The house sat at the far end, leaning toward the woods.

  The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low and heavy, turning the sky a deep gray.

  You and Vael stood at the front of the yard.

  “This is it,” he said, nodding toward the door. “She still lives here.”

  He stepped up and knocked, using the back of his gauntlet.

  That’s when you noticed them: tiny crystals set into the metal around his knuckles. When he moved, they caught the light and shimmered faintly purple, like glass underwater.

  No one answered.

  He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.

  “She’s home,” he said quietly. “I saw a candle burning upstairs.”

  You looked up. Second floor. Curtains drawn tight.

  Vael turned to you.

  “Think you can climb?”

  You blinked. “You want me to break into a midwife’s house?”

  “She’s not answering the door,” he said. “Something’s wrong. I’ll keep watch.”

  You sighed, stepped back, and looked over the wall. It wasn’t built for climbing — but there was a drainage pipe, rusted and a bit loose, running from the roof to the ground. You tested your weight. It held… barely.

  Vael glanced down the road. His expression changed.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  A shout echoed from farther up the street.

  “You!”

  You turned your head.

  Far down the road, the notorious Captain stood with his soldiers. Same dented helmet, same stiff posture. He wasn’t looking at you. His hand suddenly shot out, pointing toward a man walking by with a basket under one arm.

  “That’s him! Stop right there!”

  The man turned, confused. “Who? Me? What did I do?”

  The soldiers hesitated. One of them muttered something to another.

  “I know your face,” the Captain growled. “You really thought you could just walk past me like nothing happened?”

  He took a step forward, then stopped. His whole body seemed to twitch, like something went through him. He looked down at his boots, mumbling something — then waved his hand again.

  “Arrest him!”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The man backed up, stammering. “Wait—no, this is a mistake! I didn’t do anything!”

  One of the soldiers grabbed him by the arm. Another looked away.

  You and Vael watched from a distance, neither of you moving.

  “That man’s not well,” you said under your breath.

  Vael’s eyes stayed locked on the scene. “No. He’s not.”

  “You didn’t... do anything, right?”

  Vael shook his head. “Whatever’s wrong with him, we’ll have to deal with it later.”

  The soldiers led the man away. The Captain followed, muttering to himself the whole time. Eventually, their footsteps faded down the road.

  Vael turned back to the door. “Come on,” he said. “Try the window.”

  Hand over hand, you pulled yourself up, boots scraping brick. When you reached the window, you braced yourself on the ledge and tugged at the curtain.

  It moved easily.

  You looked inside.

  And froze.

  The room was dim, but not dark. A single candle burned low on a desk near the far wall.

  You dropped quietly down from the window. It was warmer than you expected — like someone had left in a hurry and forgot to put the fire out. But the bed was empty. No sign of the midwife.

  You opened the door from the inside. Vael slipped in, eyes moving in the shadows.

  The house was silent. No creaking floorboards. No footsteps overhead.

  He frowned. “Something’s off.”

  The main room looked lived-in, but not recently. A few dishes sat in the basin. A coat still hung by the door. But something about the space felt hollow, been used up.

  Vael stepped toward a writing desk and opened a drawer. “Check the bedroom.”

  You moved slowly down the short hallway. The bedroom door was half-open. Inside: a mattress on the floor, a candle burned down to the nub, and books. Dozens of them. Some stacked, some scattered.

  Spirits of the Weald.

  Crossing the Veil.

  When the Dead Return Hungry.

  Naming the Unseen.

  One sat open on the floor with a pressed flower inside. The margin was full of notes, circles, underlines, small handwriting that grew harder to read the deeper you went. You found a crumpled paper beneath it.

  You unfolded it slowly.

  [Tucked between pages of a book on veiled spirits and ancestral bindings]

  I stayed the night. I shouldn’t have…

  The mother didn’t sleep. She just sat there, quiet… staring at nothing.

  Then, sometime after midnight… the dog started acting strange.

  Wouldn’t go near the crib.

  I didn’t want to, either. Not after what I saw…

  That face…

  I’ve seen it before.

  Gods help me. It was him.

  I’m heading east now. Wetherlow. I’ll keep close to the old stones.

  If you come — don’t bring questions. Bring fire.

  —A.

  You felt a chill and called out, “Vael?”

  He appeared in the doorway, holding a book in one hand and something wrapped in cloth in the other.

  “She’s gone,” you said. “Left a note.”

  He nodded. “Looks like she knew this was coming. Been preparing for it.”

  He handed you the book.

  Known Divinities and Lesser Beings: A Practical Field Guide.

  It was heavy, leather-bound, and clearly well-used. Tabs stuck out of the side in different colors, some labeled with names. The pages were full of short entries: appearance, traits, signs of presence, symbols, and—most useful—how to tell if something was pretending to be divine.

  “This’ll help,” Vael said. “Beginner’s kit. Not everything in here’s true, but enough of it is.”

  You flipped through quickly. One entry had been marked with a red ribbon. The title read:

  The Hollow-Born

  Entities who arrive without name, history, or priesthood. Often mistaken for spirits, some grow into gods through local belief and personal miracles.

  You looked up at him. “She thought the baby was one of these?”

  “Ansha didn’t run because she was scared,” he said. “She ran because she recognized it.”

  You exhaled. “Then it’s over. We’re not getting any answers from her.”

  Vael shook his head. “We don’t have to. Everything we need is right here.”

  He pulled a folded note from the drawer and handed it to you. “She left a name. An address.”

  You read it, brow furrowing. The ink was a little smudged, but still legible:

  Venn residence, Barrow Lane.

  “Halric Venn,” Vael said quietly. “I saw the name on a crest. You've met him before. Runs the town guard.”

  He looked at you. “Our beloved Captain.”