I cried and stumbled as I tried to escape. Had it not been for a stranger's unyielding grip, I would have fallen face-first onto the cobblestones. A deep voice echoed behind me, strong enough to carry across the entire courtyard.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but I'd very much like to know what's going on here."
Terrified, I turned around. Towering above everyone stood a giant of a man. He wore elegant black clothes that looked incredibly expensive. His head was shaved, and his skin was a rich bronze tone. Half his face was covered with an intricately crafted tattoo. A smirk gleamed on his full lips. I tried once again to wriggle out of the grip, but it only tightened, making me yelp in pain as tears welled up in my eyes. Even so, I noticed three other dark-skinned men lingering in the shadows, and crouched beside them was a boy. His black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and beneath his right eye, he bore a small tattoo similar to the giant's. I didn't have time to notice anything else because Yelwa and the others finally came rushing up to the cart. Their faces were stricken with shock and fear. Yelwa was completely pale, and even from several steps away, I could see she was trembling all over. Still, she stepped forward and raised her hands in a calming gesture.
"There must have been some misunderstanding. Please, let the girl go and we can talk this through peacefully," she said carefully.
"Oh, I'd love nothing more than to talk this through peacefully," the bald man replied, "but this girl is staying with me until we get everything sorted out— and there's quite a bit to clarify." He stepped forward and tapped the wooden crates of spices with his free hand.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is a shipment of spices from Xiang Han." The silence that followed was as good as a confirmation. "Makes me wonder if this might be the shipment that was supposed to arrive tomorrow—the one meant for us, the Batuis. But a man like me doesn't overlook little details, like the fact that the little boat with my shipment has already been here for a while, just waiting to be picked up. And now I come along to find three filthy thieves trying to steal what's rightfully mine."
My companions visibly paled even more and exchanged desperate glances.
"L-let me explain," Yelwa stammered. "This is all one big misunderstanding. We were just told to pick up the shipment. N-no one mentioned it already belonged to the Batuis. We're just the intermediaries. The job was given to us by Deredth Lynx. Deredth Lynx from Pox."
"Ohh, now that doesn't surprise me one bit. Let's just say Dereth and I go way back... and you could say it's quite a complicated one. I'll be sure to pay him a visit."
"So… so I hope we've cleared this up. We'll unload the spices right away, and everyone can go their own way."
The giant let out a booming laugh. "I like your optimism, girl. Yes, yes, that's how everyone should be. Makes me almost regret what I'm about to do."
My heart sank into my stomach, and I shook like a leaf. I fought the fear with all my might, but the tears started to roll over my cheeks. I was ashamed of myself, but I was terrified.
"Middlemen or not, you're still thieves trying to steal from the Batuis. With our reputation, we can't just let something like this slide. I hope you won't hold it against me."
I heard the hiss of a blade being drawn. In that instant, something happened. All my fear vanished, replaced by pure determination. I had to survive—no matter what. Before I even realized it, I was clutching a small knife. I stabbed behind me as high as I could. There was a scream, and the grip around me loosened. Almost simultaneously, something flashed by and a loud crack erupted as smoke surrounded me.
I was completely disoriented. Screams, curses, and the whinnying of horses filled the air. Someone grabbed my wrist again. My first reaction was to jerk away, but I quickly realized this wasn't the brute's hand. It was a slender, gloved one. My heart soared. I scrambled into the wagon among the crates, right behind Yelwa. I heard the crack of a whip, and the wagon lurched into motion.
Within moments, we burst out of the smoke cloud—probably from one of Yelwa's own homemade smoke bombs—and tore down the desolate alleys.
I began clawing my way toward the front of the wagon, toppling a crate in my haste. It smashed into splinters, scattering orange spice powder everywhere. But that didn't matter anymore. Our lives were on the line.
Two figures rose from behind the crates—one female, one male. Yelwa skilfully steered the wild-eyed, panicked horse, clearly spooked by the explosion. I barely recognized the long-haired youth crouched beside her.
Something whistled past me and embedded itself in a crate with a sharp thunk. I turned in horror to see two riders chasing us—Batui men, no doubt. Both wielded short, curved bows and were firing at us.
Someone grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me down onto the driver's bench, making sure I stayed low. Yelwa had managed it all while steering.
Arrows buzzed around us like angry bees, and I suddenly realized how close death was. It was a horrible, numbing thought.
Beside me, there was a shriek and a thud. Shocked, I looked up—thankfully, Yelwa was still beside me, eyes fixed on the frenzied road ahead. The scream must have come from the boy. The place where he sat just a moment ago was terrifyingly empty now. I caught a glimpse of one rider slowing down, probably to check if his target was truly dead. The other was gaining on us fast. I shouted a warning to Yelwa. She glanced back and cursed—but her voice turned into a horrible gasp. A quick glance told me she had been hit by an arrow. It was lodged around her liver. I stared helplessly, not knowing what to do. She was shaking from pain, her breathing ragged.
"Esme!" she called to me in a trembling voice, "we must get on the horse. The wagon's too heavy. At this pace, he'll catch us. I'll jump on, and you follow me. Don't be scared. I'll catch you, okay?"
I nodded blankly, barely understanding. She looked back one last time at our pursuer and jumped. Thankfully, it wasn't a long leap, and she landed fairly well—though she let out a pained cry. She immediately turned and gestured for me to follow.
There was no time to hesitate. I jumped—right into her arms. I clung tightly to her waist, careful not to jostle the arrow. I felt us speed up as Yelwa cut the harness and we took off at full gallop.
We veered into bushes and undergrowth. The brown horse—sweating and panicked—ploughed through them. In the dark, a branch whipped me hard across the face, sending hot blood streaming into my eye. It wasn't deep, but it burned terribly.
Before we knew it, we had shaken off our pursuers. We kept trotting for a while until Yelwa finally stopped the utterly exhausted horse. She immediately collapsed into the grass. I half-climbed, half-fell off and rushed to her. I shook her and sobbed instead of doing anything useful. After a while, she groaned and, with all her remaining strength, leaned against the trunk of a birch tree glowing in the moonlight.
"It… it'll be okay… don't worry," she rasped and began feeling her wounds. When she raised her hand back into the moonlight, it was covered in blood.
"Ye… Yelwa… Yelwa," I sobbed, shaking my head. "Please, you can't die. You can't… leave me here alone."
As if she hadn't heard me, she brushed my light hair from my forehead, revealing the cut above my brow that still bled slightly.
"That must hurt. Why didn't you say anything? Come here, we need to treat it."
"What are you talking about?! We need to treat you! Right now! Please, it can't be that bad. I'll bandage it up, and you'll be fine again. You just need a little sleep, and you'll be as good as new."
"Esme… Esme, I'm afraid…" Suddenly I saw tears shimmering on Yelwa's pale cheeks. "…that if I fall asleep, I won't wake up again."
Her words triggered another wave of sobbing. I didn't want to even think that might be true. I couldn't live without Yelwa.
We lay there together under the tree, crying. Crying at the cruelty of this world and cursing it. I clung to her warm, blood-soaked body.
After what felt like an eternity, I heard Yelwa's now barely audible voice.
"Now please listen to me, Esme. Once… I had a friend who was a witch. A real one—it's not a fairy tale. She told me she became one after her sister died. Her soul entered a tree, and from its branch, a magical staff was born. Then she went… she went to Virsel, to the academy of mages. They say they'll accept anyone with a true magical staff. Go there, Esme. Please. You can't stay in Pox. You'll have a good life."
"But I don't want that! I want to live with you, only with you! And I will. You'll be fine, I promise."
"You don't know how much I wish that were true, little one. You don't know how scared I am that I'll never see you again. But if magic truly works the way I've heard, we'll always be together. My soul will stay close to you and guide you forever. It will happen. I know it will. I don't know how it all works, but I know you'll feel it. You'll become a witch, Esme. That's the first thing you must promise me."
I no longer had the strength to resist fate. I knew, just as Yelwa did, that this was the end. So, through my tears, I whispered, "I promise."
"And the second thing is to always keep your smile. The most beautiful, sweetest thing I've ever seen in my life was your smile. Please, let your life always be filled with smiles."
"I p…promise."
A peaceful smile spread across Yelwa's face, her expression finally free of pain. She hugged me one last time and whispered in my ear.
"Thank you. Thank you, Esme, for letting me know you."
Her grip loosened, and Yelwa took her final breath.