The nameless raven sits on a branch, watching me as I sit in the thawing snow. Spring comes to end the harshness of winter, but I feel like the cold is only beginning.

  No monster attacks me. No decay beats a single pulse within range. And yet the raven perches above my head. A clear sign of my ominous future. I’m the danger here.

  The raven remains only long enough to carry this message to my heart, then takes flight back into the village.

  Taren tells me not to worry about what I can’t do, only to do what I can.

  I take a breath of the evening air, watching the sunset.

  If I’m a monster, then maybe doing some good can reverse the damage I’ve done.

  As ?spring begins in earnest, I focus on two things: healing and cleansing rot. With the end of winter comes a new round of decay on the wind. I must cleanse the village every night now. And I sneak into homes to heal anyone rumored to be sick. Taren joins me some nights to keep watch—and to talk.

  “Not a single person has taken ill long with you around,” Taren says as he leans against his house. Somehow there’s always rot threading its way up to his home. “No hay fever or whooping coughs. Not even Edrine can deny there’s something special happening in Ashgrove.”

  I use [Pulse Sever] to break the root of the rot as far down as I can reach. It withers under my grip. But it will be back in a day or two. Or some new decay will find its way to another side of the house.

  [Pulse Sever] has reached Level 4.

  “Maybe if you started doing some daytime healings…” Taren smiles at me.

  He knows I won’t do it. Some of these families I’ve healed during the night think I’m a demon. Brennic’s son recovered only this morning after my care the night before.

  “Orlen’s still a friend, isn’t he? No matter what fear you caused his family at Vigil.”

  I grimace at that.

  “And Raimi’s warming up to you again.”

  “If I didn’t have these [Skills], nobody would need to ‘warm up to me again’.”

  Taren pushes off the wall and steps closer. “Just heal the more vocal ones and Edrine won’t be able to call you a demon again.”

  “Unless he knows how [Leech Grip] works. Unless he can force me to prove how I steal life from living things.”

  Taren sighs and gives up on his argument. We finish the rest of the cleansing in silence.

  Days of avoiding the glaring eyes of the villagers who oppose me. Nights fighting the rot before it can take root. I find my stamina sinking in a downward spiral.

  It’s only three weeks before something changes.

  ~~~

  Taren hovers nearby while I try the door again. It won’t budge.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “No one bars their doors in Ashgrove.”

  Taren sighs. “They do now.”

  I face him.

  “I heard it from Orlen,” Taren says. “Edrine’s been preaching that evil comes this spring. That it’s best to keep our doors bolted against what comes.” He pushes on the door. “I didn’t think the cleric meant it literally.”

  “Unless he did.” I trudge away across the muddy path.

  Taren follows ?me. “Why would he? Just so he can keep you from nightly healings? He can’t possibly know about that.”

  We stop a short distance from the locked house. Leira’s daughter will remain sick.

  “Don’t get all down and whatnot,” Taren says, watching my eyes on the home. “Niva’s a strong girl. People do recover from fevers, you know.”

  I glance at him.

  “Believe it or not, Ashgrove once survived without your healing touch.”

  He’s grinning at me. I ignore his sense of humor and continue to track mud over my only pair of boots.

  Since I don’t heal the blacksmith’s daughter, Taren and I have much more time to cleanse rot and decay. We circle the village once to kill off new growths before returning to Taren’s home.

  “On a more serious note,” Taren says ?between shovels of dirt. We’re trying to reach further down at the root of decay near his house so it stops coming back. “Edrine also suggested starting a night watch.”

  I stop mid-swing and my load of dirt lands on Taren.

  He spits out a rock. “Thanks, Sevorn.”

  “My bad.”

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  “It is bad,” Taren leans his shovel against the hole and brushes dirt off his sleeves. “You might be onto something. If Edrine knows about the healings, he might know about your nightly cleansing.”

  “And why would he care to stop that?”

  Taren shakes a clump of mud off the back of his head. “Because anything you do is a threat to him.”

  Or maybe Taren just hates Edrine enough to expect that of him.

  The hole we dig ends near a thick root of decay. I [Pulse Sever] until nothing remains. Let it be the end of rot in this spot of the village.

  ~~~

  Though I worry all night about Niva’s illness, she ends up in better health the next morning, though still weak.

  What I don’t expect is another person to fall ill the same day.

  Ferlon and his family don’t leave their house. Their sheep make a racket in their padlocks, but are forgotten.

  I activate [Detect Decay]. The pulsing throbs of rot sound loudest from the sheep and their refuse. The chicken coop fares a little better. All of their animals produce rot and decay aplenty.

  But what stands out to me is the familiar sound of decay—a pulsing sensation that has a life of its own—a rhythm, like what I heard from Raimi so long ago.

  Someone in the house is deathly ill.

  Taren urges me to step forward, but I will not. I must be invited. Enough villagers have heard of my abilities by now.

  As the night settles in, I fear the worst.

  Taren finds me that night, leaning against the side of Ferlon’s home.

  “Barred their doors too, huh?” Taren whispers.

  I nod. I’m tempted to break in a window. My [Detect Decay] remains active. Strong pulses of decay thrum from one room. I figure the eldest, Ponel, is the sick one. I’ve seen some of the other family members during the day, checking on the animals or fetching water.

  “It’s not your responsibility, you know?” Taren says.

  I don’t reply. He knows how I feel about my place in the village. If I can’t heal people, then I simply attract rot and decay.

  I stand by their house until dawn approaches, feeling the strengthening decay in the Ferlon home. But it isn’t over yet.

  The next morning I arise late. Denet still doesn’t wake me. Despite Taren’s promises, both he and Raimi avoid me. Though Raimi seems apologetic about it.

  I trudge out to the village well to draw up a bucket for Marlene. She’s busy helping Dargan since his daughter’s still sick.

  “Sevorn,” says a voice from behind me.

  I turn to find Ferlon standing near me. He sways in place as he talks.

  “My son,” he says. “He’s…gravely ill. Please.”

  Without a word, I follow him. He trembles all the way to the outskirts of the village. Neither of us speaks.

  When we reach his home, I see the rest of his quiet family gathered in the back room, where Ponel lies asleep with a wet rag across his forehead.

  I still have moss in my cloak from the night before. Now I’m invited inside.

  Brisa, the mother, thanks me for coming, but doesn’t leave her place by the older boy’s side.

  I near the bed when I sense someone else watching me.

  Edrine sits in the corner, frowning. A tome lies open on his knees.

  “I said it would take some time,” Edrine says, his eyes on me, though his voice seems to be for Ferlon.

  “Ponel’s at the edge of the grave, Father Edrine,” Ferlon says. “We must do something. I’ve tried everything you’ve asked since yesterday.” He glances at me. “His magic worked for Orlen’s daughter, why not my son?”

  Edrine’s eyes flame like black coals as they burrow into mine. It’s as though I’m the only person in the room. “You would choose a bargain with a demon? Instead of trusting in Mother Life?”

  Ferlon glances at me, waiting for an outburst, but I remain silent.

  “Have you continued with the brinbale root,” Edrine continues, “and warm water every hour?”

  “Yes, Father Edrine.”

  “Then the rest remains in Mother Life’s hands.”

  Brisa bristles at this. “Shouldn’t we—”

  Ferlon touches his wife’s shoulder. “Ponel hasn’t uttered a word since yesterday. I’m sorry, Father Edrine, but we must try something else.”

  Edrine doesn’t respond. He stares at me for another second before returning his gaze to the pages of his book.

  Ferlon gestures to his son, but I’m hesitant with Edrine in the room. Nox vibrates under my shirt.

  I round the bed to keep my cloak pockets hidden from Edrine’s view, but it’s unnecessary. The cleric stands. “I will not be witness to demonic magic. You throw away your child’s life by this choice. Maybe even his soul.”

  He storms out of the room.

  Brisa seems uncertain. “Should we call him back? Maybe with more rest...”

  “No.” Ferlon gestures to me. “Go on, Sevorn. Do your magic.”

  I leave a hand grasping the moss in my pocket and reach out to touch Ponel’s head. [Detect Decay] shows vibrant decay dancing through the young man’s chest and arms. It’s more than what Raimi had started with; more than Aedul, the one I failed to heal.

  But I’m more experienced now.

  I [Leech Grip] my moss, threading it through my body and down into Ponel. I cut through the decay like a knife, shredding the largest pieces and cornering the fragments that break away.

  The moss wilts and dies under my touch, fueling my battle against decay.

  Color returns to Ponel’s face, and Brisa sucks in a breath of relief.

  But the battle has only begun.

  Like with Aedul, the decay rebounds and strengthens itself, dodging my outpouring of vitality. Soon I’ve drained the moss, leaving only ash in its place.

  I won’t let the setback stop me. At level seven, I’ve more vitality than two pockets full of moss. I [Leech Grip] myself, denying the vitality that yearns to return to me.

  I crash this new life into the decay and devour anything I can find.

  When I finally push the final bits of decay out of Ponel, I feel weak and tired.

  I let go of his head and sink to the floor. Ferlon catches me and helps me to my feet.

  “Did it work?”

  I open my mouth to share good news when a small pulse touches the back of my mind, emanating from Ponel.

  I frown and strengthen [Detect Decay], though my mana’s near depleted.

  An eruption of decay bursts from Ponel now. His whole body glows black with it.

  Everyone gasps. I’m not the only one to see it. The young man’s face grows ashen and his breath catches before he vomits. Blood trickles from his unconscious lips.

  Ferlon stares at his boy, then turns on me.

  “What did you do?”

  “I…I was healing him.”

  “You—” he glances back at Ponel. “You cursed him!”

  I shake my head. Ferlon’s face reddens.

  “First, our sheepdog. Now, my son.” He kicks a stool and it flies against the wall. “I should’ve listened to Father Edrine.”

  He reaches for me, but I duck around him and run for the door.

  He chases after me. Though I’ve leveled quickly. His legs are longer, so I can’t simply run.

  Before he can grab me. I [Pulse Sever] his leg for an instant, enough to trip him up, then sprint out into the forest.