I'm tossed into the hay, landing hard as the barn doors slam shut behind me. The air is thick with the scent of old straw and the musk of livestock. I roll onto my side, my hands bound tightly in rope, the rough fibers biting into my wrists. I flex my fingers, testing the knots, but they hold firm.

  The barn is sturdy, built to withstand the elements. Mistvale is too small for a proper gaolhouse, but this place will do well enough to keep me trapped. Thick wooden beams support the structure, the walls tightly fitted with barely any gaps. The doors are reinforced, barred from the outside, not to mention the two watchmen standing outside it. No easy way out.

  I lie on my back, staring at the rafters, feeling the slow creep of despair settle in my gut. Anger burns alongside it, simmering beneath my skin, an unreasonable, roiling fury.

  At Podrick, for his accusations.

  At Yusef, for deciding I needed to hang for them.

  At myself, for... well, everything.

  Because after all.... They were right.

  I did everything they accused me of. I entered the crypt. I led that thing straight to the village.

  But how in the hell was I supposed to know what was down there? No one did. We were given no explanations, no reasons for why it was forbidden. Was I just suppose to believe the warnings blindly?

  I sigh deeply, the emotions fading quickly, as they always do. It doesn’t matter, it was all pointless in the end. The crypt had already been looted, probably centuries ago. All I could find was this damned iron necklace. I feel it, cold and heavy around my neck.

  Probably worth no more than a silver or two.

  A poor trade for my life.

  But wait a moment.......

  The necklace, its chain made of bladed links, presses uncomfortably against my skin. I remember now, how sharp they were...

  Still bound, I wriggle upright, bending forward and shaking my neck, trying to work it free from beneath my shirt.

  Come on!

  It’s awkward, frustrating, and the metal digs into my collarbone, but I keep at it. Eventually, it slips free, falling from my neck and clattering onto the ground.

  I seize it, gripping the sharp edges as best I can, twisting my wrists to saw at the thick rope binding me.

  "Ow, fuck!"

  The jagged links bite into my skin, drawing thin lines of blood. I curse under my breath, gritting my teeth against the sting, but I don't stop.

  The rope frays, little by little, the fibers giving way. Then, finally-

  A snap.

  The last strands break, and my wrists come free. I exhale sharply, shaking out my sore hands, flexing my fingers to force the blood back into them. My skin is raw, and my palms sting from the cuts, but I let out a relieved laugh.

  I'm free. Now, I just need to get out of here.

  I scan the dimly lit barn, searching for anything useful. The place has been stripped bare, no tools, no loose planks, nothing I can use to force my way out. Could I kick through the wood? I run my fingers along the walls, testing for weakness, but they’re solid. No signs of rot, no easy way through.

  Then there's the watchmen outside, two of them, both armed. If I make too much noise, they’ll hear me.

  I take a slow breath, steadying myself.

  I need a plan.

  The night air is bitter, the cold seeping through their thick woolen coats as they stand guard outside the barn.

  "Ain't right, this," grumbles Harwin, the miller's son, shifting his grip on the hatchet at his hip. "Hangin' a lad for gettin' himself in a bit o' trouble? Seen worse crimes go unpunished."

  "Aye," mutters Joss, the butcher assistant, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth. "But it's the law. Yusef says he went into the crypt, and if that’s true, well... you know what they say. 'Nothing good comes outta that place.'"

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  Harwin spits onto the snow. "Bah. Fuck the Crypt. Jus’ an excuse, if y’ask me. They hated his aunt, now they’re hatin’ him. Small-minded folk, scared o' things they don’t understand."

  Joss shrugs casually. "I dunno… you’ve seen his eyes, haven’t you? Red. The color of blood….” He shudders before continuing. “Either way it ain’t our place to question it. We do our job, we get paid, and we don’t end up on the wrong side of the rope."

  A heavy silence settles between them, only the howl of the wind breaking the quiet. Then-

  BANG.

  The men jolt, eyes snapping to the barn.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  The sound repeats, rhythmic, deliberate.

  Harwin and Joss exchange a wary glance before reaching for their weapons. Harwin draws his hatchet, the worn wood of the haft rough against his palm. Joss unsheathes his long carving knife, the iron deadly sharp.

  "Shite," Harwin mutters. "What’s ‘e doin’ in there?"

  Joss swallows hard, stepping closer to the barn doors. "Dunno. But we better sort it out."

  The barn doors burst open and Harwin and Joss storm inside, their weapons drawn. The torchlight from outside spills in, illuminating the dust-filled air as they take in the sight before them.

  I’m kicking at the wooden wall, trying to widen the small cracks that have started to form. My tattered tunic is half torn, the extra cloth wrapped around my fist as though to protect against the splintered wood, but I'm not punching it.

  "Oi! Stop that!" Harwin bellows, stepping forward with his hatchet raised. "You ain't gettin' out that way, lad."

  Joss grips his carving knife tightly, his knuckles white. "You don’t want to make this worse for yourself. Just sit down and wait for the morning."

  I whirl to face them, my breath ragged. "Wait for the morning? To be hanged like a dog? You think I’ll just sit here and let them string me up? Fuck that."

  Harwin sighs, lowering his weapon slightly. "Listen, Seven. We don’t like this any more than you do, but it ain't our call. You broke the law. This is how it goes."

  I scoff. "Tell me, Harwin. Joss. If you were in my position, would you let them put the rope around your neck without a fight?"

  The two men glance at each other. For a moment, they say nothing.

  Harwin’s expression hardens. "Don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to be the one to split your skull open."

  I take a slow step back, keeping my hands loose at my sides, my body coiled like a spring. "And I don’t want to die. So maybe you should reconsider."

  Joss clenches his jaw, stepping forward. "It's how it has to be Seven. We can’t take a chance on sorcery."

  They close in, cautious but determined.

  I tighten my grip on the iron chain, my ripped tunic protecting me from its bite.

  I warn them again. "Back off. Now. I mean it..."

  They don’t.

  I hesitate. Two men, both armed. Not odds I like, and despite everything, I don’t want to kill them. But....

  I'll do anything to survive.

  Anything at all.

  With a snap of my cloth-wrapped wrist, I swing the iron chain like a whip. The spiked medallion at its end slices across Joss’s exposed forearm before he can react. He lets out a sharp cry, stumbling back.

  "Bastard!" he snarls, clutching his wound. "You’ll regret that!"

  Harwin steps forward, gripping his hatchet tighter. "That little chain ain’t gonna do much, lad. Put it down before you get hurt."

  But then.... Joss falters.

  He exhales sharply, blinking as his expression shifts from fury to confusion. His breathing turns ragged, his grip on his knife loosening. A tremor runs through him, his muscles locking up as deep black veins spread from the small wound, slithering like ink beneath his skin.

  His eyes widen in horror. "What- what did you-?"

  Then the convulsions start.

  He drops to his knees, gasping, his limbs twitching uncontrollably. A garbled sound escapes his throat, somewhere between a choke and a whimper.

  Venom....

  That which I took from the spider.

  That which I soaked this chain’s medallion in.

  Harwin freezes, his face pale. "Lumina’s mercy…"

  The fear in his eyes is instant. He stares at Joss’s spasming body, then at me.

  "The rumors were true," he whispers. "You’re a sorcerer."

  I shake my head, stepping forward. "I’m not. Harwin, listen-"

  "Sorcerer!!" he shouts, raising his hatchet high. His hands tremble as he grips the handle.

  "I’ll split your godsdamned skull open!"

  He lunges, the blade of his axe slicing through the air with a murderous arc. I throw myself to the side, rolling across the rough, straw-covered ground just as the weapon crashes into the wooden post where I stood moments ago, sending splinters flying.

  Harwin doesn’t stop. He swings again, the deadly steel carving through the air in wild, desperate strikes. I scramble backward, dodging left, then right, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I can't retaliate, his weapon is too long, this chain can't close the distance.

  He’s relentless, each attack closing off my space, forcing me toward the walls. The chain falls from my grip, lost in the frantic evasion. I have nothing left to fight with.

  Then he swings for my head.

  I duck, the axe missing me by a hair’s breadth, the force of the strike pulling him forward just enough for me to react. I lunge, grabbing hold of the wooden shaft just as he raises it for another blow. His strength surges against mine, but I grit my teeth and push back. My muscles burn, every inch of me screaming to give in, but I refuse.

  With a roar, I rip the weapon from his grasp. Harwin stumbles, off-balance for a moment, just long enough.

  I don’t hesitate. I bring the haft of the axe down, slamming it against his skull with a sickening crack, the wooden shaft shattering on impact. His eyes roll back as he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even hits the floor.

  My chest heaves, my limbs tremble, and for a long moment, the only sound is my own ragged breathing. Then, slowly, I straighten, gripping the broken axe tightly in my hands.

  I did it. I won. But there’s no time to celebrate.

  I have to get out of here.

  Results

  +1 Joss's Knife

  +1 Skill

  Stats