“You talked to Skulduggery earlier,” Gonell said. “And now you’re in a good mood. Want to share?”

Theora fidgeted her fingers against each other, and found Gonell’s gaze. She’d caught up just as Theora was about to go fetch water from a spring. Yes, despite everything, it was possible to put it that way. Theora was in a ‘good mood’. “I miss Dema a lot whenever we get split apart,” she said. “So, I was looking for some kind of keepsake, to remember her by. Something Dema and I could share. Skuld helped me with that.”

Gonell raised her brows. “Didn’t think she’d be one to give advice on that kind of stuff.”

She was looking fatigued as usual, but vaguely composed. It was a warm, cloudy spring morning, but she was still wearing her thick dark cloak.

“It was not necessarily ‘advice’,” Theora responded a bit slowly, trying but failing to find a different way to express it. “I was talking about it to Fiantanne, who has been selling my bread in the city, and gotten some funds. I was asking her if she could help me pick something to buy. Skuld chimed in with a suggestion.”

Gonell smiled. “I’m honestly really glad you’re doing better again,” she said. “That fight exhausted you much more than I’d imagined it would. Sorry.”

“I messed up,” Theora said. “Also, you could not know there’d be a strong one.”

Gonell sighed. “A thousand S-Rank rifts closed, not a single Messenger. Then, one appears the second I make you try. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a set-up.”

“Huh,” Theora let out. “Did anyone know I would be there?”

“Yeah.” Gonell kicked a stone away. “I always let people know when I go suppress a high-rank rift. I tell them who’ll be there, when, where. To give everyone time to evacuate. I tell people from our organisation, people in the area, the crown, and so on.” She jumped and floated through the air for a few seconds, a bit lost in thought. “It’s not like any of them can influence what comes out, though.” Then, a gust of wind slapped a few strands in her face, and she landed, tying back her hair. “Really have to cut that back soon…”

Had someone sent the Messenger on purpose? Theora vaguely knew from Lostina’s plot-related rambles that Gonell was probably wrong. Some people could influence what came out. There was some kind of malfeasance going on. Had a third party done this to stop Theora from helping Gonell close rifts? Had this been another attempt at Theora’s life, like when she’d been executed?

It could also be that the author had simply decided to meddle. There’d been no error messages, so Theora had no proof, but ultimately, it was possible — maybe even to prevent her from messing with other stuff in the story. If Theora hadn’t made that mistake, she could have potentially interfered a lot these past few months. But she’d accidentally harmed the framework of the story itself, and that could not have been in the author’s interest. Perhaps they too had bitten off more than they could chew.

They were walking up a path next to a rock formation, leaving them with a view to the neighbouring town in the valley.

“Like it here?”

“Yes,” Theora said. “Thank you. Fia seems safe here, and it’s central enough for Lostina to take care of her tasks.”

Gonell nodded. 

After Lostina’s wake-up call, Theora had slowly started piecing her fragmented memory back together. Gonell had, through her organisation, provided them access to an abandoned hut in the mountains, enough rooms for all, and space outside for Skulduggery. There were some other rather pretty places to visit nearby too. Theora had spent a lot of time there, although all of it had rinsed between her fingers. 

She’d also started to pick up baking. Mostly on autopilot at first, according to Fiantanne, as a way to distract herself. It was unclear whether her Skills would stay past leaving this story, so she mostly focussed on learning the actual craft of baking outside this world’s System.

Dema had been almost as sleepy and absent as Theora herself, recovering from severe loss of mana after enclosing the entire tear in blood. Lostina had been gone a lot too, presumably to level up and prepare her plans. Gonell visited every now and then to check in, like she was doing right now. From the outside, she seemed mostly just overworked. But Theora could hardly imagine that this wasn’t just an act. 

She tilted her head a bit forward to find Gonell’s gaze. “Everything going well for you too?”

Gonell shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Just heard back from Fran Fan, got the result of an investigation into someone’s Class capabilities. I’m in the area to follow up on that.”

Theora curved into the forest, onto a very thin and lightly treaded path between the trees.

“Almost there,” she said, and Gonell followed. “The water from this spring contains minerals that make the bread healthier.”

“You’re really into this. Can’t believe someone who can clear an S-Rank rift with a single Skill would go on to take up baking, of all things.”

“It’s fun.” Theora gently tapped against the brim of the incredibly wide bowl she was carrying in front of her chest. It barely fit through the door. They arrived at the spring, and Theora held it under the clear stream gushing out between rocks.

Gonell knelt down, watching the water inch up inside the bowl. “Few people could even lift that.”

Theora gave a little frown. “Maybe I wasn’t planning on filling it completely.” She definitely was. “You could help me carry it, if you wish.”

Gonell chuckled. “I think we’d spill about half. I’m sure you can manage. How did you get so strong, anyway?”

“I’m an immortal heroine from another world,” Theora let out, and immediately startled when she was actually allowed to say that. Why had it not thrown an error?

She blinked.

Was it because she’d not mentioned that it was a story, or that she had come here voluntarily? After all, the mere fact that heroes got summoned to this world was common knowledge. She smiled at herself, happy that she didn’t have to lie.

Gonell raised her eyebrows. “So you are a Summoned. I guessed as much after you said you’d had a ‘similar Class to [Berserker] once,’ but I wasn’t sure if you misspoke.”

Ah. Had Theora messed up a little? Did her being summoned clash with what people had told Gonell before? If that was the case, Gonell didn’t let it show; she’d already moved on, her gaze back on the water. When Theora was done, they started making their way back. Theora held the bowl in front of her as gently as she could, offsetting the movements caused by her walking to keep the water as still as possible.

“So, Dema’s a Summoned too, then? Huh. Could have sworn she was born here, with how much she knows about the world. Or did you meet her here?”

Theora halted for a moment. A small disturbance went across the water. Ah. Was that how she’d messed up? Dema had told Gonell about Theora before they met in Gakuda. And just now, Theora had spoken about Dema as if splitting up was a common occurrence for the two. Perhaps Gonell had expected Dema to be a common [Mage] born into this world?

Dema had technically never been summoned. Theora had been summoned by the mages of the King and received her [Baker] Class because of it, but Dema had just been spat out somewhere, and thus not received an in-universe Class at all.

At that point, Theora noticed she was taking too long to answer. What should she say? In fact, was Gonell questioning her right now? Or was it genuine curiosity? This was uncomfortable. If Theora could, she would just tell the whole truth. Of course, that wasn’t possible, and now she would have to dabble in what she might be worst at in the whole world: deceit.

Don’t spill the water. Don’t spill the truth.

“I… I don’t actually know her well enough to know if she got summoned,” Theora murmured. “The truth is, we met rather recently.” That last bit, at least, didn’t feel like a lie, so Theora was rather proud of herself.

Gonell nodded. “Fresh love, then.”

The disturbance in the water got a little worse. “L-Love,” Theora repeated as her brain shut down.

“By the way, know if Lostina’s around? I’m about to embark on a mission to retrieve the key to the Lodestone, and she mentioned that she had some intel on that.”

That question washed Theora clean from the verge of a blush-induced meltdown. She turned to Gonell, staring at her still fatigue-ridden, exhausted face. “Lostina should be around,” she said. “Saw her this morning.”

“Alright, good. Thank you. Mind if I go ahead?”

Please don’t, Theora thought. Don’t go ahead. Don’t leave for that mission. Don’t die.

“Sure,” she said instead. Her throat burned from the violence of the word.

The rest of the way back, Theora walked alone.

Don’t spill the water. Don’t lose hope.

Lostina had a plan. Lostina would prevent Gonell’s death. And then, they would all be able to sit and laugh together, and share one more loaf of bread. Theora tried her best to convince herself of this, and kept circling the phrases in her head. She was not allowed to help Lostina, so all she could do was stay back, and not be in the way. Not make everything worse again, like she always did. Lostina had asked her several times over the course of months not to interfere, had practically begged her, and Theora couldn’t possibly betray such a direct request, especially if it could put other people in danger from the author’s potential retaliation.

Even though it made her feel awful. Even though it made her want to cry.

She fetched the flour, the salt, a few herbs and seeds, her cute little starter dough and the kitchen utensils, and measured the ingredients into cups. And when it was all mixed and she kneaded the raw mixture, trying to prevent it from falling apart, trying to make it whole, she just as much kneaded herself for that same reason, although it seemed impossible.

Fia came by after a while, with a measuring rope, and Theora had to stand still for a moment so the girl could wrap it around Theora’s waist, wrap it around Theora’s chest, and then lastly, take her height, and other little details. Theora was probably about three or four times the volume of the now sixteen year-old girl, so Fia had to fetch a chair to measure it all.

Her little plush dragon was sitting on her shoulder, with a small pen in hand and a scrap of paper, and wrote down the numbers.

“Thanks!” Fia let out when she was done, and hopped back out of the kitchen, and it was then that Theora realised she had no idea what just happened.

Then, finally, the bread was in the oven, and Theora counted down the minutes for it to be ready.

Thirty.

Twenty.

Five.

A knock.

Into the kitchen came Gonell.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, and greeted Theora with a tired but genuine smile. “Wow, this smells nice…” She looked at the oven, and looked a bit melancholic. “Sad I’ll have to miss out on lunch. I have a message.”

Theora’s throat bobbed. “What message?”

Gonell shrugged one shoulder. “I ran into Lostina as she was leaving. She asked me to give you something to hold on to in her absence.” She held out a little bundle. It had a flat and rectangular shape. Gonell huffed a little chuckle. “She actually showed me what it was, but I forgot. I must be getting old. Oh, also, apparently, there are some notes inside?”

“Alright,” Theora said, taking the bundle as if it was made of fragile glass, then carefully putting it down on the table.

“I’ve got to go now.” Gonell gave a little salute. Then, she hesitated. “Girl, you look… Are you okay?”

Theora shook her head.

“Aw.” Gonell floated across the room in two half-steps, then gave a hug. “Don’t worry, won’t be gone for long.”

Theora nodded into Gonell’s chest. Then, they broke from each other, and she stared at the ground.

Gonell tousled her hair and patted her head. “Two days tops, then we can talk about it. Stay strong.”

She turned around and stepped out. Even though there were only three minutes left for the bread to be done. It was too early. It was not enough time.

 

A few hours passed. Theora did not dare to look inside. She had fetched the note.

Take good care of it, please.

No further instructions. Nothing else to do. She was to stay here, and take care of that bundle. That alone was her role in all this.

Make more dough, bake more bread, ignore the thumping of her heart, ignore that bundle. She went to sleep at some point, and in the next morning, Fiantanne woke her up, with a smile on her face, and a few gifts she’d brought from the city. The rest of the day passed in a blur.

“Phew!” Fiantanne said around noon, entering the kitchen with a little concoction in her hand. “Finally finished the warming oil!” Skuld had apparently been feeling cold outside during the winter, so Fiantanne had been working on a solution. “Had to wait for spring season ingredients to make it, but I’ll stock up.” She looked at Theora, who had just put another loaf into the oven, and frowned a bit upon seeing her. “You good?”

“Yeah, you look kind of awful,” the dragon added helpfully. He jumped and soared a short distance, then pathetically landed in Theora’s lap. She had to help him out of being stuck in a fold of her clothes.

Then, Fiantanne’s gaze fell on the bundle on the table. “What’s this?”

Theora shifted in her chair. “We are supposed to take care of it.”

Fia hummed. “Mind if I take a look?”

Theora swallowed a dry throat, and shrugged permission.

With a few delicate movements, Fia managed to untangle the remaining knots around the cloth, then pulled it away, drawing out the backside of a canvas. Her eyes immediately lit up in recognition.

“Oh, that’s from the treasury, isn’t it?” Laticula croaked.

Fiantanne nodded and turned it around. She frowned, and showed it to Theora. It was a framed painting of a tired woman with a bit of a surprised expression. Long, brown hair, a bit shorter at the sides, a deep scar on her neck, and she was wearing a dark cloak. 

Fiantanne gently placed the painting back down. She was pulling her eyebrows together in deep confusion. “I’m a bit lost… Can you explain this to me? Why did we seal Gonell?”