a shadowed alley. A single wall sconce near the bed burned with a soft white flame, casting long, wavering shapes across the room.

  Vera dropped her satchel next to the bed and stretched her shoulders, watching Serel scan the space.

  “Alright, Serel. Ready to head back home?” she asked. “I bet Caldrin’s prepared a feast that’ll hit the spot after the trip.”

  Serel blinked, turning to her. “We’re… not staying here?”

  Vera paused, caught off guard by both the question and the look in the girl’s eyes. “Uh, no. The plan was to head back to Sablewatch Hollow for the night and return tomorrow morning.”

  The disappointment on Serel’s face was obvious, even though she tried to hide it. “Oh. Okay, Mommy…” She wrung her hands together, fingers fidgeting in a nervous little twist. “I’m ready…”

  Vera studied her for a long moment.

  And realized there’d been a change of plans.

  Clearly, Serel had been hoping to stay. She must’ve imagined what it would be like, sleeping in a city she’d never seen before. Vera hadn’t even considered that.

  “Come here,” Vera said, stepping over and resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  From her Vaultring, she withdrew the Hearthbind Token. It was a thick, palm-sized disc of blackened alloy threaded with silver ash-veins, warm to the touch with a faint, heartbeat-like pulse. One side bore a stylized hearthfire surrounded by sigil-lines. The other was inscribed.

  Sablewatch Hollow — Bound in Year 146 of the Ember Cycle, Veralyth Mournvale.

  Vera pulsed a small spark of Resonance through the token, and the engravings were set aglow. In the next breath, she and Serel were swallowed in a shimmer of ash and emberlight.

  They emerged in the Ember Gallery back at Sablewatch Hollow. Without pausing, Vera invoked Mark of the Stillbound Veil to locate Caldrin, then summoned Stillwake.

  Mark of Hollow Reach.

  They stepped into the dining chamber, where Caldrin turned with a bow.

  “My lady. Young miss. Welcome back.” He gestured toward a laden table. “A suitable meal for after your journey—I trust it will meet your taste.”

  Vera eyed the spread: roasted strips of seasoned meat, peppered root vegetables, a thick stew steaming in its bowl. Her appetite actually stirred at the sight.

  “We’ll have to take a doggy bag, Caldrin,” she said.

  “A… ‘doggy bag’?” His brow furrowed slightly. “Forgive my Resonant, my lady, but I’m unfamiliar with that phrase.”

  Vera waved a hand. “Pack some of it to go. I’ve changed my mind. Serel and I are staying in Marrowfen tonight.”

  “I see.” Caldrin dipped his head. “Then I shall prepare your… doggy bag.”

  Beside her, Serel tugged carefully at her hand, gazing up with poorly disguised hope in her smile. “We’re sleeping there, Mommy?”

  Vera didn’t really mean to smile in return, but she did. “Sure. Why not? I’m sure it’ll be fun. And hey—I always figured I should’ve traveled more when I had the chance.”

  A delighted squeak escaped Serel as she hugged Vera’s waist. Vera once again found herself wondering just how this child had been ‘raised.’ She clearly wasn’t afraid of her—just the opposite—and it didn’t feel like she’d been purposefully neglected either. But there was still that air of cautious wonder to most things.

  Vera glanced at Caldrin, who was already pulling wooden boxes and wax-sealed packets from a tall cabinet. He packed the meal with brisk efficiency, impressive for someone who’d never heard of a ‘doggy bag.’

  She mentally added Serel’s behavior—and her general inexperience with ordinary things—to the list of questions she needed to ask him. Later. For now, this was still their little trip, and she intended to savor it and the novelty it represented.

  It didn’t take long before the food was neatly portioned and packed. Soon after, Vera and Serel said their goodbyes and returned to the Ember Gallery. A second activation of the Hearthbind Token brought them back to their room in The Bleeding Chalice.

  Serel practically bounced in place upon arrival, darting around as though the room were an entire castle. She inspected every corner, even dove under the bed in what looked like the start of some grand imaginary adventure.

  Vera winced slightly when Serel pulled out a small, yellowed bone chamber pot like it was a treasure. She took a moment—somewhat embarrassed—to explain its actual purpose because, apparently, chamber pots weren’t used back in Sablewatch Hollow. Thankfully, Serel shoved it back under the bed with mild horror once she understood what it was.

  Afterward, the two of them cobbled together a makeshift dining area using the chair, the nightstand, and the edge of the bed. The food was genuinely excellent, so much so that Vera grudgingly had to admit she’d have to compliment Caldrin’s cooking at some point.

  Serel looked eager to explore the tavern further once they finished, but Vera had seen her yawn more than once during the meal. Even she knew what that meant. With a little coaxing, she persuaded Serel to save the rest of their adventuring for the morning.

  Vera did hesitate at the thought of sharing a bed again. Two nights in a row was pushing her comfort zone. But she wasn’t sure if Serel was ready to sleep alone, and last night had gone surprisingly well. Maybe her insane physical abilities weren’t all that had changed with this new body.

  To her surprise, Serel initiated her own bedtime routine without prompting, which included an oral hygiene part using plant-fiber floss and some sort of dark herbal paste Caldrin had packed. It wasn’t quite ‘modern,’ but Vera tried it and found it better than nothing—and impressively thorough for a six-year-old.

  Soon they were both tucked under the wool-stuffed blanket. Vera reached up, snuffed the sconce above them, and let the room sink into quiet darkness, with only the muted presence of Marrowfen beyond the shuttered window.

  Concrete curbs, patched asphalt, and parked minivans slid past outside the car window in a slow rhythm, the scenery marked by the soft purr of engines and the quiet geometry of suburbia.

  “So,” her mother asked from the seat beside her, “how did the interview go, honey?”

  “Like shit.”

  “Vera.”

  “Sorry. Like crap.”

  Her mother sighed, drumming a light tempo against her leg. “Don’t be so quick to judge. You won’t know for sure until they get back to you. It’s entirely possible they found you more charming than you think. Unlikely, but possible.”

  “Gee. Thanks.” Vera kept her eyes on the blur of houses. “But no. I actually do know. They told me I didn’t get the job. Right at the end.”

  “What?” Her mom’s voice rose a few pitches. “They told you during the interview?”

  Vera nodded. “Last five minutes. Said I ‘wasn’t quite what they were looking for’ and didn’t want to waste my time waiting to hear back. Polite enough about it, I guess.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “That’s ridiculous. No serious company does that. Not after dragging you through all those screenings and emails. Who tells someone they’re rejected while they’re still sitting in the damn chair?”

  Vera shrugged, glancing over. “Guess they were feeling honest.”

  “No. That’s not honesty. That’s unprofessional.” Her mother shook her head, brows pinched with irritation. “Unless you seriously bombed the interview—and I’m not saying you did, so don’t sass me—there’s no reason to handle it like that.”

  “I really don’t think it’s that unusual, Mom,” Vera said dryly. “Besides, they’re the ones slogging through all those interviews. Probably already knew who they wanted and filled the other slots for show. I just happened to be the filler.”

  Her mother shot her a sharp side-look. “You are not filler, Vera. For god’s sake.”

  “You sure? Because it really felt like I was the interview equivalent of a participation trophy. Can’t blame them, honestly. Not many are interested in an art degree. I think it’s enough of a miracle they asked me to come in to begin with.”

  Her mother breathed out. “How do you ever expect to land a job with that attitude? You’ve got to learn to stand up for yourself more, honey.”

  “Mom, it was one interview. For a job I wasn’t that interested in or qualified for. I’ll ‘stand up for myself’ when it’s worth bothering and the outcome actually matters.”

  She turned her gaze back to the window as another sigh drifted in from beside her.

  At the front of the car, her father kept one hand on the wheel, watching the road, but glanced back occasionally, quietly listening.

  A few seconds passed in silence before her mom changed tack. “So. Any plans for the rest of the day?”

  “Not really. I was thinking I’d take it easy. Relax.”

  “You mean you’re going to spend the day glued to those games of yours again.”

  Vera turned back, one brow raised. “Mom, that is relaxing for me.”

  Her mother just shook her head again, muttering under her breath. “Twenty-four years raising the most beautiful, clever girl I could ask for. She could do anything if she’d just apply herself—and all she wants is to waste away her time on her computerized games.”

  Vera rolled her eyes at the familiar spiel. “If you think I’m so brilliant, why don’t you and Dad hand over the company? Let me coast through life reading a few reports a day while lounging in an office chair and pretending I earned it.”

  “Do you seriously mean that?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation. “It was a joke. I’d prefer not to go gray by forty, like Dad.”

  Her mother kept watching her, but Vera tuned it out and looked back through the glass. “Uh—Dad, you just missed the turn. My apartment’s the other way.”

  Her father chuckled. “We’re not going to your apartment, sweetie.”

  She met his eyes in the rearview mirror, narrowing her gaze. “Okay… I thought it was odd that you two insisted on picking me up after the interview. It’s a twenty-minute walk. So, what’s the catch?”

  “There’s no catch,” he said lightly as they rolled to a stop at a red light. Outside, a small family crossed the street, a little girl gripping both parents’ hands. “Your mom and I just wanted to give you a little gift. Since we didn’t get to celebrate your last birthday properly, we figured today was a good chance.”

  “You know I just told you I bombed the interview, right? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘celebration.’”

  “Maybe not.” Her dad smiled. “But your birthday still happened. And we’ve already missed your turn, so I guess there’s no turning back now.”

  Vera’s lips twitched. “Sure. Trapped in your master plan. Guess I’ll allow it. So what’s the gift?”

  “Nothing fancy. Just a visit to the old Langford House down on Halberd Street.”

  She blinked. “Wait—what?”

  He grinned. “You remember that Tom Anderson Drop Top we saw there? The red one?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not. Your old Fender’s been faithful, but she’s on her last legs. Thought this would make a nice upgrade.”

  Vera leaned back in her seat. “Huh. Well. I guess I won’t object to being spoiled.”

  Her dad laughed. “Good. I’m allowed to spoil you every now and then.”

  “Hah!” Her mother scoffed. “He’s been itching for an excuse to spoil you all year. You know why I’ve never let that man get a dog. Give it a month and the poor mutt would be waddling around, belly scraping the floor.”

  “Darling, please. I have some self-control.”

  “Some, yes. That is precisely the issue. I blame you for half of our daughter’s indulgent traits.”

  A quiet laugh escaped Vera as her parents slipped into one of their familiar back-and-forths. She turned back to the window, letting their banter fade into the background. It gave her room to breathe.

  “Dad,” she began, leaning forward slightly. “Do you think they’ll have a—”

  She never finished the sentence.

  There was a blaring horn. A sudden flash of headlights from the side. Then the world tilted.

  Glass exploded. Metal groaned and twisted. Something slammed into her from the right, her body snapping sideways, then jerking back again.

  Everything went black.

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence—then pain flooded in, hot and everywhere.

  Her limbs felt disconnected. Her chest wouldn’t move right. She wanted to call out. Mom. Dad.

  She couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t even feel her own voice.

  Everything was slow. The world was slipping. Her last conscious thought wasn’t even fear—it was a hollow, spiraling need to know if they were okay.

  And then—

  Nothing.

  Vera jolted awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. A firestorm of pain tore through her body, radiating from her neck and shoulders down into her spine. Her ribs felt tight. Her heart pounded like it was trying to hammer out of her chest, and her breath caught as if she’d just woken up in the wreckage all over again. A faint, high-pitched whine rang in her ears.

  The pain would pass. It always did. She just needed her pills. They were on the nightstand, in the—

  She froze.

  This wasn’t her bedroom.

  This wasn’t her apartment.

  This wasn’t her world.

  She was in Marrowfen, in the body of Veralyth Mournvale. Her game character.

  Everything had changed.

  It took a moment longer before she realized the pain wasn’t real. Just phantom echoes—her brain playing tricks on her. And already, it was fading.

  That was when she felt something squirming in her arms. Heard muffled cries.

  Her eyes widened.

  She released her grip instantly, jerking back as if burned. Serel lay there frozen, her small body trembling in the dim light, eyes wide with shock, fresh tears glistening at the corners.

  Oh god.

  What had she just done?

  She hadn’t even realized she was holding her. Hadn’t been aware of anything. With the strength to kill a monster with a flick of her finger, she’d been clutching the girl like a vice in the middle of a nightmare.

  Serel could’ve been crushed. Worse.

  This was why she hadn’t wanted to share a bed. It was a mistake. A stupid, irresponsible mistake. Of course the night terrors hadn’t gone away.

  “M-Mommy…” Serel sniffled, her expression shifting between fear and confusion, like she couldn’t decide what had just happened.

  Vera didn’t know what her own face looked like.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself through one of her old breathing exercises. She climbed out of the bed, resisting the urge to reach back, to check Serel for injuries.

  For several long seconds, she just stood there, heart racing, sweat chilling on her brow.

  “Mommy…?” Serel asked again, voice quivering. “W-What’s wrong…?”

  “J-Just give me a minute,” Vera forced out, her own voice hoarse. “I’ll be okay. I just… need a minute.”

  Serel fell quiet. Still watching her. Still trembling slightly.

  Vera noticed her clenching the bedsheets. That small, broken movement stirred something awful in her—guilt, shame, disgust. But she pushed it down. She had to calm down.

  She closed her eyes.

  It took longer than a minute, but eventually, her pulse slowed. The sweat on her brow cooled. The pain, imagined or not, was completely gone.

  When she opened her eyes again, Serel was still staring, curled on the bed like she hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “Okay,” Vera said slowly. “I’m alright now.”

  “…Are you hurt, Mommy?”

  She shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine. Just… bad memories. In a dream.”

  “Memories?” Serel echoed. “So… it doesn’t hurt?”

  “No.” Vera hesitated. “What about you? Did I… hurt you?”

  Serel didn’t answer right away. She just glanced down at her arm.

  Vera’s stomach dropped.

  She raised her hand, activating the Vaultring. The central gem pulsed with a soft light as an Emberphial materialized in her palm. Its contents glowed faintly red, the liquid within swirling like coals under ash.

  “Here,” Vera said, holding it out but keeping her distance. “Drink this. It’ll take the pain away, okay?”

  Serel studied the vial. Eventually, she accepted it, turning it over in her fingers before working the cork free and bringing it to her lips. She sipped cautiously.

  The effect was immediate. A flush of warmth returned to her skin, and the subtle stiffness in her posture eased. Vera hadn’t even noticed how tense she’d been until it was gone.

  Hopefully, that meant things were okay.

  Serel lingered with the half-empty vial until Vera gently retrieved it, sending it back into the Vaultring with another pulse of light.

  Then silence settled between them. Heavy and lingering.

  “…Are you okay?” Vera asked eventually.

  Serel’s eyes flicked to her arm again, then she gave a small nod. “Mmm.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Vera nodded as well, though it felt hollow. “Just… If anything starts hurting again, you have to tell me. Alright?”

  “Okay…”

  More silence. It stretched, and Vera didn’t know what to do with it.

  “…Mommy,” Serel whispered after a while, “are we going back to sleep?”

  Vera looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled, licking her lips. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

  She glanced around the room, the relative darkness not too much of an issue for her, then reached for her satchel. From it, she pulled out one of the sleeping mats Caldrin had packed for the trip and unrolled it onto the floor.

  “I’ll sleep down here,” she said, smoothing the fabric flat. “You stay in the bed, alright?”

  “But…” Serel’s face fell, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like hurt. Hurt that somehow earned more of a reaction than the pain she’d obviously been in earlier.

  That look hit Vera square in the chest.

  She thought the girl would be scared of her. But even now—even now—after being woken by Vera’s nightmare and nearly crushed in her arms, the girl still wanted to sleep beside her.

  But Vera couldn’t let that happen. Not after just now. It was too dangerous. She couldn’t take the risk.

  “It’s for your safety,” she said, gentler. “If I have another dream like that… I might hurt you without meaning to again.”

  Serel’s gaze dropped to the mat. “But, Mommy…”

  “I’m sorry.” Vera forced some steel into her voice. “This isn’t up for discussion. Just… please try to sleep, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  Serel looked back up at her for a few seconds longer, eyes shiny with unspoken words. Then she gave a small nod and curled beneath the covers, facing Vera.

  Vera wished she could have offered some form of comfort, but she didn’t trust herself right now. Not with something like that.

  So instead, she lay down on the floor, staring up at the dark ceiling with her arms folded behind her head.

  “…Please have happy dreams, Mommy,” came Serel’s voice, tiny from the bed.

  Vera closed her eyes.

  “…You too.”

  Though she doubted sleep would come easy again.