I return to the gaolhouse, pushing open the heavy wooden door and stepping into the dimly lit chamber. It's lit only by dim candlelight, not that its much better outside, the sun has already set. To my right, a worn desk sits with a rusted lockbox behind it. it's not as cold as before, though the air inside still reeks of damp stone and unwashed bodies.

  Ahead, a narrow, staircase descends into the pit, where the cells lie. The gaoler, a burly man with a thick beard, steps in front of me, blocking my path.

  "You again... come to gawk at the poor bastards, have ya?" His breath reeks of stale ale and something fouler.

  I ignore his sneer, lifting the small bundle in my hands. "I brought food for two of the prisoners."

  He snorts, eyeing the wrapped parcel suspiciously. "That so? Hand it over, I’ll see it gets to ‘em."

  I tighten my grip. "No. I’ll deliver it myself."

  His lip curls. "Fancy yerself some kinda noble, do ya? Think yer too good to let a man do his job?" He steps forward, chest puffed out.

  I do the same, closing the space between us, before bending low until my face is level with his.

  "Zaenith expects them to get this food." My voice is low, threatening.

  His eyes flicker with something... recognition, suspicion, resentment. I saw how he reacted to Zaeith last time, seems her name holds some weight. He leans back slightly, rubbing his beard. "Tch. Fine, but don’t think this means ya get to walk in here like ya own the place."

  He steps aside, grumbling curses under his breath as he waves me through.

  I descend the stairs into the dimly lit pit, the smell gets immediately worse, the stench of shit and rotting flesh is overpowering. Though, William and Hamza are exactly where I left them, facing each other across their cells, gambling with small rocks as if they were gold coins.

  "That one’s mine, you cheating bastard!" William barks, waving the rock around.

  Hamza scoffs, rolling his eyes. "You lack skill, friend. A man cannot cheat at a game of chance."

  "Hmph, bloody cheat." William grumbles, tossing his last rock down in defeat.

  I clear my throat. "Still in high spirits, I see."

  Both men look up, their eyes widening in surprise. "Seven?!" William exclaims, a grin splitting his face. "Hells, thought we'd never see ya again. Figured that mountain of a woman dragged you off to be her new pet."

  "Not quite," I reply dryly, stepping forward. "Here."

  I hold out the small bundle of food, strips of dried meat I bought and bread I got from the tavern. Neither question the gift, both men snatch at the offering without hesitation.

  "By the gods, food!" Hamza mutters through a mouthful, his voice thick with gratitude.

  William doesn’t even try to speak, too busy devouring his share like a starving dog.

  They finish quickly, sighing in satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but after being starved for so long, I doubt they could handle much more. I toss William a flagon of wine, and he drinks deeply, letting out a contented sigh before passing it back. I hand it to Hamza, who takes a more measured sip.

  A good sort, these two. Even in these circumstances….

  I like them.

  William wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Seven, I won’t lie, didn’t think we'd see ya again, let alone with food and drink. Yer a true friend."

  Friend…. I don’t think I’ve ever had a male friend before.

  Hamza nods in agreement. "We’ve known you less than a night… Kindness like this... it's a rare thing."

  I shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. "I’m new to town. Doesn’t hurt to have friends."

  William barks a laugh, shaking his head. "Friends, eh? And here ya are, making ‘em with prisoner scum. I’m sure that’ll come in useful."

  Hamza smirks but then glances at me, more serious now. "That woman, the apothecary. Why did she take you? You seem to know each other."

  I'm not sure if I want to answer. It's not something I've really talked about, or even had the chance to talk about. Finally, I exhale. "It’s a long story."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  William chuckles, leaning back against the cold stone wall. "Aye, well, better not then. We got somewhere to be."

  I let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "She’s the woman who birthed me."

  William’s eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, ya mean that she-giant is yer ma?"

  "No." The word comes out sharper than I intend, and an awkward silence follows. I sigh again, trying to steady myself. "She didn’t raise me. Not really."

  I run a hand through my long hair before continuing. "When I was a boy, my thirteenth year, I left her. Went to live with my aunt."

  William and Hamza exchange glances. "And now you’ve come back?" Hamza asks, his tone careful.

  “Yes. I was trained as an alchemist. Other than looting, it’s the only real skill I’ve got. But it’s a complicated craft, and my teacher, my aunt Rose.... died before she could fully pass on her skills.”

  William nods. “So you’ve turn back to the she-giant, then?”

  I laugh at the title. “Yes. I’ve no one else, and Zaenith is a master of the craft.”

  Hamza tilts his head. “Couldn’t you pick up another trade?”

  “Aye,” William adds, “hunting will keep you fed! If you can shoot straight.”

  I shake my head, smiling faintly. “No. It has to be alchemy. I promised Rose I’d see it through. And there’s something I must do.... something for her, and for myself. Something that’ll take a true mastery of Zaenith's craft.”

  William looks at me confused. “What kind of something?”

  Running my hand through my hair, I think before answering. “It’s a personal matter, but suffice to say Zaenith took something from me and I need to take it back.”

  “So you're having the she-giant teach you just so you can steal from her? Now that’s a hell of a plan,” William says with a laugh.

  I shake my head. "Actually.... I'm not sure she still has it. But either way, her knowledge is something I'll need."

  Hamza eyes me curiously. "And once you reclaim what you've lost? What then?"

  "Whatever I want," I reply without hesitation. "I'll be free."

  I let out a slow breath. "I could marry, have children, maybe even open a shop of my own. I’m a simple man at heart." My fingers rest over my… chest, brushing against my tunic. "But none of that matters until I take back what she stole from me."

  Hamza and William both nod solemnly, sensing that there's nothing more to ask.

  I glance toward the narrow slit of a window. The light outside has faded entirely, leaving only the dim glow of of the moon. "It’s late. I should go."

  William stretches, letting out a tired groan. "Aye, I suppose it is. Thanks for comin'."

  I nod. "I’ll visit again when I can."

  Hamza offers a grateful smile. "Then may the gods keep you, Seven. And thanks for the food."

  I bid them farewell, turning toward the stairs. The gaoler ignores me as I exit the gaolhouse, back into the cold night. Wrapping my cloak tighter around myself, I set off, my mind heavy with the thoughts I stirred within myself. Soon enough, I reach Zaenith’s home.

  Exhaustion tugs at me, and without much thought, I collapse onto the floor beside the dying embers of the fire, pulling my cloak around me. Sleep takes me quickly, the weight of the day fully settling in.

  My dreams are a rush of emotions....

  Anger.... confusion.... dread. Fog clouds my mind, but through it, I see my old home and myself, young.... smaller. Rose storms into the room, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind her with a force that rattles the shelves. Her face is flushed, eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

  I jolt upright from my seat. “What’s wrong?” I ask, startled.

  She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she holds up a letter, her hand trembling. “My rot-brained sister. That’s what’s wrong.”

  Before I can reply, she tears the parchment to shreds, her fingers shaking with rage, and tosses the scraps into the burning hearth. The flames devour it quickly, curling the edges into ash.

  "Come here, Seven!” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. She ties her hair back into a quick, rough ponytail, strands still falling loose around her face, and strides to her cabinet, yanking open the door. Bottles, herbs, and strange vials clatter as she gathers ingredients with hurried precision.

  I hesitate, frowning. “What’s going on?”

  She whirls on me, eyes fierce. “It’s time you learned alchemy.”

  My eyes widen in disbelief... then anger. “What? No. I'll not touch that woman's craft. Even if it's you teaching me.”

  “Sit. Down.” Her tone is hard as stone and just as unyielding.

  But I cross my arms and glare. “Forget it. If I were going to learn, I'd have stayed with Zaenith.”

  With a crack like thunder, her fist slams down onto the table. The wood creaks under the blow, nearly splintering. “You WILL learn,” she growls, voice low, trembling with a deadly resolve. “Enough of your childish refusals. This isn’t a request, Seven. You must do this.”

  I stare back at her, anger simmering, but there’s something in her eyes.... fear, grief, something beyond her anger....

  As I stare, I see her eyes glisten, the tears gathering but refusing to fall. I’ve never seen her cry before.... not even when her husband died.

  “What is it? What’s wrong? What did Zaenith write to you?”

  Rose shakes her head. “I’ll tell you when you have the knowledge to bear it. Not before.”

  I swallow hard, hesitating. “It’s about my heart, isn’t it?”

  She turns away from me, from me, refusing to answer.

  “I was right, wasn’t I? I need it back. I’ll die without it, won’t I?!”

  She shakes her head slowly. “I don't know. But…” She turns her eyes back to me, sharp and full of resolve. “You’ll never have it back unless you learn. Only through this knowledge can you reclaim it.”

  Rose gestures firmly to the chair. “Now sit.”

  I collapse into the chair, my legs weak, my mind spinning with dread and anger. I watch her hands move deftly, ingredients swirling into a mixture I can hardly recognize. My thoughts are too heavy, too loud to focus on her words.

  Somewhere distant, I hear her voice call my name. Soft at first. “Seven… Seven…”

  “SEVEN!”

  I wake with a violent start, eyes flickering around me but finding the room empty. My hand clutches instinctively to my chest, though I feel nothing from it.

  Zaenith’s words echo in my mind, the memory as clear as day. Me... and each of my siblings, standing before the towering woman.

  "Never turn from me, for I hold each of your hearts in the palm of my hand."

  I see it again as if I’m still there. The terrified tremors of Three, Four and Five, their wide eyes brimming with helpless dread.

  The choking fury of Two and Six, rage smothered beneath the weight of her power.

  And Brother One… his ice cold gaze locked unflinchingly on Zaenith's own.

  "Now and forever… you… my children…"

  I recall her smile widening. Slow and cruel.... as she looked down on all of us.

  "Belong to me."