The day passed quietly.
Lindsay and Kraft patrolled again, boots tapping lightly on the cobblestone streets of the village beyond the capital town proper. The faint jingling of armor and soft whispering permeated the air. Capital guards visited the local café, smiling gently over hot drinks, exchanging inconsequential gossip and jests. Villagers walked by their business, nodding greetings as they stepped past the two officers.
Lindsay stood next to Kraft along the perimeter of the square, exchanging hushed words and smiles with a baker whom they had come to know over the course of several months. Kraft was surprisingly relaxed for once, letting the warm sun of late afternoon calm his characteristic tension. A peaceful moment, a brief one.
Then something snapped.
It was sudden. Both Lindsay and Kraft felt it. A pressure, the same sensation of air escaping before a storm. Lindsay turned around, her eyes narrowing. Her eyes fell on him. The same boy from two weeks before, now standing in plain view on the opposite side of the street. His face inscrutable, his body shrouded in that same robe, loose and frayed, hiding his upper shape. He wasn't hiding—he never was.
Kraft's hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword.
Too late.
The boy appeared before them in the time it took a heartbeat. Lindsay hadn't even seen him move. Kraft was frozen, not with fear, but because something in the pit of his stomach howled to do nothing. The boy's hand already lay on Lindsay's shoulder.
A single breath to act. Nobody else could find the courage to intervene.
Then the boy spoke something, his voice soothing, dissonantly soft.
"You have to come with me."
Lindsay tensed. Her mind spinning. She weighed her options, her hand at her waist. But something in his eyes froze her in place. This wasn't an order. But neither, somehow, was it a threat.
She nodded once. Coerced, but controlled.
And in the exact same moment, they vanished. No light, no noise. Just vanished.
They came back in silence. The wooden floor beneath Lindsay's boots creaked faintly. She stood there, stunned for a moment, then took in the inside. A small house. Simple, old, deserted. Books stacked against the wall, a frayed coat draped over a chair, a broken window letting filtered forest light in.
She faced him.
"Why have you brought me here?"
He didn't say anything at first. Instead, he motioned with his hand and nodded behind her.
He very slowly turned around.
On the floor, concealed behind a haphazardly constructed curtain, was a girl. Young. Shivering. Ashen skin, beads of sweat dotted across her forehead. Her rapid breathing, shallow rate.
Lindsay immediately sat down beside her, her instincts taking over. She touched the girl's forehead, then took her pulse.
"She has a fever. She's not well."
The boy's voice once more, hardly above a whisper.
"She's sick. She requires help."
Lindsay spun to face him, looking at the pieces fitting together.
The doctors? Vanishing? Was he accountable?
He nodded, slowly.
"I brought them here. I let them go afterwards."
She examined him closely. The words were harmless, but something in her gut suggested there was truth hidden in them. Not the entire truth. But enough.
"Most of them never came back."
He didn't answer.
She faced the girl once more.
"I need medication. Real medicine. Fever reducers, antibiotics if this is worse than it looks. I don't have anything on me."
He looked down, obviously irritated.
"I don't have any money."
She pressed her lip closed. Thought hard.
"Take me to Regin Village. They have a real pharmacy. I can charm someone there."
He faltered for the first time. Then nodded.
In the town square, slowly panic crept in.
Stricken, alone, Kraft stood. Lindsay was there one instant, now she was not. The second recurred in his mind, repeatedly. He could still sense tension in the air, still feel the presence removed. He shook it off and ran to the nearest guard, shouting.
"She disappeared. He abducted her. Just vanished. We need to alert the castle."
Guards rushed, some disappearing down alleys, others barricading the immediate area. Kraft didn't pause. He sprinted back to the capital, cape flying behind him, his heart pounding in his chest.
Inside the castle, air was thick with worry.
Kraft stood before the Chief Officer. There were scant overhead lights, casting jarring shadows on the marble floor. The Chief remained immobile, face unchanging as Kraft read him each detail.
Done, Kraft expected questioning. Instead, the Chief turned away, eyes detached, fixed on something unseen.
"So he's back," he murmured.
Kraft blinked.
"Sir?"
The Chief swiveled to turn to him, but not Kraft.
"Take me to the prisoner," he instructed one of the goons closer to the edge of the room.
Kraft opened his mouth to say something, then altered course. There was something bigger afoot, much bigger than he'd been told.
But this was one thing that was certain:
Lindsay was gone, and he wouldn't rest until he had her in his arms.