Don’t blame Lucimia for being jumpy; after Elyssus, her nerves stay strung like a bow in a storm.

In a strange land, it’s normal to keep your feet ready, like a hare crouched by a thicket.

“Wait for me.”

Shebelle sprinted to the wooden fence; the four monsters spotted their little mistress and sat like obedient hounds, tails swishing like reeds.

“Easy, easy—help me open the gate, okay?”

One monster sprang up; its horn knocked the plank latch with a clatter like dry bone, and the girl pushed the gate and slipped in like a breeze.

She stopped before the hut and shouted, voice bright as a lark, “Grandma! I found another doctor—she can heal Dori!”

Curiosity pricked like a thorn. Dori? The boy’s name?

Soon, the wooden door creaked open; a white-haired grandmother came out, cane tapping like a twig on stone.

Lucimia and Desty stepped up, smiles rising like hesitant dawn, but the old woman only cut them a glance and lifted her other hand like a hawk’s claw.

A chill brushed Lucimia’s skin like a draft; she caught the tell.

“Um, Granny—”

“Watch out!”

“Huh?!”

Desty had just drawn breath to greet when Lucimia tackled her down, and a blazing fireball whooshed over their heads like a comet and slammed into the dirt.

Horror crawled like frost, because the fireball didn’t die in the soil; it kept burning like stubborn ghost-flame.

“An inextinguishable property?” Lucimia had seen that trick under Bazeroth’s hand, like a brand seared in memory.

So… this rough-spun, sackcloth grandma hid power like thunder coiled in clouds?

Did she carve the Magic Array on those stakes, lines curling like vines?

No telling what rank; the thought slid cold as a knife.

Terrifying, like ice climbing a spine.

“Grandma, what are you doing? That’s the doctor I found!” Shebelle’s voice fluttered like a sparrow in rain.

“What doctor? More vermin here to make trouble,” the grandma rasped, her voice gravel from a dry well. “And you—I told you not to go out. I nap and you sneak off? Didn’t I warn you they’d net you like wolves?”

“I…” Shebelle bowed her head like a wilted flower. “I just wanted to share the load, carry some firewood for you…”

“I don’t need you to. Your grandma’s a mage, at least,” she snapped, spine rigid like a pine in wind.

Listening, Lucimia rose, dusting grit like ash, and hauled Desty up by the wrist.

“Ow, that hurt,” Desty hissed, rubbing her tailbone like a bruised plum.

Lucimia cut her a cool glance, voice smooth as a chill breeze. “Are you really a Purification Knight?”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“No. You seem… dense. You’re a knight who fights Evil Entities, yet you walk into danger like a moth into a flame.”

“I… I’m newly promoted…” Desty mumbled, small as a sapling in snow.

“Fine.” The word fell dry, like sand through fingers.

Lucimia turned her gaze to the grandma and Shebelle, eyes steady like a drawn blade across the heat-haze.

So her earlier guess was off; the girl had slipped out like a fox in dusk.

And this grandma? She attacked without cause and cursed like thorns, which painted displeasure on Lucimia’s face like a shadowed cloud.

She stepped forward like a tide and demanded, “You. Why did you attack us?”

The old woman glared, her look a thorn hedge. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re after. Two little girls to soften me? Get out. That was your warning, or else—”

Her eyes flicked to the heap of bones by the four monsters, pale as sun-bleached driftwood.

Lucimia’s throat tightened, words dropping like stones. So that’s how those bones piled up?

From her words, some people had been harassing Shebelle’s home, like crows circling a field. And now she lumped Lucimia and Desty in with them, like mud splatter.

Tch. Being wronged itched like a swarm of gnats.

Start soft, like water wearing stone. Then make her apologize, like setting a crooked picture straight.

“We don’t know what you mean. Shebelle said her brother’s sick, and we came to help,” Lucimia said, hands open like clear sky. “You struck first without asking. Shouldn’t you apologize?”

“Really, really!” Shebelle bobbed like a reed in current. “Grandma, they’re doctors I wished for from the river god; they can heal Dori!”

“You stop talking!” the grandma barked, the shout cracking like a whip.

“Uu…” Shebelle wilted, a pup in thunder.

The old woman swept her gaze over Lucimia and Desty, up and down like frost tracing a window.

“You’re not locals. Or rather, not of the Bannubi Empire,” she said, hearing their wind like a foreign season.

“Uh? Yeah… so?” Lucimia asked, doubt flickering like a moth.

“How did you get here?”

“From the river god—by wishing…” Shebelle blurted, the words plopping like stones into a pond.

The grandma’s eyes cut to Shebelle, a sickle swinging in a field.

“Uu…” The girl ducked, head small as a quail.

Then the gaze needled back to Lucimia, sharp as a pin.

Lucimia pressed a finger to her chin, thoughts clicking like abacus beads. “She and I are from the Lowegar Kingdom. We fell into the water, and before my mind went dark, I wrapped us in magic like a cocoon. We woke here, and your granddaughter fished us out like drift from a river. I know some… healing arts, so I wanted to repay her.”

Desty listened in silence, still as a stone shrine.

Good cover, Lucimia thought, a veil over her homeland, to avoid wasp-nest trouble.

“No. You’re lying,” the old woman said, the words cutting like a knife on bamboo.

“Where did I lie?” Lucimia’s brows drew together like storm clouds.

“You’re not from the Lowegar Kingdom. Their people don’t have hair like yours,” the grandma said, voice flat as a struck gong.

“Uh… any chance we’re the rare few, like a white carp in a pond?”

“No chance,” she said, firm as a hammer on a nail.

“Alright.” Lucimia spread her hands like an olive branch. “We’re not from Lowegar. But the rest is true. You attacked us. Shouldn’t you make amends?”

“Hmph.” The old woman’s words came like cold rain. “Outsiders shouldn’t meddle here. Leave. The longer you linger, the deeper the swamp pulls. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What a temper…” Desty whispered, soft as a passing breeze.

Lucimia nodded, her chin dipping like a leaf on water.

The old woman turned to go, her shadow folding like dusk.

Shebelle stared at her grandmother, then at Lucimia, panic fluttering like a trapped bird. “Grandma, they really are doctors. Let them take a look!”

The grandma stopped and faced her, ignoring the plea like wind ignores grass. “I almost forgot. You touched them. You might be infected. Wait here.”

She hurried into the house, steps pattering like rain, and came back with a wooden basin filled with white powder, heaped like soap flakes of snow.

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay…”

She flung the basin’s powder over Shebelle in a rush, a white squall like ash in wind.

What was that? Why douse her? Curiosity twitched in Lucimia like a cat’s tail.

“Good. Now you won’t catch anything,” the old woman said, the assurance dropping like a lid on a pot. “Come back with me. No more going out.”

“But… Grandma…”

“No buts! Call it you being naughty.” She turned a hard look on Lucimia and Desty. “You two, go. Don’t stay here.”

Seeing her grandmother about to retreat, Shebelle grabbed her arm like a clinging vine. “Grandma, they really are doctors! Just try!”

Watching the girl hold fast like a hook in current, Lucimia stepped up in support. “Right. Your granddaughter’s this set on it—let us try. If we fail, we’ll go. Don’t you want your grandson healed?”

Sure, she wasn’t doing this for intel on a Time Ability User—absolutely not, she thought, the lie sweet as candied haw.