The ravine grew smaller towards the end, turning more into a mine with wooden beams to support the ceiling, each still strong and sturdy, somehow having survived the passage of time. Vel had no idea how old these mines were, though. When they came to a fork, Sigurd took her to the right, which opened up to a wide, squarish spot that had a teetering old scaffold at the end. Clearly someone had been working on something here, but had since forgotten it.

  “We’ll rest here,” Sigurd said, pulling the coals out and placing them in a pile. He took the time to collect stones to place around the coals, leaving the rat’s carcass near it.

  Moving where stones sat at the base of the nearest wall, Vel collected two, their rough textures hard against her skin.

  [Tough Hide level 8]

  She stared at the notification, tilting her head to the side. “Skills are really easy to level,” she said.

  “The more you use them, the more they’ll level,” Sigurd said.

  Yeah, I think I figured that out, Vel thought. What she was just now figuring out was how passive skills responded to each “use”. Placing the stones down beside Sigurd’s, she ran her hands across them, watching the system respond again.

  [Tough Hide level 9]

  Collecting two more stones, completing the circle around the coals, she did the same, though it only went up one level this time.

  [Tough Hide level 10]

  “Light the fire?” Sigurd asked.

  Vel hover a hand over the coals, a small ball of fire leaving it. The coals burned differently than wood, maintaining a bright red glow instead of actual lingering flames.

  [Fireball level 5]

  “What skills should I focus on leveling?” she asked, Sigurd picking the rat up. He offered it to her. “Oh, no no, I couldn’t stomach that.”

  “You want to level skills?” he asked. “Skinning this will improve [dagger slash] and [dagger stab]. I let you off easy once already, but you need to get over it.”

  Cringing, Vel grabbed the rat, shivering at its grimy skin. “Oh, gross,” she said, pulling her dagger out.

  After he placed a pot of water over the coals, the hunter sat beside her. “I’ll teach you,” he said, “without showing you, of course.”

  Sigurd had her lay the thing on its back, then take a wad full of grimy skin in her fist. She stabbed the dagger into the skin, cringing as she began to slice into it.

  [Dagger Stab level 2]

  [Dagger Slash level 2]

  The work was grueling in the sense that Vel gagged on multiple occasions. She’d eaten plenty of meat before, but never had she needed to prepare it from scratch like this. Notifications of her skills leveling were welcome distractions, [dagger slash] climbing much faster. By the time she was chopping pieces free from the rat meat to place in the stew, she could already tell that there was a significant increase in her precision than from when she first started. The dagger itself felt more comfortable in her hand.

  Once the pot was full of boiling rat meat, Sigurd said, “That’s enough. You should burn the carcass.”

  “That much won’t smoke us out?” Vel asked.

  “Not if you do it fast and use enough [fireballs]. So do it fast.”

  Huffing, Vel stood up, and dragged the carcass away from their little camp, mostly because she didn’t like the idea of sleeping next to or on top of rat remains, as if the ground wasn’t covered in its blood already.

  Standing a small distance from it, she used the skill, fire shooting towards the carcass.

  [Fireball level 6]

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  The flames didn’t take to the skin, but the remains she’d dragged with it lit up. She repeated the spell, quick to get the entire thing inflamed. [Fireball] after [fireball], until Vel was forced to step back from the wretched smell of burning flesh.

  “Don’t stop,” Sigurd said, “not until it's gone.”

  Vel grimaced, and continued, holding both hands up. She could only summon one fireball at a time, so she rotated between the two, watching the skill reach level 14, then 15. Then the rat’s burning form shrank rapidly, eaten by the flames.

  [Fireball level 16]

  [Fireball level 17]

  [Fireball level 18]

  [Tough Hide level 11]

  The carcass was gone, leaving the stench stained in Vel’s nose, and the slightest sting on the palms of her hands. Looking over them, she couldn’t see anything odd past the bloodstains, but she knew that the spell likely had burnt her palms, especially after [tough hide] leveled. While her hands were hot, the rest of her shivered, freezing.

  Refraining from holding herself with dirtied hands, Vel made her way to the warm coals, sitting directly in front of them. “I think magic has a cost,” she said.

  Sigurd looked up at her, then nodded. “I’ve heard magic classes complain about that before. If you’re not too cold, though, you should burn the blood on the ground. It’d be good if we eliminated any chance of attracting anything that might think us tasty.”

  “I think I’ll warm up first,” Vel said.

  She watched as Sigurd pulled a bowl and spoon from his sack. Using a ladle, he poured the stew into the bowl, then offered it to her. “Drink, this should help,” he said. After taking a moment to wash her hands, she took a sip, and, well, it was about as impressive as the chicken was, less so, even. The taste was . . . was something. “Getting you something to help combat the costs of magic probably wouldn’t be too bad. A coat, maybe. A tin mug to heat water in.”

  “Maybe,” Vel said. “[Rock throw] used my own weight against me. What would other magic skills do?”

  Sigurd shrugged. “Not sure,” he said, pulling his blanket out, giving it to her. “Maybe we should start with putting more meat on your bones, that might help with the cold.”

  “We might need to hunt a lot more, then,” Vel cringed, pulling the blanket over her shoulders.

  “We’ll collect rations in Lamone, assuming we can do so safely. Water’s about to be scarce . . .”

  Vel nodded. After she’d downed her terrible stew, she passed the bowl back to the hunter, then turned to finish cleaning the ground up. That took three more [fireball] spells.

  [Fireball level 19]

  [Fireball level 20]

  Sigurd finished the pan off, only to point to it and say, “Burn the pan clean.”

  Sighing, she shook her head. “You’re going to make me freeze to death at this rate.”

  “Or exhausted enough to sleep hard.”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that bit,” she said, only using two spells to burn away the stains in the pan.

  [Fireball level 21]

  “Anything else before I pass out?” Vel asked.

  Sigurd shook his head. “Just sleep with your dagger easily accessible.”

  Nodding, Vel laid down, letting out a sigh as her sore muscles relaxed. Sleep came to her quickly, the pain from her wounds unable to even keep her awake. Allowing herself to be sucked into her dreams was a sweet reprieve from the reality of her life.

  Before her, Edard stood tall, freckled face smiling brightly in the sunlight. She’d rarely seen him in the sun, mostly sneaking out to see him in the dark cover of night. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. Oh, how much she had to say to him, but when she opened her mouth, he placed a finger over her lips.

  “Vel,” he said. “I know.”

  She could see it on his face, reading her griefs before she’d even expressed them. Part of her wondered how he could forgive her so easily, warring with another part that fought for her. Yes, she hadn’t gone with him when he asked, but she was coming now. It couldn’t be too late, could it?

  Then he slipped from her hand.

  “Edard?” she asked, watching him flee from before her. She’d read this wrong, he hadn’t forgiven her, had he?

  He couldn’t have, not yet, a voice whispered to her, a glimmer of what was real within her dream. Yes, she knew it was a dream━she’d always known when she was dreaming. Yet, she hadn’t always been able to stop the changes within her dreams. One thought, and everything changed with it. Doubt ate at her now; Edard ran.

  She chased after him, the glimmering forest around them sinking away, replaced by a darkness. The only remaining light followed Edard, his form getting further and further away. He looked over his shoulder, horror plastered across his face. There was something about her he was scared of, maybe?

  Then the darkness ate him, Vel gasping and heart stopping. She felt arms, dozens of them, grab at her form. No, no, it wasn’t her he’d been scared of, but rather what was behind her! Hands gripped at her arms, clothes, and hair, arms pulling tight, suffocating her in the darkness.

  The church! she thought. It had to be! They wanted her; wanted to kill her. She was their [sacrifice] to a cruel pantheon, and she’d deprived them of it. Now they had her, pulling her back, further into the depths of darkness, suffocating her.

  Opening her mouth, Vel tried to scream, the tightness growing so much that she felt as if her head might pop right off. No sound came, the scream breathless. Instead, she tried clawing at the thick hands that held her, metal nails scraping against tough skin.

  [Poison Stinger level 3]

  [Skill gained: Poison Resistance]

  [0.5 Constitution added]

  Vel’s eyes flew open, and she gasped in the tiniest breath while she was able, then the very real force that held her tightened further.