“Urghh.”

  Mira opened her eyes. She grasped her head, a sharp, itching pain making her eyebrows furrow. Her long, pointy ears flicked. She flinched as the carriage hit a rut, the wooden wheels crashing violently against the rocky road. She raised her hands to cover her ears, strictly using her knuckles. Her sharp claws had a nasty habit of tearing her own earlobes if she wasn't careful. Slowly, she lowered her hands and let the ambient noise settle into her ringing head.

  She sat in the middle of the cart. Up front, Garrick sat opposite Sera. Both looked completely drained. Garrick kept his eyes glued to the floorboards. Sera stared out the small window, her usual boundless energy gone. Next to Mira, Oren tuned his lute. The soft plucking provided a pleasant contrast to the rattling cart. Nyx lay with her head in the bard's lap, her breathing deep and steady.

  Elira sat at the open rear of the carriage, entirely exposed to the sky. Snow sparkled in her dark hair.

  The suicide mission was over. No one died. It felt like a strange miracle.

  Mira sat up and adjusted her heavy robe, making sure her cloth blindfold remained secure. Her head spun from the sudden movement. She stepped carefully toward the back, her clawed feet squeezing the wood to mask the sound of her footsteps.

  She sat down next to Elira, keeping a fair, safe distance. Elira stared at the faraway horizon. From time to time, she blew out a stream of cold mist, her mouth mimicking the familiar motion of exhaling cigar smoke.

  “Aren't you cold?”

  The voice came out shrill and shaky. Of all the monstrous traits Mira had acquired, her voice was the only human thing she had left. It always embarrassed her when people heard it.

  Elira turned her head slightly.

  “It is more comfortable.”

  Her voice sounded distant, floating somewhere completely outside of this world.

  The fire crackled. The squad sat around the flames, eating their soup in silence. The freezing weather demanded speed. They had to swallow the broth while it was boiling hot, otherwise, it would turn into a block of brown ice within minutes.

  Nyx buried her face in an oversized bowl, but she didn't forget to glare at Elira over the wooden rim. The assassin had aggressively argued for the biggest portion as a reward for saving their lives in the dark. Elira, conversely, received the smallest as punishment for nearly killing them. The size difference was absurd. Nyx drank from a bowl larger than her own head, while Elira held a vessel no bigger than a teacup.

  “Sigh. What now?” Elira muttered, staring at the frozen dregs in her cup.

  “Don’t you think you owe us something?” Nyx sneered.

  “I already apologized. What do you want me to do? Go down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “You should be begging!”

  Oren pushed Nyx’s head back down toward her meal. “Focus on your soup before it turns solid.”

  “Shit! It is already cold! Cold soup is the worst!”

  Elira ignored the loud, obnoxious sound of Nyx gulping down the rest of her meal. As an added layer to her punishment, Nyx had declared Elira responsible for cleaning the dishes.

  Later, Elira carried the bowls to a nearby snowbank to scrub them in the freezing slush. The carriage rider was out checking the horses. He was a quiet man who showed absolutely zero interest in conversing with a squad of monsters.

  With Elira out of earshot, the group turned their collective focus onto Sera.

  Nyx started the interrogation. “How did you know that weird woman?”

  Sera closed her eyes and took a long, shivering breath. “She raised me.”

  “So she was your mother?” Oren raised an eyebrow.

  “In a sense, yes. Though, for a short time, I was a Saintess.”

  “YOU WHAT?!”

  Nyx shouted so loudly that Mira flinched. Near the snowbank, Elira turned her head to see what the commotion was about.

  “You? A Saintess?” Nyx continued, looking completely baffled. “You act like the biggest whore in the Empire.”

  “I am still a virgin,” Sera mumbled. A heavy blush crept across her face.

  “Huh? How?” Nyx looked genuinely dumbfounded.

  “Guess why,” Sera muttered under her breath. A mix of fury and intense embarrassment laced her voice. She glared directly at Garrick.

  The massive lumberjack looked away awkwardly, desperately trying to turn invisible.

  “Oh, I get it! You want to fu—”

  Oren clamped his hand over Nyx’s mouth before she could finish the sentence.

  “I just finished fixing my lute,” Oren said loudly. “How about a celebration song for surviving the mission?”

  “Yes, let us do that,” Mira chimed in quickly, eager to shatter the suffocating tension.

  Sitting close to the fire, Sera’s face burned as red as a tomato.

  “I am impressed.”

  Major Viktor’s heavy voice echoed in the briefing room. The Death Squad stood in a loose line before his desk. They had been pulled into the command tent the moment their carriage crossed the defensive line.

  “The operation was a massive success,” Viktor continued, his stern eyes locking onto Elira. “You did not just attract the border defense force. You completely destroyed the Northern Bastion and annihilated Hochkreuz, the Holy Shield of the North.”

  “And almost killed all of us too,” Nyx added bitterly.

  “Yet you all stand here, with zero casualties.”

  “Geez. Talk about bias. COUGH.”

  Nyx choked suddenly. She clutched her throat, her eyes watering. From the dangerous, completely flat expression on Major Viktor’s face, the sudden lack of air in the assassin's lungs was no coincidence.

  “If you do not have anything relevant to add, you are all dismissed,” Viktor concluded. “Each of you will be contacted for individual debriefings later.”

  Sera stretched her arms high and turned toward the exit. “Finally. I need a hot bath.”

  “They have baths here?!” Nyx gasped, her airway suddenly clear. She immediately ran after Sera..

  “Wait, I want to take a bath too,” Mira called out, scurrying after them.

  Oren turned to Garrick. “Beer?”

  Garrick gave a slow nod. The two men walked out together, leaving only Elira and Viktor in the quiet room.

  Viktor raised a thick eyebrow. “Do you need something?”

  Elira stuffed her hands into her pockets.

  “Those cigars. Do you have any left?”