"Are you ready for this, my lady?" the man asked.

"Ready as I can ever be Stefan," the girl calmly said. "And call me by my name, would you? It's Heda in case you forgot."

Her bottle green eyes slowly settled on the man, asking him for ascertion. He shuddered. Even for the great Stefan, Heda had an exceptionally dark power. He met her eyes and revealed a nervous smile.

"Heda," he said then bowed his head.

"Wasn't difficult," she said. "Was it?"

Stefan answered with another nervous smile. He raised his head to go through the instructions with her once again. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but no words left his throat, none that were clearly audible anyway.

"What?" she asked, her eyes widened and shone.

The contrast between the color of her eyes and fiery hair made her look wild; beautiful, but wild. Looking into her eyes felt like observing a calm lake with green, clear water surrounded by dead red leaves. The sun shone above you, with a cool breeze gently brus.h.i.+ng against your cheeks.

It was beautiful to look at. One could feel happy by just staring at those wide s.h.i.+ny eyes of hers. One should be advised however. After the calm, always comes the storm. Heda's calm, s.h.i.+ny eyes concealed her excitement and nervousness for her upcoming mission.

"Stefan," she called out to the mage who accompanied her. "Wasn't there something we needed to go through?"

"Yes, right;" he said. "The plan… Uh, where do we start?"

"Tell me about the trader," she said.

"Her name's Friede," he said. "She's originally from Biarkh –"

"We've been through this before," Heda interrupted. "Tell me something I don't know. What's her connection to the underworld?"

"She's some sort of infamous healer," Stefan answered.

"Infamous?" Heda asked.

"She only works mercenaries and organized factions of crime. Aiding and abetting wanted criminals is punishable by law, but n.o.body can get their hands on her." Stefan answered.

"Why would she do that?" she asked, stroking her straight hair.

"Why does anybody do anything?" Stefan said. "She needs money. Crime and blood pay the most."

"Anything about her family?" Heda asked.

"Father died before she was born," Stefan answered. "Her mother brought her along with two of her brothers to Runemecia, her native land. They struggled to make ends meet until Friede discovered she was exceptionally good at sewing people together, or cutting them apart, whichever you choose. Apart from being an excellent healer, she's also renowned for organ trading."

"Organ trading…" Heda said. Her eyes shone expectantly.

Stefan s.h.i.+fted his seat in the carriage then went on. "She deals mostly in human organs," he said. "Prices vary on the quality of the goods you require. Fresh ones can cost up to hundreds of Galleons. A Galleon's a money pouch filled with a stone worth of gold coins, in case you didn't know."

"I know," Heda said nonchalantly. "What about her dealers?" she asked.

Stefan sighed. "I did the research as you asked, but I don't see why you're so interested in her dealers."

"I can see threads of the future, Stefan," Heda said, annoyed. "I don't see where you'll end up. I just see what may lead you to your end, or successes." She emphasized the last word with a hiss.

"And you think her end will come from one of her dealers," Stefan said.

"Not if I can stop it," Heda retorted.

"How important is she to you anyways?" Stefan asked.

"How important is this information to you Stefan?" Heda shot back. "Would you rather I answer this one," she tilted her head to the side then went on, "or the one about how you could save your neck?"

"I was curious," Stefan said, nervously chuckling. "It won't happen again."

Heda's bottle green eyes stared at Stefan for a long minute. Neither of them moved. Stefan's hands started watering. He felt weak in the knees despite sitting down. This girl frightened him. Ever since she got her new powers, she never missed a chance to predict people's misfortune.

As the carriage drove through the country on unstable roads, the two of them sat in silence. Stefan was expecting an angry tirade from the young lady. Heda only stared in silence, until her she frowned and ordered the driver to stop the car. Horses neighed as they were abruptly asked to break their gallop into a full stop while sustaining the carriage's weight on their backs.

Heda opened the door and got out. They were in the middle of daisy fields which extended toward the horizon. Everywhere they looked, white and yellow flowers looked back at them. Heda smiled as Stefan got out of the carriage.

"The young lady's smile hadn't changed," Stefan commented in a cheerful tone.

"And the mage's empty flattery never ends," Heda said absentmindedly.

If Stefan had scowled, Heda didn't see it. She had closed her eyes and thrown her head backwards. She spread her arms to the side and inhaled deeply.

"We're being followed," she said after opening her eyes. "They'll reach us by the time we get to the valley up north."

"How many?" Stefan asked. He no longer questioned the young lady's predictions. He knew they were followed, and that they couldn't get away from them.

"Three," Heda answered. "They're mounted. Hungry and tired horses, but they're mounted."

"What are your commands, young lady?" the driver asked.

"Dig a hole large enough for a horse hoof to sink in… over there," she pointed to the side of the road.

"Stefan," she turned toward the mage. "Can you make that trap of yours again?"

"The projectile?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"Where do you need it?"

"A little farther," she said. "Place it ten feet from here, in the center of the road."

Stefan got busy making his contraption while the driver dug a hole then covered it with some weak branches.

"What about the third one?" Stefan asked when he came back.

"His horse will do it for us," she said. "Let's get going, we don't want to reach Arinte by nighttime."

The young lady got into the carriage, followed by the mage. The driver cracked his whip and the wheels whined and rolled through the unenven road. Nothing could be heard besides the horse's hooves struggling against the ground, and the creaking of the carriage as it bobbed upside down.

"When will they get there?" Stefan asked after a while. "To the traps, I mean."

"I don't know," Heda answered with raised eyebrows. "Their fate is sealed though. They're already dead. Shall we get back to our organ supplier?"

"Heda," Stefan said then locked eyes with the young lady.

As soon as he did so, Heda knew what he was about to say. Her nostrils flared as she furiously exhaled. She crossed her arms and let her back fall on the back of the carriage, awaiting the mage's sermons.

"Blood magic isn't the answer," he said. "It's dangerous, not to mention reckless and highly punishable. Even if the spell succeeds, even if you get away with your life, there will be others who will find you."

"I'll be gone by the time they start looking," Heda said. "I've seen my fate, and it is not pretty Stefan. I will do what it takes to get out of it, no matter the cost. Besides, I have another reason for paying Friede a visit."

"You are underestimating the Covenant's influence here in the east, Heda," Stefan said.

"Stalwart's busy," Heda shot at him. "He won't be looking for me anytime soon."

"You know what they say about him," Stefan said. "If the rumors are true, you'll see him during the Wars. You don't want to anger him any further."

Heda waved Stefan's argument as though she were trying to swat an annoying fly. "You're here for one reason Stefan," she said in a cold whisper. "Do your job, and I'll help you avoid calamity. Keep giving me speeches, and I'll make sure you have an unfortunate accident."

Stefan's jaw fell. He stayed there for a while, his mouth agape, his eyes fixating the young lady with silent rage.

"You've grown bold," he finally said. "I hope you know what you're doing, young lady."

"Once we're in Arinte," she said. "You head straight to bed. Don't try to explore the city. Don't stay in the lounge speaking to foreigners, showing off your linguistic skills. Shut your door and sleep."

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Death," Heda answered. "Something's heading there, and it'll arrive tonight. I have to be there. I have to see it Stefan."

Far behind them, a group of three riders were following the carriage's trail. They were ordered to follow them and intercept them should they try to cross the border to Runemecia. The rider in the middle had the fastest horse among the bunch.

He was anxious to see this job done and get back to his favorite pub, oogling at his favorite woman as she dances and sways. It had been two days that he didn't get any Nickel. He noticed that his hands started shaking lately. He'd break a cold sweat out of nowhere. He found himself missing home, and his town's wh.o.r.es. He could already hear them giggle in his ears as he showered them with Silvers.

He didn't notice the translucent circle on the uneven road. His horse whinnied and complained but he beat her harder, dug his heels into her stomach until he hit some of her exposed ribs. The horse reared and beat with its forelegs after it entered the circle.

The rider, taken by surprise, held on for dear life. Falling from a horse's back in this kind of road could result in many accidental deaths. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, one wouldn't help but wonder at how life is fragile.

The horse neighed and beat its forelegs. The rider, trying hard to keep his legs in position, and his arms around the horse's neck, heard something snap behind him. Then air got stuck within his lungs. He coughed up blood. A sharp pain by his ribs announced his approaching doom. A projectile, crossbow bolt by the looks of it, had hit him.

The horse ran as its rider slipped to the side and fell. The others didn't have much time to process what had happened. The second horse's leg fell through a hole and the horse fell. Its rider flipped once in the air then fell on his back.

His horse, flailing her legs beside him, hit him with her hooves. The hit connected with  his temple, killing him instantly. The last rider's horse saw the commotion and panicked. It broke into a gallop through the fields, while the rider tried to calm it down. The horse, refusing to listen to reason, started jumping around.

The rider fell to the side, his left leg stuck in the stirrup. The horse, not feeling the weight of its rider on its back anymore, started running again. The poor man was found later in a sideroad, his face bashed in, his shoulder sc.r.a.ped to the bone.