The world span, as William looked frantically between Tilly and the wolf; his mind was racing, but unable to make sense of anything: his thoughts faded before they'd even fully formed.

  Tilly's laughter died down as she watched him on the floor, staring off into the distance with a deeply confused look on his face. "Suck the fun out of everything, you do," she said, folding her arms.

  William ignored her comment. "Do you not understand what this means?

  "That I can be a knight?"

  William couldn't believe what he was hearing. How does she not comprehend the significance of this? "No! The beast! It goes against all the scripture! Our Blessings are proof of our unique connection to the Seraph, it- it's what establishes the order of things! If they have them too, it means... it means we're no better than them!"

  "Never really paid attention in church." She shrugged, and wiped her blade clean on the wolf's fur. "Doesn't seem like a big deal to me."

  "It changes everything!" William rose to his feet, raising his arms in disbelief. "We have to tell the Order!"

  "Unless you're taking this," she hit the wolf with the flat of her sword, "all the way to Halbury, I don't think they'll believe you."

  William could think of no reply. She was right, he knew: what proof did he really have? A few green hairs? Even if they were to see the body, they hadn't seen its Blessing in use. It was too easy to dismiss. "Even if they don't believe us, we still have to tell them. Something like this cannot go unheard."

  "Us?" she scoffed. "If you want to sound like a madman, be my guest. I'm not risking my chance at knighthood, not now that I'm Blessed."

  "Fine. I'll send a letter myself, and when I get there, they'll..." William's words trailed off as he watched Tilly collapse in front of him. She landed in a heap at the side of the beast, and her sword clanged to the ground. He rushed over to her side, and held her head to check her condition, "Tilly! Are you okay?"

  "I'm alright..." she whispered, "just... really, really tired all of a sudden."

  William winced. "That'll be your Blessing running dry. Congratulations, by the way."

  "Forgot all about that." Tilly tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze. How does everyone know about the side-effects, and I didn't?

  "Can you stand? We should get you back to Axeby."

  "Probably, maybe."

  He did his best to lift her, and she held her arm tightly around his neck for support. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but they'd be able to make it back. Slowly. William still didn't know what to think about the questions that this raised, but that wasn't for him to decipher: the scholars at the Order were better suited to puzzle out such complicated spiritual matters. He had to get Tilly back, and he had to send a letter, as soon as he could.

  The walk back was uneventful, and painfully slow - Tilly could not walk far without needing a disproportionate amount of rest. She was quiet, too: they spoke little, which gave William ample time to fully contemplate the night's revelations. He realised, as he half carried Tilly back to the village, that he had all but ignored what could possibly be the most important event of her life. He made a mental note to celebrate her achievement, once his letter was sent - perhaps at the alehouse, if he could dodge the attention of Edith.

  Tilly would not have been an obvious choice for a Blessing, at least as far as William understood it: she didn't seem particularly devoted to the Seraph, based on her comments, and her actions spoke even louder than her words. It seemed to him that he had been the only reason she hadn't taken some rather dark actions, in their time together, though he eventually rationalised it away. She was abrasive and hot-headed, but meant well, and for all her bravado she had done the right thing in the end. Didn't we all need some guidance every now and then?

  He spent most of the walk stewing on the beast's Blessing, and what it could mean. He liked to think himself relatively well versed in matters of the Seraph, but now he wasn't so sure how much of that was based in fact. This one event called into question so much: it shook the very foundations of the religion as a whole, as far as he saw it. Was this an isolated event? Were there more Blessed monsters out there, terrorising villages? What of the requirements for a Blessing that scholars had assumed? There were too many questions for him to attempt any answer.

  By morning light they had returned, and the site of the night's battle was indistinguishable from the rest of the village, save for patches of dirt stained a deep red. In time there would be nothing left of it at all except the memories of those who survived.

  Nobody was there to greet them, and the main street was deserted; had they not been certain of the beast's death, they would surely have assumed the worst. Tilly suspected most to be in the alehouse, if they were awake, and so they trudged over to it. By now, William was beginning to feel just as exhausted as Tilly. He'd been awake far too long, and was in desperate need of sleep. The alehouse was empty, except for Edith, and the place felt a lot more inviting to a weary head than it had done yesterday.

  "Morning Tilly. You two alright? You look knackered!"

  Tilly waved a lethargic hand, and William responded in her stead. "Good morrow, Edith. I'm afraid we haven't rested since the battle. Do you know where we might find Peter?"

  "Silly sods. Rest is important, you know - especially as you get older." She gave them a pointed, motherly look that irritated William; he had neither the patience nor energy to deal with a scolding, though he did his best to bite his tongue. A wise decision, it turned out, as Edith eventually answered his question. "Peter's out near the church, last I heard. I don't reckon he's had much kip either - make sure you tell him what I said, too."

  The two thanked her, and set off for the church. He prayed that it was their last destination that wasn't a warm, soft bed. Sure enough, Peter was outside along with a few others who had been present for Axeby's defence; they were filling the burial pit, and the bodies were almost entirely covered. Some errant limbs poked through the dirt, much to William's disgust, and the air was foul - not things he would like to associate with a church.

  "Peter!" William called out, and the elderly man turned with raised, grey eyebrows. Upon seeing his granddaughter in her debilitated condition, he rushed over as fast as his old bones would carry him.

  "Matilda, what has happened?" Peter asked, and looked to William for clarification when she gave no answer. "Did she sustain an injury last night that went unnoticed? We must see to it at once!"

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  William put on a peaceful expression, and attempted to calm him. "Worry not, she is not injured. In fact, I do believe she is better than ever."

  Tilly raised a limp hand, but couldn't manage to hold it up for long. "Surprise." Gasps and whispers came from nearly all those gathered.

  "She ought to be back to normal after a good night's sleep," William added.

  The old man stared silently, and his face went through a slew of emotions: confusion, anger, disbelief, and then finally settling back on confusion. He seemed genuinely lost for words, for a moment or two. "I do not believe this... How? When?"

  "Last night," Tilly answered. She let go of William, to stand unassisted, and straightened herself. "I killed it."

  Peter's tone grew more serious. "Excuse me?"

  "Me and William headed out to finish it off, and it was a good job we did."

  Peter's head shot toward William, "I expected better of a Blessed man - for the both of you to disobey me, to disrespect the village, is beyond disappointing." The old man chastised him as though William were the one at fault.

  Tilly glared at her grandfather. "And yet the Seraph rewarded me for it."

  Her words struck a nerve, and the man became enraged, "You could have died, Matilda! Both of you! Axeby would be all but defenceless without the two of you!"

  William didn't get time to reply before Tilly retorted, "We would have been dead anyway! It had already recovered when we found it,"

  What? That's not-

  "If we had left it alone, to fully heal, it would have been strong enough to kill us all!"

  William did not refute Tilly's words, wrong as they might be; he wasn't sure why exactly, but it was not a battle worth fighting. Not after everything that had happened. If she wanted to take the credit, he would let her - maybe it would give Peter a reason to have more faith in her. I suppose she really did deal the killing blow...

  "You cannot know that, Matilda!" Peter countered.

  "The Seraph showed me a vision when it Blessed me! William, too!"

  Peter turned to William. "Is this true?"

  William hesitated for a moment, then nodded uneasily.

  The old man held his face in one hand, and massaged his temples, letting out a deep sigh. "I do not condone your actions, Matilda, but it seems you may have made the correct decision despite my warnings." She smiled at the awkward praise. "Come, let us go to the alehouse, and you can tell me of the night's events."

  William was annoyed with his decision to play along with Tilly's relatively harmless lie, after hearing her full retelling of events. She didn't necessarily portray him in a bad light, but she certainly made herself appear far more competent than him, and heavily implied that she was the sole reason for their success.

  She had regaled the villagers with a long and heroic fight, in which she saved William from certain death, receiving her Blessing at the last possible moment after the Seraph intervened directly. "It stunned The Terror with blinding white light, and gave me my Blessing," she'd said. It was all nothing more than an amalgamation of different stories that he was all too familiar with, but the villagers ate it up without question.

  Still, she wasn't necessarily doing any harm; in fact, one could argue she was doing the villagers a kindness: a tale such as this offered closure, and in a way gave some of the prior sacrifices a degree of meaning. He would never take that away from them, after what they'd all been through. He was happy to let his ego take the hit, for that.

  After the last of the drinks had dried up, the villagers began to disperse, and William called out to stop Peter before he left, "Peter, hold on a moment!"

  The man stood still with an unreadable expression, waiting to hear what William had to say. Peter wasn't best pleased with him, despite everything, but William hoped that the old man would calm down in time and look back on his actions with gratitude. He didn't need anyone's explicit approval to know he'd done well by helping the people of Axeby.

  "Is there anyone in Axeby who might deliver a letter to Halbury?"

  The man pondered for a moment. "Not anywhere that far, I am afraid. You would have to travel to Casford for such a thing."

  It was an unfortunate thing to hear, as it would delay the letter's delivery and take him further from Ashborough, but it was a necessary detour: his faith demanded it of him.

  Peter moved to leave the alehouse, but stopped himself just before the exit. He spoke to William, but did not face him. "Thank you, William," he said, and left.

  It was as nice a note as any to end his day on, and brought a smile to his face - something that felt foreign to him, as of late. He spoke with Edith to secure bedding, and settled in for some well earned rest.

  He slept until early the next morning, awoken by the first light of the rising sun that beamed through his room's window to warm his face. He'd slept like a baby, and felt like royalty doing it; he'd been so used to sleeping rough, or on dirty standard-issue bedding before that, that it actually felt strangely uncomfortable at first. It took his body time to re-adjust to being cradled by the soft fabrics of the sheets, and cushioned by the wool-stuffed mattress.

  The morning was a relatively lazy one: still productive, but slow by his own standards. He gathered his belongings and cleaned himself up, and it was closer to midday before he was ready to leave. He wanted to say goodbye, at first, but thought it might be best to slink away without any fanfare. He planned to be back anyway, and by then the villager's opinions of him would have settled; unbeknownst to him, he was still held in relatively high regard - it was his own misconceptions that made him think otherwise.

  He got directions from Edith, and some food for the road, then began his leisurely walk south along Axeby's main path. It was a relatively straight shot to Casford, as she told it, and should be safe enough with the beast dispatched. He planned to pick up his pace once he was further out, aiming to make the trip in three days - easily achievable, if he kept his sleep to the bare minimum.

  It was near the outskirts of the village that he was approached by a familiar face. Tilly threw him a casual shout of "Oi!", as she pushed herself off from the building she had been leaning against. She had apparently recovered fully from the rest, just as he had. William felt odd seeing her in the daylight, and without being completely exhausted.

  He wasn't sure how he'd managed to confuse her for Anne, now that he had the time to pay attention; they shared the same shade of blonde hair, but Tilly's was shorter - unusually so, based on William's experience with women. Not only that, but Anne was at least a foot shorter.

  "Where you off?" Tilly asked as she approached him.

  "Casford," William replied curtly.

  "No shit? I'm off there too, tomorrow - why don't I join you?"

  William couldn't hide the displeasure from his face. He wasn't keen on her, at the moment, after the story she told, even despite its positive effects. "Do you speak the truth, or is this another lie?"

  She rolled her eyes and tutted. "It was only a little white lie - it's not hurting anyone, is it?"

  There was some truth to her words, but it wasn't something he was totally accepting of. "It's dishonourable, and would border on blasphemy had you not received your Blessing."

  "But I did, didn't I? Makes for a much better story than what actually happened." She raised her eyebrows. "Bards will love this one."

  William sighed, and weighed his options for a moment. "Fine, but I have a quick pace - please do not slow me down." It would be nice to have company, even if it was Tilly, and would provide additional safety. Edith said it was safe, but for all anyone knew there was another Blessed beast lurking in the wilderness.

  "No no, I can come today, just let me grab my stuff."

  "What? Do you not need to say your goodbyes? What will your grandfather think?"

  "Let him think whatever he wants, he can't control me forever," she said with a shrug. "Besides, I need to get to Halbury."

  "Halbury?" William questioned. He'd need to get there too, once he knew what had happened to his friends. He assumed that she was headed there for the same reason as him. "Is another route not quicker?"

  "Could be, but I figured you'd be heading there too eventually, and why travel alone?"

  "Forgive me, but I will not be going to Halbury for some time," he said, and he actually meant the apology. "I must find my friends."

  "Oh? That why you came to Axeby in the first place?"

  "Partly. It was the most likely place they came, if indeed they are alive - or rather, the most likely out of the places I can safely travel to."

  Tilly hummed, and showed him a concerned look. "Sorry to hear that. We did get a few travellers, not long before you, but they didn't stick around to help."

  "Do not lie to me about this, Tilly... please."

  She scrunched her face at him, "I'm not lying! It was a brown haired fellow, and his girlfriend. Rey, I think his name was."

  William's lip trembled at the name. A light had been shone upon him, from up above the depths of despair in which his mind resided. He approached her, pleading, "Where did they go?"

  "Casford."