Chapter 37

The next morning I returned to the gate and entered the city. I didn’t recognize the guards on duty, and they clearly didn’t recognize me either - just a cursory glance and a wave to pass through. I took the next major road to the left, asking directions when I had to, until I finally spotted the building Nanders had described: large, white, and fronted by a row of tall columns.

I assumed this was the hospital the innkeeper had mentioned last time we were here. It wasn’t especially busy, though I wasn’t sure what passed for busy in a place like this. There didn’t seem to be a waiting room - just a small desk near the entrance, staffed by a woman who looked up as I approached.

She appeared to be in her early forties, fit, with brown hair just hinting at gray. She had a friendly smile and healthy curves, though I wouldn’t call her traditionally beautiful. Cute, in an everyday way. The kind of person who looked like she’d lived a full life and managed it well. I returned her smile.

“Hopefully you can help me,” I said. “About a month ago there was a… dragon attack in town. I heard there were children involved. Can you tell me what happened to them? Is there an orphanage nearby?”

Her smile tightened, just slightly, but didn’t vanish. “May I ask why you’re inquiring?”

I let my own smile fade a touch, trying to look earnest. “My daughter was one of the children recovered. She’s back home now, but she’s been worried sick about the others. I promised her I’d check on them when I came back to town.”

Her smile softened a bit. “I see. Let me speak with one of the administrators. I’ll be right back.” She rang a small bell on the desk and stood. As she left, another woman - younger, blonde, with burn scars along the right side of her face - took her place. I offered her a polite smile and stepped back.

After about fifteen minutes, an older woman stepped out and beckoned for me to follow. I rose and followed her down a narrow corridor to a small office tucked off to the side.

She looked to be around sixty - perhaps a little more, perhaps a little less. Gray had claimed most of her hair, though stubborn streaks of brown still threaded through it like reminders of another era. She was thin, but not frail - there was strength in the way she carried herself.

She had the bearing of someone who had once turned heads without trying - and had since aged into something sharper, sterner, more dignified. Beauty tempered by experience.

When we sat, she offered me a tired smile. It wasn’t unfriendly - just worn thin by years of responsibility.

“I’m told you’re asking about the children recovered from the dragon attack,” she said.

I nodded. “Yes. As I explained to the woman at the desk, my daughter was involved. She’s safe now - home with her mother - but she’s been worried about the others. She asked me to check on them.”

She repeated my words under her breath, her brow furrowing. “Nothing you’ve said is a lie,” she said slowly. “But I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

“Quite astute,” I replied, offering a faint smile.

“Care to elaborate?”

I sighed. “I’d rather not. I assure you, I mean those children no harm. I only want to know they’re safe. I was hoping you could direct me to the orphanage.”

“You won’t find them there,” she said, her gaze steady.

“Oh. Then… do you know where I might find them?”

“I wish I did.” She sank into her chair with a weary sigh. “A few were sent to the orphanage, but they ran away within days. Most of them snuck out of the building here as soon as they were able..”

My stomach dropped. I’d hoped - desperately - that the worst was behind them. That those bastards hadn’t simply taken the children again. But what would be the point? Had they recovered the Bonefire Sphere? It should have been at the bottom of the river.

“How many?” I asked.

“Twenty-seven were treated here,” she said.

“Only twenty-seven?” I yelled. The words tore out of me before I could stop them.

She blinked, startled. “Yes. Why is that surprising?”

“Because there were over sixty-five in that damned hole,” I snapped. The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Had forty kids really died down there? I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to rein myself in.

Her eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t keep telling everyone I met about this whole crazy conspiracy, even if it was true. But I needed her help. I took a slow breath and let it out.

“Because I was there,” I said quietly. “My friends and I tried to get them out. I thought we’d saved more.” I put my head in my hands.

She crossed her arms. “I was told the city guard drove the dragon away and rescued the children.”

I laughed, sharp and bitter. “Yeah, well they lied to you. Just like everyone else. The guards were in on it - maybe not all of them, but enough. They kidnapped the kids. And the dragon didn’t fucking attack the city - she fucking saved them. If she hadn’t been there…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

She echoed my words softly, testing them against something unseen. “You’re not lying,” she said at last.

“Why would I?” I demanded. “They tried to wipe out every non-human in the city. Thirteen orphans from each race, to feed to the Bonefire Sphere. To turn them into skeletons to attack their neighbors.” My voice broke despite myself. “I didn’t realize we’d done so little. Saved so few.”

I stared at the floor. “I just hope they didn’t recover the sphere and start **** kids again.”

* * *

I left the hospital feeling hollow. I’d thought we’d done enough. That we’d made a real difference. Turns out we hadn’t even saved half of them.

It was still early - too early to go back and bother Nanders - so with nothing better to do, I drifted toward the marketplace. I doubted the merchant we’d left supplies with would remember me. Or that he’d still have what we left behind. Still, it didn’t hurt to check.

A sharp tug at my belt snapped me out of my thoughts. My hand went instinctively to my coin purse.

It was gone.

I spun, scanning the crowd, and caught sight of a small figure darting away from me. Of course. Just my luck - someone stealing the last of the little bit of money I had left. I stamped my foot in frustration, then broke into a run.

They were quick, but not fast. Small enough to slip between people easily - but I was taller, longer-legged, and people tended to move when I barreled through. The thief cut hard into an alley. I planted my staff, vaulted upward, and landed on the roof above.

From there I watched them sprint to the alley’s end - and stop. They spun, confused, eyes darting.

They didn’t run. They didn’t hide.They waited.

After a moment, I heard a boy’s voice hiss, “Where is he?”

The thief - now clearly a goblin boy, a bit older than Lilae - glanced left. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Should I go look?”

“No,” came a second voice, sharper. A girl’s. “He’ll show up.”

I stayed on the rooftop a few seconds longer, their confusion growing as their patience waned. Movement caught my eye. A young dwarf boy crawled out from behind a crate and stood beside the goblin. An elf girl - maybe twelve - squeezed out of a storm drain. An orc boy, older than the rest, maybe fifteen, stepped out from behind another crate.

“Get back in your spots,” the orc hissed.

I dropped into the alley.

They jumped.

“She was right,” I said mildly. “He did show up.”

The orc boy moved in front of the others at once, shoulders squared.

“The rest of you can come out,” I said. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just want to know why you lured me back here.”

More shapes emerged until seven kids stood in the alley. I nodded once. “So. What’s up?”

A few of them looked up, scanning the sky. The orc boy frowned. “What?”

“Sorry,” I said. “What did you want to talk about? Also - can I have my money back? It’s literally all I have.”

The goblin boy slipped past the orc and handed me my coin purse.

“You really him?” the orc asked warily.

“I’m me,” I said. “Name’s Seth. What’s yours?”

Silence.

Then the goblin blurted, “Torvek. His name’s Torvek.”

“Shut up!” Torvek snapped.

I exhaled slowly. “Look… I guess you’re some of the kids who were kidnapped. That you were in the sewers… when everything happened.” I leaned back against the wall. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more. I wanted to save all of you. We tried. And we failed.”

No one spoke.

“I thought - once you were out that someone would take care of you. Find what family you have left. Take you to an orphanage. Something.” My voice tightened. “That didn’t happen. And I’m sorry.”

“You saved us,” the dwarf boy said quietly.

“We’d be dead otherwise,” the elf girl added.

“A lot of you did die down there,” I replied softly. I swallowed. “So… how can I help? I’ve got five gold to my name.” I turned the purse over in my hand and held the coins out. “Take it. All of it.”

After a long pause, the goblin boy stepped forward hesitantly, like he expected me to strike him if he got too close. He took the coins. I didn’t move.

“Why’d you do it?” Torvek asked.

“Why’d I go into the sewers?” He nodded. “They took my daughter. I had to get her back.”

“Korkg!” Torvek spat. “There weren’t any human kids down there. He’s lyin’.”

I smiled sadly. “My daughter’s a goblin.”

“Still lyin’,” he shot back. “Humans don’t adopt goblins. Or orcs. Or anyone.”

“It’s the truth whether you believe it or not,” I said. “I’m sorry that things have been so hard here that you find it hard to believe. But we’re not all bad. Just… most of us, it seems.” I shook my head. “I’m looking for work. If I earn money, I’ll bring it back. One of my friends is camped outside the city - I’ll ask her to hunt extra food. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”

“What do we got here?” a man’s voice called. “Looks like a nest of thieves.”

I turned.

Three city guards blocked the alley mouth.

I stepped forward, placing myself between them and the kids.

“You a mark?” one guard asked. “Or the ringleader?”

“No thieves here,” I said evenly. “I work at the orphanage. We’re on an outing.”

“Ain’t no peewees, leaf-ears, fishies, or orcs at the orphanage,” another guard said. “We checked.”

“Then I’m glad to see such thorough policing,” I replied coldly. “Of course they weren’t there. They were here - with me.”

Steel slid from scabbards as they drew their swords.

“You comin’ quiet,” the first guard asked, “or in pieces?”

I glanced back. “Everyone hold hands.”

No one moved.

I met Torvek’s eyes. “Everyone. Hold. Hands.”

He nodded.

“I’d love to stay and chat, gentlemen,” I said to the guards, “but we’ve got places to be.”

They grinned menacingly, confident, blocking the only exit.

I grabbed the elf girl’s hand, took a step, and pulled with everything I had.

* * *

Brand watched the exchange with the guards with mild disinterest. They wouldn’t be alive much longer. The god standing before them would see to that.

Gods were all the same - dicks. They were drunk on power, starved for compassion for others. Psychopaths, the lot of them. Not that Brand held it against them. He was a psychopath too. It just made them easy to predict and control.

The guards advanced. The god didn’t. Instead, he vanished - retreating into his demesne and taking the children with him.

Brand blinked. That was… unexpected.

Did the god consider the guards so far beneath him that they weren’t worth killing? Or was something else at play? And why take the children? Faith, perhaps. He still couldn’t tell what this god was. What he ruled over. What he embodied.

Most gods couldn’t shut up about it. They proclaimed their power and titles to anyone **** to listen, reveling in the sound of their own divinity. This one, though, clung to the pretense of mortality like a shield.

Was it weakness?

He had less Faith than any god Brand had encountered. Even for a newly ascended deity, it felt… thin. Maybe his aspect hadn’t fully taken shape within the human psyche. Like being the god of spoiled milk. Or phantom smells. Things that existed, certainly - but not strongly enough to ever truly matter. And usually not enough to coalesce into a god.

Still, Brand had tasted his Faith now. That was enough. He could track him. It was only a matter of time before Brand understood him well enough to strike.