Chapter 8
Once the adrenaline faded, reality came crashing in.
Tyler staggered back, her hand clamping over her mouth as bile surged up her throat. She stumbled to the nearest wall, bracing herself as she vomited. Her stomach convulsed until nothing was left. Coughing, she spat out the bitter aftertaste and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, still trembling slightly.
When she finally turned back to the alley, her golden eyes locked on the carnage—the lifeless bodies, the crimson stains, the severed limbs. Her chest tightened.
'All that bravado... but this was the first time I've actually killed someone. I've seen bodies before. I thought I understood death. But seeing it... and knowing I caused it? It's different. Much different.'
A beat of silence passed before she moved again. She stepped forward and crouched over the pile of scattered coins and jewelry the gang leader had dropped in desperation. Her fingers were steady as she began to gather them, one by one.
'Still... I have no choice. If I'm going to survive in this world, hesitation is a luxury I can't afford.'
Just as she finished tucking the last coin into her pocket, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the alley. Voices followed, one of them belonging to the girl she'd saved earlier.
Tyler glanced toward the alley's entrance, her expression unreadable.
"She must've gone and gotten help," she murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
But then her gaze turned to the wall ahead. "That won't be necessary."
She bent her knees and launched upward, landing lightly on an invisible platform—her boundary barrier. A second jump brought her to the rooftop. Without another glance back, she disappeared into the early morning shadows, leaving behind only silence.
She hopped lightly from rooftop to rooftop, the morning breeze teasing strands of her dark hair and brushing cool against her cheeks. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the stillness—the quiet thrill of movement, the sense of freedom. Taking a breath, Tyler sighed.
'I have long since come to terms with what I was willing to do the moment I came to this world so I don't intend on dieing until I'm ready.'
Then her stomach growled. Loudly.
She winced, placing a hand over it. "Right… I haven't eaten yet. And since I puked up whatever was in there earlier, now hunger decides to hit. Just great."
Peering down at the streets below, she spotted a few early vendors setting up their stalls.
A small bite won't hurt.
With a practiced leap, she dropped down into a shadowed alleyway and stepped out casually onto the street. After a few minutes of wandering, she came to a stop in front of a familiar stall. She narrowed her eyes at the display of the fruits of this world lined neatly in wooden crates.
"…Oh. I know this one." A small grin tugged at her lips. "Yup, definitely the place I Strategically Transported Equipment to an Alternate Location. S.T.E.A.L.," she muttered, amused at her own acronym.
"Wilt þū standan hēr starigendlic, oððe wilt þū forsoðe becypan sum þing?" a gruff male voice broke her thoughts. ("Are you gonna stand there gawking, or actually buy something?")
She looked up to see the stall's owner: a broad-shouldered man with a patchy beard, sun-worn skin, and sharp eyes that narrowed in mild suspicion.
Tyler gave a sheepish smile. "Gea, gea. Beþwær, ic hæbbe feoh tōdæg." ("Yeah, yeah. Relax, I've got coin today.")
The man raised a brow. "Þū eart nā hēonan, nāhwyder hēr, nales?" ("You ain't from around here, are you?")
Tyler blinked in surprise. "Hū ongiet þū þæt?" ("How'd you figure that?")
"Ærest, þīne andswaru—hīe cuma slāw and līes swā swā hīe bēon on innan þe geþeodde. Oðer, þæt þīn brūa scraþ swā swā þū þencest þurh þæt ic sprece… swā swā þū dēst nū." ("First off, your replies—they're slow and sound like you're rehearsing 'em in your head. Second, the way your brows knot up like you're translating what I'm sayin'… like you're doing right now.")
She blinked again, caught. "Ic nyste þæt hit wǣre swā sweotol." ("I didn't know it was that obvious.")
"Wæs hit sōþlīce. Swā hwelc byð þīn cyre?" ("Well, it is. So, what'll it be?")
"Riht. Ic nimme twēgen velisæpplas, ic bidde." ("Right. I'll take two velisapples, please.")
The velisapple—a fruit native to this region—looked like an odd blend between a ripe peach and a star apple, its outer skin a dusky gold tinged with violet, and its scent sweet with a citrus bite.
The man grunted, grabbed two from a basket, and dropped them into a rough paper bag. "Þæt byð ān kresc," ("That'll be one kresk.")
Tyler reached into her pocket and fished out a copper coin she'd looted from the bandit leader. It was warm from her hand, stamped with a faded sigil she didn't recognize.
"Hēr þū hæfst," ("Here you go,") she said, handing it over and taking the bag.
"Lustbǣre beþingung mid þē," ("Pleasure doin' business with you,") the vendor said with a nod.
"And mid þē ēac," ("Same to you,") Tyler replied, turning away and biting into one of the fruits.
Juice ran down her chin—sweet, tart, and just what she needed.
Deciding it was time to head back to Anessa's house, Tyler sighed. She knew a scolding was likely waiting for her.
"This won't be fun," she muttered.
On her way back, she stopped at a few stalls, picking up some basic groceries—bread, root vegetables, and a wedge of cheese—hoping to soften the lecture she was walking into. Her arms were full, and her pockets noticeably lighter by the time she reached the familiar wooden door.
She took a steadying breath. "Here we go."
Tyler pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Anessa, I'm back!" she called out, hoping the cheer in her voice might make a difference.
As Tyler fully entered the house, a sudden pressure pressed in behind her, and the door slammed shut with a sharp thud.
"Where were you?" came Anessa's voice from behind her. Anessa's voice was sharp—anger, maybe. Or was it worry? Sometimes, I can't tell with her.
Tyler winced, closing her eyes as if accepting her fate. Slowly, she turned with an awkward smile. "Hey, Anessa. How was breakfast?"
"You didn't answer my question."
Thinking quickly, Tyler lifted the grocery bag in her hands and pointed to it. "I bought groceries."
"Oh? And where exactly did you get the money?"
Shit! Tyler cursed internally, her smile twitching.
"Heh heh... well, you see—it's a funny story."
Anessa crossed her arms. "Good. Because we have all day."
"Shit," Tyler muttered. "Maybe next time I'll stay lost… at least then I won't have to explain the groceries of guilt."
Chapter 8: End